After explaining everything that needed to be explained, Su Lingxi ultimately did not go to Qinzhen Hall to see the Emperor.
She took a leave of absence for a few days and wouldn’t attend court unless something major happened.
Everyone knew what the Demon Suppression Bureau was up to, and no one impeached her.
After returning home, she washed up and collapsed into a deep sleep.
When she woke up, she dragged a chair into the courtyard and sat down with pen and paper, sorting through recent events one by one.
The birdcage was open.
Two brightly colored pearl birds stood on her shoulders, one on the left and one on the right.
Their tiny claws stretched and retracted, and they occasionally tucked their heads into their chests, looking like chubby quails.
Su Lingxi hid in the shade of a tree.
Because she wasn’t exerting much strength in her wrist, the strokes of her brush were thin and uneven.
She was still pondering one question: Why do demons gather around the dead? One incident might not mean much, but thinking back, she had encountered at least two such cases recently.
Chen Shang, the young heir of Duke Xuan, had tried a so-called spirit-summoning ritual out of grief for his deceased grandmother, misled by a sorcerer from the Liuyun Sect at Chongque Tower.
This had attracted a Ghost-Faced Skull demon.
Meanwhile, Wei Shixian, the fourth son of the Minister of Rites, claimed his home was haunted, that his entire family had become mentally unstable, and that the deceased imperial son-in-law had returned.
Around that time, Ye Zhuxu suddenly struck and forced three demons out of hiding in the capital.
One of them, ranked in the top twenty—the Dove-Hawk—appeared immediately in Wei Shixian’s former estate and devoured a skull.
Duke Xuan belonged to Prince Yan’s faction; the Minister of Rites was a clean official, a loyalist. The two political parties had no overlap.
Su Lingxi contemplated the demons’ origins.
Demons were formed from the filth of heaven and earth, inherently combative and bloodthirsty.
Logically, they should run amok the moment they were released.
But that was typical of lesser demons—the stronger ones were the ones who hid more thoroughly.
They wouldn’t stay still for no reason.
Nor could they be easily restrained.
If they lay low, it could only mean they were preparing—for one of two things: to grow stronger or to heal themselves.
Since they were born from malicious thoughts, might they also feed on them?
Strong, thick malice.
Ka…
At this thought, Su Lingxi waved to Xiuliu and said, “Have someone investigate the cause and background of the old duchess’s death.”
“Understood.”
“And do it discreetly. Try not to alert anyone.”
She glanced at the ink-stained paper, slowly crumpled it into a ball, and added, “Also, find someone who can clarify the incident with the imperial son-in-law back then. Report it to me.”
Xiuliu tore open two talismans at once and calmly relayed her orders.
After official matters were settled, Su Lingxi played with the two chubby birds on the table.
She leaned forward and tripped one with a finger as it walked past, then casually withdrew her hand, waiting to pluck a tail feather from the other.
Only when both birds retaliated—fluttering their wings and pecking at her—did she stop, rubbing their heads one by one.
As she looked at the sunset sinking in the west, she softly said:
“There’ll be work to do soon.”
Three-quarters past the Hour of the Dog (around 8:45 PM):
Another close female aide, Danyuan, vaulted over the outer wall into the Imperial Mentor’s residence and respectfully reported, “My lord, everything is ready.”
“Good.” Su Lingxi held the veil crown adorned with colorful tassels, looked in the direction of the Demon Suppression Bureau, and said, “Let’s go.”
In the northern courtyard of the Demon Suppression Bureau, quite a few people had followed the scent and wandered in.
Some had detoured to the east and west markets, returning with all sorts of items—jade dew cakes, sheepskin flower pastries, sesame cakes wrapped in bamboo leaves and reed—steaming hot and filled with the fresh scent of plants.
But because of the summer heat, the most popular treat was something called “Su Shan”: shaved ice drizzled with syrup and garnished with herbs and flowers.
Tian Jiangxin finally got the wine he had been craving.
He took a sip, squinted his eyes, and said to Yu Lin’an, “Life in the mortal world isn’t bad at all. It’s quite comfortable.”
Of course.
Tian Shuang could never return.
What else could they say except that it wasn’t bad?
As the sun set like blood, Ye Zhuxu unexpectedly stepped out of his private courtyard.
No one knew where he came from or when he arrived.
Someone’s gaze casually swept over him, then froze and widened in shock.
They set down the sesame cake in their hand, stood up straight, and shouted, “Commander!”
“Mm.”
Ye Zhuxu was waiting for his sword puppet, hands folded calmly in front of him, infinitely patient.
Moments later, a dazzling blade flash suddenly flared in the southern courtyard of the Bureau.
Tian Jiang glanced around and asked, “Another demon?”
Trying to get closer to Su Lingxi, Yu Lin’an had spent time studying the southern courtyard’s rotations and operations, and replied:
“No. Around this time every day, the southern courtyard sends out a demon-hunting team to patrol the city. At night, the Jinwu Guards take over.”
As he finished speaking, Tian Jiang, who had just responded with an “Oh,” suddenly stopped chewing and muttered unclearly, “Something’s off…”
“What is it?”
“I think… someone used a scent-summoning spell?”
As he turned halfway to look outside the courtyard, Bai Xiao was talking to Sang Chu.
At that moment, he too looked up abruptly, didn’t take another sesame cake, scratched his head, and whispered, “Su Lingxi…? Who else could it be?”
Yu Lin’an raised an eyebrow. “You serious?”
“Why would I lie?”
Not far off, Ye Zhuxu’s long-lowered lashes lifted.
He stood silently for two more seconds, until the last light of sunset touched his eyelids.
As if the warmth and flicker startled him, he lifted his sleeve slightly and left—just as silently as he had come.
Yu Lin’an couldn’t help covering his face and rubbing it.
He truly didn’t understand Ye Zhuxu’s fickle emotions, but he could guess the reason he left suddenly—it was concern that Su Lingxi might get hurt.
After all, in her current state, she really shouldn’t be going head-to-head with ferocious demons.
Caring meant he couldn’t let go.
He clearly came to say goodbye, to move on—but the longer this dragged on, the harder it would be when the time truly came.
Thinking about it now, Yu Lin’an’s chest tightened.
“You eat. I’m going to check things out.” Muttering to himself, Yu Lin’an patted Tian Jiang on the shoulder and swiftly vaulted over the wall.
The Forbidden Temple was a dilapidated shrine about twenty li from the National Guardian Temple.
Bamboo forest, Buddha hall, ruined altars, and peeling golden statues of deities came into view in turn.
The air still held a faint scent of past incense, not entirely reeking of rot.
Su Lingxi stood beside a stone in the bamboo grove, holding a lit incense stick.
As Ye Zhuxu stepped in, she was bending down to casually stick it into the soil, letting it quietly burn out.
The incense obviously held no power—or rather, was just a vessel for releasing a trace of aura, meant to attract someone.
Su Lingxi hadn’t meant to attract this particular person.
Using the scent-summoning technique meant she was confronting something.
And since she was in the imperial city, it could only be a demon.
If it were a particularly dangerous demon, she would’ve informed Floating Jade.
Since she hadn’t, it meant she could handle it alone.
If Ye Zhuxu still showed up, it meant he was determined to oppose her—to destroy every demon pearl.
Just a moment ago, she’d been thinking: If he didn’t come, maybe they could still negotiate.
“Commander,” Su Lingxi clapped the dust from her hands, her voice cold and clear, “You still came. How disappointing.”
After finishing what needed to be explained, Su Lingxi ultimately did not go to Qinzhen Hall to meet the Emperor.
She took a few days off and wouldn’t attend court unless something major came up.
Everyone knew what the Demon Suppression Bureau was currently working on, so no one reported her for absence.
After returning to her residence and freshening up, she pulled the covers over her head and slept deeply.
When she woke up, she dragged a chair into the courtyard, sat down with paper and brush in hand, and began to methodically sort through the recent events.
The birdcage had been opened, and two brightly colored pearl birds perched on her shoulders, left and right.
Their tiny claws stretched and curled, and from time to time they tucked their heads into their chests like round little quails.
Su Lingxi sat under the shade of a tree.
Since her wrist lacked strength, the words she wrote with her brush were fine and uneven, not flowing smoothly.
She was still pondering one thing: Why did monsters always gather around the dead? One incident might not mean anything, but thinking carefully, there had already been two such cases she had recently handled.
The young heir of the Duke of Xuan, Chen Shang, had missed his late grandmother and, misled by a sorcerer from the Liuyun Sect, performed a so-called soul-summoning ritual at Chongque Tower.
As a result, he attracted the Ghost-Faced Skull demon.
Then there was the Fourth Young Master Wei Shixian of the Minister of Rites’ household, who claimed the manor was haunted, the whole family mentally disturbed, and that the deceased prince consort had returned home.
Coincidentally, Ye Zhuxu suddenly took action at that time, forcing out three demons hiding in the capital.
One of the top twenty ranked monsters, the Dove-Hawk, upon sensing danger, immediately appeared at the Wei family’s old estate and devoured a skull.
The Duke of Xuan belonged to Prince Yan’s faction; the Minister of Rites was part of the court’s purist officials — two camps with no overlap.
Su Lingxi contemplated the nature of monsters.
Monsters were beings formed from the filth of heaven and earth, naturally violent and bloodthirsty.
They should, by nature, unleash chaos the moment they were released.
But that was the behavior of lesser demons; the stronger a monster was, the more hidden it tended to be.
They wouldn’t remain quiet for no reason, nor could they be truly tamed.
If they were lying low, it could only mean they were preparing for something — either to become stronger or to heal themselves.
Since they were born from wicked thoughts, could it be they also fed on such thoughts?
Powerful, concentrated wicked thoughts.
Ka…
Thinking of this, Su Lingxi waved at Xiuliu.
“Have someone investigate the cause and background of the Duke of Xuan’s old madam’s death.”
“Yes.”
“Be discreet. Try not to alert anyone.”
She glanced at the ink-stained paper, slowly crumpled it into a ball, and added, “Also, have someone find out the full story behind the prince consort’s death and report back to me.”
Xiuliu activated two talismans at once and calmly issued her orders.
After handling business, Su Lingxi leaned over the table to play with the two fat birds.
When one walked past, she solemnly stretched out a finger to trip it, then casually withdrew her hand, waiting for a chance to pluck one of their tail feathers.
Only when both birds began pecking at her in protest did she ease up, ruffling each of their heads.
Watching the sunset glow sinking westward, she softly murmured, “There’ll be work soon.”
Third quarter of the Hour of the Dog.
Another close maid, Danyuan, scaled the outer wall into the Imperial Preceptor’s estate and respectfully said, “My lady, everything is ready.”
“Good.” Su Lingxi picked up her veiled hat with rainbow-colored tassels, looked toward the Demon Suppression Bureau, and said, “Let’s go.”
In the northern courtyard of the bureau, many had come out, drawn by the scent in the air.
Some wandered to the east and west markets, returning with all sorts of items — jade dew balls, lamb-skin flower pastries, and glutinous cakes on bamboo leaves and plantain — all steaming hot, but due to the heat, the most popular treat was something called “crushed frost,” finely shaved ice topped with sweet syrup and flower petals.
Tian Jiangxin finally got the wine he had been craving.
He took a sip, squinting contentedly, and remarked to Yu Lin’an, “Honestly, living in the mortal world isn’t so bad — it’s quite pleasant.”
Of course it was.
Tian Shuang could never go back.
What else could he say besides “not bad”?
As the sun set like blood, Ye Zhuxu, in a rare move, stepped out of his small courtyard.
No one knew where he came from or when he arrived.
Someone only noticed him because their gaze brushed past and then jerked back in surprise, putting down their sesame cake, standing straight, and shouting, “Commander.”
“Mm.”
Ye Zhuxu was waiting for a sword puppet, hands calmly folded before him, waiting with remarkable patience.
A moment later, a mighty flash of blade light came from the southern courtyard of the bureau.
Tian Jiang glanced around.
“Another demon attack?”
Because he wanted to get close to Su Lingxi, Yu Lin’an had memorized the southern bureau’s patrol schedules and replied, “No. Around this time each day, a demon-hunting squad is dispatched to patrol the city. The Jinwu Guards take over at night.”
Just as he spoke, Tian Jiang, who had just replied with an “Oh,” suddenly froze mid-bite and mumbled, “That’s not right…”
“What is it?”
“I think I sensed… incense magic?”
Turning halfway to look out of the courtyard, Bai Xiao — who had been talking to Sang Chu — suddenly looked up too.
He didn’t take another piece of cake.
Scratching his head, he lowered his voice and said, “Su Lingxi… who else could it be?”
Yu Lin’an raised an eyebrow.
“You serious?”
“Why would I lie?”
Not far off, Ye Zhuxu’s usually lowered lashes lifted slightly.
He stood silently for two more breaths, until the final ray of sunset brushed his eyelids.
As if disturbed by its warmth and specks of light, he raised his sleeve slightly, then quietly left — just as silently as he had come.
Yu Lin’an rubbed his face and sighed.
He didn’t fully understand Ye Zhuxu’s contradictory emotions, but he could guess why he had left — he was worried Su Lingxi might get hurt.
After all, in her current state, she really shouldn’t be fighting vicious monsters anymore.
Caring means you haven’t let go.
He had clearly come to say goodbye, to let go — and the longer this dragged on, the harder the final parting would be.
Thinking about it now, Yu Lin’an’s chest felt tight.
“You go ahead and eat. I’ll check it out.” Muttering under his breath, Yu Lin’an patted Tian Jiang’s shoulder and swiftly vaulted over the wall.
The Forbidden Temple was a dilapidated little shrine twenty miles from the Guardian Temple.
Bamboo groves, crumbling Buddha statues, fading altars, and flaking golden paint on the deities — all appeared in turn.
The air still held a faint scent of old incense ashes, masking the rot.
Su Lingxi stood beside a stone slab in the bamboo grove, lighting a stick of incense.
When Ye Zhuxu stepped into the area, she was just bending down to stick it into the soil.
The incense was clearly powerless — just a hollow shell to release her aura and draw someone here.
Su Lingxi didn’t want him to come.
Using incense magic meant she was fighting something.
Since it was within the imperial city, everyone knew it had to be a demon.
If it was a tough one, she would have informed Floating Jade.
Since she didn’t, it meant she believed she could handle it.
If Ye Zhuxu still came, it could only mean he truly intended to oppose her — to destroy all the demon orbs.
Just a moment ago, she had still been thinking — if he didn’t show up, maybe they could negotiate.
“Commander.”
Su Lingxi clapped the dust off her hands, her voice cool and detached.
“You still came. What a disappointment.”
The bamboo path was covered in fallen leaves.
Bamboo leaves turn yellow in a day and brittle in two; once stuck together on the ground, stepping on them made a sound like cracking ice.