“It is strange indeed. There’s never anyone seen entering or leaving this manor, nor does anyone tidy the place during the day. I would never have thought that people were actually living here…” Duan Meng’an murmured, his voice lowered to a whisper.
“Just be careful. We’re here to investigate the missing persons case. We’ll keep watch tonight and observe. Most of the disappearances happened at night. I want to see for myself what kind of thing could make an expert like Wu San vanish without a trace.” Gripping the hilt of his saber, Lu Sheng sat down and closed his eyes.
Seeing their leader so calm, the other two felt the frantic pounding in their chests ease a little.
“With Young Master around, things will definitely go smoothly,” Duan Meng’an muttered, reassuring himself as much as Ning San.
Ning San, who had been visibly uneasy, felt a measure of relief settle over him after hearing those words.
Lu Sheng sat upright on the bed, adopting the same posture he used at home when cultivating. His breath was quiet, his form unmoving, like still water under moonlight. But beneath that calm, his senses sharpened, sweeping over every faint movement and distant sound.
Duan Meng’an, though pretending to rest, maintained the same vigilance. Ning San dragged a chair over and sat down, choosing to stay in the same room rather than risk being alone. All three remained together; watching each other’s backs felt far safer than the alternative.
Before long, the quiet was broken by a burst of movement and voices outside.
It sounded like several people had entered—most of them women.
“Little girl, where are the adults in your home? Why hasn’t anyone come out?” a crisp female voice called.
“My Big Bro is concocting pills and can’t be disturbed. Please keep your voices down, and don’t bring any light inside, or he’ll get mad. He’s really scary when he’s angry,” Song Yunjuan whispered.
“Don’t worry, we’re only looking for a place to stay for the night. A landslide blocked the mountain path, so we had no choice but to come here. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow,” another woman replied gently.
“Thank you for understanding,” Song Yunjuan said with a nod, then guided the newcomers toward the rooms across the courtyard.
Lu Sheng rose, stepped to the door, and opened it. Outside, a line of men and women holding torches followed behind Song Yunjuan as she led them to their quarters.
Four women made up the group—Young Missus whose attire clearly marked them as anything but commoners. Their refined grace reminded Lu Sheng of the well-off girls from smaller city circles he had once mingled with.
Each of the four brought a bodyguard: burly men with sabers at their waists. But the moment Lu Sheng observed their footwork, he dismissed them as mere toughs relying on raw strength. Perhaps they knew a handful of saber forms, but their skills were far from impressive.
Only one of the women held Lu Sheng’s attention for more than a passing glance. She was young, with soft, pleasant features—a cute, delicate beauty. There was a gentle warmth about her, like a small white rabbit, harmless and comforting. For a moment, she made him think of Qiao’er back home.
As Lu Sheng and his companions studied the newcomers, the group noticed them in turn.
The four bodyguards stiffened immediately, their stances turning guarded. One whispered urgently to his Young Miss, and soon all four women turned toward Lu Sheng’s group with curious, slightly wary expressions.
Their unease, however, was not fear. One of the women—the gentle-looking one—seemed as though she were tempted to test something.
“Young Master, that woman has a knife hidden in her sleeve,” Ning San whispered, eyes sharp.
“Oh? You can tell?” Lu Sheng raised a brow.
“Yes. I suffered a lot in the past. After watching people for so long, I learned to see through certain habits and patterns.” For someone of Ning San’s background, such insight was rare; usually, it was knowledge reserved for the educated and wealthy. No wonder he had managed to climb to the position of a small leader within the Crimson Whale Sect.
“She’s had some training,” Lu Sheng murmured. “Otherwise, a few women wouldn’t dare travel the wilderness alone. If danger comes, bodyguards like theirs won’t amount to much. And who knows—some guards might even have their own ideas.” He had sensed no inner force in the gentle woman—her eyes lacked the clarity of a cultivator—but her movement, posture, and balance hinted at some basic discipline. Her slim, soft appearance, however, ruled out outer force cultivation.
“No need to concern ourselves with them. But there is someone else worth noting.” Lu Sheng’s gaze shifted to a figure standing a little behind the women.
It was a young master—handsome, composed, and elegant. He held a white oil-paper umbrella, his long robes as pale as snow, stark against his jet-black hair. The way he carried himself was refined and confident, his presence like that of a noble dragon among men.
What unsettled Lu Sheng was the clear fact that this young master wasn’t part of the women’s group. And the light in his eyes—the steady, condensed shine—belonged unmistakably to someone who had cultivated inner force.
“Be careful. That man is trained in inner force,” Lu Sheng warned before returning to his bed.
Duan Meng’an and Ning San exchanged glances, carefully memorizing the appearance of the young master. Then they shut the door and settled back into their positions.
HOO…
A cold gust swept through the corridor as a wooden door eased open with a groan.
Song Yunjuan cleared her throat softly, then turned to the handsome young master. “Big Brother Li, this room is for you. Everything you need is inside. Some things are a little old, but I hope you won’t mind.”
Young Master Li offered a gentle smile. “No problem at all—it’s already a blessing to have a place to lay my head tonight. It looks like it might rain, so I’m truly grateful that you, Young Sister, were willing to take me in.”
His voice was smooth and refined, carrying a soft, inviting warmth. Song Yunjuan’s cheeks reddened faintly at his tone.
“In that case… I’ll take my leave. Have a good rest.”
Young Master Li nodded, his smile deepening. “Oh right, may I ask if the three men in the room across the corridor are also here seeking shelter for the night?”
“Yep, they just arrived earlier. It’s strange—why did so many people show up all of a sudden today?” Song Yunjuan replied with a puzzled look.
A faint glimmer flickered in Young Master Li’s eyes before he lowered them again with his usual gentle warmth. “Those three look like people one mustn’t provoke. Their appearances seem rather… sinister.”
“Young Master Li, you think so too? I was really scared at first. But now that so many people have come, it’s not as frightening anymore,” Song Yunjuan said with a small smile. “You should rest. I’ll head to sleep as well.”
“Mm. Go on. You’re still young, so take good care of your health.” His voice carried a tender, almost doting tone.
“Mm.” Song Yunjuan turned and skipped away lightly.
Young Master Li waited until she entered the large central room and closed the door. Only then did he step into his own quarters, pulling the door shut behind him.
“Interesting.”
In the darkness, he reached around until his fingers brushed a flint stone. A few sparks later, a thick candle flared to life, casting a pale yellow glow. He placed a small lantern over it, softening the harshness of the flames into a warm, muted light.
From the adjoining room came the lively chatter of the young women. Young Master Li—Li Shunxi—shook his head lightly.
‘There is something off about this manor,’ he mused. ‘No light allowed outside the rooms, and though there’s supposedly an elder brother, it’s the younger sister who receives everyone.’
He had only intended to take a leisurely walk to clear his mind, but the sudden blockage on the mountain road had left him with no choice but to seek lodging here. He certainly hadn’t expected to stumble upon something… peculiar.
‘And those three men across the hall… definitely trained, definitely from a sect. They even have matching symbols on their sleeves, though the dim light makes it hard to tell which sect exactly. Judging from their expressions, they’re here because there’s a problem with this place.’
Li Shunxi’s curiosity stirred deeper, growing sharper with every passing moment.
Li Shunxi was, in truth, the young master of a high-ranking official’s household. Outwardly, he appeared no different from any refined noble son. But behind that gentle façade, he had secretly studied exorcism techniques and demon-hunting arts on his own. With his sharp mind and natural talent, he had mastered several remarkable martial disciplines from a young age, giving him a cultivation foundation far superior to his peers.
He had even slipped out of his home in disguise on several occasions, personally resolving supernatural disturbances and accumulating real experience—though his esteemed father remained completely unaware of his youngest son’s abilities.
Day to day, Li Shunxi hid his true strength with great skill, never betraying so much as a hint. Only when he left home in disguise did he allow himself to unleash his full power without restraint.
‘Looks like this trip wasn’t in vain,’ he mused, interest sharpening.
Seated at the small table, he loosened the cord of his waist pouch and began unloading his tools one by one, inspecting each instrument carefully beneath the softened candlelight.
............
Midnight settled over the manor.
Lu Sheng sat upright on the bed, eyes closed in meditation—until they snapped open. His gaze sharpened and locked onto Ning San, who had crept toward the door.
“What are you doing?”
Ning San froze, grimacing. “Young Master, I… I need to go to the latrine…” His voice trembled; clearly, fear gnawed at him.
“Ask Duan Meng’an to go with you,” Lu Sheng ordered. “Don’t wander alone.”
Duan Meng’an, slumped in a chair, was snoring loudly, drool sliding down his chin.
With no choice, Ning San went over and shook him awake.
“WHAT!? YOU WANNA DIE!?” Duan Meng’an roared, livid at being disturbed. His eyes cracked open in fury—only to meet Lu Sheng’s. Those bright, piercing eyes shot through him like an arrow, shattering the last remnants of sleep.
“Go with him. Don’t let him go alone,” Lu Sheng repeated.
“…Yes.” Wiping drool from his chin, Duan Meng’an stood up reluctantly.
“I’m really sorry, Brother Duan…” Ning San muttered miserably. Duan Meng’an shot him a venomous glare, and the two shuffled out.
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The door shut behind them. Lu Sheng closed his eyes once more.
Time passed—about as long as it took for tea leaves to steep—before the door creaked open again.
Chi…
“Back?” Lu Sheng asked calmly. “Get some rest. I’ll keep watch for now.”
Silence.
He opened his eyes.
The door stood wide open, cold wind pouring in, but no one was there. Only the gusts howled through the entrance, making the empty doorway sway faintly.
Brows furrowing, he rose and walked over, pushing the door shut.
Why aren’t those two back yet?
Just as the door was about to close, Lu Sheng felt resistance—as if someone on the other side was pushing back. A firm, deliberate force held the door in place.
His expression darkened.
He braced himself and shoved the door open with all his strength, body lunging out in case of ambush.
Chi!
His straight saber was already halfway drawn—But the courtyard was empty. Not a shadow in sight.
Superstitious nonsense… He scanned the surroundings, but the silence was absolute. Finding no trace of Duan Meng’an or Ning San, he returned to the room.
He sat down—then paused. The two had been gone far too long. After what had just happened, unease crept in.
I should take a look.
He lit a candle and placed a lantern cover over it to shield it from the wind. Holding it carefully, he opened the door.
HOOOO—
A sudden gust blasted in, snuffing out the flame instantly.
Darkness swallowed the room. Only pale moonlight spilled across the floor.
Lu Sheng struck the flint again. And again. Each spark died the moment it appeared, devoured by the wind.
He set the candlestick aside, stepped out into the corridor, and headed toward the latrine.
The courtyard was pitch-black. No lamps burned, no voices carried. It was impossible to tell if the other guests were asleep—or if something else had happened to them. The silence was suffocating.
Step by step, Lu Sheng walked down the corridor, the cold night air clinging to his skin. The latrine was typically at the back of the house.
He exited the corridor, entered the open yard, circled past the sleeping quarters, and made his way toward the backyard.
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