Chapter Ninety-Five: Absolute Power

In the corner of the courtyard stood a tall tree, its branches casting shadows that covered half the moonlight, dividing the yard into patches of light and darkness. Jiang Lan leapt down from the tree, landing amidst the mottled shadows.

She looked around, then skirted along the wall toward the inner room. The courtyard was small, containing just a bedroom, a storage room, and a cramped kitchen. Jiang Lan made her way toward the bedroom.

With a flick of two fingers, she stiffened a talisman and slid it into the door crack. Lifting it gently, the latch slipped free with ease. She pushed the door open and entered.

Moonlight spilled through the open window, illuminating the room. On the bed lay a figure, half-covered by a quilt. Jiang Lan frowned.

She approached and reached for Sanmu’s neck with her fingers. Beneath her fingertips, the pulse was strong. Jiang Lan wondered silently, “He’s not dead. His soul is intact, so why is his consciousness absent?”

She glanced around the room. There were no signs of forced entry; everything was scattered as if left in haste—or perhaps simply in chaos. Bottles and jars were strewn haphazardly. Clothes lay scattered everywhere. Even the erotic novel was splayed open, shamelessly occupying the bed. The room, though small, was a complete mess.

Meanwhile, Sanmu found himself in a vast, white void, enduring a mental reformation after who knows how many years, striving to become a model socialist youth, eager to serve the party and the people!

[Warning from the Yellow Book Cultivation System!]

Yellow Book Cultivation System: “A major figure has arrived! Host, hurry and return—cling tightly to this big shot, and the path to immortality will be within reach!”

Dazed, Sanmu slowly regained awareness, rubbing his eyes as a flickering yellow light pierced his vision. He shook his head—it was just a candle.

Peering out from beneath the table, he saw a young man in splendid attire seated in the corner, where the candle’s light did not reach.

Sanmu sprang from the bed, hastily pulling on his clothes and shoes. “Your Grace, what brings you here unannounced? You should have called for me—how improper to leave you waiting!”

Jiang Lan’s probing gaze made Sanmu shiver inwardly. Could this great demon have noticed something? Murders and thefts for treasures were not unheard of. Sanmu did not believe himself fortunate enough to encounter a truly upright man.

With heightened caution, Sanmu edged backward, but Jiang Lan seemed to read his suspicion and, deliberately revealing her intentions, sought to allay his fears.

“Tonight, the Directorate of Celestial Observance is sure to erupt in chaos. This is an opportunity not to be missed. It’s now the beginning of the Tiger hour; by its height, we’ll make our move.”

Ordinarily, Daoist Sanmu would have leapt up and cursed, “Are you out of your mind?” But today, he let out a long breath of relief—thank goodness this was not her plan.

Yellow Book Cultivation System: “Host, what are you dawdling for? Agree quickly, or else—”

Sanmu Daoist: “Heh... Seems Your Grace has been here for over half an hour. You only called me just now, and gave no warning. Don’t tell me you’re thinking of switching masters?”

Yellow Book Cultivation System: “…You saw through me! Surrendering to overwhelming power is my built-in survival instinct. I’m helpless! Pity this big shot doesn’t seem interested in stealing you away. Oh well... Better cling to her leg, or else your feet, skin, and belly will rot—”

Sanmu gritted his teeth. “Fine, you win!”

Yellow Book Cultivation System: “You’ll thank me for this one day.”

Jiang Lan watched as Daoist Sanmu slipped once more into a vacant state of consciousness. Though it lasted only a couple of breaths, she noticed the subtle change.

She found the peculiar treasure intriguing, but remained unmoved. Before absolute strength, all cleverness was mere illusion.

“Very well. I’ll leave everything to Your Grace’s command.”

Jiang Lan rose from her chair. “Pack your things. We depart at once.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Bathed in moonlight, Jiang Lan and Sanmu slipped quietly through the city toward its tallest building, the shadows their only cover.

As the rooftop glimmered with sudden bursts of light, Sanmu muttered in surprise, “Your Grace, isn’t this commotion a bit much?”

“Greed clouds their hearts, nothing more,” Jiang Lan replied.

Recalling what Jiang Lan had told him, Sanmu gave a thumbs-up. “Your Grace, sometimes I truly think you’re remarkable. When we go in, will there be a fight? And what about Wei Li—could he have been stripped clean already?”

Jiang Lan shook her head. “With that old master of the Strange Gates, he’s surely sensed what’s afoot. Even if not for the Directorate, he’d never give up Wei Li so easily.”

“Will they detain him, then?”

Jiang Lan considered. She’d only tipped them off an hour and a half ago—not enough time for them to act so decisively. The Directorate’s priority would be to stabilize the situation. If Wei Li vanished, those Daoists would notice at once, and a fight would be inevitable.

The golden blood bead was not something that could be hidden for long.

Moreover, if they detained Wei Li, with his temperament, he might not divulge the treasure’s true whereabouts so easily. After all, if he kept silent, there might still be a sliver of hope for survival.

“They probably won’t.”

Sanmu took her at her word. “So we’ll be the fishermen, watching the snipe and the clam fight?”

Leaning against the wall, Jiang Lan watched the confusion atop the distant tower. “The outer wards are barely holding—the formation is on the verge of collapse. Let’s slip inside quietly.”

Sanmu was astonished as Jiang Lan handed him a Daoist robe from the Directorate. “When did you get this? It looks so real!”

He wrapped himself in the robe, and in the blink of an eye, Jiang Lan vanished from sight.

“Hey, Your Grace, you’re not going to leave everything to me, are you?”

“There’s only one set of robes. I need to wear a mask, so this wouldn’t suit me. Don’t worry—I’ll be close by.”

Sanmu nodded, shivering as he cautioned, “Your Grace, don’t abandon me halfway. We’ve been through life and death together—you can’t just leave me behind.”

“Relax. If we have to run, I’ll take you with me.”

“Alright, with your word, I’ll do it.”

“Go ahead.”

Sanmu drew a peachwood sword from his bundle and charged inside, shouting, “How dare you bully the Directorate as if it has no one! Hmph!”

Keeping his head down, Sanmu mingled with the ranks of white-robed Daoists. A junior even made space for him.

“This way, Senior Brother.”

Sanmu smiled awkwardly and replied in the affirmative, all the while edging backward.

Across from the Directorate’s Daoists stood a motley crowd of mountain hermits in yellow robes and other odd colors—at a glance, it was like a standoff between a flock of white geese and a gaggle of yellow ducks.

Sanmu slipped to the back and soon broke away from the group, slipping into the Star-Plucking Tower.

“Your Grace, where do we go now?” he whispered to the empty air, then, receiving no answer, tried the other side. “Your Grace?”

Jiang Lan’s voice came from behind him. “Stop skulking about—you’ll attract attention.”

“Okay.”

No sooner had Sanmu spoken than a layman approached him.

“Which department are you from? I don’t recall seeing you before.”