Congealed Fat Peak, at the mountain’s foot.
A figure rode the wind and descended straight before a Little Wooden House at the base of the mountain.
The newcomer was none other than Limuqun.
He gazed at the Little Wooden House before him, countless emotions welling up in his heart.
After all the wandering and circling, he had returned to where he began.
But this time, his heart had finally lost all illusion about the so-called women “on the mountain.”
What “famed mountains and blessed lands,” what Golden Core Daoist Monastery.
Endless matters, and precious little time to cultivate.
How could any of it compare to his own Little Wooden House?
As the saying goes, “A mountain does not need to be high; with an Immortal, it is famed. A river does not need to be deep; with a dragon, it is spiritual. This is but a humble room, yet only my virtue fills it with fragrance.”
Those disciples who squeezed their way in by hook or by crook to cultivate at the sect gates would probably never understand this truth!
Limuqun shook his head, pushed open the Little Wooden House’s wooden door, and called out cheerfully to the room, “Bed, I’m back! Did you miss me?”
A gentle breeze drifted inside, but suddenly, his eyes widened.
Something’s not right!
He’d been away cultivating at Congealed Fat Peak for over half a month.
Although he’d shut the doors and windows tight before leaving, surely some dust should have accumulated in the house.
Yet when he opened the door, he wasn’t greeted by the wave of dust he’d expected.
Crap, could there have been a thief?!
Limuqun shoved the door open and dashed inside, but when he swept his eyes around, the urgency in his heart was replaced by surprise.
The Little Wooden House, which was never especially spacious, had been cleaned spotlessly.
Not a speck of dust marred the floor, the bedding was folded neatly, and all kinds of miscellaneous items were stacked tidily in the corner—so clean and orderly that it barely resembled Limuqun’s original Little Wooden House.
Huh?
Are thieves these days so competitive they even throw in housekeeping services?!
Suppressing his astonishment, he checked here and looked there, rummaging through drawers and boxes, turning the whole place upside down. But when he returned to the center of the room, he was even more perplexed.
The private stash of money under the cabinet hadn’t been taken.
The storybooks hidden beneath the mattress were all still there.
But why on earth were there so many fewer inner garments missing?!
Before, Limuqun had hurried up the mountain to cultivate, so he hadn’t paid attention to how many clothes were in the wardrobe.
But now, after this thorough investigation, he clearly noticed the number of inner garments was wrong.
Missing eight, or ten, maybe even nine!
Even his favorite—those men’s tight-fitting black silk boxer shorts—had vanished without a trace.
Woe, could it be the work of some perverted Inner Garment Bandit?
No matter how he puzzled over it, this seemed the only explanation.
Breaking in but not stealing valuables or valuables, only swiping his inner garments.
What else could that be but perverted?
A chill ran down Limuqun’s spine, as if he’d been tainted by something unclean.
Pervert. Too perverted.
To think that in the Cloud Expanse Sect, aside from Luozhilan, there was such a deeply hidden super-pervert.
No, I must unmask you!
He swept his divine sense through the room, hoping to find the slightest clue.
But as his gaze passed over the wooden table, a pink Storage Bag suddenly caught his attention.
A classic “hidden in plain sight” mistake.
He’d been so focused on searching all the secret corners, he hadn’t noticed the thing right under his nose.
A pink Storage Bag?
Perfect. Fits a pervert’s tastes exactly.
Alright, let’s see just what a pervert like you would leave for me!
He picked up the Storage Bag in puzzlement and swept it with his divine sense, only to find it stuffed full of Immortal Path Supplies.
While not especially precious, the supplies were arranged neatly, carefully sorted by cultivation arts—clearly the result of much thought and effort.
What’s this?
Cradling the Storage Bag, Limuqun was left stunned.
Are these the buyout fees for the stolen inner garments?
In an instant, Limuqun’s anger flared, and a killing intent like divine retribution flashed in his eyes.
Fine, fine, fine! So you dare challenge me like this!
You’d better pray I never uncover your true identity!
Limuqun raised the pink Storage Bag for a closer inspection, sweeping inside and out with his divine sense, and actually caught a faint clue.
Underneath the neatly arranged Immortal Path Supplies, a few tiny scraps of paper caught his attention.
This… the scent of truth!
With a sweep of spiritual power, the dust-like scraps of paper spread out before him.
Then, as Limuqun’s divine sense operated at full force, the paper scraps began to spin and fuse at great speed, finally assembling into a palm-sized note, which fell into his hand.
Hmph, I still managed to catch your slip-up!
He lifted the pieced-together note to his eyes and read carefully.
The writer appeared to be female; the handwriting was elegant and fine, with erasures and re-written lines.
The paper was flecked as if stained with tears, and since it had been pieced together, the words were even harder to make out.
It took Limuqun quite some effort to discern the sparse words upon it:
“Miss you, left by Jiang Wan’er.”
Jiang Wan’er???
A thunderclap seemed to explode in Limuqun’s mind, leaving him trembling and stumbling back a few steps.
Ho-how could it be her?
Limuqun stared dumbfounded, the image of that unreasonable, domineering little demon—who called everyone “riffraff” or “idiot” with every other sentence—surfacing in his mind.
Her, her, her—how could she possibly do something like this…
Even if she’d repeatedly humiliated him before, Limuqun still couldn’t bring himself to connect Jiang Wan’er and the words Inner Garment Bandit.
Come on—the Cloud Expanse Sect’s Saintess, a Golden Core Cultivator, the personal disciple of Qin Xinrui, revered as a goddess by countless in the sect.
You’re telling me she’s the Inner Garment Bandit?
And not just any bandit, but one who brazenly steals, then helps clean your house, and even leaves a buyout fee?
Limuqun’s mind spun with dizziness, thoughts scattering like a mess.
Just then, another voice rang out in his head.
Hey, Limuqun, aren’t you putting too much faith in so-called labels?
Your Master Luozhilan—Golden Core Cultivator, Pill Fragrance Immortal Fairy—so cold and unapproachable, the world says, but in the end? Didn’t she almost hypnotize you into being her slave?
If she could hide so deeply, why not your Junior Sister Jiang?
If you ask me, she’d already marked you as prey ages ago, seeing how she kept coming around.
Hmm, makes sense…
After hearing this argument, the hesitation in Limuqun’s eyes faded a little.
If Luozhilan could be so deeply hidden, then so could Jiang Wan’er.
But why him, of all people?
The Cloud Expanse Sect had thousands of cultivators—what made him so special that she’d choose him?
After all, he was just an utterly ordinary Transmigrator!
Limuqun stared blankly at the Storage Bag in his hand, utterly mystified.
In a daze, a long-buried memory surfaced in his mind.