In the city of Wuhou, a sudden rainstorm erupted out of nowhere, pouring down in torrents before abruptly ceasing, as if playing a prank on the people. Xu Fengnian, however, took it as a good omen. After all, it was rare to encounter heavy rain in an entire year, and yet he had just happened to witness it. As the rain gradually subsided and finally disappeared entirely, Xu Fengnian, relying on vivid memories, led the white-robed and white-shoed Luoyang through the narrow alleys. In the lanes, groups of children, boys and girls alike, were joyfully playing in the wet streets. They rushed to the damp walls, overturning tiles and stones to catch a few horned water beetles, commonly known as “water oxen.” Xu Fengnian hadn’t expected to find such creatures in Xihou Prefecture. The sight stirred up many childhood memories, warming his gaze.
The children picked up the water oxen and placed them on the steps, tying small stones to the insects with string. The little creatures moved slowly, and the children watched them with delight. These children, neighbors who had grown up together like plum blossoms and bamboo horses, occupied most of the alley. Xu Fengnian carefully skirted the wall to avoid disturbing them, but behind him, Luoyang walked straight through and accidentally crushed one of the unfortunate water oxen underfoot. Its owner was a clean-faced little girl with twin pigtails. Upon seeing her newly acquired pet die an untimely death, she hesitated for a moment, first glancing at Luoyang, too timid to show anger, and then burst into tears. The boys nearby also lacked the courage to defend her, merely staring at the white-clad “older sister.” She was beautiful, yes, but her temper was too bad. Xu Fengnian, fearing that the children might unintentionally provoke the female demon, quickly signaled to Luoyang before hurriedly going to the wall’s edge himself. He dug out two water oxen and handed them to the girl with pigtails as compensation.
Children’s hearts are simple. What they gain and lose, what makes them happy or sad, all passes quickly. Thus, they did not hold a grudge against the pair of “older siblings.” They merely moved a little farther away and continued playing with the water oxen, whispering among themselves. Xu Fengnian glanced at Luoyang, helpless. He couldn’t help but think—was this what it meant to “accompany a ruler like treading on a tiger’s tail”? He wondered how the eunuch Han Diaosi, known as the “Cat of Men,” had endured it. Was his name Han Shengxuan? He had heard that this man was skilled in crossing borders to kill celestial beings with his finger-scribed techniques. Whether that was true or not was uncertain. But if he were to fight Luoyang to the death, would he have a four-in-ten chance of victory?
As Xu Fengnian drifted into thought, Luoyang turned the corner of the alley and stopped in front of a stall. Looking up, Xu saw it was a narrow shop selling braised lamb noodles. Luoyang sat down first. The shopkeeper was a plump woman with a kind and cheerful face. Seeing that the young couple exuded an air of nobility, she grew even more enthusiastic, lavishly praising her own lamb noodles. She claimed the lamb was made from the tender meat of the front legs and loin areas, seasoned with a pure and fragrant blend passed down through generations. She rattled off nearly ten ingredients, including licorice, tangerine peel, and yellow soy sauce, clearly worried that the customers might look down on her small shop and humble fare. Xu Fengnian smiled and ordered two bowls of lamb noodles with clear broth. Although the woman was a businessperson, her honest nature shone through. She generously added ample meat and broth, sprinkling the noodles with fresh Sichuan pepper blossoms and green coriander, and even handed over two crisp scallions. Xu Fengnian couldn’t stop praising her cooking. Though he wasn’t particularly good with children, he had a natural talent for interacting with women, especially older ones. With the shop nearly empty, the owner sat at a nearby table, laughing heartily. The lamb noodles were quickly served, and Xu devoured them just as quickly. Luoyang, however, ate slowly. Xu ended up ordering another bowl, and after finishing his meal, he paid. The silver coins were too heavy, and the copper coins too few, leaving a slight shortfall. Xu had intended to pay extra, but the woman was generous—perhaps determined to win them as repeat customers, or perhaps captivated by Xu’s handsome features, so unlike the rough men she usually encountered. She accepted only copper coins. As they were about to leave, Xu said he would definitely return for another meal before leaving the city. The woman laughed joyfully and even wished him something like “early blessings of noble offspring,” which startled Xu into a cold sweat. Fortunately, Luoyang ignored her words and walked away.
They leisurely returned to the inn. Luoyang requested a top-tier private courtyard. The two agreed to meet again at midnight. Xu returned to his room, checked that everything was in order, and began to meditate, cultivating the golden lotus within him. He silently honed his sword techniques until there were only two Engraved (about 30 minutes) left before midnight, when he finally prepared for the journey to Huanxi Spring. In truth, having Luoyang accompany him had both advantages and disadvantages. The downside was that this demonic companion was unpredictable, and who knew what mischief she might cause. The upside was that even in the worst circumstances, Xu would not find himself in a death trap. Even if Zhong Shen Tong and Zhong Jue faced him together, could they rival Luoyang, the fourth strongest in the world? As night deepened, Xu Fengnian, carrying the sword Chunqiu and wearing the dagger Chuntao, arrived at Luoyang’s courtyard. She was sitting on the steps, gazing at the stars above. Wuhou’s city walls were high, the sky low, and the sight was vastly different from the south. Luoyang gave him a glance, and Xu leapt onto the roof, dashing across it without needing to check whether Luoyang could keep up. If she couldn’t, then Xu could already do as he pleased in the palace of the Liyang Dynasty.
Luoyang followed like a shadow. As Xu changed his breath, he curiously asked, “Zhong Jue is only ranked fourth among the demons. Why do you say he is second only to you?”
Luoyang walked calmly, her voice cold and indifferent. “Isn’t your warm little servant girl the same, hiding her abilities and only willing to rank at the bottom?”
Xu Fengnian laughed. “Of course, none of them are like you.”
To the north and south of Huanxi Spring lived the powerful and noble. Night patrols armed with crossbows and armor were common. The south was relatively manageable, but once they reached the northern spring, nearly every three steps were guarded, and hidden sentries were everywhere. Fortunately, Xu Fengnian was no stranger to military night restrictions and city defenses. It was also fortunate that Luoyang was willing to lower her dignity and sneak alongside him. Arriving outside the Zhong family’s estate, Xu selected a secluded corner where the lanterns were sparse. Just as he was about to climb over the wall, Luoyang suddenly grabbed him. She rose and twisted her body into a strange posture atop the wall. Xu now realized there were traps on the wall. Imitating her, he discovered fine silver threads tied with bells strung along the top. As he was about to leap over the wall, he caught a glimpse of Luoyang hovering a few feet away from the wall, her eyes mocking. Xu cursed inwardly, focused his gaze, and adjusted his breath to halt his descent. His body slid down the wall like a gecko, narrowly avoiding the hidden traps. Only she could stand on those thin threads without causing the bells to ring even slightly. Xu Fengnian admitted he had not yet reached that level of skill.
Primarily, the Northern Liang Prince’s Mansion had always been loose on the outside but tight within. Even if harboring ill intentions, they preferred to lure enemies inside before striking. In contrast, the Zhong family’s estate was overly cautious, clearly trying to keep enemies at bay and discourage them from approaching. They did not even seek to kill, which was likely why the Zhong family, like a dragon crossing the river, deliberately adopted a low profile in another’s territory.
As long as the architecture of a courtyard was crafted by a master, there would be an inherent order to it, a system to follow. The Northern Liang Prince’s Mansion, grand and majestic, was the pinnacle of such design. Although the Zhong family’s estate in Huanxi Spring was considered first-rate, it still paled in comparison to the mountain-dominating Northern Liang Prince’s Mansion. Xu Fengnian moved with ease, avoiding people by sound as if strolling through his own home, guiding the white-robed demon past beams and pillars, through corridors. At first, he could still sense Luoyang’s presence, but after fifteen minutes, he felt nothing at all. Xu didn’t bother worrying. Based on his understanding of her identity, he avoided the brothers Zhong Shen Tong and Zhong Jue, instead heading toward the quiet courtyard of the honored guest Lu Gui. The closer he approached the main courtyards, the looser the security became. This was the Zhong family’s arrogance.
Xu Fengnian moved like a swallow returning to its nest, hanging silently beneath eaves that cast no shadow. The room inside was brightly lit. Using his golden-threaded needle to pierce a small hole in the window paper, he saw a middle-aged man resembling Lu Shen by about sixty percent reading a book by lamplight, his brows furrowed with gloom. Sitting opposite him was an old man in coarse clothes. The old man had a thin face, his fingers interlaced on the table. Most striking was his purple lips, identical to the Northern Liang geomancer Yao Jian, clearly indicating he had long practiced tasting soil to identify feng shui points. This confirmed that the Zhong family, in their westward journey, indeed sought to use the Lu family’s feng shui techniques to explore the tomb of the Qin Emperor.
The old man in coarse clothes had a delicate brass lamp beside him. Both he and Lu Gui wore expressions of worry, not showing any joy at the prospect of benefiting from the opening of the imperial tomb. Xu Fengnian somewhat understood their concern. When it came to the tomb of the Qin Emperor, a tomb of unparalleled scale in human history, mechanical traps were the least of their worries. The real danger lay in the spiritual energy of the site itself. If the yin energy was too strong, not only would those who entered the tomb often perish despite temporarily acquiring treasures, but their descendants might suffer for generations. That brass lamp was known as the “Breath-Exchanging Lamp,” containing the essence of a child’s blood. When lit, it could ward off yin corruption.
Inside the room, the old man sighed. “Thirty-six lamps—still too few. Divination also shows more danger than safety.”
Lu Gui, looking weary, said helplessly, “This happened too suddenly. Where can we find enough yang lamps to complete the celestial cycle of heaven?”
The old man sneered. “The Zhong family brutes, relying on brute strength, know nothing of these matters. They cannot match the knowledge required.”
Lu Gui spoke softly, “Mind the walls. There may be ears listening.”
The old man chuckled silently. “Master, the Zhong brothers at least have the grace to keep their distance.”
Lu Gui shook his head. “Better safe than sorry. Before great fortune, even the most magnanimous grow cautious.”
At that, the old man fell silent, gently stroking the brass lamp engraved with Buddhist images. Though born into poverty, he had a unique skill—crafting Buddhist statues. Since childhood, he had studied under an obscure Buddhist master, whose talents were only recognized after his death. He was later honored as the one who revived the Dunhuang caves and posthumously named the abbot of the entire mountain. He was particularly skilled in crafting standing Avalokiteshvara statues. Though not a monk himself, the old man had a unique vision, surpassing even his master. His statues were not limited to Avalokiteshvara alone. He was known as the “Master of Ten Thousand Buddhas,” capable of creating the thirty-two major marks and eighty minor characteristics, each statue exuding infinite beauty and brilliance. The Breath-Exchanging Lamp was his original creation.
As the *Sutra of the Great Teaching King* states, if the measurements of a Buddha statue are not precise, even if blessed by high monks, the Buddha will not reside within. In layman’s terms, people know it is difficult to invite a Buddha, but they do not understand why. In truth, if the statue’s form is flawed, the true Buddha will not come, and malevolent spirits may take residence instead. Thus, many places of worship do not bring blessings but instead invite calamities, causing prayers to go unanswered. This is not because the Bodhisattva fails to appear, but because the Buddha is not properly enshrined. The old man understood this deeply, and his statues were highly effective, widely sought after by kings, lords, and generals.
Especially this brass lamp—seemingly unremarkable at first glance, but upon closer inspection, its crescent-shaped eyebrows and divine aura revealed it to be the old man’s greatest achievement. Without him and his lamp, Lu Gui, despite his mastery of feng shui, would not have dared to come to Xihou Prefecture.
Lu Gui raised his cup and took a small sip of fine wine, speaking slowly. “The bamboo slips record that the Qin Emperor once mobilized tens of thousands of laborers to dam a great river. On the exposed cliffs, he carved out his tomb, sealed it shut, and then released the river waters. The laborers and nearly a thousand overseers were buried alive by the imperial guards. The craftsmanship of that tomb, the ruthlessness in concealing its secrets—unparalleled before or since. To be an emperor in life is to be like that.”
Lu Gui continued. “If we are to reopen the Qin Emperor’s tomb, we must ally with the border commander Helian Weiwu. Otherwise, how could we possibly carry out such a massive engineering feat as damming a river? As for how the Zhong family convinced that stubborn old man, we do not know. Perhaps it is better that way. The less we know, the fewer troubles we invite.”
Hanging beneath the eaves, Xu Fengnian furrowed his brow. The Qin Emperor’s tomb eight hundred years ago, the pearl of the Qin Empress, the pearl spat by the white-robed Luoyang—it all seemed to be converging into a single line.
Luoyang, whose pearl had been destroyed by Deng Tai’e, was she here to ruin the Zhong family’s plans, or to serve her own ends?
Xu Fengnian, aiding a tiger in its evil deeds, was filled with sorrow.
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