Heaven's Secret Pavilion

Early morning.

Chen Mu opened his eyes, changed his clothes, and went out.

It had snowed heavily again overnight, leaving the entire Xuanguo Estate blanketed in white. Once outside the courtyard, he could see quite a few servants carrying brooms and sweeping snow everywhere.

A gust of cold wind blew past, nearly penetrating his cotton-padded coat and bringing wave after wave of chill.

"Looks like I really do need to practice martial arts."

Chen Mu rubbed his hands and exhaled a plume of white mist.

Spellcasters could send their souls out of their bodies and ascend to the heavens or descend into the earth, but their physical bodies were ultimately made of mortal flesh. Though they could use Mind-Soul Power to ward off some of the cold, it was not a long-term solution.

Martial artists needed only to reach Ninth Rank before their resistance to cold and heat far surpassed that of ordinary people. Even in such a harsh winter, they could go outside wearing only a long-sleeved shirt, their vigorous blood and qi leaving them entirely untouched by the cold.

Xiao Mei was like that.

Though she was only Ninth Rank, her entire body was practically comparable to a small furnace.

Chen Mu was not a fussy person. Since he had a maid who could warm his bed, he naturally had no reason not to make use of her. But no matter how warm a maid was, she ultimately could not compare to improving one's own constitution.

Besides, no martial arts technique was difficult for him. With a spellcaster's cultivation realm, advancing through the first few ranks of the martial path was as easy as eating or drinking.

He could even cultivate while eating, drinking, or doing anything else. He only needed to divide off part of his Mind-Soul Power to control his spiritual energy and temper his body according to the method of the technique.

Of course.

If one was not a spellcaster, then martial arts was an exceedingly arduous path. One not only needed the aptitude, but also a tenacious and unyielding heart. Only through perseverance could one see results.

Among the countless paths to rising above the masses, martial arts was in fact the most difficult one of all!

Even the prerequisites, such as medicinal baths, were enough to turn many people away. Entering a rank was even harder. There were tens of millions of martial artists throughout the world, yet fewer than one in ten could truly persevere and reach a rank.

The Chen Mu of the past had not practiced martial arts because he could not endure hardship.

According to his memories, he had practiced once when he was fourteen, but after seven days with no major changes, he could not hold on and gave up.

Xiao Mei had secretly practiced martial arts in her capacity as a maid and reached a rank. That was already quite outstanding. If she had been one of the legitimate young ladies of the estate, she might already have reached Eighth Rank by now.

"Let's go to Heaven's Secret Pavilion first."

Chen Mu pondered briefly.

He would prioritize Geng He's obsession and have Heaven's Secret Pavilion investigate the matter.

Chen Mu soon left the estate, boarded a carriage waiting outside the Xuanguo Estate, and traveled to a street in the northern part of the Capital.

The street seemed extremely deserted. Though it was still early morning, places like Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion and Apricot Flower House were probably already filled with pedestrians, while here, one or two figures appeared only now and then.

Chen Mu got off outside the street.

He walked into the street on foot and continued deeper inside, eventually arriving before a three-story pavilion.

Though the pavilion had been swept immaculately and was spotless, it looked extremely old. Its colors also tended toward the gloomy and gray, and merely looking at it gave one an indistinct sense of discomfort.

Heaven's Secret Pavilion!

That was the plaque hanging on the pavilion.

The characters were crooked and slanted, scribbled to an extreme, looking like the doodles of a three-year-old child. Yet Chen Mu merely glanced at them before narrowing his eyes slightly.

The writing contained intent!

Only a martial grandmaster could comprehend artistic intent, while a spellcaster had to reach the Fourth Rank, Day Roaming, before they could imprint their own will onto external objects and preserve it for a long time without fading.

Judging by the plaque, it had probably existed for at least two or three hundred years. After such a long time, it could still make one faintly sense the intent of the person who had written it.

"A Martial Saint?"

"Or a Second Rank spellcaster?"

Chen Mu murmured inwardly.

But he did not dwell on it. He simply stepped into Heaven's Secret Pavilion.

If it had been someone else, this plaque alone might have been enough to stun them and inspire awe. But what Chen Mu had seen in the Netherworld far surpassed what these few characters could reveal—by countless times.

The Black Blood on the Grave Soil had dried for who knew how long, yet it remained so terrifying that even with the system's protection, he had found it difficult to approach, let alone sense it.

A mere plaque could not intimidate him.

He entered Heaven's Secret Pavilion.

The interior was extremely simple.

In an empty, spacious room,

there was only a table, a chair, a teapot, and a teacup.

Farther inside stood a huge screen. It was gray and gloomy in tone and depicted a Feng Shui painting, blocking everything behind it so that nothing could be seen.

Chen Mu did not mind. With a calm expression, he walked straight to the table and sat down in the chair.

It was precisely as he sat down

that a vague voice, impossible to distinguish as young or old, male or female, drifted eerily from some unknown direction.

"Heaven's Secret Pavilion's three hundred and forty-six thousand two hundred and forty-first guest."

"Welcome."

"There is tea in the pot."

Chen Mu gently lifted the teapot and poured himself a cup of tea, but merely glanced at it.

Then he calmly said, "I need to know where Geng He of South Screen Street in the Capital is now, and what became of his wife and daughter after he killed himself."

His voice spread through the empty room, but there was neither an echo nor a reply.

Everything sank into silence just like that.

After roughly fifteen minutes, when the tea in the cup had gradually cooled, that same voice—neither male nor female, and coming from no discernible direction—spoke again.

"Geng He, a commoner of South Screen Street, died in the forty-ninth year of Yongli."

"His wife and daughter were sold to Arriving Phoenix Pavilion. Arriving Phoenix Pavilion was destroyed for unknown reasons in the fifty-second year of Yongli."

"To investigate the current circumstances of his wife and daughter requires thirty gold."

Yongli ended in its fifty-second year.

It was now the sixteenth year of Longzheng, and nineteen years had already passed since Yongli's forty-ninth year—somewhat longer ago than he had expected.

"Fine."

Chen Mu answered softly and placed one large and one small gold ingot on the table.

Thirty gold was a substantial sum. But the information he wanted to investigate ended nineteen years ago, and the matter had also undergone complications along the way. The price was not expensive, and fortunately, Chen Mu had just enough left.

Just after Chen Mu set down the gold ingots,

whoosh!

A point of dim light suddenly appeared, shot toward the table before Chen Mu, and embedded itself in the tabletop.

Upon closer inspection, it was a black token.

Words were engraved upon it:

Geng-27

"Guest, please take this token. Return with it in ten days to collect the intelligence."

The indistinct voice sounded again.

Chen Mu extended his hand and gently picked up the black token from the table. Then he turned around, walked out of Heaven's Secret Pavilion, and disappeared beyond its doors.

Not long after Chen Mu left,

a person dressed in gray robes and wearing a black mask appeared. They silently came to the table and took away the gold ingots without making the slightest sound throughout the entire process.

Afterward, another gray-robed person appeared, wearing a white mask. They gently carried away the teacup and teapot from the table, replaced them with a new teapot and teacup, and then vanished without a trace.

In complete silence,

everything returned to its original state.

The empty room still contained nothing but a table, a chair, a pot, a cup, and a screen.