Chapter Ninety-Eight: Addicted to Petting Cats (An Extra Chapter Dedicated to the Sect Leader's "Lifelong Devotion to Them"!)

Director Wu left Dongfeng County, and Fang Mu did not return to Jinglong County again. Sometimes, Fang Mu felt as if he carried a death aura with him—wherever he went, misfortune followed. Jinglong County had a sparse population, and it was better not to bring trouble to them any further.

Fang Mu purchased a house in Dongfeng County. Since Qing Ruowu had given him ample money, even after buying the house, he had plenty left over. The house was situated in a rather remote area, distinct from the kind one would build for residence.

The exterior served as a shop, while the interior was the living quarters. Although running a shop required selling goods, this had nothing to do with Fang Mu; inside the entire shop, there was only a single reclining chair.

As for why he did not follow the usual practice of peddling strange or eerie items—like a coroner selling coffins as a guise—Fang Mu deemed it unnecessary. Firstly, the location was too secluded with hardly anyone around; secondly, his mind was not disturbed enough to entertain such superstitions. He was indeed a coroner, but he had no desire to engage with ominous things.

“Ah… comfortable,” Fang Mu murmured as he reclined on the chair, picking up the book Director Wu had given him. A Bai, curled up on his belly, stretched contentedly.

The book was titled *Essential Handbook for Wandering the Jianghu*, and judging by its name, it seemed quite official. Fang Mu had been busy setting up the shop all this time and only now had the leisure to peruse it carefully.

Opening to the first page, his expression grew peculiar.

*Five Low-level Tactics Essential for Jianghu Wanderers.*

The deeper he read, the more engrossed Fang Mu became. Unlike other books filled with all manner of treacheries and underhanded tricks, this one resonated with his tastes.

What set it apart was that although it contained an abundance of cunning stratagems—enough to fill half the book—the author’s moral compass remained fairly upright.

The more he read, the more invigorated he felt. Fang Mu lay there absorbed for the entire afternoon.

As night deepened, smoke rose from chimneys in Dongfeng County, and households began preparing their evening meals.

Fang Mu patted A Bai, stood up, closed the shop door, and stepped inside. A Bai immediately understood and made his way to the kitchen.

After dinner, Fang Mu resumed reading the book.

*Knock, knock, knock...*

Just as he was engrossed, a knock sounded at the door.

Fang Mu set the book down, furrowing his brow. At this late hour, who could be knocking?

*Creak...*

The wooden door turned, revealing a familiar figure—the head of the communications office.

“This is a letter from the director for you,” the man said, handing over the letter and pulling out a small badge. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”

He spoke as if trying to minimize his presence.

The communications chief knew full well that Fang Mu was favored by the director and had a particularly peculiar temperament. He had no wish to provoke his displeasure.

Fang Mu accepted the letter with a “thank you,” and after the chief departed, he closed the door.

Lying on the bed, Fang Mu expertly patted the edge. A Bai leapt up lightly, rolling over to reveal his snowy white belly.

Fang Mu opened the letter with one hand, while the other deftly stroked A Bai’s soft belly. Stroking a cat was addictive; Fang Mu had unknowingly become hooked.

*Fang Mu, my disciple, the matter is settled.*

The letter began plainly—the affair was done, without a trace of hesitation.

Reading through the entire letter, Fang Mu then rose to burn it before lying back down.

The letter contained two parts: one outlined how to contact Fang Mu moving forward, and the other detailed his remuneration.

Besides the worldly silver coins, the Surveillance Bureau also used a universal currency called Xuan Stone.

Like the Bloodstained Copper Coins of the Ghost Market, Xuan Stones could be used for cultivation, trade, and for exchanging items within the Surveillance Bureau—though only bureau members could do so.

However, Fang Mu, a trusted insider, broke this limitation. He could collect items through various communications offices simply by presenting his credentials.

His proof was the badge delivered along with the letter.

Fang Mu examined it carefully.

The badge was plain, inscribed with the character “Wu,” part of his coroner code name.

Though he was unsure how the Surveillance Bureau verified the authenticity of badges, this one was important, so he put it away carefully.

The oil lamp flickered as Fang Mu resumed reading Director Wu’s book.

The latter half contained much esoteric knowledge—things Fang Mu desperately needed as a newcomer.

He read until drowsiness overtook him, then set the book aside, preparing for sleep.

Lying in bed, a plan formed in his mind.

Now that he had a relatively stable source of information, the next step was to leverage it for his own advancement.

Night fell deep and still as water. A Bai nestled beside Fang Mu and emitted a contented murmur...

---

In the remote Shengge County of Dongfeng, silence also reigned.

*Clang~*

“Dry weather, be careful with fire!” a night watchman called out leisurely as he walked down the street, striking a gong.

The street was eerily quiet; no one responded.

The darkness was so profound it felt like a terrifying beast lying in wait.

The watchman walked, striking his gong at intervals. Eventually, he reached the end of the street.

“Just a little further now,” he yawned, muttering to himself.

Ahead lay a dimly lit alley.

He entered, gonging and calling out, but suddenly a shadow collided with his chest, knocking him to the ground.

“Oi! Who’s that? Watch where you’re going!” the watchman grumbled as he got up, peering into the moonlight to see who had struck him.

Not far ahead, a woman in a light robe sat on the ground, covering her face as she wept softly.

Her clothing was thin, and under the moonlight, her silhouette was faintly visible.

The watchman swallowed nervously, temporarily forgetting his anger. “Miss... what are you doing here so late?”

Though he spoke, his eyes kept darting to the gap at her collar.

The woman tried to stand but collapsed again, crying, “Big brother, could you help a poor girl up?”

Her voice was clear and melodious like a yellow oriole, leaving the watchman stunned.

He hung the gong at his waist, crossed over, and helped her up. Seeing her face, he was utterly spellbound.

“Beautiful... truly beautiful.”

“Big brother, what are you saying?” the woman said shyly. “My name is Xiao Yan. I twisted my ankle just now. You’re a good man—could you escort me home?”

As she spoke, Xiao Yan leaned against him.

Her softness mingled with her fragrance. The watchman nodded dazedly.

Xiao Yan pointed behind her. “My home is just there. Let’s go, big brother.”

He replied with a grunt and supported her as they headed toward the end of the street...