Yao Qi had absolutely no doubt that Xi Ping would want to persecute him. He believed it there and then. 

As the Yao family saw it, the Imperial Consort Lady Xi was a demoness, and the Xi family was a nest of demons specializing in turning out monsters of all kinds. As for that Xi Ping, Yao Qi felt that his expression when he looked at him was like he was plotting something nasty! 

Just last night, Little Young Master Yao had had a nightmare. He had dreamed that Xi had stuck a piece of straw into his head and sucked out his brains, and had even complained that they were unsweetened! 

How could this mean anything good? 

All of Yao Qi’s ideas disappeared. He would have loved to charge into Chengjing Hall on the spot and call for help. But he couldn’t do that. Since he was little, he’d been the kind who would sooner wet his pants than dare to tell his teacher he needed to use the latrine. Normally, just to ask the stewards and elders how they were, he needed to rehearse over a hundred times. How could he call for help? 

The handwriting on the note looked like a child’s scrawl. If he went to Chengjing Hall with this to make an accusation against his classmate of wanting to hurt him… Yao Qi thought it would be more dependable to become a fierce ghost and get revenge himself. 

His belly burbled. He bent over in pain, once again feeling the call of the latrine. 

When the cramping pain passed, Little Young Master Yao quickly inspected his windows. At last he gathered up his courage, opened the north window in the study a crack, and peered out. By some coincidence, Xi Ping was just pouring the dregs of his tea out the window at the foot of an osmanthus tree. Across half the length of the courtyard, their gazes met. 

From a distance, Xi Ping smiled at him, showing all his threateningly white teeth. 

Yao Qi banged the window shut, on the point of tears: oh no, the fox demon had started grinding his teeth! 

“Tsk.” Xi Ping finished pouring out the tea and tossed the cup aside. He picked up a green plum he had brought back from the dining hall and ate it. 

But when he turned and saw the reincarnation wood carving on the desk, he suddenly seemed to become gloomy once again. Before he had even spit out the pit in his mouth, the smile in his eyes had evaporated. 

“Senior, I think I saw A-Xiang’s grandpa die yesterday.” 

“Yes,” said Tai Sui. 

“Didn’t you say you were going to save him?” 

“I had him released from prison,” Tai Sui said calmly. “This is the common fate of humanity. In all the southern outskirts, how many live past their fifth decade?” 

Xi Ping didn’t debate with him. He snatched up the reincarnation wood, concentrated, and entered meditation. 

All he saw were countless pairs of hopeful eyes, and what he heard was like a flood of wailing. Then, borrowing the evil cultivator’s eyes, his gaze dropped beneath the smoke and dust, and he saw A-Xiang. 

A whole day had passed, and the fellow workers offering their condolences had left one after another. Auntie Chun had gone out to buy food. In the dilapidated mourning shed, only the orphaned girl remained, mechanically adding paper to the brazier. 

When Xi Ping looked at her, A-Xiang seemed to sense it. Across time and space, she met Xi Ping’s eyes. 

She kept thinking she had heard a sigh, and out of nowhere she felt a sense of grievance. Her nose stung. 

Just then, someone asked quietly behind her, “What did you sense?” 

A-Xiang was startled. She jumped up at once. “Who’s there?”

A man wearing a bamboo hat had entered the mourning shed at some point. There was a crow perched on his shoulder. 

The man didn’t answer. He respectfully lit incense for the deceased, then said heavily, “My condolences.” 

A-Xiang returned a salute automatically and inadvertently raised her eyes. She saw the face under the man’s bamboo hat. A-Xiang suddenly turned pale and nearly threw up—half of the man’s face seemed to have been burned by acid. On the left side of his face, there was only tightly stretched skin, no features. But the single eye remaining in this horrifying face was warm and melancholy. A-Xiang, meeting this gaze that was like a father’s or older brother’s, somehow wasn’t so afraid anymore. 

The man said warmly, “Child, did you just sense the notice of Grand Duke Tai Sui?” 

A-Xiang was surprised. She clutched the reincarnation wood amulet on her chest. “You’re…” 

“That night, it was Grand Duke Tai Sui who led me to render you and your friend service,” the man said. “Good child, don’t cry. Tai Sui is watching you. You will accomplish great things in the future. What’s your name?” 

The girl didn’t know whether she ought to trust him, ought to thank him. She said, haltingly, “A-Xiang…” 

The man looked at the name on the memorial tablet. “Your full name is Wei Xiang?” 

“…Wei Chengxiang.” 

The man seemed to smile. “Fine. Do you think I’m qualified to guide you?” 

A-Xiang was dizzy. “To guide me where, uncle?” 

“Underground, there to put on your feathers, climb onto the branch, and cry out against injustice,” the man said softly. “Remember these words: ‘The conflagration burns on, the cry of the cicada is without end. Better to die in frost than to forsake one's convictions.’”

Xi Ping frowned at once. The image in the center of his brow crumbled. “Senior, I don’t understand. That little girl hasn’t even grown in all her feathers. She doesn’t understand anything. What’s the use of taking her as a follower? It would be better to take the grown-up lady hanging around her.” 

Tai Sui paused, then answered vaguely, “It wasn’t I who chose her. It was she who chose me—you should do your schoolwork.” 

Xi Ping gave an unwilling “sure”, like a lazy donkey putting off pulling a millstone. Dawdling, he spent an age washing the cinnabar he had stained his hands with when he’d grabbed the reincarnation wood, then, idly, he removed the karma beast’s makeup, then asked for fresh tea, then ate fruit. Only when he heard Tai Sui’s snort did he unwillingly sit down in front of his desk and open the book their shixiong had told them to read. 

Xi Ping was considering: the first day he had heard people speaking, the clearest voice had been A-Xiang’s calling “save my grandpa.” The old roundworm had claimed that she had been the one to wake him, and that was likely the truth. 

There had to be something special about this little lady; if it wasn’t her horoscope, then it was her physical makeup. 

The great evil cultivator called himself “Tai Sui,” and even said that reincarnation wood was his associated material. He might not be afraid of losing his tongue for talking so big, but Xi Ping didn’t believe a word of it. 

Reincarnation wood had existed since ancient times. It wasn’t some new product brought in from abroad. But this evil cultivator… Based on his limited information, Xi Ping felt that he probably belonged to General Zhi’s generation. 

The old roundworm truly talked big. To hear him talk, he didn’t attach any importance to mortals. He knew Zhi Xiu, but Zhi Xiu didn’t know him; so when he had seen Zhi Xiu before, he had been “looking up.” At least at that time, he hadn’t been a cultivator. Zhi Xiu had fallen gravely ill in his youth and entered Xuanyin Mountain at around thirty. The old roundworm had seen him in the mortal world, so he couldn’t have been born too late. 

In fact, Xi Ping also felt that his birth wasn’t very high, and that he must have lived in seclusion away from the world for a long period—every time he mocked “wanton excess,” he had to bring up the Phoenix’s Perch Pavilion. It was absurd. 

This was why Xi Ping had dared to exploit an advantage and have the half-puppet pass General Zhi a message through “sweet notes.” 

“Sweet notes” were a code for Jinping’s idle sons of the wealthy to send messages to each other, used to avoid their family elders when they had made trouble. They were divided into three types: “played sweet notes,” “whistled sweet notes” and “tapped sweet notes.” Of these, “tapped sweet notes” were messages passed by tapping a rhythm with your knuckles; they had the lowest threshold for use. There were quite a lot of people who used them, and it was easy for a secret to leak out, so their rules changed regularly. The played and whistled ones, on the other hand, didn’t change much. The night before, Xi Ping had tried to teach the half-puppet a few “whistled sweet notes.” 

He didn’t know whether Zhi Xiu would be able to understand, but at any rate Tai Sui probably wouldn’t. If the evil cultivator had some method of spying he didn’t know about, he wouldn’t be giving anything away. 

As for the note he’d had the half-puppet stick into Yao Qi’s quilt, Xi Ping had treated it as “a funny prank” and openly written about it in his letter home. The great demon had thought he was being dull and hadn’t paid attention… This way, he could write something different in the notes later. 

“I’m very sorry, brother. You can think of it as there being more merit in saving one life than in building a seven-tiered pagoda,” Xi Ping thought. “After this, I’ll stand in place and let you hit me to work it out.” 

But…who would have thought it—with Zhi-shishu’s air like a gentleman out of an ancient book, he hadn’t been proper at all when he was young. 

With his mind full of evil schemes, Xi Ping casually muddled through his homework. Anyway, if his shixiong asked a question, there would be someone to help him cheat. 

The next morning, Yao Qi saw the reincarnation wood carving arranged on Xi Ping’s table in the Qiankun Tower. The “matchmaker’s makeup” had been wiped off. Xi Ping had drawn uneven eyebrows on the karma beast and dotted freckles around its nose. 

Yao Qi’s blood instantly ran cold—he had uneven eyebrows and freckles! 

After evening class, Yao Qi returned to the Qiu courtyard as though running away, and, quaking with fear, found a second note in his quilt. 

When he got up in the morning, he found a third one in his shoe…

These corpse-littered scribbles would soon drive Little Young Master Yao mad. At last, he couldn’t take it any more. He took out the transversal paper and, crying, wrote his family a letter asking for help. In the middle of the night, he stealthily put it in the little pond in the courtyard. 

After placing the letter, Yao Qi went inside, and the half-puppet Xi Yue came out from behind a tree and carried the shoes he had finished cleaning back to Xi Ping’s rooms. 

Jinping had been overcast for several days. A welcome rain fell. 

“He calls himself ‘Tai Sui’?” Prince Zhuang rubbed the center of his brow. “You’re saying that an evil god half a step from shedding his skin had his inscription for stealing the Dragon Vein destroyed by Shiyong using a fan?” 

Bai Ling had his head very low and spoke without any confidence. “That’s the information we received from our plant in Heaven’s Design Pavilion. I also found it unbelievable and went out of my way to give the order to make discreet inquiries with Captain Zhao. I think I can say it’s been confirmed.” 

Prince Zhuang frowned, not answering. 

Bai Ling said, “I have been unsuccessful in carrying out my duties…” 

But Prince Zhuang waved a hand and said almost inaudibly, “Actually, what you’ve said makes me think of someone from over there.” 

Bai Ling froze. “Do you mean the Impass… Who’s there?!” 

His shouted question was forceful. It broke right through the invisible screen set up by the inscriptions on the door and windows and reached outside. 

Once the inscription screen broke, the sound of wind and rain swept into the room. Soon after, someone said loudly and clearly: “Assistant Commander Pang Jian of Heaven’s Design Pavilion, come to beg an audience with His Highness Prince Zhuang.” 

Prince Zhuang raised his eyebrows and quickly exchanged a look with Bai Ling. 

Bai Ling immediately started to turn into a paper man to hide. When he had turned halfway to paper, he was interrupted by Prince Zhuang. “No need, Commander Pang has a Barrier Dispelling Way of the Heart, already established. You can’t hide from his eyes—Exalted, please come in.” 

Pang Jian passed through the courtyard wall in answer, put his umbrella down in the corridor, and waited for Bai Ling to open the door. 

His face was impassive, but inside he was aghast: apart from General Zhi, to this day no one knew that his Way of the Heart was established. How had this Prince Zhuang, a mortal, seen it? And opened his mouth to blurt it out? 

And then there were the inscriptions…

There was nothing impermissible about the inscriptions in Prince Zhuang Manor. In fact, they were all third-class inscriptions that Xuanyin Mountain conferred as a rule. Another walker in the moral world in his place may not have seen any problem, but Pang Jian just happened to know some things about inscriptions, and he saw the problem at once. 

The full depth of knowledge about inscriptions could probably only be said to be understood by the great god Pangu, born in chaos, who had divided heaven and earth with his own hands. Some people even believed that inscriptions were the basis of the wind that moved the clouds and the force that made rivers flow into oceans in the mortal world. 

The placement of an inscription character could swap winter and summer, make azaleas grow in the snow, settle frost beneath a blazing sun. Each stroke of an inscription had to be absolutely precise. Too long or too short by the smallest degree, and the results would be major. Even a change in the person carving it, or the time it was carved at, would cause changes to the form of an inscription. 

Inscriptions required the transfer of the carver’s essence; only a cultivator who had established a foundation could carve them. But for ninety percent of established foundation cultivators, never mind engraving them, they were already doing well if they had a general understanding of third-class inscriptions. Even a cultivator who specialized in studying inscriptions might not be able to carve even a simple fourth-class inscription after over a century of study. 

The kind of third-class inscriptions used in the manor of a prince of the second rank needed to have a specialist calculate an auspicious time, have everyone temporarily withdraw, and lay down the inscriptions according to the strictest method and order. If the order a little off, it could blow a garden into smithereens. 

But the order of the inscriptions in Prince Zhuang Manor’s south study was completely wrong. Someone had clearly rearranged them! 

With Pang Jian’s knowledge, he couldn’t tell how the disrupted inscriptions had been arranged. He only knew that just now, through two thin walls, he hadn’t been able to hear a single sound from the south study. 

Compared to this, the secret guard beside Prince Zhuang who, strictly speaking, was an “evil cultivator,” amounted to nothing. 

Prince Zhuang saw him enter and didn’t stand up. There was a thick blanket laid over his lap. Smiling, he said, “I’ve been frail since birth. My knees start acting up as soon as it gets rainy. Forgive me for not being able to rise to meet you, Exalted.” 

Pang Jian quickly said, politely, “No need.” 

Bai Ling silently prepared tea. Prince Zhuang gave Bai Ling a look and said meaningfully, smiling, “Coming here alone, Exalted, I presume you haven’t come for the purpose of ‘burning paper.’ What did you want to see me about?” 

With him not observing propriety, Pang Jian got right to the point as well. “I came because I received a secret order from the inner sect’s Zhi-shishu. He told me to tell no one else but to come see Your Highness.” 

Prince Zhuang’s hands, lying on his knees, curled up. “Oh?” 

Pang Jian said, “Concerning the matter of the Viscount of Yongning.” 

The smile like a spring breeze vanished from Prince Zhuang’s face. The look of his pitch-dark eyes put you in mind of bottomless wells. 

“Has Xi Shiyong been getting up to mischief again in the Latent Cultivation Temple? There’s no need for the sect to stand on ceremony. If he’s done something wrong, by all means go ahead and give him a beating.” He took the tea Bai Ling offered him and softly, as feebly as if he were in unbearable pain, said, “Anyway, what can I do about him? You would be better off going to the Marquis of Yongning, Exalted.” 

Pang Jian said, “Your Highness, it was the Viscount himself who told shishu this and said we should come to you.” 

The cup and lid in Prince Zhuang’s hands met with a loud click. 

“Shishu said that because we were inattentive for a time, we allowed the evil cultivator from the southern outskirts to get away, and he has used some unknown evil arts to possess Xi-shidi, concealing himself even from Princess Duanrui’s observation. Luckily, shidi has yet to open his spiritual eyes, and he is alert. He has done what he can to notify shishu of this, and he says he has a means of communicating with Your Highness. He told us to come see you.”

Prince Zhuang was silent a moment. He smiled a little strangely, and, with emphasis, said, “He has…a lot of confidence in the immortal sect.” 

“Yes. No matter what, we will protect Xi-shidi,” Pang Jian said. “Your Highness is very powerful. You even laid bare my Way of the Heart. Presumably you already know that this evil cultivator calls himself ‘Tai Sui.’ He is of the consummate ascended spirit period. Though his cultivation level doesn’t match his actual strength, he has many strange methods at his disposal. With Xi-shidi in his hands, we don’t dare to alert that evil cultivator lightly. Shishu has already returned to the inner sect to request an immortal tool, but we must first find out that evil cultivator’s true name before we can know how to strip him away from Xi-shidi. Your Highness, if you have information, can you help us out?” 

Prince Zhuang raised his eyes. “Exalted, everyone says the Way of the Heart is a cultivator’s lifeblood. Now that I know your Way of the Heart, aren’t you scared?” 

Pang Jian’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t even stumble. “A Way of the Heart must be constantly questioned to begin with, constantly interrogated. It can only be fully integrated if it survives tribulations. If you are afraid of your Way of the Heart being questioned, it means you are afraid you yourself do not believe in it and are only attempting to fool yourself and others. I feel no threat.” 

Prince Zhuang gave him a profound look. “Exalted, with your talents, it’s a pity you haven’t entered the inner sect.” 

After saying this, he threw off the blanket on his legs, stood up, and finally returned Pang Jian’s salute. “On the day of the Grand Selection, owing to a slight indisposition, I did not go to Heaven’s Design Pavilion and missed the chance to see General Zhi’s elegant bearing, which has subdued our family’s fiend in human form. Since that bastard has made a clean breast of everything, then I have nothing to conceal…” 

Before he could finish, there was a sudden peculiar sound of water outside the window. 

Prince Zhuang paused. Bai Ling swiftly leapt up. After a moment, he brought back the flailing greenware fish. “Your Highness, there really is a letter!” 

A transversal fish? 

Pang Jian stared, thinking that this was very shabby. Had the half-puppet really eaten that brat into poverty? 

Prince Zhuang had already spread the letter out. He scanned it quickly and gave it to Pang Jian. 

As soon as Pang Jian saw the neat and cautious writing, he instinctively knew it hadn’t been written by Xi Ping. He looked at the heading and found that the sender was a young disciple whose name was “Qi.” 

The letter babbled a request for help to his family, telling an incredible story. 

“Qi” said that Xi Ping had a monster made of reincarnation wood that he had made up to look like the writer. It was very strange—as soon as he saw the wood carving, his chest hurt, and he couldn’t breathe. An anonymous master had told him that this carving was used to control a person in his sleep. As soon as he opened his spiritual eyes, it would lead an evil monster to snatch his body. The Xi family had already employed an evil cultivator to establish an altar in the Blissful Village and was planning a conspiracy to murder the Crown Prince using him. 

The evil cultivator had a name, wrote Second Young Master Yao, who would believe anything when scared: “Her name is Wei Chengxiang. She’s hidden in the southern outskirts!” 

Pang Jian: “…” 

It made sense that Xi Ping would be able to contact Zhi Xiu. Pang Jian knew that he had the dragon-taming chain. Even if that Tai Sui were unusually meticulous, or Xi Ping was sloppy and allowed himself to be found out, with General Zhi there, he would do his best to take the consequences for him. 

But how could that brat make a classmate who obviously didn’t get along with him write a letter in his place? 

And the person who had sent the letter was completely in the dark! 

After reading the letter, Pang Jian couldn’t resist looking at Prince Zhuang. He thought, There’s more to the Marquis of Yongning than meets the eye. 

Just as he’d thought. How could Emperor Taiming confer nobility on someone just because he was attractive? His Majesty wasn’t a cutsleeve! Young Mistress Cui hadn’t lost her head from lust; she had known exactly what was good for her! 

Seeing the look in his eyes, Prince Zhuang knew that Pang Jian was getting carried away. “Shiyong lived here with me for a few years when he was little. Because he’s my uncle’s only son, and I was also young and impetuous at the time, seeing that he wasn’t making progress, I disciplined him in place of his parents. These are all the cheap tricks he got up to in fighting me when he didn’t want to study.” 

“Your Highness is too modest.” Pang Jian quickly went over the letter and picked out the key terms: Blissful Village, reincarnation wood, body-snatched on opening spiritual eyes. 

“Elders from the inner sect examined Xi-shidi and the reincarnation wood in his possession. They found nothing unusual.” Pang Jian was a straightforward person. He explained all the details about Tai Sui at the Blissful Village to Prince Zhuang, then said, “Zhi-shishu’s guess is that this evil cultivator must simply be using his primordial being to possess him. The evil cultivators we caught before communicated amongst themselves by letting writing in fresh blood soak into reincarnation wood. As the evil god they worship, this ‘Tai Sui’ doesn’t seem to need bloodletting to communicate with them. Your Highness, what do you think about it?” 

Prince Zhuang didn’t interrupt. Only after listening carefully did he slowly say, “First, this fake god must be a man, not too old, about the same age as General Zhi.” 

Pang Jian stared—Zhi Xiu had also said as much. 

“Second, this Wei Chengxiang in the southern outskirts is likely closely connected to the evil cultivator… At the very least, the evil cultivator must be able to observe her at any time. When your people investigate her, they shouldn’t get close, or else it will alert the evil cultivator. Third, at the Blissful Village, why did that evil cultivator choose Shiyong and not one of the half-immortals? From your description, it seems connected to that prostitute swapping her life for his. When you investigate Wei Chengxiang, don’t forget the prostitute.” Prince Zhuang paused, then said, “There’s another thing. Commander Pang, you just mentioned the ‘sleep paralysis imps’ and ‘soul-driving spice’ from the south… These two things disappeared from the black market many years ago, but this person can not only obtain them, he also knows the ‘secret art.’ I suspect this person has a connection to the south—the spiritual stone mines that once belonged to the Lancang Sword Sect are there.” 

Pang Jian took a deep breath and decided to keep to his own judgment, not listen to Prince Zhuang’s nonsense—certainly there was more than met the eye to the whole Xi family. 

“We’ll investigate. If you receive any other information, Your Highness…” 

“I’ll deliver it to you at once, Exalted.” Prince Zhuang didn’t put on his painted-on false smile. “I’m entrusting Shiyong to you.”