Lu Qiancha stiffened suddenly, as if someone had pressed the pause button.
Her blue eyes, which had been narrowed in enjoyment, instantly rounded. The faint blush of comfort on her small face was replaced by a crimson flush of shame and annoyance.
She jerked her head back like she had been electrocuted, stumbling three steps back.
She nearly tripped over her own heels as she pointed a small finger at Shangguan Yunzhu, her voice cracking. “Wh-What are you doing?”
‘It’s over, I’ve lost face big time.’
Shangguan Yunzhu was amused by this sudden, violent reaction and let out a chuckle. Seeing Lu Qiancha’s look of utter humiliation, she found it even more adorable.
She deliberately shook her hand, which still held the lingering sensation of softness. “Hmm? Didn’t Little Qiancha enjoy that just now? Why the sudden change of heart?”
Lu Qiancha’s tail fur puffed out in anger. Her face turned bright red as she forced a change of subject to cover up the accident. “Um… let’s talk business.”
She puffed out her chest, trying to reclaim the dignity of a senior brother. Though the effect was questionable, she managed to pivot the conversation.
“Today, we’ll head into the city to gather information about those painted-skin demons. For example, check if there are any rumors of ‘resurrections’ or people who were missing for a long time suddenly returning ‘completely unharmed.'”
She paused, a sharp glint flashing in her blue eyes. “Following these strange reports, we might be able to trace them back to the nest of these creatures wearing human skins.”
“Yes, that’s a good approach.” Shangguan Yunzhu stopped teasing and nodded seriously, her eyes reflecting approval.
p”We’ll split up to be more efficient. I’ll let your little junior sister know in a moment; it’s about time she woke up.”
She glanced toward Gantang’s room. As if on cue, the door creaked open. Gantang walked out, rubbing her sleepy eyes and letting out a wide yawn.
Hearing Shangguan Yunzhu mention her name, Gantang approached groggily. “Mmm… Sister Shangguan, Senior Brother, what are you saying about me?”
“We were just talking about you,” Shangguan Yunzhu said with a smile as she repeated Lu Qiancha’s plan.
“Oh…” Gantang nodded half-comprehendingly. Her little brain struggled to start up until a sudden spark of inspiration hit her, and her eyes lit up.
“Senior Brother, do you think the nest of these monsters might not be in the city, but in those small surrounding villages?”
“Hmm?” Lu Qiancha temporarily suppressed her embarrassment and tilted her head at her little junior sister with curiosity. “Why do you say that?”
Gantang perked up immediately, counting on her fingers as she analyzed the situation.
“Think about it, Senior Brother. The city is a melting pot of all kinds of people, with hidden experts everywhere. If a powerful True Immortal or great cultivator happens to pass by and sweeps the area with their Xian Consciousness, won’t they be exposed and completely finished?”
“Since these painted skins are so afraid of death and cherish their lives, they definitely wouldn’t set up their nest in such a high-risk area like the city. They must have found some rural corner—like a poor village without any decent cultivators—to hide and stay safe.”
She presented her analysis logically, her small face filled with the expectation of being praised for her cleverness.
Looking at Gantang’s serious, enlightened expression, Lu Qiancha almost couldn’t help but laugh. A sense of ‘my little sister is finally growing up’ surged in her heart.
Suppressing the urge to smile, she cleared her throat and guided Gantang’s line of thinking. “Junior Sister, your logic is going in the right direction.”
Lu Qiancha’s tone shifted. “However, you shouldn’t imagine these painted-skin demons as mere beasts that only know how to dig holes and hide.”
She held up one finger and explained slowly.
“Once they wear human skins and gain intelligence, most of them develop preferences and flaws similar to humans. They covet pleasure, fine food, beautiful clothes, and a life of debauchery.”
“As for those poor villages,” Lu Qiancha curled her lip, “there’s nothing to eat and nothing to do. Besides, the villagers fear the cold and illness, so they might only bathe once every ten days or so, making them smell quite strong.”
“Just think—if you were an intelligent demon capable of taking human form, would you rather hide in the middle of nowhere chewing on coarse buns and smelling sweat?”
“Or would you rather sneak into a prosperous city to enjoy fine clothes, exquisite food, Peerless Brew, and the embrace of beauty?”
The little wolf cub concluded logically, “So, eight or nine times out of ten, intelligent demons prefer the bustle and enjoyment of a big city, disdaining the poverty and inconvenience of a village. As they say, it’s easy to go from frugality to luxury, but hard to go from luxury to frugality.”
Gantang’s mouth hung open in shock. Heavens, do these monsters actually practice wealth discrimination?
She felt her worldview being heavily impacted. It was as if they were ignorant and desireless when they lacked intelligence, but once they gained it, they were filled with more greed, emotions, and snobbery than humans.
“Senior Brother…” Gantang murmured, her face full of shock. “Now that you put it that way, why do I feel like these monsters are more human than humans?”
“Exactly,” Lu Qiancha lamented. Recalling the three rogue painted skins from last night, her tail twitched subconsciously.
“You saw it with your own eyes last night. Unless you tear off that human skin, who can tell if there’s a human, a demon, or a ghost underneath?”
She looked toward the bustling street, her tone growing heavy. “That is the most terrifying thing about them—they are airtight and impossible to distinguish from the real thing.”
Gantang nodded in deep agreement.
***
While Lu Qiancha and the others were discussing the painted skins, the group of painted skins in Wanghai City was also discussing them.
At that moment, deep within the Floral Appearance Ward in the northeast corner of Wanghai City, a seemingly elegant literary gathering was quietly taking place inside the private villa of Ping Fu, the prefectural assistant.
The pavilion was refined, and incense smoke curled in the air. Several scholars dressed in Confucian robes sat around tasting tea, with seasonal fruits and exquisite snacks laid out on the tables.
However, they were not discussing poetry, songs, or literature, but rather several outside Daoist Priests who had disturbed their peace.
“Lord Ping,” one middle-aged scholar, who was pale-faced and had a feminine aura, set down his teacup. He lowered his voice, his tone laced with tension.
“Have you identified the origins of those Daoists? Are they messengers sent by a righteous Xianmen Sect, or just wandering priests from the mountains who don’t know their place?”
The man sitting in the seat of honor was the host, Ping Fu. He was about 40 years old, with a thin face and three strands of meticulously groomed long beard.
His eyes were deep and restrained. Currently, he was gently rubbing the rim of a celadon cup with his fingertip, exuding a calm sense of being in total control.
Hearing the question, his eyelids lifted slightly. His gaze slowly swept across everyone present. His voice was flat but clear.
“It has been determined. Those three are disciples of the Tianyuan Sect. They have come on their master’s orders for the purpose of exorcising demons and defending the Dao.”
“Exorcising demons and defending the Dao?!”
As those words were spoken, the atmosphere in the pavilion suddenly froze. The elegant facade they had been maintaining shattered instantly. The expressions of the scholars changed, and their eyes were filled with suspicion and unease.
“The Tianyuan Sect is targeting us?” another man blurted out. Then, forcing himself to remain calm, he frowned and analyzed the situation.
“But that doesn’t make sense. We have always acted with extreme caution, as if treading on thin ice. We never show off, nor have we organized any large-scale slaughter of cultivators or mortals. How did we catch the eye of such a great immortal sect?”
Having spent a long time immersed in the prefectural yamen, they were well-versed in interpreting information and analyzing the current situation. But now, even after racking their brains, they couldn’t solve this riddle.
“Lord Ping,” a younger scholar with anxiety between his brows couldn’t help but speak, his voice trembling slightly.
“Could it be that when we ‘borrowed’ those unclaimed bodies from the mortuary to repair our skins, we accidentally exposed ourselves?”
“Did some meddler see us and report it to the authorities? Perhaps the officials were incompetent and kept reporting it up the line until it finally alerted the immortal sect?”
After he spoke, a dead silence fell over the pavilion. Everyone turned their gaze toward Ping Fu at the head of the table, holding their breath as they waited for the judgment of their inscrutable leader.
Outside the window, a slight breeze blew, rustling the bamboo curtains. The sound only served to make the silence inside the room more palpable.
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.