6: Chapter 6 Nighttime Intrusion into the Zhou Residence

Night fell.

Qingshi Town was twenty li away from the county seat, and Jiang Yan had walked for half an hour.

By the time he reached the town, it was pitch black. Most of the households had extinguished their lights, and occasionally, the sound of a dog barking drifted from the depths of the alleys.

The Zhou Residence was located at the easternmost end of the town, covering a vast area with blue brick walls a full zhang high.

The main gate was painted in vermilion lacquer, and two stone lions stood before it, baring their fangs and brandishing their claws.

A plaque with the characters "Zhou Residence" hung above the lintel; the black background with gold lettering shimmered with an eerie light under the glow of the lanterns.

Jiang Yan did not use the main gate.

He circled to the wall on the west side of the Zhou Residence, and under the cover of an old locust tree, he vaulted onto the wall without making a sound.

Inside the wall was the outer courtyard, where ordinary servants and menials lived.

Several rows of single-story houses were pitch black, with only two wind-proof lanterns hanging under the corridor, casting dim, yellowish light onto the stone path.

Jiang Yan drifted down from the wall like a fallen leaf, his feet making no sound as they touched the ground.

He hugged the base of the wall and walked toward the inner courtyard, his footsteps as light as a cat's.

A night-patrolling servant turned the corner carrying a lantern, and Jiang Yan slipped into the shadows.

The servant walked past, yawning; the lantern light swept over the spot where Jiang Yan had just been standing, but there was nothing there.

The second courtyard of the Zhou Residence was where the guards lived.

Jiang Yan stopped outside a lit room.

Dim, yellowish light shone through the paper windows, and the sound of snoring came from inside.

He gently pushed the door open; the door hinge gave a faint creak, which was drowned out by the snoring.

A burly man lay on the bed, sprawled out, reeking of alcohol.

Jiang Yan walked to the bedside and placed his right hand on the man's chest.

As the suction force surged, the man's eyes snapped open, his pupils suddenly dilating.

He tried to struggle, but his body felt as if it were pinned down by something, unable to move.

A few breaths later, only a mummified corpse remained on the bed.

Jiang Yan withdrew his hand and crushed the mummified corpse into dust under the bed.

The essence and blood of a Third-rate Martial Artist were far inferior to Gang Leader Liu Zhen's, only condensing a small fraction of a strand of Spiritual Qi.

The number of the twenty-five strands of Spiritual Qi in his Dantian remained unchanged; they had only become slightly more solid.

The second Third-rate Martial Artist was in the room next door.

This time it went even more smoothly; the man was sleeping like a dead pig and didn't even open his eyes before becoming a mummified corpse.

The third person lived in the room at the end of the corridor.

When Jiang Yan entered, the man happened to turn over, groggily opening his eyes to see a black shadow standing before the bed. Just as he was about to speak, a hand already covered his mouth.

The suction force in his palm erupted; the man's body twitched violently a few times before going still.

The essence and blood of all three Third-rate Martial Artists had been completely absorbed.

The Spiritual Qi in his Dantian finally increased from twenty-five strands to twenty-six.

Jiang Yan reduced the third mummified corpse to ashes and put it under the bed, wiped his hands, and walked out of the room.

Now, there should only be one Martial Artist left in the entire Zhou Residence.

Guard Leader Sun Wei, a Second-rate Martial Artist.

Sun Wei's room was in the third courtyard, right next to Zhou Mubai's study.

Jiang Yan passed through the moon gate and saw the room.

Light shone through the window, and a tall silhouette was projected onto the window paper, sitting at the table and wiping something—judging by the movement, it should be a saber.

Jiang Yan approached silently.

He stood by the door, adjusted his breathing, and confirmed the movement inside.

Sun Wei was still wiping his saber, occasionally humming a tune of unknown origin, his voice hoarse.

Jiang Yan raised his hand and tapped his knuckles against the door frame, making three light, rhythmic sounds.

"Who is it?" Sun Wei's voice came from inside, filled with alertness.

Jiang Yan did not reply.

The door opened from the inside, and Sun Wei's tall figure appeared at the threshold.

His gaze swept outward, and just as he leaned half his body out—

Jiang Yan's saber had already thrust out.

The waist saber was drawn silently from its cloth wrapping, the tip aiming straight for Sun Wei's waist and abdomen.

Sun Wei's reaction was much faster than Gang Leader Liu Zhen's.

The moment the blade touched his leather armor, his body recoiled sharply, and his right hand reached for his waist at the same time.

The tip of the blade sliced through the leather armor, leaving a blood groove on Sun Wei's flank, and fresh blood immediately gushed out.

"There—!"

Sun Wei opened his mouth to shout.

Jiang Yan didn't give him the chance.

A second strike followed the first; the blade swept horizontally, straight for the throat.

Sun Wei didn't have time to draw his saber and could only use his left arm to block.

The blade cut into his forearm and got stuck in the bone, emitting a muffled thud.

Sun Wei's face twisted in pain, but his shout was cut off by this strike, leaving only a muffled groan.

Jiang Yan released the hilt and slapped his right palm against Sun Wei's chest.

Bang!

Sun Wei's feet left the ground, and his entire body flew into the room, crashing onto the floor.

He struggled to crawl up, finally squeezing out a word: "There—!"

Jiang Yan was already in front of him, stepping on his throat.

Crack.

The Adam's apple shattered.

Sun Wei's eyes widened, blood foam bubbled from his mouth, and a gurgling sound came from his throat as his limbs flailed on the ground a few times before slowly going still.

Jiang Yan crouched down and placed his hand on Sun Wei's chest.

As the suction force surged, Sun Wei's body began to twitch.

The essence and blood of a Second-rate Martial Artist were much richer than a Third-rate's, but because he had already absorbed Gang Leader Liu Zhen's essence and blood, the effect of the same level was diminished, generating only two strands of Spiritual Qi.

The total number of Spiritual Qi strands in his Dantian jumped from twenty-six to twenty-nine.

Jiang Yan withdrew his hand and disposed of Sun Wei's mummified corpse.

He stood up and brushed the dust off his knees.

Twenty-nine strands of Spiritual Qi rotated slowly in his Dantian, still seven strands short of the thirty-six required for Qi Induction Perfection.

Jiang Yan walked out of the study and glanced toward the main residence.

Zhou Mubai's courtyard was just ahead; the row of lit rooms behind the moon gate was it.

He passed through the courtyard, his footsteps very light.

Two guards stood at the entrance of the main room, one leaning against a corridor pillar dozing off, the other squatting on the steps picking his teeth.

Jiang Yan flashed out from the shadows.

The one dozing off hadn't even reacted before receiving a palm strike to the back of his head, collapsing straight to the ground.

The one picking his teeth heard the commotion and looked up, only to see a black shadow standing before him. Just as he was about to open his mouth, he took a punch to the chin and rolled his eyes, fainting as well.

Jiang Yan dragged the two men behind the corridor pillar and pushed open the door to the main room.

The room was very dark, with only a little moonlight filtering through the paper windows.

The bed was in the inner chamber, the curtains half-drawn, revealing two people lying on the bed.

Jiang Yan walked over.

A middle-aged man was sleeping on the bed, holding a fair, tender youth beside him; the youth was bare-chested, his face still flushed.

Jiang Yan slapped the back of the youth's head, and the youth groaned and passed out.

The middle-aged man was startled awake by the commotion, groggily opening his eyes to see a black shadow standing before the bed, and opened his mouth to scream.

Jiang Yan struck his mouth with the back of his saber, then grabbed his hair and dragged him straight off the bed, holding the saber against the man's neck.

The middle-aged man fell to the floor, his head hitting the edge of the bed, gasping in pain, and wisely refrained from shouting.

Jiang Yan lit the oil lamp on the table.

The firelight brightened, revealing the face of the man on the floor—about forty years old, fair-skinned and beardless, with regular features and an air of pampered affluence between his brows.

Jiang Yan looked at him, feeling that something was wrong.

He crouched down to examine the face carefully.

The skin was very delicate, the pores almost invisible, but the skin tone on the sides of the bridge of his nose was slightly different from that of his cheeks.

Jiang Yan reached out and touched it.

His fingertips touched the cheek, and he felt a thin layer of foreign matter beneath his pads—it didn't feel like skin, but rather like something had been pasted on.

A human-skin mask.

It was made very realistically, almost indistinguishable from the real thing.

But it couldn't fool him.

With three hundred years of cultivation experience, what kind of disguise hadn't he seen?

Jiang Yan stepped on the man's chest, gripped the edge of his jaw with his right hand, and ripped it off forcefully.

Rip—

A mask as thin as a cicada's wing was torn off.

The face beneath the mask was gaunt and pale, with high cheekbones and a sharp chin; it was completely different from the affluent face.

The man screamed in pain, the area on his face where the mask had been torn off turned red, and tears streamed down.

Jiang Yan threw the mask on the ground and looked down at the unfamiliar face.

Zhou Mubai even had a body double.

Was it because he knew he had committed too many evils and feared retaliation?

Or was it due to a naturally cautious fear of death?

Jiang Yan couldn't say, but the person in front of him was definitely not Zhou Mubai.

"Where is Zhou Mubai?" Jiang Yan asked.

The body double covered his face, which had been torn red, and trembled all over: "I... I don't know... I really don't know... The Master never tells us..."

Jiang Yan asked again.

The body double's voice trembled even more: "I really don't know... I'm just a double; usually, I just sleep, eat, and occasionally meet guests for the Master... The Master never tells me his whereabouts... Please, spare me..."

Jiang Yan didn't ask again.

What could this kind of double possibly know?

He slapped the top of the double's head, shattering the man's life force.

The double's body stiffened for a moment, then slumped to the floor, blood slowly seeping from his seven orifices.

Jiang Yan didn't absorb his essence and blood.

The essence and blood of ordinary people were almost useless to him; absorbing them wouldn't generate a single strand of Spiritual Qi, and it would be a hassle to dispose of the mummified corpse, so it wasn't worth it.

He turned and walked out of the main room.

The study was in the east wing, just next to the room where Sun Wei had died.

Jiang Yan walked in and rummaged through the desk drawers; inside were a few letters and an account book, all things related to daily transactions.

He knocked on the wall again, and when he tapped behind the bookshelf, one brick sounded hollow.

Jiang Yan moved the bookshelf aside and pried that brick out from the wall gap.

Behind the brick was a small hole, and there was nothing in it.

It was empty.

Jiang Yan pushed the bookshelf back and walked out of the study.

He stood in the courtyard and thought for a moment, then turned and walked toward the outer courtyard.

Steward Yuan Zhen was the steward of the Zhou Residence, managing all the big and small affairs of the Zhou Family.

If others didn't know where Zhou Mubai had gone, Steward Yuan Zhen might know some clues.

In the west wing of the outer courtyard was Steward Yuan Zhen's residence.

The door was unlocked, and the light was on in the room.

Jiang Yan pushed the door open.

Steward Yuan Zhen was sitting at the table, staring blankly at the land deed in his hand.

His well-maintained face bore a hint of imperceptible anxiety—Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan hadn't been in contact for months; could it be that he had met with misfortune?

When the door was pushed open, he thought it was a servant bringing a late-night snack, and without raising his head, he said: "Put it on the table and get out."

No one replied.

Steward Yuan Zhen looked up.

He saw the person standing at the door.

The candlelight reflected on the youth's face.

Skin as white as porcelain, delicate features, and those eyes, so calm they made one's spine go cold.

The land deed in Steward Yuan Zhen's hand drifted to the floor.

His lips began to tremble, and the color drained from his face in an instant.

"Jiang... Jiang Yan?"