The water was completely muddy.

The back alley of the Zhang residence, belonging to the Vice Minister of Rites, was filled with the lively atmosphere of an early morning market.

Granny Wang, who was in charge of purchasing, was haggling with a vegetable vendor she knew, carrying a vegetable basket.

A ragged, dirty little beggar slithered up to her like an eel.

He tugged at her sleeve and stuffed a heavy little bag wrapped in rags into her hand.

"Grandma, I found this in the corner over there. It's shiny and looks like something a noble person dropped! You seem like a good person, so here you go!"

After the little beggar finished speaking, he disappeared in a flash before Granny Wang could react.

Granny Wang paused for a moment, then subconsciously squeezed the cloth bag in her hand; it was hard and had sharp edges. She looked around warily, and seeing that no one was paying attention, she quickly stuffed the bag into her bosom, her heart pounding.

Back in the servants' quarters, she eagerly unwrapped the tattered cloth.

The contents inside made her gasp.

Several pieces of glittering gold jewelry! A gold hairpin twisted like a snake, a ring inlaid with a dark red, eerie gemstone shaped like a skull's eye, and a gold clasp engraved with unknown, sinister runes. The styles were peculiar, exuding an indescribable chilling and sinister aura, definitely not the kind of designs found in ordinary wealthy households.

What alarmed her even more was that a crumpled piece of paper was tucked inside the tattered cloth that held the jewelry.

The words "Back Wing of Jinxiu Pavilion" were written crookedly above.

Although Granny Wang was a servant, having spent a long time in the grand mansion, she could sense the danger.

These things were strange, and the location on the note reminded her of some unspeakable secrets within the mansion.

She dared not embezzle, much less conceal the truth.

She didn't even bother to put down her vegetable basket before stumbling and running to find the head maid in charge of the inner courtyard.

In less than half an hour, these few sinister-looking gold ornaments and the note that read "Back room of Jinxiu Pavilion" were placed in front of Zhang Shilang's most trusted steward. The steward looked at these items, which clearly had the style of a demonic cult, and the highly suggestive note, and his face turned green, his forehead instantly covered with cold sweat.

He dared not delay, and immediately took the hot "evidence" and walked heavily toward the Vice Minister's study.

The trial began in the courtroom of the Hongzhou government.

"mighty--"

The sound of the water-and-fire sticks striking the ground echoed dully, but it couldn't suppress the suppressed whispers below.

In the courtroom, Prefect Zhou Wenhuan was dressed in his official robes, but his face was even more gloomy and somber than the plaque above that read "A Bright Mirror Hangs High."

In the corner of the table in front of him lay the indigo package stained with mud, inside which lay the deadly fake ledger, like a red-hot branding iron, scorching everyone's gaze.

Below the hall, besides the trembling yamen runners, stood the pale-faced, grief-stricken steward from Minister Zhang's residence. He tightly gripped a tray covered with silk cloth, but the eerie outline of the gold ornaments and a corner of the note that read "Back room of Jinxiu Pavilion" were already exposed.

Beside him was a chief secretary representing the Prince of Heyang's residence, who had rushed over upon hearing the news.

His face was equally somber, his eyes fixed sharply on Zhou Wenhuan.

Zhou Wenhuan felt as if the chair beneath him was covered in nails.

He cleared his throat, his voice dry and hoarse, like sandpaper scraping:

"Hail... to court! Today... today, some unruly commoners have left false evidence in the government office, slandering high-ranking officials and members of the imperial family... and... and some unidentified evil spirits have been presented to the official residence... I... I have been ordered by the Emperor to govern this region, and I cannot tolerate such acts of spreading rumors and disrupting the order of the state! I must... I must investigate this matter thoroughly!"

He slammed the gavel down, the sound particularly jarring in the silent courtroom.

"Guards! Immediately seal off 'Jinxiu Pavilion'! Take all those involved back for trial! Deploy heavy troops to guard the shops at the north entrance of the prefecture and the abandoned brick kiln in the south of the city, and thoroughly investigate all traces of the past! Furthermore... issue this official's decree, requesting... requesting the residences of Vice Minister Zhang and the Prince of Heyang, along with all relevant parties involved... to come to court for questioning!"

The gavel struck, its echo reverberating through the rafters.

The crowd below fell silent, as if the air had frozen.

Zhou Wenhuan knew that he had been firmly burdened with this incredibly muddy "black pot" (a metaphor for being falsely accused).

He has no choice but to open the hall, and he has no choice but to put out the fire, even if he can't extinguish it.

Dusk fell quickly.

Like spilled ink, it gradually soaked into the dilapidated earth god temple in the south of the city.

The temple eaves are dilapidated, and the clay sculptures of the Earth God and Goddess appear mottled and kind, or rather, numb, in the dim light.

A middle-aged woman wearing a slightly worn indigo cloth dress.

Carrying an ordinary vegetable basket, he hurried into the small open space in front of the temple.

Her attire was unremarkable.

Only on the left side of her hair bun was a hairpin, entirely crimson with a forked swallowtail.

It shone with an eerie, striking light in the twilight, like a drop of congealed blood.

She is indeed "Grey Harrier".

The woman's sharp steps faltered as soon as she stepped inside.

The cloudy eyes scanned the surroundings warily—the atmosphere at the local earth god temple was unusual today.

The beggars, who should have been few and far between, were now gathered in several small groups, some huddled in corners, others wandering aimlessly, their eyes frequently glancing towards the temple entrance. Even the few passersby who seemed to be in a hurry had a deliberately suppressed stiffness in their steps.

The air was no longer filled with the dust and ashes of incense that used to linger.

Rather, it's a tense, silent restlessness, like the low pressure before a storm.

The woman felt a chill run down her spine.

Years of honed instincts, honed through countless life-threatening experiences, sent out a sharp alarm.

Without hesitation, she turned around and tried to blend into a narrow alleyway next to her.

It's too late.

Several dark figures seemed to emerge directly from the shadows in the corner of the wall, silently and swiftly blocking her path.

These people were dressed in ordinary shorts and t-shirts.

His eyes, however, were like poisoned hooks—fierce, cold, and devoid of any hint of vulgarity.

One of them raised his arm and pointed at the woman. As he moved, his sleeve flipped up, revealing a corner of an extremely intricate lotus scroll pattern embroidered in gold thread—the secret mark of the assassins kept by the Prince of Heyang!

The woman's face turned deathly pale, her last shred of hope vanishing.

A look of utter despair and ruthlessness, like that of a trapped beast, flashed in her eyes in an instant.

The vegetable basket slipped from her hand and fell to the ground with a dull thud. A flash of cold light appeared in her sleeve, and a poisoned dagger slid into her palm. She swiftly slashed at the throat of the man closest to her! The movement was as fast as lightning, filled with a resolute determination to die together with him.

"Move! Leave some alive!"

The man blocking the alleyway growled and slid sideways like a ghost, narrowly avoiding the sharp edge of the poisoned dagger. The others pounced like hungry wolves smelling blood! There were no shouts, only the dull thuds of fists and feet striking each other, the sound of tearing fabric, and the woman's suppressed, beast-like roars.

The small open space in front of the local temple instantly transformed into a silent battlefield.

Startled, several real beggars in the distance scrambled to their feet and shrank into the deeper shadows, trembling with fear.

As the henchmen of the Land God Temple in the south of the city quietly closed in, thirty miles outside the city, the Cihang Jingzhai, shrouded in a light mountain mist and the melodious sound of evening drums, was a place of serene tranquility, detached from worldly affairs.

The temple gate was half-closed, and the gray-blue courtyard walls appeared even more ancient and imposing in the twilight.

An inconspicuous blue cloth mule cart rolled over the clean stone path in front of the gate and stopped at the side gate.

A middle-aged couple, dressed simply and with devout expressions, got off the car. The man was composed, and the woman had her head bowed and eyes lowered.

Behind them followed a driver who also wore coarse clothes and looked honest and simple.

They were carefully unloading several heavy sacks and large wooden crates from the vehicle, which emitted a rich aroma of sesame oil and rice flour.

This was the first batch of "pilgrims" sent out by Yang Sijian.

The nun in charge of receiving the gifts was a middle-aged Buddhist nun with a slender face. She put her palms together in a gesture of respect and her gaze swept peacefully over the three people, like a gentle breeze across the water. However, when she looked at the unusually steady weight the driver had as he moved the boxes and the deep ruts left on the bottom of the boxes, she paused slightly before returning to normal.

“You have come a long way and must be tired. Please follow this humble nun.”

The nun's voice was like the sound of a wooden fish in a nunnery, clear, cool, and rhythmic.

The group was led to a secluded side hall.

The hall was filled with the fragrance of sandalwood incense, and the light was dim.

Abbess Huiming was already seated on a prayer mat.

She was about forty years old, with a solemn face, showing neither joy nor sorrow, except for her eyes, which were as deep as an ancient, cold well, as if they could see through people's hearts. She did not get up, but simply nodded slightly, her gaze lingering for a moment on the boxes sealed with "sesame oil" and "white rice" labels.

"Thank you for your trouble, nun."

The leading "husband" bowed, his voice carrying just the right amount of respect, "This is a small offering, nothing more than a token of my respect. I hope the Bodhisattva will bless our home with peace and safety."

He gestured to the driver to open one of the boxes. The top layer was indeed fine white rice, but beneath the rice, one could vaguely see neatly stacked flat packages and several bulging coarse cloth bags—containing easily portable and easily convertible gold leaves and small gemstones.

Master Huiming twirled the ebony prayer beads in her palm, her voice calm and even.

"The Buddhist gates are wide open, saving all sentient beings. The Bodhisattva will surely protect your kind heart."

She gestured for the two robust nuns behind her to come forward and inspect and receive the item.

The two nuns moved swiftly and silently.

When carrying heavy boxes, the taut muscle lines could be vaguely seen under the monk's robe; his steps were steady and he landed silently.

“It is indeed ‘peaceful’ here, Master.”

As the Shura Guard, disguised as a coachman, lifted the box, he murmured something seemingly unintentionally, his gaze quickly sweeping across the shadows of the palace corner and the moon gate leading to the inner courtyard.

Master Huiming paused slightly as she twirled the prayer beads.

A faint, almost imperceptible smile appeared at the corner of his lips, like a speck of dust dropped into an ancient well.

"Amitabha. The Buddhist temple is a pure land that only accepts good karma and is untouched by worldly dust. You can rest assured, benefactors."

Her voice remained gentle, yet it seemed veiled by an impenetrable gauze, and the words "good karma" were particularly intriguing.

After the donation was received, Abbess Huiming personally issued a "Merit Deposit Document" stamped with the red seal of Jingzhai.

The handwriting is neat and the procedures are complete.

Two nuns carried the box and walked towards a secluded courtyard in the backyard.

When the gate opened, one could vaguely see that the guards inside were even more heavily armed, giving off an aura that kept strangers at bay.

The first batch of "offerings" was safely "sold" amidst the evening drum chants and the seemingly peaceful yet subtly scheming atmosphere.

As the side door of Jingzhai slowly closed, it blocked the view from the outside world.

At the crossroads of the official roads leading in different directions, two other groups of "merchants" and "escort teams" carrying even heavier missions quietly disappeared into the deepening night.

A shipment was being transported by several weary traveling merchants.

Several mule carts covered with thick tarpaulins creaked and groaned as their wheels sank deep into the dirt road.

Beneath the tarpaulin were heavy silver ingots disguised as pig iron ingots and some large antique objects wrapped in layers of thick cotton.

They chose a relatively remote but not deserted trade route, using the pretext of trading with neighboring provinces.

The other batch appeared to be much more "formal".

Several horse-drawn carriages bearing the triangular flags of "Weiyuan Escort Agency" set off onto the official road amidst the resounding shouts of the escorts.

The head镖师 (bodyguard/escort) leading the team was a hearty man with a full beard. When he received the generous security deposit and a list of goods containing "Suzhou and Hangzhou silks and Jingdezhen porcelain" from Yang Sijian's confidant, he patted his chest and assured him, "Brother, don't worry! Our Weiyuan Escort Agency's flag is our signboard! We'll guarantee to deliver it to your destination safely and securely!"

Inside the carriage, beneath the ordinary cargo used as cover, lay the true core wealth—priceless large pieces of jewelry and jade, and an astonishingly large list of "real" valuables.

Their destination was a backup base that Yang Sijian had carefully selected, located further away from Hongzhou and in a more secluded place.

Night fell like a curtain, covering the roads and distant mountains.

The creaking of the mule carts and the shouts of the bodyguards were gradually swallowed up by the boundless silence.

Wealth is like a stream in the dark night, flowing silently along different paths into the unknown depths.

The hustle and bustle within Hongzhou City and the bloodshed at the Land God Temple in the south of the city seemed like stories from another world.

The campfire in the camp flickered in the night wind, illuminating Chen Yan's cold and aloof profile.

On the map spread out in front of him, the location of "Hongzhou City South Land Temple" was specially circled.

Ling Feng's figure appeared silently beside Shen Yan, like a shadow blending into the night.

He first handed a simple sketch to Shen Yan—

That was the path to the secret passage of Broken Soul Cliff that Shen Hong "smelled" from Sun Qi using his special ability.

Almost simultaneously, another Asura Guard stepped forward.

He whispered the news that had just been sent back by fast horse from Hongzhou City.

Chaos has broken out in the city. A fierce conflict has erupted at the "Jinxiu Pavilion," and government forces have intervened, leaving the situation in complete disarray.

"Good chaos."

A cold smile curved Shen Yan's lips as he lightly tapped the location of the "Land Temple" on the map with his fingertip.

It's like adding a dot to a boiling oil pan: "When the water gets muddy, the fish are more easily startled and easier to catch."

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a confident air of control.

He turned to Ling Feng, his gaze sharp as a knife: "Is there any news about the list?"

"I just received a letter from Xue Ling."

Ling Feng spoke rapidly and clearly, “The list was taken by a clever young constable during the chaos at ‘Jinxiu Pavilion.’ Our people have located him and are monitoring him from the outside, looking for a safe opportunity to make contact.”

"There's no need for contact anymore."

Shen Yan decisively interrupted, as if she could already see those grand mansions in Hongzhou City, "Go directly to the source. Zhang Mansion, Prince's Mansion."

He paused, his tone tinged with a cold sarcasm, "Sun Mao's 'quirks' and 'eyes' are the best guide, more direct than any list."

His gaze swept over Ling Zhan beside him, and he gave the order: "Take a team of elites to the Prince of Heyang's residence. Objective: Find the 'eyes' planted by the Princess and bring them back."

Ling Zhan calmly replied, "Well, she's willing to come back."

Shen Yan was taken aback for a moment, then quickly understood what she meant, "We'll do our best."

Ling Zhan nodded and set off.

Then, his gaze returned to Shen Hong, his eyes deep and carrying a hint of barely perceptible expectation.

“It’s rare that the Vice Minister of Rites isn’t in the capital. I’ll go and see what his quirks are like. Hong’er, you come with me.”

Shen Hong took a deep breath, his chest churning with complex emotions that ultimately transformed into unwavering conviction.

He clenched his fist tightly, his knuckles turning slightly white, his eyes sharp as a sword about to be drawn: "Yes!"

The night was like thick ink, spilled across the mountains and wilderness.

Several small but highly skilled teams shot off like arrows.

It silently shot away from the temporary camp at Qixia'ao and disappeared into the boundless darkness.

Heading straight for Hongzhou City—the city boiling in the center of a massive vortex.

Ling Zhan's team had a clear objective.

They headed straight for the Prince of Heyang's residence in the west of the city, a place that represented power and formidable defenses.

As for Shen Yan, he personally led Shen Hong.

And several Asura Guards who are best at concealing their tracks and skilled in stealth assassination.

Like a phantom transformed from the night itself, it sped towards the east of the city, towards the vermilion gates and high walls of the Zhang family mansion, the hometown of the Vice Minister of Rites.

Their goal is clear and dangerous.

In this chaotic waters that have been thoroughly churned up.

To accurately retrieve those souls that have been lost for a long time and are in dire need of salvation, and to retrieve the key "fish" that belongs to them.

Just as their figures disappeared at the end of the mountain path.

From the distant south of Hongzhou City, the night wind seemed to carry a few extremely short, almost imperceptible metallic clanging sounds, along with one or two muffled groans that were forcibly suppressed.

Then, everything fell silent again, as if it had never happened.

The "blood swallow hairpin" that served as a key token.

At this moment, it is unknown which force has captured it, or which bloodstained hand is holding it tightly.

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