Chapter 62: Wanli Era Sect Master

Kong Wenju cultivated the “Antiquity Reflection” method, which allowed him to discern the ancient aura of objects.

Legend says that within the archaeology field, some experts had brought this lineage to its peak.

They could not only identify the era of an antique at a glance but also faintly sense the major historical events it had witnessed.

They treated antiques as fragments of speech left behind by the ancients.

Even if alone in a dark, terrifying tomb, such people felt everywhere bathed in radiant, colorful light.

On some objects, one could hear the cheers of imperial lantern festivals; on others, the roar of war orders from chaotic eras.

They never felt cold or desolate.

On the contrary, students trailing behind them only annoyed them.

“The sounds inside the tomb are so beautiful—haven’t you heard them?”

“Shh! Don’t speak—your vulgar words drown out the ancient music!”

Kong Wenju was, of course, far from such mastery, but after achieving minor success, he developed an intuitive distinction between ordinary objects and antiques.

For him, living in a bright, tidy house with elegant decor did not necessarily bring comfort.

A bed with soft-yet-firm support, conforming to the body’s curves, or a fluffy, huggable quilt, did not necessarily reassure him.

But if an antique he favored stood nearby, even sleeping on concrete felt comfortable.

Sometimes he wondered whether his cultivation path had already warped him, leaving him rarely able to feel joy or sorrow for other things.

Only the aura of antiques gave him vivid, living experiences.

But upon reflection, it was like some people preferring to live in the south and others in the north.

He possessed this innate talent, which allowed him to cultivate this type of mental power, and the power, in turn, reinforced his habits—this was only natural.

It was merely a quirk, far from any form of distortion.

After all, he had not gone so far as to drown daily in museums just to feel antique auras.

The antiques he had collected at home already satisfied him.

Unfortunately, the few calligraphy and painting antiques he loved most were refused by his old friends, who wouldn’t sell them.

This life of contentment tinged with regret changed about a month ago.

That day, while handling an ancient jade, he suddenly heard a sound like a sealed shell cracking open, like an egg being cracked.

The jade instantly dissolved into his right hand, flowing into his body, filling him with terror.

But he soon realized the jade brought no harm—only benefits.

His nose became extraordinarily sensitive; his perception of antique auras sharpened dramatically.

Compared to this new Kong Wenju, his former self—even in an “opening the senses” state—felt like a severe nasal congestion patient.

This exhilarating clarity in smell made him, inexplicably, avoid seeking any detailed medical examination.

Within days, he discovered that not only had his nose grown more sensitive to antique auras, but he could now also detect the toxicity of certain objects, which, once absorbed, settled in specific parts of his body and combined into distinct toxins.

Some toxins induced hallucinatory, absurd scenes.

Others acted like truth serums, compelling the victim to answer every question truthfully without realizing it.

Still others amplified inner violent urges—beyond a certain dosage, they suppressed aggression and generated profound affection.

Kong Wenju familiarized himself with his new abilities and began investigating the origin of the ancient jade.

First, the jade was clearly from the Ming Dynasty; cross-referencing the seller’s half-truths with historical records, he narrowed it down to a specific range.

This jade had once been a personal item of the leader of a folk sect during the Wanli era of the Ming Dynasty.

His name was Liu Tianxu, who once gathered followers in Jinling to rebel, proclaiming himself the Dragon Flower Emperor and Dragon Flower Sect Master.

Officially, the sect followed the mainstream, venerating Maitreya Buddha, who attained enlightenment beneath the Dragon Flower Tree.

In reality, Maitreya was barely mentioned in their doctrine; what they truly worshipped was the Dragon Flower Tree itself.

They believed humanity’s ancestors were born from trees, without sexual union or the filth of blood and semen—only after ancestors were tainted by the mundane world did descendants come into being through intercourse, born from filth and suffering endlessly.

Worship of the Dragon Flower Tree stripped away one layer of filth, reducing one’s suffering; upon death, one could return to the tree and be reborn, enjoying eternal divine bliss.

Many commoners accepted its efficacy and followed it.

But Liu Tianxu chose to rebel on the Summer Solstice, striking when officials gathered to pay respects at the imperial tombs—truly audacious—and was swiftly crushed.

When Kong Wenju reached this point in his research, he understood.

His newly acquired abilities were perfectly suited for spreading a cult.

It seemed he had inherited the legacy of an ancient sorcerer.

Since he had no intention of dying for some heretical cause, he could safely use this power.

When Chu Tianshu heard him reach this point,

He still described his situation and inner state clearly and logically.

But after that, Kong Wenju began to lose coherence.

When asked to recall his actions, he could not explain why he had abandoned his property and shop, stolen several paintings and ancient texts in one go, and fled his homeland.

Why he chose Macau, he had not thought deeply—he seemed to have picked it at random.

But he remembered clearly the incident of attacking Hong Ying’s younger brother.

“That was a Tang Bohu painting, Tang Bohu!”

“His ‘Poems on Fallen Flowers’ is housed in the Princeton University Art Museum in America; ‘Viewing the Waterfall’ is in the National Palace Museum in Taipei.”

“Even if it was only a fan painting, vastly inferior in artistic value to those two, it should still be kept at home, properly enshrined.”

“It wasn’t ancient jade—he was just fiddling with it like a damn fool!!”

Kong Wenju’s expression was wildly agitated, completely forgetting his earlier fear of Chu Tianshu.

“These gambling tycoons—high social status, rich, even officials must bow to them.”

“But when they get their hands on fine things, they have no idea how to preserve or collect them.”

“I only regret that the fan was taken back from them—I didn’t know then the lunatic was searching for his son; otherwise, I could’ve tricked him into helping me steal it!”

Chu Tianshu watched him calmly, his gaze slowly shifting to the large bag beside him, then returning.

The meaning was clear.

You shoved all those paintings and ancient texts into a giant bag—do you think that counts as proper preservation?

Kong Wenju argued: “I had no choice—I had to disguise these treasures to carry them with me.”

“Fortunately, most people don’t recognize value—shoved in a bag like this, no one knows what treasures they are.”

Chu Tianshu had no patience to argue further, only fixed his gaze on Kong Wenju’s spleen.

The demonic spirit on Kong Wenju’s body was far weaker than the one on Zhu Heng’s.

Possibly due to differences in preservation conditions over centuries.

But mostly, it was due to Zhu Heng’s influence on Kong Wenju.

Among the five viscera, the spleen belongs to earth, the lungs to metal; earth generates metal.

Zhu Heng’s power far surpassed Kong Wenju’s, and he was already insane—his chaotic will was even fiercer than his physical strength.

Together, Zhu Heng unconsciously disrupted the demonic spirit within Kong Wenju, even draining its power.

But this was not without benefit.

For Kong Wenju, precisely because his demonic spirit had been weakened, his mind was clearer than when he had first fled his homeland.

“Mr. Chu, where are you?”

Fang Jun’s voice called from downstairs.

Chu Tianshu walked a few steps toward the outer edge of the floor.

Fang Jun had brought a roll of green gauze, common at construction sites, and wrapped Zhu Heng’s corpse in it.

He had no intention of carrying the corpse upstairs; he shouted from below: “How’s it going?”

“Got him.”

Chu Tianshu said, “You’ve sensed the demonic aura on Zhu Heng’s corpse—Kong Wenju has one too.”

“It’s likely an artifact left by a Ming Dynasty heretical leader. Based on the five viscera system, there might be a combined effect.”

Fang Jun’s expression changed; he set down the corpse, found a bamboo pole, and used it to leap up to the second floor like a pole vaulter.

As a cultivator of mental power, jumping down was easy—he could use techniques to cushion the fall, even from the third floor—but jumping up was troublesome.

Chu Tianshu crouched, grabbed his hand, and pulled him up to the third floor.

Fang Jun stared at Kong Wenju for a moment, then slowly raised a playing card: “Kill him.”

Kong Wenju turned pale with terror: “Wait! I—I—I didn’t deserve to die! Aren’t you afraid the Special Capture Corps will come after you?”

Fang Jun smiled coldly.

“I am the Special Capture Corps.”

Kong Wenju’s back went limp; he muttered: “So the Special Capture Corps is this dark… I should’ve known…”

“Excellent. Defaming the Special Capture Corps in front of an officer adds more time to your sentence.”

Fang Jun smiled. “But given the scale of your crimes, you were going to rot in prison anyway.”

Kong Wenju didn’t know whether to feel relief or despair—this sounded like they weren’t going to kill him.

Chu Tianshu, pleased by Fang Jun’s intimidation, chuckled: “You meant kill the demonic spirit, right?”

“Yes.”

Fang Jun said seriously, “He’s not a high-risk threat like Zhu Heng. If we can spare his life, we should.”

“According to top-level directives, when we’ve secured the situation, we must act with transparency and strictness.”

Chu Tianshu added: “These demonic spirits form a five-viscera combination. Both known ones have recently reawakened—I suggest we keep them to use in rituals to track down the others.”

Fang Jun shook his head.

"We have a priority rule in our investigations: any evil spirit, kill it on sight."

"Especially those evil spirits that form combinations—whenever you get the chance, break their combination as thoroughly as possible; the more shattered, the better. Otherwise, who knows what might happen if they fully reunite?"

"Also, regarding tracking: any moderately skilled evil spirit relic will have encryption."

"While intact, tracking their companions is actually harder. Better to kill them first, then track them by their residual aura—it reduces the difficulty somewhat."

Chu Tianshu had never known these things.

Hailing had been far too peaceful to have any ancient evil spirit lineages.

At most, you’d get rogue practitioners like that late Qing scholar.

The witch-doctor lineage focused on medical skills; the Zongheng Secret Chanting Method focused on enhancing and accumulating one’s own mental power.

None of them mentioned that evil spirit relics could encrypt themselves.

"Then I’ll kill it!"

Chu Tianshu immediately spoke, and as he spoke, he thrust two fingers through the air toward Kong Wenju’s spleen.

Since they were going to kill it, he might as well be the one to open the chest himself and claim the materials.

If Fang Jun got there first, he’d be at a disadvantage.

(End of Chapter)