Chixinzi

"These bastards! They're all fawning sycophants when things are easy, but the moment something actually happens, they all show their true colors!"

Steward He Fusheng returned to the mansion, his pale, gaunt face twisted with rage as he cursed incessantly.

The He Mansion's steward ranted for a while, but still unsatisfied, he turned to complain to He Ping beside him.

"Young Master, those martial artists are truly spineless. We had a clear agreement—we provide the money, they provide the muscle... but the moment it's time to get down to business, they all start backing out!"

"How many are willing to come?"

He Ping folded his fan and asked, "I know the Flying Fish Sect and the Iron Heart Martial Hall have no issues. Chi Ling Daoist and Master Zhao are close friends of mine; they are willing to come and lend a hand. As for the others, what about the Long Wind Society..."

"The Long Wind Society is willing, but they're asking for this much."

He Fusheng wore a dark expression as he held up his hand to gesture a figure.

"The Heavy Axe Gang and the Bamboo Flower Society are also raising their prices... These wretches must have caught the chicken plague. They've been scraping a living in Suian City all this time—do they have any idea who it is that grants them their livelihood and face?"

"Then let it be so."

He Ping said dismissively, "Increase the bounty to five times the original ten thousand taels. Pay these groups whatever salary they demand, and if there are any casualties, we will cover the compensation for all sides... Money is meant to flow, both in and out. There's nothing to fuss over."

"Young Master."

Steward He Fusheng spoke with a sincere tone, "Money is a minor matter, but if we set this precedent, those wretches will think the He Family has lost its footing and is weak enough to be bullied. They will surely start making exorbitant demands, and that is the real trouble."

"Don't worry."

He Ping waved his hand.

"I have my own measures for this. By the way, those 'Dark Stakes' we've been cultivating—they should all be of use now, right?"

"Young Master, you intend to mobilize them?"

He Fusheng was somewhat surprised.

Since He Ping took power, the He Family had not only recruited retainers and raised strong servants but had also secretly trained a group of death-sworn agents. These people, known as "Dark Stakes," served specifically as moles and scouts. He Ping had planted them within various factions to gather intelligence, which was the true reason the He Family's business had grown so vast.

The people who met Cheng Zhi outside the city to help him escape to Four Peaks Mountain, as well as the "waiter" at the Linjiang Immortal restaurant who died in the fire, were all chess pieces in He Ping's hands. They remained dormant when not needed, but could exert immense influence when the time came.

"That's right."

He Ping said calmly, "I should say that it is precisely because of this timing that these Dark Stakes can finally serve their true purpose."

He Fusheng nodded. Finally, as if recalling something, he said in a low voice, "Young Master, the investigation you ordered into those branch managers has yielded results. After leaving the He Mansion, they fled to He Jin's private villa."

"As I thought."

A sinister, cold sneer appeared at the corner of He Ping's mouth.

"He Jin, that wretch, is truly courting death. I thought that after losing a son, you would restrain yourself, but to think you still dare to stir up trouble for me. It seems you are beyond saving."

BOOM!

The rain grew heavier, and thunder rumbled in the distance, drawing ever closer.

Deep within Four Peaks Mountain, past a dense forest, a cliff face emerged. Between the forest and the cliff lay a small, open plain. Looking from afar, natural caves of various sizes were scattered across the cliffside.

Cheng Zhi was hiding in one of these caves. It was not spacious, but it was bone-dry and habitable.

Over the past few days, he had stored supplies in the cave—provisions scavenged from the corpses of the bailiffs and officials who had died after entering the mountain, along with the dry rations and fresh water he carried with him.

Of course, even if these things were lost, it wouldn't be a tragedy. On one hand, he had several such strongholds in Four Peaks Mountain, so food was not an issue; at worst, he could use the Hair-Cutting Pill to hunt for game.

On the other hand, that mysterious senior from the Immortal Puppet Sect would dispatch a Ghost-Faced Owl every few nights to deliver supplies.

"I can afford to lose other things, but these gourds containing medicinal powders must never be lost. I must keep them on me at all times."

Cheng Zhi carried several packets of powder on his person. They contained various substances: some to mask his scent and prevent tracking by hounds; others to repel the insects of Four Peaks Mountain; and a concoction made from the excrement of a fierce raptor known as the Sheep-Eating Eagle, which could drive away hunting hawks. The most potent of all was a strange powder called "Soul-Luring Incense"—if smeared on one's body, it would attract the attention of monsters.

That senior had told him that a One-Horned Mountain Demon lurked in Four Peaks Mountain, a creature that slept by day and hunted by night, possessing extreme ferocity. If used cleverly, the "Soul-Luring Incense" could save his life.

"Besides these, there is this map. It must have been drawn by a hunter or woodcutter from the mountain. The drawing style is crude, but the grasp of the terrain is remarkably precise..."

He pulled a beast-skin map from his clothes. It displayed the topography of the area around Four Peaks Mountain, including the current state of the mountain, drawn in great detail.

This map had naturally been obtained by He Ping from hunters who had migrated out of Four Peaks Mountain. It was a unique copy that outsiders could never obtain, which was why Cheng Zhi had managed to escape death during several mountain-wide searches.

"But how much longer must I stay in Four Peaks Mountain? And that Mountain Demon..."

Just then, a bestial roar echoed from the depths of the mountains through the wind and rain. Cheng Zhi's heart trembled at the sound.

"The One-Horned Mountain Demon is such a cruel and violent monster. Those bailiffs who chased me last time were truly unlucky to have been targeted by it."

Cheng Zhi felt that he didn't even need to close his eyes to see the black-red blood, the severed limbs and heads, the desperate screams of the people, and the clashing of blades—a chill swept through his heart as he recalled that day.

Another "BOOM" sounded. Outside the cave, a flash of pale lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating a hunched figure in the rain curtain.

"...Who is that?"

Cheng Zhi looked up and sprang to his feet. His cave overlooked the dense forest below, and he had caught a glimpse of a human figure in the woods.

"I've been discovered!"

He became tense in an instant, his eyes locked onto the direction of the forest.

Suddenly, another flash of lightning struck, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. In that instant, the light bursting from the clouds turned Cheng Zhi's face a ghastly, deathly pale, making him look like a vengeful ghost.

No, the figure that had been visible in the woods just a moment ago had vanished without a trace, as if it were a phantom.

(Could my eyes have deceived me?)

Cheng Zhi asked himself, yet he felt that was not the case.

"I didn't see wrong... Could it be that the ghosts are acting up again?"

He felt somewhat uneasy. It was strange, to say the least; ever since he had escaped from the Wandering Soul Ghost Village that day, he had been trapped in blood-colored nightmares every night. He would wake up in a cold sweat from the horrors, and sometimes, the moment he closed his eyes, he could feel a pair of cold, sinister eyes staring at him from some dark corner.

"...Big Sister."

He hunched his back, his entire body curling into a ball as he murmured under his breath.

Just then, a massive black shadow swept its giant wings, cutting through the rain as it flew toward the cave.

"A Ghost-Faced Owl?"

No!

Although that strange bird was adept at flying at night, in such a rainy night with thunder and lightning, no bird would be flying about!

"Wait! What on earth is that?"

Cheng Zhi's eyes widened abruptly as he saw clearly: the black shadow folded its wings and actually transformed into a human figure as it landed.

"Who, who are you?"

Terrified, he retreated with a flying step, but a pitch-black palm with a dull sheen seized his right hand.

Cheng Zhi's right wrist throbbed with pain. The five fingers gripping his wrist had a wooden texture, carved with strange patterns and jagged joints; it was a bizarre hand seemingly crafted from a material that was neither wood nor stone.

"Little brat Cheng Zhi, do you not recognize me?"

The man was draped in a green robe, revealing only his head and face, his long hair disheveled, and he wore a wooden mask that resembled a theatrical face-paint.

It was an owl-shaped mask. With its hooked beak and narrow eyes, the carving was incredibly exquisite; if not for the coarse, exotic bird feathers circling the mask, one would almost believe it was a living creature.

"Senior Chixinzi."

Cheng Zhi's mouth hung wide open, never having expected that it would be this man who had come.