A night rain began to fall.
Even a bustling city like Nan'an grew quieter than usual on this spring evening. Few pedestrians remained on the long streets, while candlelight flickered in household after household. The aroma of meals wafted through every alley, creating a serene and pleasant atmosphere.
At Ming'an Pagoda of Hu'an Temple—the highest point in all of Nan'an—a dark figure stood atop the tower. He surveyed the entire city before slightly crouching down, grinning: "It really is a fine city. No wonder he likes staying here."
"If he likes it, let him stay here forever," a voice echoed from within Ming'an Pagoda. A tall, lean middle-aged man stepped to the window, speaking to the figure on the rooftop.
"Accompany me on this final stretch, will you? The place we're heading this time isn't simple. Going alone does make me uneasy," the man on the rooftop chuckled.
The lean man nodded, taking a drag from his pipe as he gazed at the spring rain outside. "Very well, very well."
"I'm off," the rooftop figure suddenly declared.
The lean man asked quietly, "Off to do what?"
"My usual trade, of course—to conduct a funeral," the man replied before leaping into the air.
At Ming'an Inn.
A group of merchants, dressed for travel, huddled around a hot pot. Among them, a burly man wielded a gleaming golden knife, slicing meat from a lamb leg. With each cut, he flicked the meat into the boiling pot, muttering incessantly: "This southern lamb has a strange taste—hardly satisfying. Boss, when can we return to Tianqi?"
"Soon. Our scouts followed the trail all the way here. It seems this is our final destination," replied a man with a long beard.
"The most secretive place in the world—the legendary Dark River, said to be found only on the deepest nights by following moonlight—how could it be in this bustling Nan'an City? I find it hard to believe," the burly man retorted.
"I didn't believe it at first either. Perhaps its very bustle makes it the perfect hiding place," the bearded man answered.
Just then, a black-robed man sitting silently in the corner, drinking alone, suddenly frowned. A black centipede crawled out from his sleeve, and he urgently shouted, "Watch out!"
All nine merchants at the table instantly drew their daggers, swiftly turning to glare ahead.
Their reflexes were lightning-fast, their movements precise—like a well-trained military unit.
A dagger whirled through the room, severing every candle flame in an instant. The room plunged into darkness.
"Five Venoms Sect's Shadow-Tracking Centipede—impressive. The humans didn't notice me, but this little thing did," a voice laced with amusement remarked.The black-robed man froze completely. He turned his head slightly and saw a black-clad man wearing a silver mask sitting beside him. The masked man picked up a spare pair of chopsticks, stirred them in the hotpot, then fished out a piece of mutton and popped it into his mouth, chewing with relish. "It's not bad, though the mutton in Heaven Revelation City is definitely more delicious. When in Nan'an City, you should eat fish and shrimp—the river delicacies here are truly unmatched."
"Kill him!" the long-bearded man commanded.
Nine men simultaneously swung their blades at the masked man. Though the room was pitch dark, the man's voice had revealed his position. Having carried out countless missions together over the years, the nine moved with perfect coordination—their blades striking as one, forming a ruthless killing formation.
With a flick of his left hand, the masked man sent three daggers spinning around him, forcing all nine attackers back three steps. He continued leisurely picking at the mutton, shaking his head after a few bites. "If you survive tomorrow, I’d highly recommend you try Fushou Restaurant. Pity you won’t live to see it." He set down his chopsticks and stood, locking eyes with the long-bearded man. "Nine of the Flying Tiger Twenty-Six Riders under the Flying Tiger General. Quite the turnout. General Dian must hold quite the grudge against us from Sicheng."
"Who are you?" the long-bearded man growled.
"You came looking for us, yet now that you’ve found us, you don’t seem pleased?" The man tapped his silver mask. "I am, naturally, of Dark River. The Undertaker of Dark River."
"Su Changhe, head of Dark River!" the long-bearded man hissed. "We’re not here to kill you."
"Then I don’t care." Su Changhe smiled as silver light flashed in his hand.
At Bai He's Medicine Manor, Su Muyu had prepared a pot of porridge. Xiao Chaoyan had fetched some pickled vegetables from their neighbor Wang Jie, while Bai Hehuai—rarely seen in the kitchen—had scrambled some eggs. Su Zhe was nowhere to be found, leaving just the three of them gathered around the steaming porridge. Simple as the meal was, they ate contentedly.
Between sips of porridge, Xiao Chaoyan sighed appreciatively. "Wang Jie’s pickles are truly exceptional. Back in Homeland, some would make salted vegetables every winter, but none could compare to hers."
Su Muyu asked curiously, "How are these pickles made?"
"Well..." Xiao Chaoyan thought for a moment. "No idea! They’re different from the ones we had."
"I know, I know!" Bai Hehuai raised a finger. "First, you buy greens, wash them, and sun-dry them in the yard for three days. Then you get a big vat—layer in some greens, pour salt over them, and stomp on them with your feet to squeeze out some juice. Add another layer, repeat, and keep going until the vat’s full. Finally, weigh it down with stones and wooden planks, store it somewhere cool and ventilated, and in ten to fifteen days, they’re ready to eat."
Xiao Chaoyan blinked. "Stomp on them... with feet?"
Bai Hehuai nodded solemnly. "They say the tastiest pickles come from stomping with sweaty feet."
Xiao Chaoyan’s eyes widened. "..."
Su Muyu also froze. Realizing her blunder, Bai Hehuai set down her chopsticks. "That’s... just what Wang Jie told me..."At that moment, the door suddenly opened, and Su Changhe walked in wearing a raincoat: "Everyone's eating, so I've come at just the right time."
Xiao Chaoyan sniffed the air: "I smell roast duck."
"Impressive nose. Roast duck, duck oil pastry, Osmanthus Cake." Su Changhe pulled out oil-paper packages one by one from his raincoat, "Three-coin candied fruits, crab roe buns... Come on, let's eat while it's still hot."
Su Muyu also sniffed the air but caught a different scent.
The two exchanged a glance, and Su Changhe smiled: "It's nothing."
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