Chapter 249: You Are Lu Jiunan? (Seeking Monthly Tickets)

Chapter 249 You Are Lü Jiunan? (Please Vote for the Moon Ticket)

Chen Yi could generally anticipate some of Liu Hong’s reactions.

If it were him, upon learning that Asutai had vanished into the mists, he would have sought a way to reclaim the man.

He might even have overturned the entire Shuzhou Prefecture, scattering its foundations to the sky.

But this was precisely what Chen Yi hoped to witness.

The more chaotic the tide of events, the clearer the path became to him, and thus he could seize advantage from the turmoil for the Xiao family.

As for Liu Hong’s five-tier subordinate, he had not given it a second thought—nor did he bother to concoct schemes to sow distrust among Liu Hong’s ranks.

"Strike the mountain to scare the tiger, to probe the void and the real."

"Only thus could he, lurking in the shadows, uncover the evidence of Liu Hong’s treason and rebellion."

As Chen Yi pondered these things, they had already arrived at the Western Market.

To avoid drawing attention, he did not appear at Bai Caotang himself.

He merely had Zhang Daobao swap his carriage for a more ordinary one, guiding him through the Western Market toward the depths of Hei Yu Alley.

At that hour, the sky darkened, and the rain began to fall in earnest.

The droplets drifted down, pattering against the tiled roofs and stone-paved streets in a steady rhythm.

Yet in the Western Market, merchants and travelers still moved about.

On either side, vendors beneath the eaves hawked their wares, greeting passersby with bow and courtesy.

Inside the stalls, small groups of customers wandered, selecting goods, occasionally pausing to inquire.

At the western entrance of the Western Market, Bai Caotang and Yunqing Tower thrived with renewed vigor.

The throng included aristocrats and merchants, sons and daughters of noble families, as well as common folk—laughing, shouting, and brawling in equal measure.

It was someone who had first thought of this.

Within the recently opened Yunqing Tower, beverages from Bai Caotang were now being sold.

Every other day, the manager of Yunqing Tower would purchase ten carts of Bai Caotang’s drinks.

Though not as potent as the Xiao family’s apothecary, these beverages—sold at a modest price—drew customers to the tower.

At least they spared patrons the wait outside Bai Caotang.

Their allure rivaled that of the tower’s signature liquor.

This was something Chen Yi had not anticipated.

He had intended to first absorb the apothecaries after expanding Bai Caotang across Shuzhou, then separately cultivate channels for selling drinks at establishments like Qin Lou.

Yet he had not foreseen that Cui Qingwu, without formal training, had already grasped this idea first.

Chen Yi glanced at the bustling scene beyond the window, heard the clamor within the courtyard, and a faint smile tugged at his lips.

He could imagine other taverns in the prefecture would follow suit.

An unexpected delight.

After traveling a stretch, he drew aside another curtain, peering into the tailor’s shop.

Beyond the confirmed iron-flag official of the Hidden Wolf guard, he paid closer heed to an older vendor.

This man, though unremarkable in appearance—fair-featured, tall and lean, clad in coarse hemp—seemed no different from the others.

Yet upon closer observation, Chen Yi noticed a discordant thread in his bearing.

—His deep-set eyes were ever watchful, taking in passersby and carriages; his hands and feet were deft, yet his gait differed from the others.

Clearly, this man’s thoughts were not rooted in the tailor’s shop.

Chen Yi scrutinized him, the glow of his spiritual sense flickering faintly.

Once he had gauged the man’s aura, he silently closed the curtain, a wary expression crossing his face.

"Xing Ling, third-grade strength…"

"His aura surpasses Xiao Jinghong’s, at least in the lower third-grade."

Recalling the recent conversation he’d overheard between Xing Ling and Lou YuXue at a dumpling stall, Chen Yi’s spine prickled with sweat.

Fortunately, he possessed the Wuwei Suppression Technique and had reached a high cultivation level in the martial path—body-augmenting art.

Otherwise, at such close range, Xing Ling would have detected him.

Just then.

The man in the hemp robe, Xing Ling, cast his gaze upon Chen Yi’s carriage, studying him for a moment before looking away.

A five-tier warrior, not worth his attention.

He observed for a moment longer.

His eyes then drifted to Yunqing Tower, his expression unchanged, yet his gaze tinged with displeasure.

Clearly, he had recalled the meeting with Luan Feng Cui Qingwu from the night before.

Originally, he had sought an audience with Cui Qingwu to clarify the woman’s purpose in Shuzhou—and perhaps deliver a reprimand.

But this Cui Qingwu, a daughter of noble bearing, had shown no deference to the white-tiger guard’s gold-flag officer.

Her words, sharp and cutting, had nearly driven him to fury.

If not for her lineage as a descendant of Cui family, and her father, Cui Mei, a ninth-rank minister of Wei, Xing Ling would have felt the weight of the white-tiger guard’s discipline firsthand.

"Hmph. I must see what you truly intend in Shuzhou."

"If you dare disrupt my master’s affairs, even with Cui Mei’s protection, I’ll ensure you never return!"

Thinking this, Xing Ling averted his eyes, scanning the area before leaning toward the vendor and whispering, "Has the female tiger visited?"

"Not yet."

"Send word to her—urge her to hurry."

"My time in Shuzhou is limited. The Feng family of Guangyuan has been moving swiftly lately, perhaps aiding Xiao."

"Yes…"

…

Deep within the Western Market, Hei Yu Alley.

Like its name, the alley reekhed of darkness—its walls draped in weeds, its muddy paths slick with rain, the stones beneath obscured.

A scene of decay, as if centuries had passed.

Even its residents wore dark garments—rough hemp or brocade.

The distinction lies only in the difference between new and old.

Those who wear tattered, worn-out clothes are mostly the withered beggars, their bodies gaunt and hollow. The older ones, few in number, all hold cracked bowls, crouching beneath the eaves, staring blankly at passersby.

Those clad in newer attire are mostly the robust, capable martial artists of the realm.

They wear conical hats, carry weapons at their waists, their expressions varying from sullen and fierce to expressionless or grinning with a sly, knowing smile.

Though diverse in appearance, they all exude a fierce, predatory aura.

Yet among them, Liu Rong blended seamlessly, fitting in as naturally as a fish in water.

He crouched against the damp wall of an old, run-down station courtyard, smiling as he surveyed the passersby.

Whenever he met someone’s gaze, he would flash a cheerful grin and greet them with a nod.

Not the usual idle chatter about whether someone had eaten, but rather the gritty slang of the martial world.

For instance, when he encountered beggars, he’d ask, “Did you strike gold today?”—meaning, had they managed to earn some coin or fill their bellies?

Or when he came across martial artists, he’d inquire, “Mountain peak, divine Buddha, or evil ghost?”—to determine their faction.

Thieves and bandits ruled the mountains, righteous heroes upheld justice under the banner of divine Buddhas, while malevolent spirits were the most vile of all.

Those traveling the martial realm could generally be divided into these three categories.

A phrase that could be understood across the four seas.

All thanks to Mingyue Tower.

Without its years of steady operation, most of the scoundrels and outcasts of the martial world would still cling to old traditions.

Of course, Liu Rong’s actions were merely a ruse to mask his true intentions.

In speech, in movement, even in glancing upward at the dark clouds gathering overhead, his thoughts remained fixed on the mansion three li away.

After learning from Liu Hong last night that he had received news, he shifted his focus entirely, trailing Liu Taoyao as she wandered through the city.

The previous night, he had learned from Chen Yi about Liu Hong’s stance, and naturally understood that the owner of Bai Caotang cared deeply for Liu Hong’s movements. Thus, without further ado, he followed Liu Taoyao.

It wasn’t until he saw Liu Taoyao enter the mansion that he felt a sense of relief.

In the meantime, he had sent a message through Bai Caotang to the owner and learned from Zhang Dabao about the affair involving the woman from the Mao family. This kept him from approaching the mansion.

“The Mao family’s spiritualist, whose martial arts and techniques resemble those of the mountain clans’ shamanic practices.”

“Especially those ‘divination’ methods that mysteriously appear and vanish, capable of remotely scrying the area around them—quite dangerous to be near.”

Liu Rong had traveled the martial world for years, encountering all manner of martial artists, and naturally crossed paths with Mao family spiritualists.

Moreover, during his years serving his master, he had heard countless tales from elder martial artists, understanding the ways of the Mao family’s realm far better than Chen Yi ever could.

He naturally knew how to handle such a situation.

Yet at this moment, Liu Rong remained unaware of the martial prowess of Lü Jiansan, the one residing in the mansion.

Cautious as ever, he kept watch from a distance of three li, lest the spiritualist detect his proximity.

Liu Rong adjusted his hat, gazing at the rain falling from the sky. “I wonder if the owner has already received the message.”

“By my calculation, it should be about time.”

As Liu Rong pondered, the sound of wheels on cobblestones reached his ears.

Following the noise, he spotted a black carriage racing toward the mansion from afar.

He hesitated slightly, muttering to himself about who it might be, when he edged closer.

Yet just as he drew within a hundred paces, his figure froze mid-step. His gaze shifted to the direction of a nearby mound of wet grass.

Beneath the sodden grass lay a black, tattered wooden effigy, silently watching him.

Its eyes, inlaid with jewels, glowed with a sinister red light in the drizzly weather.

Liu Rong cursed under his breath. His palm tightened around the hilt of his dagger. “I’ve been discovered!”

Moving with the utmost care.

To his surprise, he had only managed to get within a hundred paces before that Mao family spiritualist, Lü Jiansan, had sensed his presence through his “divination.”

Before he could think further, a sound like a baby’s cry echoed in the air.

Then, the one-foot-tall wooden effigy lunged at him.

Its rough limbs moved with surprising speed.

As it charged, it flicked out several silver needles.

Seeing this, Liu Rong smirked. “A wooden ‘divination’ effigy, daring to try and kill me?”

Thinking this, he did not retreat but pressed forward.

His long dagger sliced through the air, cleaving the wooden effigy in two.

Clang!

The blade struck true, splitting the effigy cleanly.

But before he could step back, the two halves of the wooden figure erupted in a burst of black mist.

The mist—he couldn’t tell what it was—spread rapidly, corroding everything in its path.

A stench of decay seeped from the acrid smoke, which devoured the crumbling walls and broken bricks of the courtyard.

Liu Rong cursed again, retreating several paces, mindful not to inhale the toxic fumes.

“My master was right. These divination arts bear strange names, rooted in demonic, evil practices.”

“Treat them as lesser shamans or poisons—nothing more.”

Liu Rong glanced toward the mansion three li away, where the carriage had already pulled up. He considered his next move and edged closer.

Since he had already been discovered, avoiding the place outright would be unbecoming of his character.

Yet just as he drew within half a li, a roar of fury echoed behind him.

A fierce windstorm surged from the rear, bearing down upon him.

“Die!”

Upon hearing the word, Liu Rong exhaled sharply. His great sword blade erupted from its sheath, its cutting force sweeping through the air like a tidal wave, instantly suppressing the other’s ferocious fist.

Only then did he return the strike, his blade arcing in a dazzying arc across the darkness.

Ting!

But this time, his blade met resistance from immense power.

Liu Rong planted his feet firmly, turning his head to look.

Before him stood a tall figure clad in black robes, two short axes crossed before his chest, blocking the sword.

The man’s head bore no hat, his hair neatly combed into a slight curl, his nose adorned with a scar, his eyes burning crimson.

Combined with his fierce expression, his face seemed monstrous and grotesque.

—It was none other than Ge Mu Xiao, under the Peacock Flag of Pòshì Suōguó.

Liu Lang, of course, did not recognize him and asked, "A person from Pòshì Suōguó?"

"Just a fist fighter, his techniques no match for a mere beginner, yet he dares to block me?"

Ge Mu Xiao glared at him, his voice harsh and low: "Who are you? Daring to spy on us?"

Liu Lang smiled faintly, "This is Shu Prefecture under the Great Wei, not some backwater in Pòshì Suōguó. What harm could come from my being here?"

He exerted a slight force, his long blade directly pushing Ge Mu Xiao back.

Immediately after, without hesitation, he charged forward, "Who gave you the audacity to ambush me?"

As he spoke, Liu Lang had already unleashed two strikes.

One cleaving strike, one horizontal axe strike.

No frills, just one strike to subdue ten.

But in Ge Mu Xiao's eyes, it was a blur of blades rushing towards him.

Even with full force, his two short axes couldn't repel.

When he met the first blow head-on, his short axe was sent flying with a *clack* against the side wall.

After the second strike, a deep wound appeared at his waist.

But as the pain surged, Ge Mu Xiao grew more fierce.

Charging at Liu Lang without hesitation, gripping his short axe, he swung it wildly.

At the same time, he shouted in Pòshì Suōguó: "Brother, be careful! The attacker is strong!"

Liu Lang dodged his attacks, also noticing the commotion in the courtyard.

When he saw the carriage rush out, he lost all playful thoughts.

Infusing his spirit into his hands, his blade carried a domineering force, he slashed diagonally downward, a straight chopping blow.

Not giving Ge Mu Xiao time to react, he split his short axe in two.

The blade then carved another wound across his body.

Blood sprayed, staining Ge Mu Xiao's upper body crimson.

Just as Liu Lang was about to speak, a sharp explosion echoed from afar.

He frowned slightly, instinctively leaping sideways.

*Clang!*

A short blade sank into the wall behind him.

A sibilant voice hissed: "You come to kill me!"

Liu Lang turned his head, seeing another Pòshì Suōguó man perched on the eaves of the courtyard, staring at him.

"Not bad, this one's strength."

"Over two li away, yet still that powerful? His cultivation must surpass mine."

Liu Lang thought, sheathing his long blade, smiling: "You must be Lü Jiu Nan, the demonologist of Pòshì Suōguó?"

"Was the wooden man you attacked earlier mine?"

Lü Jiu Nan sneered: "Who are you?"

"Since you know my name, you know the consequences of provoking me!"

"What are those consequences?"

(Chapter Complete)