7: Chapter 7 Promotion and Raise? Sorry, I just want to be a useless person.

An autumn rain brings a chill.

Ever since the Wolf-Head Jade Pendant was “accidentally” left by the Scripture Pavilion Elder’s fishing platform, the entire Heavenly River Sword Sect has been shrouded in continuous gloomy rain, carrying a foreboding sense of impending storm.

Within half a month, the Sect experienced a silent earthquake.

First, two Outer Sect deacons “went astray in their Cultivation” and died suddenly.

Then, a highly respected Inner Sect Elder suddenly announced he was entering “dead seclusion”.

After that, more than a dozen rising elite Disciples were dispatched to the desolate frontier, a place with an extremely high mortality rate, and have since vanished without a trace.

That list of undercover agents had already stirred up a bloody storm.

But all of this had nothing to do with the Scripture Pavilion, and nothing to do with the sweeping Servant.

Outside the window, autumn rain pattered; inside the pavilion, the aroma of tea wafted.

Li Mo sat in his usual spot by the window on the second floor, engrossed in a thread-bound ancient book, “Collection of Strange and Difficult Diseases”.

Ten years had not etched the marks of time on his face; instead, the immersion in countless books had made his temperament even more serene. He didn't look like a Sect Servant, but rather a clean-cut scholar on his way to an imperial examination.

Squeak.

Under the table, a gray rat, noticeably fatter, poked its head out, nudged Li Mo’s shoe with its paw, and offered a freshly shelled walnut glowing with Spiritual Qi.

“Thanks.”

Li Mo took it casually, popped it into his mouth, chewing with a crisp crunch, his gaze never leaving the page.

[Ding!]

[Host has fully read “Collection of Strange and Difficult Diseases”, extracted entry: Pathological Disguise (Blue)]

[Entry Effect: You can perfectly simulate the pulse and complexion of any known pathological terminal illness, which even the Divine Sense of a Nascent Soul Stage Cultivator cannot penetrate. Note: Feigning illness is a self-Cultivation practice for Path of Caution Cultivators.]

“Just when I was worried about finding a suitable excuse, a pillow was handed to me.”

Li Mo’s lips curled silently, and he closed the book.

Just then, a heavy footsteps echoed from the staircase.

The sound was not like that of ordinary Disciples, carrying a hint of urgency and an undeniable bureaucratic air.

Li Mo’s eyebrow twitched imperceptibly, and the Reading the Room entry instantly activated.

The person was Steward Sun from the Internal Affairs Hall, a Foundation Establishment Late Stage Cultivator, in charge of personnel transfers, and a well-known smiling tiger in the Sect.

“Oh, Li Mo, I finally found you!”

As Steward Sun reached the second floor, his plump face immediately creased into chrysanthemum-like wrinkles, as enthusiastic as if he had met his long-lost father.

“Stop sweeping, get up, get up! Big news!”

Li Mo was sitting and reading, but upon hearing this, he slowly rose, straightening the broom leaning against the table. A hint of flattered apprehension appeared on his face: “Steward Sun, you flatter this humble one. May I ask… what is the good news?”

Steward Sun strode forward and slapped Li Mo’s shoulder heavily: “The head Steward of our Servant courtyard, a few days ago… ahem, fell ill and retired to his hometown. The Sect, remembering your ten years of diligent service, has specially promoted you to Deputy Steward of the Scripture Pavilion!”

“From now on, the personnel scheduling and miscellaneous purchases of this Scripture Pavilion will all be under your management! Your monthly salary will double, and you’ll even get a private courtyard with a Spirit Gathering Formation! How about that, aren’t you happy?”

Steward Sun narrowed his eyes, waiting to see Li Mo moved to tears and bowing in gratitude.

A Servant being promoted to Steward was like a carp leaping over the Dragon Gate, a great fortune that would make one’s ancestral graves emit green smoke.

However, Li Mo’s reaction made the fat on his face stiffen.

“Cough… cough cough! Cough cough cough cough!”

Li Mo suddenly bent over sharply, coughing violently, each cough more tearing than the last, his entire face turning a purplish-red, as if his heart and lungs would be coughed out the next second.

His life aura instantly plummeted to rock bottom, as faint as a wisp of smoke, as if it could extinguish at any moment.

“You… what’s wrong with you?”

Steward Sun was startled, instinctively stepping back half a pace, fearing to catch any bad luck.

Li Mo tremblingly raised his head, pulled out a pre-prepared “blood-stained” handkerchief (Crimson Fruit Juice) from his bosom, wiped the corner of his mouth, and gave a hoarse, bitter smile:

“Thank you… cough cough… thank you for the Sect’s kindness. It’s just that this humble one’s body… I’m afraid I cannot accept such a blessing.”

“What illness do you have?” Steward Sun released his Divine Sense in surprise and uncertainty, sweeping over Li Mo.

With that sweep, the expression on his face instantly became incredibly strange.

In his Divine Sense perception, Li Mo’s Meridians were withered, his internal organs were permeated with a decaying Death Qi, and the Spiritual Qi in his Dantian was scattered. It was actually a sign of the legendary Five Decays of Heaven and Man, which even Golden Immortals would find hard to cure!

This was precisely the terminal illness simulated by Pathological Disguise — Spirit Exhaustion Syndrome.

This illness usually doesn't show, but once one gets emotional or uses Spiritual Qi, it flares up. There is no cure, one can only recuperate and wait for death.

“This humble one accidentally ingested poisonous herbs in my early years, damaging my Dao foundation.” Li Mo leaned against the bookshelf, looking frail as if he would breathe his last at any moment, “The doctor diagnosed that this humble one cannot overexert myself, otherwise… cough cough… I won’t live past this winter.”

He gazed “desolately” at the falling leaves outside the window.

“This humble one only wishes to quietly sweep the last stretch of my path among these books. I appreciate Steward’s kindness.”

Steward Sun’s mouth twitched fiercely.

Bad luck!

Truly bad luck!

He wanted to promote an obedient Puppet, but who knew it was a short-lived ghost about to die! If this person died in office right after being appointed, not only would he, the recommender, be held responsible, but it would also be a laughingstock!

“In that case…” Steward Sun disgustedly withdrew his hand, even pulling out a handkerchief to carefully wipe the palm that had just patted Li Mo’s shoulder.

“Then forget it. You… take care of your illness.”

With that, he hurried downstairs without looking back, as if fleeing from a plague god.

Watching Steward Sun’s retreating figure, Li Mo slowly straightened his body.

His sallow complexion quickly returned to ruddy, and the decaying aura vanished without a trace. Where was there any sign of impending death?

“Be a Steward? What a joke.”

Li Mo pouted.

If he became a Steward, constantly socializing and attending meetings, where would he find time to read and acquire entries?

More importantly, a tall tree catches the wind.

When something happened in the Sect, Stewards were definitely the first batch of cannon fodder to be purged.

How could sweeping be better?

No one pays attention, no one cares. If the sky falls, just duck under a bookshelf. Who would trouble a dying cleaner?

Squeak! (Big Brother, the Oscars owe you a little golden man!)

Squeak jumped onto the table, clutching its belly and mimicking Steward Sun’s retching, clearly imitating him.

Li Mo flicked his finger, sending it tumbling.

“Stop joking. Be alert tonight, I have a feeling this isn’t over.”

“That list has been submitted, but some people might not be willing to let it go.”

...

Night fell.

The autumn rain had stopped, dark clouds obscured the moon, and the Heavenly River Sword Sect plunged into a deathly silence.

Inside the Scripture Pavilion, the lights had long been extinguished.

Li Mo sat cross-legged on the bed, not asleep, but organizing what he had read today in his mind.

Suddenly, an almost imperceptible whoosh tore through the tranquility.

The sound was extremely faint, but in Li Mo’s Anti-Reconnaissance Instinct perception network, it exploded like a thunderclap.

They’re here.

Li Mo opened his eyes, his gaze clear and cold, without a hint of sleepiness.

Someone had infiltrated the Scripture Pavilion.

Their purpose was definitely not to steal books.

That person’s aura was cold, and their stealth technique was extremely high, having bypassed all the warning Formations on the periphery and heading straight for the Servant courtyard — Li Mo’s room.

Am I the target?

Li Mo’s thoughts raced.

It seemed that although the Overlord Blade Sect hadn't found the whereabouts of the jade pendant, they had already cast suspicious glances towards the Scripture Pavilion.

Unable to find that mysterious “expert,” they intended to pry open a lead from the only living person here.

After all, only dead men tell no tales.

“Puff.”

A very faint muffled sound, the door bolt was silently cut by a black blade as thin as a cicada’s wing.

A black shadow slid in along the ground, stirring not a breath of wind. The black blade in its hand swept up an arc of death, aiming directly for the highly raised quilt on the bed.

Ruthless, decisive, a single strike to kill.

This person was a professional dead man, with a cultivation of at least Foundation Establishment Middle Stage!

“Thud!”

The black blade pierced through the bedding, but what it produced was the dull thud of piercing thick wood.

Empty?!

A chill exploded in the black shadow’s heart, rushing straight from his tailbone to the crown of his head!

He was about to withdraw his blade when a faint sigh echoed behind him.

“Your Excellency, why did you not use the main entrance for your late-night visit? This door bolt is public property; if you break it, you’ll have to pay for it.”

The black shadow turned abruptly.

He saw the young man, who should have been stabbed on the bed, sitting calmly in a chair in the corner of the room, holding a cup of hot tea, looking at him with a helpless expression.

“You’re not sick?!”

The black shadow exclaimed in shock.

The intelligence stated that this person was suffering from a terminal illness, with declining Qi and blood. How could he have dodged his killing blow and appeared behind him like a ghost?

“Sick? Oh, you mean that daytime act.”

Li Mo blew on his tea foam, speaking unhurriedly.

“That was the daytime performance.”

“At night, I’m generally more energetic.”

“Playing tricks, die!”

The black shadow instantly realized the intelligence was wrong and no longer hesitated. His entire Spiritual Qi erupted, and the black blade in his hand transformed into a rain of blades, sealing off all space around Li Mo.

Overlord Blade Sect’s killing move — Asura’s Hundred Cuts!

Facing this blade net, capable of instantly dismembering Cultivators of the same rank, Li Mo remained seated in his chair, unmoving.

He merely raised his eyes slightly.

That golden entry, “Unspeakable Gaze,” which he had sealed away for a long time, quietly opened a crack.

Just a crack.

Buzz—!

The sky full of blade rain abruptly ceased.

The black shadow’s movements froze completely in mid-air.

In his vision, the young man disappeared.

In his place was an indescribable Chaos.

It was an boundless sea of twisted characters, a pitch-black abyss where screaming truths tore apart sanity.

Every character was wriggling, proliferating, pouring into his brain insane knowledge capable of collapsing stars!

“Ah—!!!”

An extremely short scream tore through his throat.

The black blade in the black shadow’s hand clattered to the ground. He clutched his head tightly with both hands, his eyes rolling back, convulsing violently like a sieve. Gurgling noises came from his throat, and white foam continuously frothed from the corners of his mouth.

His Divine Soul had completely shattered the moment he gazed upon “truth.”

“Tsk, too weak-willed.”

Li Mo shook his head, put down his teacup, and closed the entry.

He rose and walked over to the still twitching black shadow.

This person was already crippled, his Sea of Consciousness completely destroyed. Even if a Grand Unity Golden Immortal descended, he couldn’t be saved, let alone reveal any secrets.

Squeak.

From under the bed, Squeak poked out its little head, skillfully dragging out a bundle of ropes, ready to help deal with the aftermath.

“Don’t move.” Li Mo stopped it, “This is a dead man from the Overlord Blade Sect; he must have a life lamp or a tracking mark on him. Killing him and burying him will cause huge trouble.”

Squeak? (Then what do we do?) Squeak made a gesture of slitting a throat.

Li Mo stroked his chin, a hint of cunning flashing in his eyes.

He pulled out a black Medicinal Pill — a “Forget-Sorrow Pill” he had refined in his spare time, which could make one precisely forget the memories of the past twelve hours, with the side effect of causing foolishness for a few days.

Then, he pried open the black shadow’s mouth and stuffed the Medicinal Pill in.

He brought his fingertips together and lightly tapped the black shadow’s glabella.

A new memory, forged by Divine Soul Weaving, was infused into the opponent’s shattered Sea of Consciousness.

In this memory:

The black shadow infiltrated the Scripture Pavilion and ran head-on into an old man with white hair and an imposing aura (the image of the Scripture Pavilion Elder). The old man merely glanced at him, and his mind shattered, and he was casually thrown out.

As for Li Mo, the sweeping Servant?

In the memory, he was nowhere to be found.

Having done all this, Li Mo grabbed the black shadow by the collar and pushed open the window.

Outside the window, the moon was bright and stars were sparse.

“Off you go!”

Li Mo swung his arm, flinging this “human trash” into the night sky, precisely towards the back mountain — in the direction of the courtyard where the Scripture Pavilion Grand Elder resided.

“Senior, your Junior has sent you a playmate; no need to thank me.”

He clapped his hands and closed the window.

Excellent.

Now, the Overlord Blade Sect would only think that the Grand Elder made the move. And that Elder… well, he already took the blame for the jade pendant once, so taking the blame for another assassin probably wouldn’t bother him.

This is the essence of the Path of Caution.

Not present, not informed, not involved.

“Alright, time to sleep.”

Li Mo yawned and changed his bedding.

He still had to get up early to sweep tomorrow. He heard a new batch of books was about to be put into storage. He hoped to get some golden legendary entries this time.

Night returned to silence.

A moment later, in a courtyard somewhere in the back mountain, the Scripture Pavilion Grand Elder, who had just gotten up to relieve himself, looked at the black-clad man who had fallen from the sky, landed in the center of his courtyard, and was foaming at the mouth, falling into a long period of contemplation.

“Are young people these days… greeting each other in such unique ways?”