Fu Zhumei's internal cultivation techniques were inherited from the same lineage as Tang Lizci, both originating from Fang Zhou. After his own extraordinary encounters, his skills had reached an exceptionally high level. Thus, despite his severe external injuries and the venomous spider bite on his back, once his qi circulated freely, he could move without hindrance.
The three of them seized Abbot Chunhui and retreated into an empty room within the underground corridor of Tianqing Temple’s secret chamber.
Earlier, after Gui Mudan had turned and left, she had not returned, and for the time being, no one had come to investigate the disturbance in the secret passage.
Tang Lizci shoved Abbot Chunhui into Fu Zhumei’s hands, then with bloodstained fingers, retrieved something from his torn robes and was about to put it into his mouth.
Fu Zhumei, with his sharp eyesight, immediately seized his wrist. “What are you eating?”
Before Tang Lizci could bring the object to his lips, Fu Zhumei saw that it was shaped like a magnolia bud—exquisitely crafted, dazzlingly ornate, resembling a piece of jewelry. The object, held between Tang Lizci’s fingers stained with layers of blood, was undeniably beautiful, yet for some reason, it exuded an aura of death.
“Xianglan Xiao?” Fu Zhumei’s expression darkened. “Why would you put that in your mouth?”
“Xianglan Xiao” was an assassination tool, containing lethal poison meant to kill both the target and the user, ensuring mutual destruction. Fu Zhumei knew Tang Lizci was immune to most poisons, but seeing him covered in wounds, even immunity couldn’t withstand repeated abuse—it was like hacking at his own body without a care.
Tang Lizci gripped Fu Zhumei’s hand, half his weight leaning against him. He closed his eyes slightly and coughed again.
Fu Zhumei could hear it—the sound was wet with blood.
“Tianqing Temple… is the shadow behind Fengliudian,” Tang Lizci murmured, ignoring the question about the “Xianglan Xiao.” “They guard their secrets, lost in a grand delusion. Do you know who ‘Xie Yaohuang’ really is? They preach about restoring the nation and seeking vengeance, rallying around Xie Yaohuang and indulging his whims, claiming to revive the Chai dynasty—yet they disregard Chai Xijin entirely. That makes no sense. Abbot Chunhui, did the late emperor truly pass away?” Still holding Fu Zhumei’s hand, he stood there, his palm slick with cold sweat. Fu Zhumei could see his lips cracking again—Tang Lizci had lost too much blood.
Abbot Chunhui, his acupoints sealed, couldn’t speak.
Tang Lizci closed his eyes. “The day you obtained The Book of Rebirth , you resolved to renounce your monastic vows. The Chai family had granted Tianqing Temple its founding grace, so you are loyal to Emperor Gong. What did you do back then? By the time you acquired The Book of Rebirth , Emperor Gong was already dead. Did you use it to turn a corpse… into ‘Xie Yaohuang’?”
The moment these words left his mouth, Fu Zhumei’s face paled in horror. Could there truly be dark arts in this world capable of resurrecting the dead?
Though Abbot Chunhui couldn’t speak, a trace of sorrow slowly surfaced in his eyes. Tang Lizci chuckled again. “No matter what happened back then, Tianqing Temple has hidden behind Fengliudian, flaunting The Book of Rebirth to manipulate hearts, breeding poisons and human slaves. But the affairs of the world, the strategies of emperors—do you truly believe you can control them by hiding behind The Book of Rebirth , chanting ‘Amitabha’?” His voice was soft, almost amused. “Old monk, what you repay isn’t kindness… but ghosts.”
His words were faint, laced with laughter—before he coughed once more."A-Li." Fu Zhumei supported him, feeling how unsteady he was. He had no idea how severe his injuries were and was frantic with worry. "How are you? How did you end up like this? A-Yan... where is A-Yan? He went with you to find a doctor. Do you have medicine? Where is the medicine?"
"Doctor? Dead..." Tang Lichen seemed to laugh again. "No doctor, no medicine." He fumbled through his bloodstained clothes and slowly pulled out a handful of extremely fine golden threads. The delicate strands were soft and fragile, like a cluster of autumn lanterns. Yet with a flick of Tang Lichen's hand—the "lanterns" suddenly unfurled, revealing a "sword" woven from those fine golden threads.
This golden-threaded sword had a hollow blade, exquisitely crafted like an ornament entwined with gold and adorned with floral motifs, radiant and opulent. However, the golden threads composing the "sword" were so fine that each strand was sharper than a blade. An ordinary steel sword would leave a single gash, but this sword would leave ten or twenty, enough to mince flesh into pulp.
Of course, only peerless martial skill could wield such an impossibly light and thin blade.
This sword was priceless, topping the auction records of the Fallen Thirteen Floors for years, named "Golden Thread Song."" Light as air, it appeared as nothing more than a useless bundle of golden threads. Tang Lichen kept it hidden in his robes, and the "Gui Mudan" of Tianqing Temple, wary of his cunning and unpredictability, had been too afraid to thoroughly search his person, always on guard against his feigned injuries and counterattacks.
Tang Lichen steadied himself against Fu Zhumei and patted his arm reassuringly. "Don't worry." Despite being covered in wounds, he held the sword with a smile. "Tang Lichen's injuries... were meant to lure out an answer. Look... we’ve not only caught a demon but also gathered plenty of 'evidence.' Isn’t that perfect?"
Fu Zhumei was stunned. "You did this on purpose?"
Had A-Li planned all along, after being ambushed in the ruins of the Jiang family estate and surrendering his sword after a bloody battle, to use his grievous wounds as bait for an answer? It was certainly more efficient than waiting at Soul Prayer Mountain for Gui Mudan to slip up. But was A-Li so confident he wouldn’t die first in the Blood Lotus Iron Prison?
Tang Lichen turned his head slowly and gave a faint smile. "Indeed. If Tang Lichen hadn’t been near death and powerless to resist, would that 'answer' have revealed its true form so boldly, so triumphantly? How many in this world could ever get their hands around Tang’s neck? He must have been overjoyed."
Fu Zhumei stared at the dark bruising around his neck, at a loss for words.
Tang Lichen removed the remaining shackles and torture devices from himself and Fu Zhumei, carefully fastening them onto Chun Hui. Chun Hui sat with closed eyes, clearly circulating his inner energy to break through sealed acupoints. Tang Lichen raised "Golden Thread Song," intending to strike and grievously wound this "evidence," but then paused. He lowered the sword, unsealed Abbot Chun Hui’s acupoints, and asked gently, "Where exactly is this so-called 'Puppet Spider' Gu King?"
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