A Sinister Scheme

Night fell, the beginning of the Hour of the Boar.

Lu Chen changed into black nightwear and donned a human-skin mask as thin as cicada wings, capable of altering the contours of his face. Yun Qingyue's senior brother had urgently sent it over; it was crafted by his junior brother, the Thousand-Faced Gentleman, and was enough to deceive ordinary spiritual-sense scans.

He did not bring the Evil-Quelling Guard with him. This was a covert investigation—too many people would only startle the snake in the grass.

After bringing himself to peak condition, Lu Chen slipped silently out of the marquis's residence like a wisp of green smoke melting into the night, heading westward.

The western market still held a scattering of lights at night, but the farther one went toward its edges, the dimmer and quieter it became.

The street where Fortune Prosperity Merchant House stood was now utterly deserted.

Lu Chen lay concealed in the shadows atop a roof across the street, circulating the Black Tortoise Breath Concealment Art to its utmost limit. His aura blended perfectly with his surroundings; even if spiritual sense swept past him, it would take him for nothing more than a tile or brick.

He waited patiently.

At the third quarter of the Hour of the Boar, the faint sound of wheels rolling over bluestone paving came from afar.

A pitch-black carriage, its compartment draped in thick black cloth, slowly approached from the other end of the street, drawn by two fine horses. It stopped directly before the tightly shut rear entrance of Fortune Prosperity Merchant House.

The driver was a black-clad man in a conical hat. His aura was cold and sinister, and he was clearly at the late Xiantian stage.

The rear door silently opened a crack. A shop hand poked his head