Chapter 106: Deception by Imitation

The gleam of the blade once again enveloped the woman in red, and she vanished once more.

Wang Chi shouted urgently, “Be careful! She’s incredibly fast!”

The butcher’s cleaver in Fang Mu’s hand spun around abruptly and appeared in a certain spot.

That spot was completely empty—nothing at all.

Wang Chi was momentarily stunned, even suspecting that Fang Mu had swung the blade off target.

But in the next instant, Wang Chi realized his mistake: the woman in red had mysteriously reappeared within the area covered by the blade’s glow.

It felt as if she was crashing directly into Fang Mu’s knife.

“Ah—”

A piercing scream escaped the woman’s lips as her figure gradually faded beneath the blade’s shimmer.

Invisible ripples spread out as Fang Mu slowly extended his hand.

[You have touched the Phantom Soul, gaining a trace of true energy.]

[You have touched the Phantom Soul, gaining a trace of phantom energy.]

[You have touched the Phantom Soul, obtaining a clue—a feather, effect unknown.]

True energy and phantom energy merged into Fang Mu’s body as he retracted his hand.

At that moment, A Bai exhaled a jet of black mist, devouring the woman in red completely.

A feather?

Fang Mu reached into his pocket, pretending to retrieve the feather, holding it carefully for examination.

The feather seemed to belong to some kind of bird, though Fang Mu did not recognize it. The only notable feature was its extraordinary length.

Wang Chi approached quietly, not disturbing him.

Apart from the two of them, only an unconscious drunkard lay on the street.

Fang Mu asked, “Is there anyone in Shengge County who raises this kind of bird?”

He didn’t recognize the feather’s species; Wang Chi, being a local, might.

“May I see it?” Wang Chi said. “This feather is quite unusual.”

He found Fang Mu enigmatic—always pulling something out of nowhere.

Fang Mu handed over the feather.

Wang Chi took it, sniffed it, then said, “This is a Shengge County long-tailed chicken. Their tail feathers are especially long. Look at this one—it’s almost as long as two adult palms.”

Fang Mu frowned. “Where are long-tailed chickens raised? Does every household keep them?”

Wang Chi nodded, then shook his head. “They used to be in every household. I heard from villagers who came to offer incense that there was once a chicken plague. Most farmers gave up raising them.”

Fang Mu pondered for a moment. “They gave up? Meaning no one raises them now?”

“Some still do,” Wang Chi said without hesitation. “Most who come to my incense altar are middle-aged women. They often chat about daily matters. What I heard was… only one household still raises them!”

Fang Mu waved his hand. “Take me there.”

A new lead had emerged. Fang Mu was unwilling to let it slip and immediately asked Wang Chi to guide him.

Under the cover of night, the two made their way to the only household still raising long-tailed chickens.

…

Winding through crooked streets, Fang Mu stopped in front of a wooden house.

Wang Chi pointed at it, indicating this was the place.

Fang Mu nodded and swiftly pushed open the door, only to find the interior empty.

“Gone?”

Judging by the scene, they were too late.

Fang Mu searched around the house and finally found a folded note on the table.

Unfolding it, he read a line of words:

“You all want to see me so badly? Find Xuyang and have him come to meet me. The place is the bamboo grove five miles east of Hanxu Temple. If he doesn’t come, you will never find me.”

The handwriting was delicate and elegant, preliminarily identified as female.

Fang Mu naturally focused on Meif, since, based on the note, she was the most likely author.

Moreover, the content suggested that Xuyang might indeed be feigning death.

Wang Chi read the note as well, clasped his hands together, and gave a bitter smile. “Where do we find Xuyang? It’s like searching for a needle in the ocean.”

Finding Meif had already been such a struggle; finding Xuyang with no clues seemed impossible.

Fang Mu looked at the note. “He wants to find Xuyang, right? Then we’ll find one for him.”

Wang Chi was stunned, not understanding.

“Leave first, then I’ll explain,” Fang Mu said, leading the way out of the house.

Instead of returning to the shop, they headed to Hanxu Temple.

Since the meeting was to be at Hanxu Temple, there was no need to remain in Shengge County.

Passing through a grove, they returned to the temple.

“Patron, what do you plan to do?” Wang Chi asked in puzzlement. “If there is no Xuyang, Meif wouldn’t meet us.”

He watched Fang Mu, seemingly confident, yet silent all along.

Upon reaching Hanxu Temple, he could no longer contain his curiosity.

Fang Mu tapped his finger on the table. “Do you know what Xuyang looks like? Describe his appearance.”

Wang Chi nodded and roughly described Xuyang’s features.

Fang Mu extended his hand, and a fiery red true energy flickered at his fingertip.

Wang Chi stared at the red aura, suddenly feeling a tightness in his face, as if undergoing some transformation.

Fang Mu found a bronze mirror and handed it to Wang Chi, saying calmly, “Look and see what’s missing.”

Wang Chi took the mirror and was stunned by the unfamiliar reflection staring back at him.

Disguise technique—an ability Fang Mu had never used before—could use true energy to alter one’s appearance.

Since Meif insisted on meeting Xuyang, Fang Mu would forge a Xuyang using disguise.

Though surprised, Wang Chi understood Fang Mu’s intent. Pointing at his nose, he said, “This is too big.”

A flash of red true energy passed through, and Wang Chi’s nose shrank slightly.

They adjusted slowly, and after half an incense stick’s time…

Wang Chi looked into the mirror at a completely unfamiliar face and nodded. “Yes, that’s it.”

Fang Mu withdrew his hand. “Now go. From now on, you are Xuyang.”

Without delay, they gathered their belongings and left Hanxu Temple, heading toward the designated location.

…

The address on the note was precise; Fang Mu quickly found the bamboo grove.

The dense bamboo concealed everything within.

Fang Mu led the way inside, with Wang Chi close behind.

Without a target, they walked some distance when a melodious flute sound floated toward them.

Fang Mu turned toward the music and saw a woman playing the flute ahead.

The flute player was breathtakingly beautiful, her figure graceful, and amidst the bamboo grove, she exuded an otherworldly elegance.

“Meif?” Fang Mu frowned. “So it really is you.”

“It is I.” The flute’s melody ceased as the woman set down her instrument and gazed in Wang Chi’s direction, reciting, “You were born, I was born.”

Wang Chi clasped his hands and stepped forward. “Long have I awaited your return.”

Fang Mu frowned deeper. Something was off.

Even he, a rough man with little culture, could understand these simple lines.

“You were born, I was born; long have I awaited your return.”

The meaning was like lovers confessing their feelings—but wasn’t this a love triangle?