The four words “exorcising demons and defending the Dao” hung in the air like a cold blade over their heads, causing the atmosphere in the pavilion to stagnate.
Everyone’s heart felt heavy, their gazes locked onto the main seat as they awaited Ping Fu’s decision.
Ping Fu, however, remained composed.
He slowly sipped his tea, the rim of the porcelain cup rotating slightly against his fingertips. His gaze was like invisible silk threads, slowly brushing over each suspicious and unsettled face.
“Everyone,” he said, his voice steady and imbued with a calming power that instantly suppressed the commotion within the pavilion.
“Rest easy. If the Tianyuan Sect had truly seen through our roots, would they have only sent a few greenhorn Daoist priests who cannot even see through the clothes we wear?”
The pale, clean-shaven scribe was stunned for a moment, and then a glimmer of realization and self-deprecation flashed in his eyes.
“Lord Ping is absolutely right. We have let ourselves fall into a panic.”
“Given the might of the Tianyuan Sect, if they truly wanted to purge demons, they would only need to dispatch one or two immortal cultivators skilled in the Piercing Gaze Technique to sweep us away like a thunderbolt. Why would they bother playing this game of cat and mouse?”
Having spent a long time in the prefecture office, they were well aware of the foundations of the immortal sects. Ping Fu’s words had struck the heart of the matter.
*Thump, thump, thump.*
Ping Fu curved his knuckles and tapped three times on the smooth rosewood table at a leisurely pace.
The crisp sound acted like a kettle drum, pinning everyone’s attention firmly on him. “Yesterday, I reported this matter to my Honored Father.”
He looked around at the crowd, his tone carrying a sense of majesty.
“Father has instructed that these Tianyuan Sect juniors are not worth worrying about. We only need to send someone to keep a close watch on their movements and ensure they do not ruin our great plans.”
“Excellent.” Everyone echoed in agreement, their tensed nerves relaxing slightly. But soon, someone asked, “Lord Ping is wise. However, I wonder who you intend to send to handle this investigative duty?”
A sharp light flashed in Ping Fu’s eyes; he had already made his decision. “It is my intent to send Sui Wu.”
He paused, lowering his voice slightly, yet every word remained clear.
“Order her to find a way to get close to the head of the Tianyuan Sect disciples, Lu Qiancha. If she can bind him with the bonds of love and trap him within a gentle village until his divine soul is infatuated, then this group of Tianyuan disciples can be controlled with the flip of a hand.”
“They will no longer be a hidden threat to us.”
“Sui Wu?!”
The words were like a boulder dropped into a calm pond. The pale scribe’s face changed dramatically, and he stood up abruptly.
“Lord Ping, this absolutely cannot be done!” His voice was filled with urgency and regret.
“Sui Wu was crafted by the Honored Father through great effort, using the bone structure and muscle texture of a top-tier beauty to repair her. Her skin is pure and delicate, her appearance naturally elegant and nearly flawless.”
“Such a treasure should be matched with a noble clan in the prefecture or given as a wife to the son of the prefecture chancellor to show her worth. How can she… how can she be lightly given to a mere Daoist?”
The way he looked at Ping Fu was full of confusion and resistance.
“Hmph.” A small snort escaped Ping Fu’s nose. His gaze suddenly became as sharp as a blade, sweeping over the agitated scribe. The invisible pressure forced the other man to shrink back involuntarily.
“No matter how beautiful the skin, it is ultimately just a tool,” he said coldly, his voice carrying an air of finality.
“Matters have priorities. That sword in Lu Qiancha’s hand can pierce our clothes and point directly at our souls. Such a threat far outweighs the benefits of clinging to a noble family.”
His gaze was like lightning as he surveyed the room.
“We must first stabilize this sharp blade hanging over our necks before we can slowly plot for our bright future. This is my Father’s will, and it is my decision.”
His final sentence landed like a heavy hammer.
The pavilion fell into silence once more. The objector opened his mouth, but seeing the unquestionable cold light in Ping Fu’s eyes, he eventually swallowed his words.
The others either bowed their heads in thought or exchanged glances. Though they each had their own considerations, no one dared to speak up in opposition again.
At most, it was just a good piece of skin. If it could be traded for a breathing room and a greater scheme, it wasn’t a losing bargain…
This thought quietly surfaced in the minds of the clever painted skins. Who the object of the marriage was didn’t matter. Only profit did.
Now that the official business was settled, the scribe no longer spoke of serious matters. He immediately called for a group of young girls to dance in the hall, indulging in the appreciation of beauty and pleasure.
***
On the other side, Lu Qiancha stood in a quiet corner of her room. Her eyes were slightly closed as she concentrated on activating the Shen Ying Jue.
In her mind, she clearly outlined the appearance of the old street vendor from yesterday—the hunched back, the face full of wrinkles, the muddy but shrewd eyes of a merchant, and the coarse cloth robes that were washed white and stained with oil.
As her ling power circulated, her silhouette rippled like water.
A moment later, the reflection in the mirror was no longer that of a soft, cute little wolf cub, but rather that of the weather-beaten, stumbling old vendor. Even the exhaustion and calculating glint in his eyes were perfectly mimicked.
‘Since I am investigating the painted skins, I might as well give them a taste of their own medicine.’
Lu Qiancha sneered inwardly. To infiltrate the enemy’s interior and use their “skins” to do her own business was undoubtedly the best choice for gathering intelligence.
Leaning on a conjured old bamboo staff, she walked with slow steps and blended into the morning crowd of Wanghai City. The streets were steaming with heat, and various breakfast stalls emitted enticing aromas.
“Yo, Old Zhang! Has the sun risen from the west today? You’re not setting up your date cake stall?” A man carrying a vegetable pole bumped into her and greeted her familiarly.
“Uncle Zhang, taking a day off? Where are you planning to go to make a fortune?” a woman nearby selling steamed buns asked with a smile.
Lu Qiancha imitated the old vendor’s raspy voice, squeezing out a somewhat lazy smile.
She coughed twice and replied, “Cough, I’m old. My legs aren’t what they used to be. I’m tired, so tired. I’ll take a break today, just a break.”
She waved her hand and continued forward with trembling steps, playing the part of the mediocre and mundane street vendor to the life.
She intentionally strolled slowly around the main streets and alleys of Wanghai City, but her gaze secretly scanned the surroundings.
She looked especially at the dark alley corners and unremarkable doorways, trying to catch any trace of demonic energy or abnormality.
When she reached the west of the city, a Fude Temple that appeared somewhat dilapidated and lacked many worshippers came into view.
The temple gates were mottled, and the stone steps were covered in slippery green moss.
As Lu Qiancha was pretending to mindlessly look at the temple gates, an old man also wearing coarse clothes with white hair and a white beard hurried past her.
The moment they brushed shoulders, the old man’s withered, skeletal fingers suddenly tugged hard on Lu Qiancha’s sleeve twice.
“You lazy man, what are you still standing there for?” the old man whispered, his voice raspy and urgent.
“The auspicious hour is almost over. Hurry inside to offer incense. Do you not want this month’s monthly offering?”
Lu Qiancha’s heart skipped a beat.
‘Monthly offering? Could it be a secret code for the painted skins?’
Her face showed nothing, however. She immediately adopted the old vendor’s submissive and fearful expression, as if terrified of ruining the task.
She nodded and bowed repeatedly. “Yes, yes. I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t be anxious, brother, don’t be anxious.”
While responding, she followed closely behind the old man, lowering her head as she slipped through the half-closed temple gates that reeked of stale incense and candles.
The light inside the temple was dim, with only a few Everlasting Lamps flickering weakly in front of the Shenshen.
The old man was clearly familiar with the place. He didn’t even look at the clay statue, turning directly into a narrow corridor in the back hall that was filled with clutter and spiderwebs.
He stopped in front of a seemingly ordinary, dust-covered wall. After feeling around for a moment, he actually pushed open a secret door just wide enough for one person to squeeze through.
“Keep up,” the old man grunted, bending over to crawl in first.
Lu Qiancha followed closely behind. A cold wind mixed with the smell of earth and decay blew against her face.
Beneath her feet were slippery, steep stone steps with barely enough room to step, and all around were cold, rough rock walls that were constantly dripping water.
The air was heavy and oppressive, as if they were traveling through the intestines of a giant beast.
In the cramped darkness, the two went down, and then further down, winding through the tunnels for an unknown amount of time…
Finally, a faint light appeared ahead.
Lu Qiancha followed the old man as they struggled to crawl out of a narrow stone hole hidden by vines.
In an instant—
Everything opened up.
The dim light caused her to subconsciously widen her eyes. Then, a massive city wall, so towering it was breathtaking, crouched silently on the boundless horizon.
The city wall was dozens of zhang high, built from giant stones that shimmered with a cold, bluish-black metallic light.
The surface was covered in moss and vines, and the ancient masonry was filled with deep grooves left by time and weapons.
The huge city gates were tightly closed, emitting a grim chill that kept people thousands of miles away.
How could this place still be Wanghai City?
Lu Qiancha’s pupils constricted suddenly, and her heart gave a violent leap.
Moreover, a sense of isolation from the Heavenly Dao emerged in her heart.
‘This is a Secret Realm!’
She took a quiet, deep breath, quickly masking her shock. But her heartstrings were already pulled tight like a fully drawn bow.
Could the nest of these painted-skin demons be hidden within an ancient city of a Secret Realm attached to Wanghai City?