Early in the morning, the eastern sky brightened with a hint of fish-belly white, and a dreamy butterfly fluttered out from Biyun Tower.
A bronze carriage quietly rolled out of Biyun Tower, greeting the morning dew as it drifted far behind the dream butterfly. After weaving through the bustling Imperial Capital for a little over half an hour, it transitioned from extravagance to the chaotic back alleys of the city.
The streets were messy, the roads intersecting in a maze-like confusion that was overwhelmingly dizzying.
The difference from the muddy alleyways of Ziyang Mansion was staggering, for this place seemed even more chaotic.
“So, the Imperial Capital has spots like this too,” Ke Mo mused, imagining how likely it would be for Ying Bing to get lost here—about one in a thousand.
“Every city has its shadows,” Xiao Qian chimed in. Though he had never been to the Imperial Capital, this scene felt oddly familiar to him.
“Amitabha,” Murong Xiao murmured softly as he glanced at the grass mat on the street corner with compassion.
The mat wrapped around a corpse, which either had gone shoeless in life or had its shoes stolen after d*ath, exposing a pair of blueish, blackened feet.
Ke Mo couldn’t shake off the bizarre feeling rising within him.
It was the same city where Wind Moon Small Residence stood with porcelain towers and golden roads, yet here one could easily encounter frozen corpse remains.
Before long, the dream butterfly dissipated.
“It’s right here,” Qin Yuzhi’s voice rang out as the butterfly vanished.
Ahead stood a single-story house with a door slightly ajar.
Peering through the crack, Ke Mo frowned and pushed the door open.
An ominous, damp stench assaulted his nostrils as he entered. The furnishings were sparse; aside from a bed, the place could bare no other description but ‘walls with nothing.’
A skeletal corpse lay facing up on the bed.
It was none other than the emaciated Lu Zhuang.
In the Observation Realm, outside the Imperial Capital, he had been quite the figure, yet now he lay in a pitiful state, a few rats gnawing at his exposed flesh.
“Coming here with Brother Ke was indeed the right choice; this Heavenly Respect guy is causing quite a mess,” Murong Xiao lamented, his face reflecting sheer regret.
On the way here, he’d learned that this guy had brought it upon himself.
“Cough, it’s the Godly Power Scatter!” Ke Mo exhaled deeply, stressing the words.
Had he known it would end up like this, he wouldn’t have shared the instant noodle recipe with Huanmo Sect; he would’ve rather given up on that collective power.
He just didn’t expect bl**d Refining Hall would get so messy.
Even without the Heavenly Respect branded instant noodles, Godly Power Scatter would still spread in other ways.
“Probably died around midnight last night,” Xiao Qian assessed.
“His body is a mere shadow, bl**d dried up, physically exhausted to the bone, completely devoured,” Huang Donglai was saying.
Squeak!
A rat suddenly gleamed with mischievous intent. After munching on Lu Zhuang’s flesh, it grew several sizes larger and darted toward Huang Donglai.
But in mid-air, it was caught by Huang Donglai.
“This Godly Power Scatter seems undigestible for humans; even the rats are affected,” he noted.
“Now that he’s dead, what do we do?” Murong Xiao asked.
“Let me think,” Ke Mo said, activating his brain cells.
“First off, Lu Zhuang didn’t simply buy the Godly Power Scatter; he carried a part of it yesterday, selling some to others. He was probably just running errands for Huanmo Sect.”
“So, the person supplying him the Godly Power Scatter, knowing they couldn’t reach him again, will surely come looking.”
“We can find a spot and wait for them,” he concluded.
“Fair point,” Huang Donglai and Xiao Qian agreed with the line of reasoning.
“I was thinking the same,” Murong Xiao said, though he had entirely missed the math behind the idea, feeling rather like he had picked up a pen in class and suddenly realized he understood nothing.
But everyone else was on board, so he nodded seriously.
“We’re all on the Qianlong List. We might be recognized.”
Xiao Qian thought for a moment: “It’d be best to disguise ourselves…”
“I say we dress up as Huanmo Sect members,” Ke Mo suggested.
“Dressing as Huanmo Sect is no walk in the park; their outfits…”
“This kind?” Ke Mo pulled out several black, hooded robes.
“Just having clothes isn’t enough; Huanmo Sect members all carry identification tokens…”
Before Xiao Qian could finish his sentence, he froze.
Ke Mo was holding an iron token that read ‘Beasts God Envoy’ on it.
Well, that’s a high-ranking identity.
“Brother Ke, where did you get that? It looks like the real deal,” Xiao Qian exclaimed, astonished, since even his teacher couldn’t tell the difference between the clothing and token’s authenticity.
“When out and about, you create your own identity. Quick, change into it,” Ke Mo waved his hand, stressing:
“Remember, try to keep your mouths shut later. If asked something you don’t know, just smile and brush it off; people from the sect are crafty. If you say nothing, they’ll start to fill in the blanks themselves.”
“Heh heh…” Murong Xiao replied, complying: “Is this how I smile?”
“No, no, no! Watch me.”
The soon-to-be Golden Globe winner Ke Mo twisted his mouth into a grin: “Hehehe…”
“…”
Huang Donglai and Xiao Qian exchanged glances.
Brother Ke was surprisingly… experienced at this.
The group donned their new attire and prepared to find a suitable spot to keep an eye on things.
Suddenly—
Bang—
The front door was kicked open with a loud crash, accompanied by an imposing voice:
“Enforcers at work! Everyone, heads down!”
In came a female constable, clad in a dark uniform, with a long, beautifully designed blade that had intricate patterns. Her presence surged with an aura reminiscent of a legendary beast, as if behind her hovered a daunting figure of authority.
She looked no older than twenty, with an impressive air about her.
As soon as she stepped in, her keen eyes spotted the group of people dressed in black hooded robes.
And the one at the front was giggling away with that ‘heh heh heh’ laugh.
“!”
Murong Xiao’s laughter abruptly came to an end.
He never expected the Huanmo Sect’s contact to arrive late, but a constable popped in instead—talk about bad luck.
“Um, misunderstandings, just let me explain…”
“You can say whatever, but anything you utter is now considered evidence!”
Obviously, the female constable wasn’t in the mood for explanations; her shiny blade gleamed dangerously.
The blade sliced through the air as it met Huang Donglai’s fist with a resounding clash, scattering clouds of dust everywhere.
“Where did all this dust come from?”
As the constable began to question, she suddenly felt dizzy.
Not good.
This isn’t dust; it’s Soft Muscle Powder!
“Miss, we’re not from the magic sect…”
“Not from there? How can you convince me of that?”
Seeing her growing suspicion, Ke Mo sighed.
“Let’s take her down and explain slowly.”
