Human Skin Lanterns!

In the shadows, the originally smooth darkness rippled like water.

A man, entirely clad in black, his face hidden behind a ferocious demon mask, emerged like a ghost.

He made no sound, his breathing barely audible, as if he were a part of the darkness itself.

Lei Heng's voice turned ice-cold, "Keep a close eye on that Fang Mo."

"I want to know his every move, what he eats, who he meets, even how many sheets of paper he uses in the privy, I want it all investigated."

"The situation in Willow Creek Village is complicated. If he really uncovers something he shouldn't..."

Lei Heng made a throat-slitting motion, his eyes filled with malice.

"Then let him stay there forever, a lonely wandering ghost."

The shadow said nothing, merely gave a slight fist-and-palm salute. Then his form twisted and he melted back into the boundless darkness, as if he had never appeared.

Lei Heng watched the corner become empty again, a sinister smile spreading across his lips.

"Fang Mo, I hope you can give me a surprise. Otherwise, this play will be too boring."

West Courtyard.

Fang Mo pushed open the creaking wooden door and entered the main house, filled with the smell of mildew.

He casually tossed the scroll, which symbolized a death warrant, onto the dusty desk. Without immediately examining it, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Still Water Mirror, activate.

An invisible sense spread like a tide, instantly covering the entire courtyard and even extending to the streets outside.

The sound of the wind, the chirping of insects, the clanging of Iron Bull's hammer, Yan Wangchou tapping his pipe... everything presented itself clearly in his mind.

No tails.

At least, none that were visible.

Fang Mo opened his eyes, a flash of golden light in their depths.

"It seems that old scoundrel Lei Heng is serious this time."

He wasn't afraid of direct confrontation, for he had Golden Bones; nor was he afraid of hidden schemes, for his heart was darker than anyone's.

"Old Yan, Iron Bull, Dagui, come in!"

Fang Mo called out.

A moment later, the three entered one after another.

Yan Wangchou still looked half-asleep, Iron Bull carried his great hammer like a guardian deity, while Qian Dagui was beaming with excitement, as if anticipating the upcoming adventure.

"You've heard about this mission."

Fang Mo turned his gaze to Yan Wangchou, "Old Yan, what do you think?"

Yan Wangchou took another drag from his pipe, the tobacco crackling in the embers.

He exhaled a long stream of smoke, a flicker of imperceptible cunning in his clouded old eyes. Then he chuckled, revealing a mouth full of broken, yellow teeth.

"Boss, rest assured. Since I'm eating from your bowl, Old Yan will risk his life to protect you. This old body might be a bit brittle, but it can still get a grip on someone's throat."

Iron Bull, standing beside him, said nothing. He simply clasped his fists, the heavy great hammer held in one hand, lightly tapping the ground, raising a puff of dust.

His meaning was clear—anyone who dared touch Fang Mo would have their skull smashed.

Only Qian Dagui's eyes still held a clear sort of foolishness.

He looked at Yan Wangchou, then at Iron Bull, and finally settled his gaze on Fang Mo. He grinned foolishly and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Brother Mo, Uncle Wang told me to listen to you. And I think you have a good face, Brother Mo, so following you will definitely make me rich. My father said that in business, you need to follow the right people, even if you lose money, you have to build connections first."

Fang Mo nodded with satisfaction.

Although these men had their own motives—some for their retirement, some for practice, some for their father's feeble instructions—as long as their interests aligned, this hastily assembled team had already developed a basic cohesion.

His own leadership position was now tentatively established, making it easier to speak his mind.

"In that case, let's not keep Lord Lei waiting," Fang Mo declared with a wave of his hand, his Fish Scale Armor reflecting a cold glint in the sunlight. "Let's go!"

Outside the city, on the official road.

The setting sun bled like blood, dyeing the dirt road a deep crimson.

An extremely luxurious carriage struggled along the rutted path.

The carriage was ridiculously wide, not a common single-horse cart, but pulled by four tall, snow-white horses.

The carriage exterior was wrapped in fine Shu brocade, with wind-proof copper bells hanging from the sides. The clanging of the horses' hooves echoed all the way, sounding particularly jarring in the silent wilderness.

Inside the carriage.

Fang Mo sat cross-legged on a thick White Tiger Skin carpet, peeling a crystal-clear grape. He couldn't help but twitch his eye as he looked at Qian Dagui, who was wiping sweat from his brow with a silk handkerchief opposite him.

This was hardly going to investigate a deadly case; it looked more like a young noble going out for a spring outing.

In the center of the carriage sat a small table made of rosewood. It was laden not only with various exquisite pastries and seasonal fruits but also, in a corner, a large ice chest filled with ice, emitting wisps of cool air that kept the heat inside the carriage at bay.