The back courtyard secret chamber of Qingya Zhai felt completely cut off from the bustling, noisy capital outside.
For three consecutive days, Su Ming did not take a single step outside.
He sat cross-legged on that hard wooden bed like a stone statue. The dim oil lamp on the corner of the table emitted a faint crackling sound, its flame casting his shadow against the mottled wall, stretching it long and deep.
Before him lay two stacks of items. On the left was a thick pile of archives about the Yongchang Marquis Manor, gathered through the intelligence network Chen Mingyuan had painstakingly built over fifty years. On the right was the ancient jade slip, "Analysis of Ancient Runes," bestowed by his Master, Xuanheng.
Su Ming's right index finger unconsciously tapped against the tabletop, producing a peculiar, rhythmic beat. This was a habit he had developed at the Repair Hall—when faced with an extremely complex, bafflingly damaged formation plate, he would completely detach himself and use absolute rational thinking to dissect, compare, and synthesize the massive data.
And now, the intelligence on the Yongchang Marquis Manor appeared to him as a massive, intricate "Formation Corpse."
The information recorded in the archives was overwhelmingly detailed: how many catties of lean meat the manor had purchased, which brothel a certain steward had stayed at overnight, what quarrels had broken out among the Marquis's concubines... A ledger-like record that would make any impatient person feel overwhelmed at first glance.
But Su Ming did not. His divine sense, far surpassing that of cultivators at the same level, frantically sifted and extracted information from these seemingly unrelated trivial words.
"On the seventh of last month, the manor kitchen's bulk purchase of live chickens and ducks tripled the daily average, yet there was no grand banquet held within the manor."
"On the twelfth of the same month, the manor treasury secretly transferred a batch of high-purity cinnabar, destination unknown."
"Within the last three months, the guards at the manor's back gate were replaced with the Yongchang Marquis's most trusted iron-armored personal guards. Every first and fifteenth day of the month, at the Zi hour, the street where the back gate is located would be inexplicably cleared for half an hour..."
Su Ming isolated these seemingly isolated pieces of information and quickly pieced them together in his mind. Fresh blood, cinnabar, midnight clearing at specific times.
A remarkably clear hidden thread surfaced from the chaos.
The Yongchang Marquis Manor had "nighttime visitors."
Su Ming's gaze slowly shifted to the right, to the "Analysis of Ancient Runes."
Su Ming stopped tapping his fingers on the table.
"I have to go and investigate in person."
On the third night.
Dark clouds obscured the moon, and the autumn wind was bleak and killing. The capital's night had lost its daytime clamor, leaving only the drawn-out sound of the night watchman's clapper echoing through the empty streets and alleys.
Su Ming changed into a form-fitting night suit, merging like a drop of water into a pool of ink as he silently slipped out from the back courtyard of Qingya Zhai.
He activated the Aura Concealment Art to its absolute limit. The liquid spiritual energy in his meridians didn't accelerate; instead, it became as stagnant as a pool of dead water, perfectly sealing his body heat, scent, and even heartbeat within his night suit.
He didn't walk on the streets. Instead, like an agile civet cat, he lightly leaped across the rows of rooftops. With each landing, the tips of his toes barely touched the roof tiles for an infinitesimal moment, not making a sound louder than a falling dead leaf.
Half an hour later, the massive and imposing complex of the Yongchang Marquis Manor appeared in Su Ming's view.
He didn't recklessly approach. At the top of a bell tower two streets away from the manor, Su Ming stopped, pressing his body flat against the icy blue stone tiles, exposing only a small portion of his head.
His divine sense, like an invisible web, spread forward with extreme caution.
Suddenly, Su Ming's breath caught.
The moment it touched the manor's outer wall, his divine sense encountered an extremely faint but highly aggressive prickling sensation. It was like reaching a hand into a thicket of hidden thorns.
That was the aura of a cultivator! Inside the manor, a highly concealed warning formation had been set up.
"Rule of the Way of Survival: Never fight on enemy turf when the situation is unclear."
Su Ming immediately severed that wisp of probing divine sense and hid himself even deeper. Like a patient hunter, he silently watched the manor's tightly shut back gate.
Meanwhile, inside the underground secret chamber of the Yongchang Marquis Manor, a different scene was unfolding.
In the dim secret chamber, no lamps were lit. Several night pearls emitting a faint green light were embedded in the walls around them.
Yongchang Marquis, the top military commander of Great Xing nation, was at this moment wearing an extremely wide, embroidered python robe. With his hands clasped behind his back, he stood before a massive map of Great Xing nation's territory. His graying temples appeared somewhat aged under the ghostly light, but his sharp, chiseled profile still exuded an iron-blooded authority of life and death.
"Marquis, that batch of 'top-grade materials' has been fully inventoried. They can be sent out tonight."
A hoarse voice, like two rusty iron plates scraping together, sounded behind Chen Yuan.
From the shadows of the chamber, a rolling black mass slowly emerged. It was a figure completely wrapped in a wide black robe, radiating no trace of life whatsoever, not even the sound of breathing—only a thick stench of blood spreading as he spoke.
Yongchang Marquis did not turn around. He stared fixedly at the jagged defense lines on the map along the Northern Barbarian border, his fists suddenly clenching tightly within his sleeves, the knuckles emitting faint cracks.
"Grandmaster," the Yongchang Marquis said in a voice so low it was terrifying, laden with pain and struggle barely contained, "Those... are my Great Xing warriors who fell in battle. They are the corpses of soldiers who shed their last drop of blood to defend our homeland! To let them find no rest after death, to have them refined into mindless walking corpses... This Marquis, after a hundred years, will descend into the eighteenth level of hell!"
The black-robed figure let out a bone-chilling low laugh, filled with mockery: "Marquis, great deeds are not bound by trifles. Great Xing's treasury is empty, wars have dragged on for years—we are already a spent arrow. Look at this map. If the Northern Barbarian iron cavalry breaches Wind Crossing Ferry, the Great Xing empire will change masters in an instant!"
The black-robed figure floated half a step forward, his icy aura pressing against the Yongchang Marquis's back.
"Those immortal masters of Cloud Hidden Sect hold themselves high above. They only care if their tributes are sufficient; have they ever cared about the lives of mortals? In their eyes, the survival of Great Xing is nothing but a balancing game. Marquis, you are using extraordinary means to save this nation on the verge of collapse. Since you're saving the country, what difference does it make whether you use the enemy's blood or your own people's corpses? As long as you win, history will only remember you, Yongchang Marquis, as the hero who turned the tide!"
Yongchang Marquis closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
When he opened them again, the pain and struggle in his gaze had completely faded, replaced only by a resolve and coldness as deep as Profound Ice.
He turned around, facing the shadow directly, and spoke word by word: "You're right. As long as I can preserve Great Xing's empire and the royal family's legitimacy, this Marquis will bear the infamy of a thousand generations and suffer the pain of ten thousand arrows without complaint! You will continue to receive the materials and fresh blood you need. But the power you promised—there can be no discount whatsoever!"
"Hehe... Marquis, rest assured. This humble one's 'Blood Cavalry' is enough to trample all obstacles in the Northern Barbarian lands."
