The night wind poured in from the mouth of the alley, making the bronze bells beneath the eaves chime softly. I stood on the stone steps outside the Spirit Hall, my fingertips still retaining the sensation of that paper flower shattering.
Ji Wuchen had left, and Yan Jiuxiao had withdrawn with his men. Only a group of Clan Elders, dressed in hemp mourning clothes, remained wailing before the coffin. But I knew there was no grief in those cries—only panic.
When that mutilated body had been carried into the coffin, I had not been far away. A faint medicinal scent had brushed past my nose—not soul-calming incense, nor Cold Marrow Powder used to preserve corpses, but Reverse Meridian Powder. This medicine rarely appeared in the world. It required the vital blood of living people as a catalyst and could suppress the flow of life force, making one on the verge of death seem as though they had fallen into false slumber. Unless one specialized in the medical arts, there was no way to discern its secrets.
I stared at that pitch-black coffin until the last person departed.
At the third quarter of the midnight hour, the manor guards changed shifts. I changed into a dark gray cloth outfit, wore the Black Cloak inside out, pulled its hood down to my brow, hid the Green Jade Medicine Pestle in my sleeve, and silently climbed over the rear wall.
The ancestral graves lay beneath North Ridge Slope, half an incense stick's journey from the main residence. Three layers of restrictions had been placed along the way, all using Ji Clan blood as their key. Years ago, when I had gathered medicine for the old madam of the clan, she had given me a drop of Heart Blood to dab upon my palm, enough to fool the first sensing formation. As for the second and third layers... I did not pass through them by formations. I simply took the desolate paths where the guards were most lax.
Deep within the graveyard, the fresh earth had not yet settled. I crouched before Ji Hantian's tombstone and brushed aside a patch of loose dirt with my fingertips, revealing the Talisman Paper sealing the coffin below. The talisman ink had dried, but its edges curled slightly, as though it had been slapped on in haste.
I took out the medicine pestle and lightly tapped the coffin lid.
Thud—
Empty.
The sound was wrong. If a real corpse had been laid within, there should have been a dull, muffled echo. Yet this knock carried a faint reverberation, as though I had struck an empty urn.
I bit my fingertip and drew a blood seal for breaking restrictions onto the Talisman Paper. The paper scorched, curled, and fell away, exposing a gap in the coffin lid. I pried it open a crack and reached inside.
What I touched was neither flesh nor bone.
It was several bloodstained old garments, piled carelessly together. A severed arm lay atop them—a prosthetic limb, a puppet component made from iron wire and leather. Digging farther in, I found only a heap of rags soaked through with reddish-brown stains, giving off a heavy scent of rust.
Just as expected, it was an empty coffin.
They had used these remnants to forge a scene of death and deceive the City Lord's Manor. The real Ji Hantian had been transferred away long after last night's chaotic battle.
I withdrew my hand and was about to close the coffin lid when I suddenly felt something sticky on my fingertips. Looking down, I saw that my sleeve cuff had brushed against a dark mark on the inner wall—it was blood, not yet fully dried, carrying the faintest trace of fishy rot.
I collected the bloodstain in a jade vial and sprinkled in a pinch of trail-revealing powder. The powder glowed faint blue upon touching blood, illuminating several dragging marks that pointed southeast.
That was the direction of the Black Market.
I followed the bloodstains through the streets. At every corner, I left a small mark of medicinal powder at the base of the wall to keep from losing my way. The Black Market's terrain was tangled and complex. On the surface, it fell under the City Lord's jurisdiction, but in truth, it was secretly controlled by three major forces: the Blood Demon Sect, the Ghost Market Merchant Alliance, and those bounty hunters who walked between life and death.
The closer I drew to the depths of the district, the stranger the air became—like old medicinal herbs gone moldy, mixed with the sour stench of some rotting animal. This was the hallmark of Dry Bone Workshop. It had once been an abandoned apothecary. Ten years ago, a great fire had burned seven alchemists to death there. No one had dared live here afterward, yet it had become fertile ground for underground trade.
The bloodstains ended at a cracked wall outside the workshop. I crouched in the shadows, holding my breath and focusing my senses.
People were speaking inside.
Their voices were low, but I recognized one of them—soft and sinister, tinged with suppressed panting. It was Ji Hantian.
"...We must obtain the Pseudo-Primordial Body," he said. "Ancient texts record that it is no ordinary physique, but the source power left behind when Chaos first opened. Whoever controls it can tear apart the shackles of the rules."
Another voice, hoarse and aged, replied, "Are you certain that thing is within him?"
"Three years ago, I personally destroyed his Dao bones. I thought that would make it foolproof. But in our recent clashes, his aura has changed. That strength suppressed beneath the surface... it cannot possibly be an act." Ji Hantian sneered. "And Ye Qingwan has already begun to suspect."
My heartbeat skipped.
They knew I was investigating.
I slowly retreated half a step and took a Crystal Butterfly from my sleeve. Its wings were as thin as cicada wings. I had refined it with my own vital blood; it flew soundlessly and was best suited to probing secrets.
With a flick of my finger, the Crystal Butterfly fluttered out and slipped through a crack in the wall.
My vision blurred for an instant, then sharpened.
I saw the scene inside the room.
Under the dim yellow candlelight, Ji Hantian stood bare-chested with his back to the door. A blood-red crystal was embedded in his left arm, pulsing continuously like a living heart. Across from him sat a red-haired old man whose eyes were as crimson as molten lava, several dark-red chains coiling around his body.
Blood Butcher.
He had indeed come.
The Crystal Butterfly slowly drifted toward a beam, coming to hover directly above the two men.
"Once the Pseudo-Primordial Body awakens, it will trigger a resonance between heaven and earth," Blood Butcher said slowly. "If you cannot control it then, you will instead be devoured by it. Are you prepared to bear this price?"
"A price?" Ji Hantian laughed softly. "I am no longer that rule-abiding Direct Grandchild from before. So long as I can kill Ji Wuchen and reclaim everything that should have been mine, I would not hesitate even if it turned me into a vicious ghost."
"Good." Blood Butcher nodded. "In three days, I will bring over twelve Human Puppets to help you launch a surprise attack on the Ji Clan's side courtyard. You must act before he leaves."
The Crystal Butterfly continued circling, trying to capture more details. Suddenly, a black shadow swept out from the corner, moving so fast its actions were almost impossible to see.
That hand shot up and precisely pinched the Crystal Butterfly's wing.
Crack.
A crisp sound rang out. The butterfly instantly shattered, turning into specks of bloody light that dispersed.
My vision went black, and my chest felt as though it had been struck by a heavy blow. A surge of blood rose into my throat.
I had been exposed.
I turned to leave, but the instant my foot moved, I heard a soft laugh behind me.
"Miss Ye, what a coincidence."
I froze.
That unhurried voice carried familiar mockery as it drifted leisurely from within the workshop gate.
I did not turn around.
My hand had already reached for the Treasure Pouch at my waist, three poisoned needles clasped between my fingers. But I knew that fighting head-on now would bring no chance of victory. Ji Hantian's wounds had yet to heal, but with Blood Butcher holding the fort, even my chance of escaping alive was vanishingly small.
Footsteps slowly closed in.
Leather boots crunched softly over broken stones. One step, two steps... then they stopped three feet behind me.
"You thought I did not know you were investigating?" he said. "From the moment you stood at the entrance of the Spirit Hall last night, I knew. You were smelling the air. You were watching the smoke trails on the coffin. You were waiting for an opening."
I remained silent.
"Clever." He sighed softly. "But those who are too clever often die faster."
A gust of wind swept past and lifted my hood. That streak of crimson at the ends of my hair swayed faintly in the night.
He suddenly laughed. "The Blood Phoenix Body has already begun to manifest? No wonder Ji Wuchen is willing to protect you. But... do not be too pleased with yourself. What lies within that man is far more dangerous than you imagine."
I spun around sharply, the medicine pestle in my sleeve sweeping out.
He had been prepared. He twisted aside to evade it, snapped open the folding fan in his hand, and struck my wrist with its ribs. Pain exploded through me, and the poisoned needles fell to the ground.
"Do not be so eager to act." He stepped back, his smile unchanged. "We will meet again. When we do, I hope you can bring something of greater value—for example, exactly how many secrets Ji Wuchen is hiding."
As his words fell, he had already retreated into the workshop.
The door creaked shut. The candlelight flickered once, then went out completely.
I stood where I was, my palm covered in cold sweat.
The wind swept up ashes from the ground and flung them against my face, carrying a bitter, scorched scent.
Lowering my head, I saw that I still held half an unburned butterfly wing between my fingertips. Its edges were charred black, like feathers singed by fire.
The sound of the night watch came from afar: the second watch, third beat.
I clenched the fragment tightly and turned into the deep alley.
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