Tianqing Temple in the capital.
With a dull thud, Wen Yao threw A'She and Fengfeng heavily onto the ground together.
A'She held Fengfeng tightly, doing her best to shield him from harm.
"Miss A'She." A faint, aged voice came from a great distance—surprisingly not frightening, but rather dignified and benevolent. "Bringing you here was not this old monk's intention. My junior disciple acted on his own, yet it has granted me this chance to meet you."
Fengfeng rolled over and stood up on his own, curiously looking toward the eastern corridor where the voice seemed to originate from—likely from the large chamber at its end.
A'She grasped Fengfeng's hand and slowly raised her head.
Before her stood Wen Yao, who appeared to be a youth of fifteen or sixteen. Behind him was a pale, slender middle-aged man dressed in a yellowish-brown robe—not monastic garb—yet with a shaved head. Wen Yao dared not act presumptuously in front of this robed man and whispered, "Master Qingshan."
The robed man nodded slightly before addressing the depths of the corridor. "Abbot, abducting someone in broad daylight carries great risks."
"The outer disciples of the temple were overeager for success and acted rashly. But as Wen Yao said, Tang Lici is preoccupied with the conflict at Soul Prayer Mountain. After disbanding the Ten Thousand Tricks Pavilion, he has grown lax regarding affairs in the capital." The one speaking from the distant chamber was none other than the current abbot of Tianqing Temple—Chan Master Chunhui.
Having grown up in the capital, A'She had seen Abbot Chunhui of Tianqing Temple before during visits to offer incense. The abbot was exceedingly kind-hearted, and the temple grounds teemed with birds—a result of the monks chanting sutras and feeding them for years, accumulating good karma. Never had she imagined that this sixty-year-old, upright and compassionate abbot would also scheme over worldly affairs.
Wen Yao had abducted her into Tianqing Temple. These people were strangers to her—who were they?
"Yu Konghou proves unfit for great responsibility, falling prey to a mere woman." Wen Yao muttered under his breath. "Being captured by Bai Suche—what a disgrace to Fengliudian's reputation."
The robed man called "Qingshan" shook his head. "That woman is ambitious and could have been a formidable asset, but her vision is limited. Still, she has served a purpose—had Yu Konghou not been pushed to desperation by her, he would never have released the Gu spiders." His tone was detached, neither loud nor soft, chillingly indifferent. "With the mother spider dead, all Gu spiders will be bound by its curse. Once Bai Suche is poisoned—Piaoling Meiyuan will return to our control."
"Since Bai Suche has turned traitor and opposes Yu Konghou alongside the Central Plains Sword Society, her interests are now aligned with theirs. If her poisoning can lure either Tang Lici or Wan Yu Yuedan—or better yet, if both were to be poisoned—how could our grand undertaking fail?" From the distant chamber came a strange, raspy voice—neither distinctly male nor female. "I shall visit Piaoling Meiyuan and meet this Bai girl."
A'She knelt silently on the ground.
Hearing these words meant she would become someone who could never divulge secrets.
She might not live past this day.
Gritting her teeth, A'She remained acutely aware—this was also her opportunity.
These unfamiliar figures before her were the true "masters" lurking behind Fengliudian.
Their goal was never merely the Martial Arts World of the Central Plains. Targeting Young Master Tang, Palace Master Wan Yu, and Miss Bai—all were for the sake of "affairs in the capital."
Who were they, truly?The Nine Hearts Pill of Fengliudian, the poison of Camellia Prison's Gu Pearl, the summoning order of Wang Lingqiu—where toxins run rampant, seeking to dissolve souls in dreams. With the birth of wicked thoughts, men... become demons and monsters.
What is it they truly desire?
The yellow-robed man named "Qingshan" finally cast a faint glance at her. "Miss A'Shui, we've invited you here to inquire about something. In the past, Xingyang Bookhouse had two old volumes—one titled The Rebirth Chronicle of Cina Kona , the other The Rebirth Chronicle of Kalanta of Sorrowful Bodhi . Have you read them?"
A'Shui's gaze flickered slightly. "Those two old books... I sold them to Marquis Hao, and later Lord Liu took them away."
"Did you read their contents?" the yellow-robed man pressed.
A'Shui paused. "I read parts, but the text was obscure and difficult to comprehend. I never finished them."
"Where did these books come from?" the yellow-robed man asked.
A'Shui slowly raised her head to look at him.
He was a middle-aged man with a composed appearance, neither exuding an air of wickedness nor warmth and kindness.
Wen Yao stood behind him, his demeanor cautious.
She noticed the man's exposed hand—its back bore faint bluish-black marks, remnants of the rashes or dark spots left after the Nine Hearts Pill's toxicity had been purged.
This was someone who had ingested the Nine Hearts Pill or a similar drug to enhance his inner strength, only to recently expel its poison. Perhaps it wasn't just this yellow-robed man—Wen Yao earlier, and the two hiding in the large room at the end of the corridor—were all beneficiaries of these esoteric and sinister arts.
"Those books... the bookhouse owner found them among sundries at the Yulin Inn," A'Shui said softly. "Most were items left behind or discarded by guests, usually worthless." After a slight pause, she added, "But I remember many Jianghu wanderers died at Yulin Inn that year."
The yellow-robed man frowned slightly. "That year? Which year?"
A'Shui replied slowly, "The year Zhoudi Tower opened."
The yellow-robed man gestured for her to continue, but A'Shui fell silent. After a long while, she said, "...Master Qingshan, forgive my impertinence... I've already spoken of these books' origins twice. First to Hao Wenhou, then to Lord Liu. I concealed nothing—they came from Yulin Inn, the year Zhoudi Tower opened."
Wen Yao, puzzled by her repeated mention of "the year Zhoudi Tower opened," frowned. "Did Xingyang Bookhouse reprint these volumes? Did you tell anyone what was written inside?"
"Wen Yao!" the yellow-robed man barked, cutting him off.
From the depths of the corridor, a hoarse voice suddenly rang out from the large room: "The year Zhoudi Tower opened—wasn't that when the Tang benefactor emerged into the world?"
"Indeed," A'Shui replied coolly. "Lord Liu also said Young Master Tang's martial arts were transferred from Master Fang of Zhoudi Tower, yet Master Fang's skills were taught by Young Master Tang. That year, the only things left behind by the Jianghu wanderers who died at Yulin Inn were those few books..."
"A few books?" Wen Yao grew alert. "Besides these two, were there other martial arts manuals?"The yellow-robed man frowned deeply. This plain-clothed woman was neither humble nor arrogant, and her words were hard to verify. Back then, Hao Wenhou had stumbled upon two volumes of The Book of Transmigration at Xingyang Bookshop, while Liu Yan had only obtained one volume from Tang Lici. According to Liu Yan, he was certain Tang Lici only possessed that single volume. But Liu Yan was not a meticulous or cautious person—what if, as this maidservant claimed, Tang Lici had indeed once possessed the complete set of The Book of Transmigration ? Then the two volumes circulating from Xingyang Bookshop would be highly questionable.
Who would allow such a peerless, extraordinary book to fall into the hands of outsiders? Unless it was deliberate.
Could it be that the Book of Transmigration obtained by Tianqing Temple was a forgery?
This would explain a question that had long puzzled him and Chun Hui—how could Tang Lici guide Kuang Lan Wuxing to break through the final layer of "Wraith Spits Pearl Qi"? How did he know the secrets of shaping true qi? According to Liu Yan, the volume Tang Lici had studied contained no such technique as "Wraith Spits Pearl Qi."
But before he could fully grasp the implications, A Shui spoke slowly, "But what I saw back then wasn’t just those three books. There were two other tattered volumes with red covers." She lowered her lashes. "Those two books were incomplete, so I discarded them along with other miscellaneous belongings of the martial artists."
At the end of the corridor, the door of a large house creaked open, and an old monk stepped out.
"What kind of books were they?"
A Shui hugged Fengfeng tighter and whispered, "Two tattered books with red covers. On the cover was inscribed a poem: 'Birds startle and flee from southern groves, / A shattered cup of long life. / Alone in withering, doubt not, / Dimly glimpsed—the Mountain Wraith.' Those two tattered books were called Doubt Not ."
The yellow-robed man and the old monk exchanged glances. Although "Master Wu Jing," Ye Xianchou, had been a standout figure of the previous generation in the Martial Arts World, he himself had never practiced The Book of Transmigration —otherwise, how could Qu Zhiliang have killed him? But the origins of his Book of Transmigration were unknown, and what was this unheard-of Doubt Not ?
Whether true or false, these tattered books had to be found and examined first.
Which meant this woman, abandoned by Tang Lici, could not be killed so easily.
Seeing the two men exchange glances, A Shui knew she would likely survive the day. She lowered her head and stroked Fengfeng’s soft hair. The child sat obediently beside her, listening curiously to her words. Slowly, she closed her eyes and let out a quiet breath.
There was no such thing as Doubt Not —she had made up the poem on the spot. Young Master Tang had truly never seen the other two volumes of The Book of Transmigration . Those were just miscellaneous items from the Xingyang Bookshop’s storeroom—the secret manual was genuine. But at least she had fought for her life before these inscrutable, powerful figures, and perhaps planted a seed of doubt in their minds.
She had done her best. Even if she ultimately failed to save herself, she could face her conscience without regret.
As for whether this dead end before her was part of Young Master Tang’s calculations—A Shui did not know.
She thought not.
Young Master Tang was indeed peerlessly cunning and ruthless.
But he only wanted to win.
He did not want everyone to die.
No one was allowed to die—he himself could die, but not others.
Because in Young Master Tang’s eyes, "death" meant losing.
And he could not lose.
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