Chapter 597: The Figure in the Painting

When Li Yi arrived at the entrance of Xinzhou's government office, he halted his steps.

He looked up and saw the office shrouded in the people's collective faith, spiritual energy from heaven and earth converging upon it like a divine light protecting the entire city; over years of accumulation, this faith had grown immense and nearly sentient, taking the form of a colossal white crane crouched above it.

Li Yi's arrival immediately drew the attention of this sentient crane of faith; its eyes scrutinized him while emitting cries, as if warning him not to cause trouble within the government grounds.

He did not indulge it.

The aura of Dragon and Tiger erupted; the next moment, a silver-spotted tiger surged skyward, vast as a mountain, and with a single claw pinned the giant crane beneath it—no matter how it struggled, it was powerless, finally letting out mournful cries without daring to resist.

The sentient power of incense and faith could only intimidate ordinary ghosts and demons, but against Li Yi's Dragon and Tiger aura, it was utterly inadequate.

As the crane was subdued, the entire government office trembled slightly; simultaneously, the plaque hanging in the main hall—"The Mirror Hangs High"—suddenly fell, and even the heavy red-lacquered gates developed cracks for no apparent reason.

It seemed the office had sensed these unusual changes.

Soon.

A middle-aged man in black robes, wearing a waist knife like a constable, strode out with solemn expression, leading a squad of government office runners; his eyes glowed faintly blue, hinting at something uncanny. Seeing Li Yi standing at the gate, he moved swiftly, closing the distance in a few strides.

"I am Zhou Jin, chief constable of Xinzhou City, honored to meet the Daoist," he bowed respectfully.

The squad of government office runners behind him, though confused, could read the atmosphere and quickly showed equal deference, not daring the slightest disrespect.

Li Yi glanced at him and spoke plainly: "Do you know the Art of Beast Transformation?"

Zhou Jin was sharp; he glanced at the shepherd and the two weeping women, and guessed the truth. He bowed: "I've heard of this technique—it turns women and children into cattle, sheep, pigs, and dogs, selling them across regions under the guise of livestock trade, but in truth selling people."

"If you know, why do nothing?" Li Yi asked.

"With humans and beasts mixed, I lack your ability to discern at a glance. I beg your pardon, Daoist," Zhou Jin hurriedly said. "I'm grateful you came yourself—please hand over the criminal to me. I'll handle it properly."

"Where there are sellers, there are buyers—can you decide this alone?" Li Yi asked.

Zhou Jin's expression changed. He looked again at the dozen sheep, realizing this matter was of grave consequence; few in Xinzhou could afford so many, and likely more than one batch had been bought. If traced further, who knew where it might lead.

But he glanced upward.

There, the crane of incense faith was pinned beneath a mountain-sized spotted tiger, its jaws slightly open, voice like rolling thunder; if mishandled, this Daoist might overturn the entire office, drawing the City God—and who knew what battle would follow.

"I shall seek orders and give you a full account," Zhou Jin said at once.

Li Yi said: "I give you fifteen minutes. I'll wait here."

Zhou Jin bowed respectfully, then slowly withdrew, turning to his men and barking: "Watch this Daoist closely. Don't dare slack off—even a little—or your heads will roll."

The government office runners nodded urgently in response.

After Zhou Jin left,

the group of runners proved diligent: one brought a chair for Li Yi to sit, another brought tea and snacks, a third stood by ready to serve—they didn't understand why Zhou Jin treated this Daoist with such deference, but clearly there was reason.

Since they couldn't fathom it, they simply followed orders.

Li Yi didn't refuse; he sat and waited patiently, then pointed at the shepherd: "Turn the others back. Your chance to atone has come."

"Daoist, this, this—" The shepherd broke into cold sweat; if he turned them back, the crime would be confirmed—he'd be flayed alive.

But if he refused, lightning would strike him dead in the next instant.

Either way, death seemed certain.

Li Yi looked at the nearby government office runners: "Will you obey my orders?"

"Daoist, command us—we'll do anything within our power," the runners replied urgently.

"Break his legs, then take his water flask and pour its contents into each of the sheep," Li Yi said.

The runners' eyes flickered; they immediately obeyed, grabbing thick clubs and advancing. They struck with brutal efficiency—two blows shattered the shepherd's legs. He screamed in agony, but the runners didn't spare him, pinning him down, seizing his flask, and dragging it away.

Then they poured the water from the flask, one by one, into the mouths of the sheep.

In moments, the sheep before the runners transformed into women.

They were all attractive—some near thirty, others barely twelve. When restored, they were terrified, but seeing themselves at the government gate, they felt some relief; then, remembering their fate, they burst into tears.

"What a vile man, using dark arts to harm others!" The runners finally understood, and erupted in fury.

Two of them couldn't help but raise their clubs and strike the shepherd twice more.

The blows seemed light, but they shattered bones and tore flesh; the shepherd howled in agony. "If he dies, every person in this office dies with him," Li Yi said calmly.

Others were confused—why would this Daoist protect the shepherd's life?

But the astute understood the hidden meaning.

He feared someone would kill the shepherd to eliminate evidence—silence him with a single blow, leaving no witness, no trail, no connection to others. If so, this case must involve officials.

"Daoist, I only struck him out of rage—I never meant to kill him!" One runner quickly dropped his club and bowed deeply.

Li Yi glanced at him: "Good. I merely spoke in passing, to prevent accidents. If you have no guilt, you needn't worry."

Yet the runner trembled, drenched in cold sweat, overcome by sudden dread—as if this Daoist were no mortal, but a divine being descending from heaven; though he showed no overt power, occasional glimpses of thunderous might still struck the soul.

At this moment,

Chief Constable Zhou Jin hurried to a study within the office to meet the Prefect of Xinzhou.

The Prefect, named Chen Nian, was a middle-aged man in his thirties, now bent over official documents with several colleagues.

"The Tiger Capture Order must still be issued. That Mountain Lord has grown powerful; last time the City God tried to apprehend him, he lost men and failed. This won't do—if that beast enters Xinzhou's borders, I won't dare leave my residence."

No error, one word, one line, one content, one look!

"Autumn tax collection begins soon. The court has reduced land taxes by thirty percent. Calculate slowly, collect full autumn taxes first to fill the treasury's deficit, then consider reducing next year's by ten percent—don't rush."

Chen Nian's voice echoed in the room.

Then he noticed Zhou Jin at the door and asked: "Zhou Jin, the office trembled earlier—what happened?"

"Your Excellency, a Daoist brought a criminal to turn himself in," Zhou Jin briefly recounted the events.

"The Art of Beast Transformation? I've heard whispers—it's a vile technique," Chen Nian frowned. "If it's happening in Xinzhou, someone has long been practicing it. If we dig deep enough, who knows how many we'll uncover."

"Arrest the ringleader, capture a few accomplices, execute them publicly, return the rescued women to their homes, and close the case."

"Your Excellency, that Daoist is unusual," Zhou Jin hesitated.

Chen Nian said: "No matter how unusual, he's still just a Daoist. Apprehending bandits isn't his business. These Daoists act on whim—punish, kill, call it righteous justice, but in truth they disrupt peace. If everyone did this, what need would there be for the court?"

"Go."

He waved his hand, dismissing Zhou Jin.

"Wait."

Suddenly, a figure appeared out of thin air—a painting on the wall depicted a young man in long robes; as the scroll trembled, a spectral figure wreathed in incense aura stepped forth.

"Brother Chu," Chen Nian said, startled, bowing.

This man was Chu Pingzhi, the Night Prefect.

Chen Nian judged human affairs by day; Chu Pingzhi judged spiritual affairs by night.

"That Daoist is extraordinary. Just now, I observed him—he is entwined with Dragon and Tiger aura, and one aura took the form of a silver-spotted tiger crouched above us, pressing down on our crane, silencing its cries," Chu Pingzhi said.

"Dragon and Tiger aura?" Chen Nian's face changed: "A mountain Daoist possesses the Emperor's aura? This can't be a joke."

"How could I joke about this? At night, the City God won't rest—other spirits across the land will surely come to spy." Chu Pingzhi said.

Chen Nian frowned: "The throne is newly secured, and now a wild Daoist with the Emperor's aura appears—this is misfortune, not fortune. I say we eliminate him early, to prevent trouble. If we let him go, wild spirits will flock to him, and someday he'll gather an army and rebel."

As Prefect, he naturally protected the court; seeing such an anomaly, his first thought was annihilation.

Chu Pingzhi said: "This matter may be large or small. Let me test him—see who he truly is."

"Agreed," Chen Nian nodded. "But we must report this upward—no concealment. If later investigated, neither of us can bear the blame."

"Naturally," Chu Pingzhi nodded.

Then Chen Nian ordered Zhou Jin to take the portrait and bring it to the Daoist outside.

Not long after,

Zhou Jin carried the scroll and strode out, quickly leaving the office.

He saw beside the gate a chair, upon which sat a young Daoist in crimson-feathered robes, long hair flowing over his shoulders.

(End of Chapter)