Xi Ping, having been punished by Tai Sui for making trouble, “obediently” went to the Yanhai Building as soon as he had free time. 

But it turned out that Detailed Account of Meridians was poisonous. It knocked him out right from the start. Before he had turned the first page, Xi Ping’s upper and lower eyelids contracted lovesickness. The “lovebirds” were only broken apart when Tai Sui lightly burned him. He sat there enraged but not daring to speak, sulking. All he could do was pick out a specialized record of spiritual eye opening stories, yawning fit to bring down the ceiling. 

This one he managed to read. It told all kinds of horrifying stories about opening spiritual eyes. 

There was someone who must have had been very wicked for several lifetimes and had opened their spiritual eyes on the day of a thunderstorm, and spiritual energy had poured into their spiritual eyes along with the celestial lightning, roasting them from the inside out; there was someone who had let themselves indulge in a wild fantasy and taken established foundation grade elixirs, planning to ascend to immortality right away, not expecting that instead they would ascend to heaven; there was also one unlucky person who was said to have suffered from a rare disease that made their bones weak, who wanted to strengthen their body with the nourishment of spiritual stones, but instead had somehow opened their spiritual eyes, turning their bones to powder at once…

One bloody tragedy after another dragged Xi Ping right into wakefulness. 

Tai Sui saw that the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up and said, “Opening your spiritual eyes is a little dangerous, but not everyone is so unlucky. The Latent Cultivation Temple has the backing of the immortal mountains’ spiritual stone mines and is surrounded by auspicious beasts, and there’s a crowd of stewards to look after you. It’s not so easy to have an accident.” 

“Senior, those followers of yours seem to have boundless powers, so can’t the wounds they receive while opening their spiritual eyes be healed afterwards? I hear that Heaven’s Design Pavilion’s Exalteds can break all their bones, and then be fine in no time at all.” 

Tai Sui said, “An open-eyed period cultivator’s body is far sturdier than that of a mortal. An ordinary wound does indeed heal quickly. But the wounds sustained during the opening of spiritual eyes can’t be removed. These are brands that heaven leaves on those who have ‘taken the wrong path.’ They will only vanish if you can remake your body when establishing a foundation.” 

But if opening your spiritual eyes was perilous, establishing a foundation was usually a dead end, barring some lucky chance. 

Xi Ping thought about it. Pointing to one case in the book, he said, “Look, senior, this person opened their spiritual eyes, but their meridians snapped. What’s going on there? Break the seal on a jug of wine, and the jug shatters?” 

“Right,” said Tai Sui. “When your spiritual eyes link, they connect to the universe. If your meridians are destroyed at that pass, it means you are unable to ‘connect to the universe.’ It doesn’t count as opening your spiritual eyes—why do you think Miss Chen was unsuited to the immortal path and resorted to the path of ruin?” 

Because you were egging her on, you old bastard, Xi Ping thought. 

He closed the book, then picked up a few more and prepared to leave. His eyes scanned seemingly inadvertently over the fireproofing inscriptions all around the Yanhai Building. The inscriptions in the Latent Cultivation Temple, like the ones used by the nobility of Great Wan, came from Xuanyin Mountain, and must have been carved by the same set of people. The inscription characters seemed very similar to the ones in Prince Zhuang Manor. 

As Xi Ping went down the stairs, he “walked” two fingers along the banister. The inscriptions on the wooden banister lit up the whole way following his fingers, as if scolding him for his idle hands. 

He had already sent the information out. Zhi-shishu didn’t seem to be in the Latent Cultivation Temple, so everything was probably arranged. Then there was his san-ge and the people from Heaven’s Design Pavilion… Supposing that they couldn’t be relied upon, then Xi Ping couldn’t imagine who on earth was reliable. 

But everything had a “what if.” However reliable they were, he wasn’t going to lie there waiting for others to make arrangements. Anyway, everyone had their own things to do. He wouldn’t interfere with anything. 

There were over two hundred years from Renzong’s reign to the present. The wheel of reincarnation had turned countless times. Looking for one person was like looking for a needle in the ocean. He had to be ready for them not to make it in time. 

Xi Ping thought that if he really did come to a dead end, he still had one last move, which was to think of a way to destroy his meridians when his spiritual eyes opened and leave the great demon a “broken jar.” 

“While the green hills last, there’ll be wood to burn, no matter how bad it gets,” he thought to himself dauntlessly. “There are always more solutions than problems. As long as you have a breath left, can you let yourself die from holding back piss?” 

Xi Ping walked out of the Yanhai Building and whistled a vulgar tune. He kicked a stone at a patrolling straw child’s head. 

Bang—

The black cat knocked over Prince Zhuang’s brush stand. The blood jade brush stand fell onto the floor and rolled several chi away. 

Prince Zhuang had hardly closed his eyes the night before. He had just had his head propped on his hand, eyes closed, dozing. Startled awake by the little beast, his heart beat like a drum. For a long moment, he couldn’t catch his breath. 

Bai Ling floated in through the window like a snowflake, quickly tipped out a Spring Sunshine Pill to give to him, and moved the cat ancestor along. 

“How is it?” 

Bai Ling shook his head. “All the files about evil cultivators involved with ‘reincarnation wood’ for the last two hundred years within Great Wan’s borders have been looked through. They fill up a whole storeroom. Commander Pang and his people investigated each one in turn. But the so-called ‘Tai Sui’ in the files must only be a totem thrown together by the evil cultivators. He has no physical body. We’ve only started differentiating by hemogram in recent years. We tried investigating by horoscope and physical characteristics, but the records for the former are too few, while the latter are too vague…” 

“You only investigated within Great Wan’s borders?” said Prince Zhuang. “What about to the south?” 

Bai Ling quietly said, “Your Highness, to the south…to the south is the Land of Turmoil.” 

After Southern He and the Lancang Sword Sect were destroyed, there was no one to look after the former territory of Southern He. The immortals of each country had divided up Southern He’s spiritual stone mines, and each only looked after their own doorstep. After two hundred years, monsters ran wild and evil thrived; there was truly nowhere to start looking. 

Bai Ling said, “Commander Pang sent me to ask whether another letter had come from the Viscount.” 

Prince Zhuang shook his head. There hadn’t been any rain in Jinping for a few days. 

Even if it did rain, Xi Ping might not necessarily have much to say. Each and every one of his movements was carried out under the eyes of the evil cultivator. Every act was a knife edge struggle. Where there was an absolute disparity in strength, any number of clever schemes were only flourishes. 

Flourishes were flourishes; using one once in a while, you might have a lucky win. If you used them too much, you were sure to run into trouble. 

“Princess Duanrui couldn’t see the possession by a primordial being, the Sea of Stars overlooked it.” Prince Zhuang stood up and slowly said, “Is the evil cultivator…really an evil cultivator?” 

“Your Highness.” Bai Ling paused and lowered his voice until it was almost inaudible. “I know what you’re thinking, but you only have a suspicion. There’s no basis for it.” 

Prince Zhuang didn’t answer. He was silent for a long moment. He pinched the center of his brow. “I just dreamed that he was asking me to save him.”  

Bai Ling said, “We have to take our time in this matter, Your Highness. We can’t mention over there. You know that as soon as that place is exposed, it will mean a change in Great Wan’s leadership. There will be no more peace.” 

Prince Zhuang turned his head to the window. The greenware transversal fish swayed lightly outside the window with the breeze. It had only been hanging there a few days, but the fish had already taken on a layer of dust. 

The greenware fish had become a pond loach, and there was murder in Zhou Ying’s eyes. 

A wind blew by, the smell of earth rose, and dark clouds at last covered the sun. 

A crash of thunder. Mountain rain poured down on the thick forest of the Latent Cultivation Temple. The disciples who hadn’t brought umbrellas covered their heads and scurried away, looking all over for straw children to ask for umbrellas. 

The warm-hearted Chang Jun called out: “Ziming, Shiyong is sharing his umbrella, let’s go together!” 

Yao Qi’s eyes fell on Xi Ping, shoulder to shoulder with him, drew back, and quickly shook his head. 

“Hey, let’s hurry up.” Xi Ping pulled Chang Jun, deliberately not looking at Yao Qi. 

He had overdone it tormenting Ziming-xiong over the last few days. Lately he had found that if he even said hello, Yao Qi would tremble, so he had been consciously avoiding him. 

Xi Ping had only used Yao Qi to send a letter. After he had worked out how the letter sending immortal tool worked, he’d just had Xi Yue snatch some transversal paper. For one thing, Yao-xiong got sick as soon as he got nervous, and he was worried about doing him serious damage. For another, his ridiculous fabrication was full of holes; only Yao Qi could have believed it, and it couldn’t go on too long. 

Xi Ping mulled it over: not having received a response from his family, he definitely would have told Chengjing Hall already. That was all right; Zhi-shishu would help him smooth it over. 

Yao Qi kept his head down and waited for them to leave, then touched his back—there was a big cluster of red blisters there, very dense, like a snake’s scales. At night, it was as if there were needles poking under his skin, so painful he couldn’t sleep. 

He thought he had already been cursed by an evil art. 

Xi Ping couldn’t imagine how hard it was for Yao Qi to tell Chengjing Hall; it was easy for him to say. Every morning, Yao Qi gathered up his courage, but when he went in the direction of Chengjing Hall, his legs would always turn at the critical moment towards the Yanhai Building. 

He could only tell himself day after day: I’ll wait another day. Today I’ll investigate ancient texts for myself to see what kind of evil art this is, so when I see a steward from Chengjing Hall, I’ll be able to explain it all clearly… Otherwise, what if it isn’t an evil art? 

As soon as Yao Qi imagined the scene of himself saying something wrong in Chengjing Hall, he wished he could commit suicide on the spot. 

But he came up empty in the Yanhai Building, and the blisters not only didn’t take a turn for the better, they showed a tendency to spread, climbing towards his chest!

At home, it must not have rained lately or something. His letter had sunk like a stone into the sea. There was no word. 

Yao Qi was utterly desperate. 

“Ziming,” a voice asked behind him, “you’ve been listless lately, there are dark circles under your eyes, and you don’t pay attention in class. You haven’t been eating well in the dining hall, either. What’s wrong?” 

Hearing these words, Yao Qi’s extremely tense heartstrings snapped. Before he’d had a clear look at who he was talking to, his tears began to fall. 

“No, wait…what’s happened to you?” Zhou Xi, who had only been asking in passing, was startled. “Your back? What’s wrong with your back?” 

The immortal mountains were full of spiritual energy. Even a chicken couldn’t catch the flu here. Because of this, there was no medical hall at all. If the disciples had minor injuries or illnesses, an elixir could take care of it. In one incense stick, Zhou Xi, brooking no argument, had taken Yao Qi back to the Qiu courtyard and pulled open his clothes to look. “If I can’t do anything, I’ll go to Chengjing Hall and get some medicine for you… Hm? I thought you had thrown out your back. Why does it look like you’ve caught the waist-winding dragon¹?”

Choked with sobs, Yao Qi said, “What-what kind of evil art is the waist-winding dragon?” 

“What kind of evil art?” Zhou Xi was bewildered. “It’s a kind of rash. My nurse got it and left the palace on that account. I snuck out to see her. She got better in a little while.” 

The two of them stared at each other in dismay for a long moment. 

Zhou Xi frowned. “The imperial physician said that people who get this rash are either elderly or have too much on their minds. Ziming, what’s going on with you? Who told you this was an evil art?” 

Yao Qi hemmed and hawed for a long time without getting it out clearly. At last, he gave himself up as hopeless and took out the evil scrawls and cursed letters he had received recently.

Zhou Xi unfolded and looked at each one in turn. The more he saw, the more interesting his face became. Finally, he hit a table in indignation, turned, and went towards Xi Ping’s north rooms. 

The half-puppet had been sent by Xi Ping to the Yanhai Building to return a book—after the two great ascended spirit cultivators had left, Xi Ping had not only “come back to life” himself, he had also relaxed the prohibition on the half-puppet. Apart from not letting him talk to others at random, he would occasionally let him run errands to get food and return books. 

Hearing someone knock on the door now, Xi Ping had to go out and answer himself. When he opened the door and saw Zhou Xi, he froze for a moment. “Your Fourth Highness?” 

“You’ve gone overboard this time, haven’t you, Xi Shiyong?” Zhou Xi pushed aside Yao Qi, who had come chasing after. Without warning, he tossed all the notes he had taken from Yao Qi onto Xi Ping and coldly said, “You’d better have an explanation, or else we’re going to Chengjing Hall to clear this up!” 

Xi Ping was entirely unprepared. He knew that Yao Qi definitely wasn’t the kind to confront a person to his face. He had expected Yao Qi to write a letter home, to complain to Chengjing Hall… He absolutely hadn’t expected that Yao Qi, who normally didn’t talk to anymore, would tell Zhou Xi! 

When he realized what Zhou Xi had thrown at him, Xi Ping’s scalp bristled. 

His first reaction was to shut the door, but it was already too late. 

Like a marionette, his movements and expression stopped stiffly. His backwards steps suddenly came to a stop. He turned back. 

Zhou Xi only saw “Xi Ping,” as if he had pulled a muscle, turn halfway, then turn back. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes falling on the notes on the floor. “Oh…” 

In a slightly odd tone, he said, “What are these?” 

“Xi Shiyong, you…” 

“Xi Ping” leaned down and picked up a note. He looked up and smiled at Zhou Xi. For some reason, Zhou Xi suddenly couldn’t keep talking. Next door, Chang Jun had heard movements and quickly came running over. “What’s wrong? Shiyong, Ziming… Hey, and His Fourth Highness is here, too. If you have something to say, talk it out, don’t argue.” 

“Xi Ping” looked at their three faces with eyes like a snake’s. “It’s nothing. I played a little joke on Ziming-xiong that went overboard. I’m very sorry. I’ll make Ziming-xiong a proper apology another day.” 

Zhou Xi opened his mouth. Words came to his lips, but a chill ran up his spine, and he forgot what he was going to say. 

But Chang Jun clutched his hair. “Shiyong, speak properly, why are you lisping all of a sudden?” 

“Xi Ping” heard this and, a little clumsily, turned his head towards him. “Really? Is it that obvious?” 

There was another flash of lightning, its glare making Xi Ping’s familiar face deathly white. The rain fell harder. 

Pang Jian was more punctual than a calendar block. He fell upon Prince Zhuang Manor almost at the same time as the rain. “Prince Zhuang, have you received…oh, there it is!” 

The filthy transversal fish had “revived” in the rain. Flapping its tail, it spat out a pile of letters—most of them were nonsense. 

“What’s this about ‘cursed by an evil art…blisters on the waist’… Listen, Your Highness, are these also code words you two have arranged? I can’t understand it anymore.” 

Prince Zhuang quickly scanned the pile of unfamiliar handwriting. His eyes hardened. He grabbed the last letter. 

The writing on this letter was a mess, three out of six characters written wrong, as if a dog had drawn them. Only looking at them from a distance could you work out roughly what they were. The writing said: Pang is from the south. 

Pang Jian’s pupils contracted. His expression went blank. 

Prince Zhuang quickly turned his head to look at him. “Exalted, what have you thought of? Exalted!” 

Pang Jian recovered. He clenched his teeth. “I was in fact raised in the spiritual stone mines in the south—in Great Wan’s mining district. My father was a miner… But only the half-immortal steward at the mine who sent me back to Great Wan knows of this, along with a few old seniors in Heaven’s Design Pavilion. Since the previous General Commander of Heaven’s Design Pavilion Su Zhun-shixiong got me the position of disciple of record, it’s been a hundred years, and no one has mentioned it again.” 

Prince Zhuang held him down. “We only investigated evil cultivators. We didn’t investigate our own people. Right?” 

“Impossible!” Pang Jian’s instinctive first reaction was to deny it. “The mine supervisors and Heaven’s Design Pavilion are both outer sects and have only open-eyed cultivators. Even if there was someone who went against the rules, at most he would be in the initial established foundation period. How could he get within half a step of the shed skin period without anyone finding out?!” 

“But you also said that this evil cultivator’s cultivation and actual strength don’t match.” 

Bai Ling put in a word: “If it’s a half-immortal from an outer sect, then his place of birth and horoscope will be recorded—half-immortals from the Renzong years must be coming to the ends of their natural lifespans by now. There won’t be many left alive.” 

Pang Jian quickly pulled out a piece of talisman paper and quickly drew a talisman on it. He clapped it against the desk. The talisman at once turned into golden light, and the image of a name roster appeared on the desk. 

“Heaven’s Design Pavilion’s Assistant Commander Pang Jian requests the outer sect name roster,” Pang Jian ordered. “Which open-eyed period seniors were born in the Renzong or Xiaozong period and were in the outer sect in the eighteenth year of Shizong Yongxing?” 

The name roster opened. Countless people’s figures floated in the air. 

Pang Jian glanced through them and saw that most were acquaintances. 

“Those who are still living.” 

“Originating in Ning’an or with a record of living in Ning’an in their youth.” 

With each criterion he added, some of the figures evaporated. 

“Ask about the hemogram and horoscope,” said Prince Zhuang. 

Pang Jian said, “Vermillion bird hemogram…horoscope yin in all four pillars.”

The figures on the illustrated roster flew off in disorder. Finally, the dust settled, and only one person remained. 

A tall, thin man of middle-aged appearance, looking out expressionlessly from the illustrated roster, cold and severe. 

Prince Zhuang quickly raised his head. “Who is this?” 

Pang Jian stared at this image for a long moment. With difficulty, he swallowed a mouthful of saliva. “My…superior.

“Heaven’s Design Pavilion’s current general commander, who’s been in seclusion for eight years.”