Xu Chui cast a glance at Lu Sheng, and with a slight nod from his lord, guided the carriage after the waiting figure. They followed the street for a short while until a towering four-story structure rose before them—a magnificent vermilion tower.
Its white-tiled roofs gleamed under the light, and its vermilion walls stretched upward in regal layers. Mounted on the main doors was an enormous pair of copper scissors, as tall as a grown man. At first glance they seemed razor-sharp, but a closer look revealed they were merely an ornamental carving set into the door. Beyond the tower lay a spacious courtyard, quiet and orderly.
Before the entrance stood a slender woman with long hair cascading down her back, her light green gauze dress fluttering in the breeze. A long sword rested across her back, giving her an air of restrained sharpness. When she saw Lu Sheng and Xu Chui approaching, her eyes brightened, and she stepped forward with graceful urgency.
“May I know if you are the esteemed representatives from Crimson Whale Sect?”
“We are. You must be Young Miss Dong Qi of Tea Sect?” Xu Chui replied with a polite smile. “My Lord has come in person to handle the matter. Please lead the way.”
Lu Sheng stepped down from the carriage with unhurried steadiness. His current appearance was far more ordinary compared to his previous towering, muscular form. A short layer of fine hair now covered his head, softening his former savage impression. Even so, the first moment Dong Qi laid eyes on him, she felt a wave of murderous intent sweep toward her like a silent beast rousing from slumber.
The two massive cleavers strapped to his back left no room for doubt—this was the one who had come to resolve the matter.
“May I know how I should address you, esteemed representative? This junior is Dong Qi, daughter of the current sect master of Tea Sect, temporarily handling all sect affairs,” she said with solemn respect.
“My surname is Lu. Miss Dong Qi, please brief us on the current situation within the sect.” Lu Sheng offered no further introduction. Naturally, it was best that news of his identity as sect master did not spread lightly.
“So it is Representative Lu. Please follow me.” Color slowly returned to Dong Qi’s face. For many nights she had been tormented by nightmares, unable to find rest. Now, at last, their savior had arrived. Crimson Whale Sect was no stranger to dealing with such matters; Tea Sect had sought their assistance before, and each time the experts from Crimson Whale Sect had resolved the situation cleanly. Because of that history, she still clung to hope.
She guided Lu Sheng and Xu Chui through the crimson tower into the Holy Fame Plaza behind it. They crossed the main hall and entered a side courtyard where a lavish meal had been prepared, clearly arranged in anticipation of their visit.
After inviting them to sit, Dong Qi finally began recounting everything that had occurred within Tea Sect up to this point.
“This is what happened,” she said, sorrow flickering across her features. “More than a year ago, early in spring, an incident took place within our sect. Because of it, my father, my uncle, and many among the upper ranks ended up in serious trouble, one after another.”
“What incident? Young Miss Dong, please speak freely.” Lu Sheng sat occupying a seat meant for two, raising his wine cup as he waited for her explanation.
Dong Qi nodded, steadying her breath before continuing.
“At that time, my father—Tea Sect’s Sect Master Dong Shengping—met the current Sect Pharmacist, Zhuo Qingyang, during one of his trips to inspect the tea mountains. The two of them became close very quickly. They often stayed up late into the night, talking by candlelight, sometimes for several nights without rest. At first, my uncles and I believed they were simply discussing all sorts of matters. But one night, I awoke unexpectedly and passed by my father’s room. That was when I saw something strange.”
“What was it?” Lu Sheng asked. Ever since stepping into the Holy Fame Plaza, he had felt something amiss—a faint absence of life that lingered in the air.
“…I peeked inside and saw that my daddy and Zhuo Qingyang were not chatting at all. They were kneeling—both of them—kowtowing desperately before a stained-glass mirror as tall as a man. I was terrified. They were chanting something as they bowed, their faces pale and lifeless. I ran away as quickly as I could. The next morning, I asked my daddy about it, but he… he actually…” Dong Qi lowered her head, her voice breaking. “He actually couldn’t remember anything, and even said I was speaking nonsense.”
“Couldn’t remember? Truly couldn’t, or pretended not to?” Lu Sheng asked, eyes narrowing.
“I am extremely close to my daddy. My mother passed away when I was young, and he raised me on his own. I know every one of his habits.” Dong Qi steadied herself. “I could tell—he genuinely had no memory of what happened.”
“He truly couldn’t recall?” Lu Sheng narrowed his eyes further, his breathing slowing. From the corner of his vision, he traced the outlines of the willow trees swaying softly in the courtyard.
Willow trees were Yin-natured. For an ordinary household to cultivate several of them was far from normal.
“Please continue.”
Dong Qi nodded, then resumed softly, “After that night, I would secretly check on my daddy. Sometimes, I brought others along. Every time, he was fast asleep, and nothing unusual happened. Eventually… we pushed the matter aside. Until one day…” Her expression twisted suddenly, as though reliving something unbearable. She lowered her head, hands clenched, her entire body trembling. “I truly… truly do not want to remember what I saw that day…” Her voice broke into soft sobs.
Lu Sheng remained silent. With a subtle gesture toward Xu Chui, the latter stepped forward at once to console her.
Meanwhile, Lu Sheng used the moment to quietly examine the layout of the courtyard and its surroundings.
Six willow trees stood in the center of the courtyard, their slender branches drooping low as the wind brushed through their leaves. The house around them was worn with age; its roof tiles and walls were mottled with weathered stains, and patches of green moss clung stubbornly to the stone-brick ground.
The entire plaza was unnervingly quiet. The servant-maids waiting nearby looked drained of all vitality, their eyes shadowed with dark circles. They moved with the vacant, disoriented air of people long deprived of rest.
A narrow corridor extended from the courtyard toward the inner sleeping quarters. Lu Sheng followed its line with his gaze. Darkness pooled within its depths—dense, unbroken. From that shadowed passage drifted faint gusts of cold wind, carrying a bone-deep Yin chill.
After Xu Chui spent some time calming her, Dong Qi wiped her face and continued shakily, “My daddy went out on patrol… but what returned was a corpse. Even the body was damaged beyond recognition. After crying for days, I swore I would find the culprit, so I went to seek out Pharmacist Zhuo Qingyang. But he behaved strangely. He said many comforting words, yet they all sounded hollow… wrong.”
She swallowed, her voice trembling. “I grew suspicious. Later, I asked my uncles to watch him carefully. But none of us expected that soon after… my uncles also disappeared…” Her tears spilled freely again, falling in heavy streams.
“What about that pharmacist?” Lu Sheng interrupted.
“He’s still in the sect… he never left, and no one dares to make him go. A few of the remaining higher ranks visit his room every night, doing—doing who knows what. During the day, everyone acts normal, but at night…” Fear flickered through her eyes. “I’m afraid the entire Tea Sect will end up like my daddy—ruined beyond salvation. That is why I had no choice but to invite you esteemed representatives to investigate…”
Lu Sheng clarified several more details, piecing together a clearer picture of the events.
“Oh, yes. Have you ever seen the stained-glass mirror your father and that pharmacist were kneeling before?” he asked, his tone grave.
“Yes, I have. It’s kept in Pharmacist Zhuo Qingyang’s room. That mirror never leaves his side—except when he goes to relieve himself. Whether he’s eating, sleeping, or doing anything else, it’s always with him. I once sneaked in while he stepped out to the latrine. It didn’t look much different from an ordinary stained-glass mirror, except… it reflected everything extremely clearly,” Dong Qi replied quickly.
“Stained-glass mirrors are far more fragile than copper ones, but their reflections are strikingly sharp. Normally, only the nobles of Ju Rong Nation can afford one—and even then, at a hefty price. Did you ever ask the pharmacist how he obtained it?” Xu Chui interjected, unable to hold back his curiosity.
Dong Qi shook her head. “That pharmacist is exceedingly eccentric. You’ll understand once you meet him. I don’t dare to face him alone.”
Lu Sheng rose to his feet. “Alright. Take me to see Pharmacist Zhuo Qingyang now. There’s no time to waste.”
“Right now?” Dong Qi blinked in surprise. She had not expected such decisiveness—he had barely finished listening, yet he already intended to take action.
“Yes, right now.”
Dong Qi hesitated for a moment, then slowly stood. “I’ll bring you there… the pharmacist’s room is in the most remote corner of the inner yard. Please follow me.”
She led the way toward the dim corridor stretching deeper into the compound. Lu Sheng followed behind her, but before stepping into the passage, he cast a glance back at the servant-maids clearing the dishes.
Their eyes were unfocused, hollow. They moved listlessly, as though every step was an effort, their bodies swaying with exhaustion. They looked like puppets drained of life, staggering through their tasks without awareness.
The trio walked down the pitch-black corridor, their footsteps swallowed by the silence. Soon, they emerged into another small but spacious courtyard, passing through a set of arched doors on the left. After crossing three such archways in succession, they finally stepped into a cold and desolate courtyard.
Two sturdy men in athletic robes stood guard at its entrance, yawning so widely their jaws seemed ready to crack. Upon spotting Dong Qi, they immediately straightened and hurried over to greet her.
After a brief exchange with the guards, Dong Qi turned to Lu Sheng. “This is the courtyard where the pharmacist stays. The both of you—”
“We’ll enter directly.” Lu Sheng stepped past her and strode in with commanding ease.
Dry leaves carpeted the ground, skittering across the stone tiles whenever the wind stirred, whispering in faint rustles. Hanging from the eaves of the house was a puppet made of gauze—its tiny gray body swaying gently. Two stick-like legs and two short arms dangled stiffly beneath it, while unruly jet-black hair covered most of its face.
Lu Sheng approached it and peered beneath the veil of hair.
Painted in red were a pair of eyes and a mouth. The eyes were disturbingly vivid, almost smiling. The mouth, however, curved downward, as though deeply displeased.
Lu Sheng studied it for a moment, then dismissed it from his thoughts and continued directly toward the door of the sleeping quarters.
“My Lord, allow me,” Xu Chui said, hurrying to stop him.
Lu Sheng shook his head. “It’s fine. I’ll handle it. Keep watch on the surroundings.”
Xu Chui bowed and moved to the side, his attention sweeping in all four directions.
Dong dong dong.
Lu Sheng knocked on the door. Silence answered him.
Dong dong dong.
He knocked again—still no response.
“Perhaps he went out… maybe to relieve himself?” Dong Qi suggested softly.
“Do you have the keys?” Lu Sheng asked, turning toward her.
“No… I don’t,” Dong Qi shook her head, her voice trembling. Fear clung to her like a shadow. Nearly everyone in the sect was now acting under the pharmacist’s command, and the atmosphere within Tea Sect had grown unbearably eerie. It had taken all her remaining authority—and no small amount of risk—to secretly send someone to deliver a letter to Crimson Whale Sect.
In such a situation, it was impossible for her to possess the keys to the pharmacist’s quarters.
“Then we’ll wait for him to return,” Lu Sheng said calmly. He had no intention of relying solely on Dong Qi’s account. A proper investigation required hearing all sides. If Dong Qi happened to be the one with ulterior motives—seeking to frame the pharmacist or others within the sect—and he acted rashly, then he would have struck the wrong target entirely.
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