The curator of Thundercloud Martial Arts Hall, Thunderous Sound Mantra

Two days had passed since his return from the deserted village.

In the small courtyard, Yi Yang stood beside the well, his feet planted on the blue bricks, knees slightly bent and back straight, slowly pushing both arms forward.

Yi Wood Longevity Stance.

His qi and blood rose from his dantian, passed through his waist and spine, traveled across his shoulder blades, and poured into his limbs. His Bone Tempering Realm skeleton supported that flow, much like a river channel guiding water. Wherever it went, warmth followed.

After he completed one round, the panel before Yi Yang displayed [Wood-Nurturing Longevity Art, fourth layer: (6420/30000)].

As Yi Yang let out a long breath, his mind remained busy.

On the second day after his return, he had run into Zhang Li and Zhu Yuanshan at the Heaven Patrol Office.

Zhang Li looked even more miserable than usual, clearly troubled. Zhu Yuanshan was relatively composed, though his voice was terribly hoarse when he spoke. He probably had not slept well the night before.

When their eyes met, all three released a long, stale breath.

All three of them were still alive.

Once they gathered, Zhang Li slapped his chest and cursed, "I spent half the night guarding the west side of the village and didn't see a single bastard from the Nine Evil Sect. Couldn't scrape up even a speck of credit. When I heard that huge commotion from the direction those Thundercloud Martial Arts Hall disciples were attacking, I thought you were both dead."

"Same for me on the east side," Zhu Yuanshan added. "Then I heard the ancestral hall explode. I nearly threw away my saber and ran."

Yi Yang had only said, "Lucky to be alive." The three tacitly agreed not to discuss it further. Clearly, they all knew everyone had fled after the ancestral hall collapsed, but saying so would sound bad, so they left it at that. Everything went without saying.

But there was one piece of news the loose-lipped Zhang Li could not keep to himself. He whispered to the other two, "Did you know? That Song Wu from Thundercloud Martial Arts Hall is dead."

Lowering his voice, Zhang Li continued, lingering fear on his face. "I heard those martial arts hall disciples rode back to Yunlin County City overnight. But one of our brothers from the Heaven Patrol Office saw only four of them leave. One was missing."

Yi Yang feigned the appropriate shock. "Song Wu? The one at qi-blood third level?"

"Who else?" Zhu Yuanshan rubbed his hands, his fingers trembling unconsciously. "Qi-blood third level, and just like that, gone. What kind of monster was hiding in that ancestral hall?"

Yi Yang shook his head and sighed.

His performance was flawless. Inside, he felt nothing.

He had not told them the truth about the ancestral hall. That deacon had reached qi-blood fourth-level perfection and become even fiercer after swallowing a Blood Origin Pill. The entire deserted village had been an intricately designed death trap.

Someone had leaked information.

The intelligence claimed the strongest enemy there was at qi-blood third level. In reality, a fourth-level monster had been lying in wait.

Those Nine Evil Sect followers had been bait, too.

Wang Gongqin had been waiting from beginning to end-waiting for the people from Thundercloud Martial Arts Hall to charge in, waiting for them to slaughter the small fry, waiting for the perfect moment when all that blood energy had dispersed before beginning his pill refinement.

As for who had tipped him off, who had delivered news of Thundercloud Martial Arts Hall's expedition to the deserted village into the Nine Evil Sect's hands, that remained unknown.

Yi Yang had said nothing, and Zhang Li and Zhu Yuanshan could not guess that far. They had never entered the ancestral hall, never seen the blood array in the rear courtyard, never smelled that sinister aura.

The fewer people who knew, the longer they lived.

For the past two days, the Heaven Patrol Office had simply told the three of them to rest. No one had questioned or investigated them.

It was too quiet.

Unnaturally quiet, though this was probably the calm before the storm.

Yi Yang finished his final round of stance practice and relaxed his posture, lowering his arms as his qi and blood slowly settled. The breeze dried the thin layer of sweat on his forehead, leaving it chilly.

Just then, three knocks sounded outside the courtyard gate.

Neither hurried nor slow, each evenly spaced.

It was not Jiang Yuexin. The girl had not gone out today.

Nor was it Yang Hui. She was still selling steamed buns at the eastern end of town, at a stall Yi Yang had paid to help her set up. Yang Hui had stubbornly refused to eat and stay for free. Yi Yang had not insisted, instead giving her some starting capital to keep her busy so she would not stew herself sick sitting idle at home.

There was more than one person outside.

Yi Yang sharpened his hearing. Three sets of breathing.

One was heavy, carrying an irrepressible hostility. Its owner walked heel-first, his footsteps loud.

One was fine and even, tightly controlled. The sound of a saber sheath brushing a belt was faint.

The third...

Yi Yang's pupils contracted slightly.

The third set of breaths was long and deep, with powerful resonance in the chest. Every inhalation and exhalation carried a faint vibration, like the tolling of a distant bell.

This was no ordinary Qi-Blood Realm aura.

At least qi-blood sixth level.

Yi Yang rotated his wrists and pressed his Bone Tempering Realm qi and blood deeper into the crevices of his bones, leaving only the thin surface layer appropriate to qi-blood second level.

"Yuexin." He turned and called toward the house, deliberately making his voice old and raspy. "Go back to your room. Don't come out."

Jiang Yuexin poked half her head out of her room. Seeing Yi Yang's usual expression, she moved her lips but asked nothing, then returned to the inner room and closed the door.

Yi Yang shook out the wrinkles in his old blue robe and shuffled over to open the gate.

The gate opened.

Tang Hao stood at the front, his black clothes bulging around his frame, a half-smile hanging on his face. It was an unsettling smile, with nothing but probing calculation and coldness in his eyes.

Behind him stood a young Patrol Guard of twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with a narrow face and thin lips. A copper badge from the Martial Law Hall hung at his waist, and old calluses marked the backs of his hands. Judging by his attire, Yi Yang reckoned he must be Fang Yu, the Patrol Guard from the Martial Law Hall.

The snake in the shadows Zhao Gang had warned him about.

Fang Yu swept his gaze over Yi Yang, from the white hair atop his head to the cloth shoes on his feet. The scrutiny was openly provocative.

Beside those two stood another man.

He was in his fifties or sixties, dressed in a blue robe, with a square face and graying temples. His build was not particularly imposing, yet merely standing there, he made the air throughout the alley feel heavier.

Yi Yang's five organs quivered slightly at that instant.

Not from fear. His instincts were telling him that the man before him was on an entirely different level from every opponent he had encountered before.

"Old Man Yi," Tang Hao began, his tone as casual as a neighbor dropping by to borrow something. "Sorry to disturb you. The office has a few questions."

At the sight of the three visitors, Yi Yang stepped back half a pace and hunched a little lower.

"You're too polite, Patrol Captain Tang. Would you like to sit inside?"

"No need. Just a few questions." Tang Hao strode into the courtyard, Fang Yu following behind. His eyes swept everywhere-the corners, the eaves, the water jar-as though searching for a criminal.

The blue-robed man entered last. He did not look around, merely standing beneath the locust tree with his hands behind his back and his gaze resting on Yi Yang's face.

There was nothing fierce in that gaze, only profound disregard, as though Yi Yang were not worth a second look.

Yet Yi Yang sensed a pressure beneath that mildness, so thick it would not disperse, like a mountain pressing down above his head.

Tang Hao cleared his throat and said solemnly, "You know about that business in the deserted village. After the Thundercloud Martial Arts Hall disciples returned, they told us what happened. Some things don't add up."

Yi Yang nodded, looking utterly honest and simple. "Don't add up? In what way?"

Tang Hao took two steps forward, his boot soles grinding against the blue bricks.

"The intelligence was wrong. Our source said that fiend was at most qi-blood third level, but he turned out to be at fourth-level perfection. That got Song Wu of Thundercloud Martial Arts Hall killed, and the other four suffered serious injuries."

He paused, casting a sidelong glance across Yi Yang's face before continuing. "We went to investigate the intelligence broker who supplied the information afterward, but he'd long since fled. Even his hideout had been burned clean."

Yi Yang obligingly furrowed his brow.

"Fled?"

"Clean away. Barely even a handful of ashes left." Tang Hao's voice grew heavy. "What does that tell us? Someone tipped off the Nine Evil Sect beforehand and sold out our operation."

Yi Yang drew in a breath, showing precisely the right measure of lingering fear.

"Then... with the three of us Patrol Captains guarding the perimeter, if that fiend had come our way..."

"That's why we need to investigate," Tang Hao interrupted. "Although the three Patrol Captains didn't fight directly, everyone who handled this matter must be checked."

He turned sideways and gestured toward the blue-robed man.

"This is Curator Mu of Thundercloud Martial Arts Hall. Zhan Zhi's master. Curator Mu takes the harm done to his disciples extremely seriously and has come personally to assist with the investigation."

Mu Fenghai.

Qi-blood sixth level. Marrow washing and blood renewal.

One of Yunlin County's most powerful martial artists.

The string in Yi Yang's heart stretched to its limit, but he plastered a flattered expression onto his face, cupping his fists and bowing.

"You honor us with your presence, Curator Mu. Forgive this old man's poor manners."

Mu Fenghai nodded slightly without speaking.

Tang Hao continued, "There's another thing. We've identified that Nine Evil Sect deacon."

Yi Yang pricked up his ears.

"Wang Gongqin."

As Tang Hao spoke that name, even Fang Yu's expression tightened. "He was originally a disciple of Golden Sun Temple in Suining Prefecture, Qing Province. Later, he was stripped of his standing and expelled. Before leaving, he stole an extremely valuable item from his master."

Golden Sun Temple.

That was no fly-by-night sect. It ranked among the four strongest sects in Suining Prefecture.

"Who would have thought he joined the Nine Evil Sect after being expelled?" Tang Hao clicked his tongue, then shifted the conversation. "With Golden Sun Temple involved, this carries considerable weight. So everyone involved must be questioned individually and thoroughly."

Yi Yang nodded, looking like an honest man prepared to cooperate to the very end.

Just then, the blue-robed man who had remained silent beneath the locust tree suddenly spoke.

"When you were patrolling the outskirts of the deserted village-"

His voice was not particularly loud.

But every word that left Mu Fenghai's mouth carried an invisible layer of vibration, pouring through the air into Yi Yang's ears before drilling into his mind.

"-did you enter the village's ancestral hall?"

Boom.

A buzzing roar exploded inside Yi Yang's head.

That voice was not heard through his ears. It shook directly through his internal organs. His lungs felt pressed down, his heartbeat faltered, and his stomach churned. A powerful impulse surged up his throat, forcing him to open his mouth, forcing him to lay everything bare.

Thunderous Sound Mantra.

Thundercloud Martial Arts Hall's supreme signature art.

It transformed internal power into sound waves that shook an opponent's consciousness. Martial artists below qi-blood sixth level could not withstand it at all. Without realizing it, their mouths would be pried open, spilling every word hidden in their bellies.

Yi Yang's five organs trembled violently.

But just as that impulse was about to burst through his throat, the Five-Organ Internal Refining Force within him began circulating on its own.

His heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys heated simultaneously. An extremely thin layer of inner radiance seeped from their walls, enveloping that vibration, dispersing it, and dissolving it.

The buzzing faded.

His clarity returned.

Barely two breaths had passed.

But Yi Yang did not let his lucidity show.

He deliberately swayed backward, letting his gaze unfocus, his pupils widen, and his lips part slightly-the proper reaction to being struck by Thunderous Sound Mantra. An old man at qi-blood second level could never withstand this move.

"I... when I saw that huge commotion at the ancestral hall, I... I got scared..."

Yi Yang's voice drifted, his words broken and disjointed, like someone talking in a dream.

"Ran... ran toward the south of the village... didn't see anything... ran straight back to town."

Mu Fenghai stared at him for five or six breaths.

Those eyes held neither anger nor pleasure. They were as calm as a lake, yet seemed capable of seeing straight through a person.

Finally, Mu Fenghai withdrew his gaze.

"No issues."

His tone was indifferent as he turned to Tang Hao.

"An old man at qi-blood second level cannot withstand this technique of mine. He's telling the truth."

That half-smile returned to Tang Hao's face, and he nodded eagerly.

"Your Thunderous Sound Mantra is renowned throughout the city, Curator Mu. Never mind qi-blood second level-even a tough opponent at qi-blood fourth level might not endure it."

Fang Yu chimed in, his respectful tone bordering on flattery.

"Your renown is well deserved, Curator. You have my admiration."

Yi Yang maintained his dazed state, eyelids half lowered and body swaying slightly.

Mu Fenghai was no longer looking at him.

The three turned toward the courtyard gate.

At the gate, Fang Yu suddenly looked back.

He glanced at Yi Yang.

There was no respect or courtesy in that glance, only the vicious resentment of a predator whose prey had slipped from its jaws.

It was brief.

So brief that neither Tang Hao nor Mu Fenghai noticed.

But Yi Yang saw it.

He did not look back, continuing to play the part of someone weakened by the mental shock, leaning against the courtyard wall and gasping.

Only after their footsteps had completely vanished at the mouth of the alley did Yi Yang slowly straighten his back.

He stood in the courtyard, sunlight scattering bright patches across the ground as the locust leaves rustled in the breeze.

Tang Hao, that snake.

Last time, he used a transfer order to throw me into the deserted village, hoping to kill me with the Nine Evil Sect's borrowed blade. This time, he brought Mu Fenghai to probe me with Thunderous Sound Mantra.

An investigation on the surface, a trap underneath.

If the first attempt failed, and the second failed, there would be a third.

Yi Yang lowered his head and looked at his hands.

Rough, with twisting blue veins and brick dust from stance practice still caught beneath his nails.

A sixty-year-old's hands.

They had chopped firewood for decades and killed several people. Now he still had to play along with other people's acts.

Yi Yang tucked his hands into his sleeves, the trace of coldness in his eyes sinking deep, very deep.

Tang Hao. Fang Yu.

Both entered in the ledger.