Chapter 179

That day, the news of the Celestial Master's disappearance caused a great uproar.

But within half a day, the news, as if it had grown legs, spread through every street and alley of Zhoufu.

In teahouses, wine shops, and beside street-side incense burners, everywhere people were whispering.

Some said the Celestial Master had gone wandering on clouds; cultivators are by nature at home everywhere.

Some said the Celestial Master had been abducted, and that someone had attempted assassination at the Dharma assembly that day—perhaps the same gang.

Others claimed the Celestial Master wasn't human at all, appearing and leaving without trace—that was true divine power.

All sorts of rumors flew, but none of them stirred up much of a wave...

Because the prefect didn't believe it.

Not only did he not believe, he had gone mad.

The next day, a squad of constables stormed into Ciyun Temple, smashing its altar, banners, and offering tables to pieces.

The magical implements personally consecrated by the Celestial Master were dumped into the courtyard, piled up, drenched in tung oil, and set ablaze.

Black smoke billowed, rose halfway up, then was blown away by the wind, and the smell of scorched drift drifted over several streets.

On the third day, the fire spread to every temple in the city.

Anything that had any connection to the Celestial Master was spared none.

The eastern Ciyun annex was sealed with notices, the western Celestial Master's lodge had its signboard smashed, and even the little incense burners on street corners were kicked over one by one by the constables.

Incense ash littered the ground; a devout person tried to pick some up, but the constables seized him and lashed him dozens of times, leaving him bloodied and collapsed in the street.

The townspeople stood amid the wreckage, glancing at each other, none daring to speak.

No one understood why the prefect, who had previously led them in faith, after guiding them down this path, now smashed their temples.

All they could do was let the constables, each time they smashed a place, shout loudly, demanding the Celestial Master reveal himself.

But no matter how they called or smashed...

Zhoufu, in the end, still fell into a deathly silence.

【Prefect Gone Mad】

This was the last sentence Du Shanü heard that evening on the third day, downstairs in the inn.

The speaker was an old man selling wontons; as he tidied his carrying pole, he spoke to the vegetable vendor beside him, his voice kept very low—low enough that only the two of them could hear.

The vegetable vendor didn't respond, his expression startled and uneasy; hearing the words, he didn't try to stop it but instinctively turned his head to look around, as if afraid someone might overhear.

Du Shanü stood by the window, watching the shattered incense-burner fragments on the street and the panicked townspeople.

Chinu stood behind her, and the two remained silent for a long time.

"Almost enough......"

Du Shanü weighed her words:

"Although we haven't yet reached the point of total loss of popular support, if we rise now, we will surely achieve an unexpected effect."

"If we return to raise a troop, adding the several dozen ballistae produced daily these days at the weapons workshop, that should be sufficient."

Du Shanü's heart and eyes were full of Zhoufu, so she didn't notice that behind her, Chinu had remained silent, his brows and eyes growing ever more gloomy.

On the morning of the fourth day, the two led their horses out of the inn's door.

Chen Er had earned his wages these past days, yet he was obviously reluctant—

He had been drifting around Zhoufu for years, and had only just found such an agreeable employer; now that they parted, he didn't know where he'd make a living next.

Du Shanü swung onto her horse, looked back, and happened to see Chen Er's forlorn expression; after a moment's thought, she added a few more instructions.

Chen Er's face lit up; he hastily bowed several times in reply, then hurried home.

Du Shanü didn't look back again, went straight out the city gate, onto the official road, and the hoofbeats gradually grew lighter.

By now it counted as winter; the fields were bleak and desolate, the paddies held only bald rice stubble, and a few sparrows hopped along the ridges, pecking at fallen grains.

A wind from the north blew, making the roadside poplars rustle; half their leaves had fallen, the rest clinging stubbornly to the branches.

The two rode side by side, following the old route they'd come on for about two hours; the official road bent, and gradually some rolling hills appeared on either side.

Seeing they had reached Dun Cheng's territory, Du Shanü slightly loosened the reins, about to ease up for a drink—

But just then, several figures flashed out from the fork ahead!

Du Shanü's hand instinctively went to the ballista at her waist, which she never parted from, then she let it go.

She recognized several familiar faces—indeed, they were the scouts she had sent to Ju Cheng to investigate, who had inadvertently contracted the plague and whom she had looked after.

Seeing them here now, it seemed their illness had mostly recovered, and they had resumed their scouting.

Du Shanü relaxed a bit, fixed her gaze on the cold‑faced leader among the scouts.

The man was about thirty, now wearing a gray‑brown short jacket, a knife at his waist, leading three or four similarly dressed men out from the woods beside the road.

If I'm not mistaken, this person is apparently called……

Liu Liu?

Du Shanü's thoughts turned, and Liu Liu also saw her.

He walked expressionlessly to her horse, clasped his fists in a salute, his voice low and dull:

"Miss Du."

That's right.

It really is Liu Liu.

Earlier, when she had taken in those few to treat the plague, she had noticed that everyone else addressed her by their false identities as "Princess" or "Your Highness," but only this person called her "Miss."

At that time she had filed it away, paying a bit more attention, and now it turned out to be a way to discern the other's identity.

Du Shanü didn't dismount; her gaze swept over Liu Liu's face, then over the few behind him, before she smiled and asked:

"To be able to appear here today, I suppose your illness is all better?"

These people's complexion was indeed much better than a few months ago—color had returned to their faces, their steps were steady, unlike before when they could barely stand.

Liu Liu clasped his fists again, his voice still that dull tone, but a hint of gratitude could not be hidden in his brow.

Thanks to the miss, we few have become quite handy.

He finished saying this, paused a moment, as if pondering something.

Du Shanü saw he had something to say, did not urge him, just held her horse and stood by the road, waiting for him to speak.

Liu Liu finally said:

After we brothers improved a bit, we thought we must repay the kindness, so these past few days we have slowly begun to take up the duty of patrolling along the city......

And today, we indeed discovered some obscure traces.

Du Shanü's gaze slightly narrowed.

Liu Liu reached out, pulled a cloth bundle from his bosom; inside the bundle were faintly some brown-green clods emitting an unknown odor.

He seemed unable to smell it, twisting it as he said:

On the riverbank three li north, we found a pile of horse dung. The dung's color is dark, mixed with bean cake and dry grass; the grass does not look like local forage. Locals feed horses with wheat straw and valley grass, but the grass in that dung is finely chopped, yellowish, and has a sour note.

He paused a moment, lowering his voice a bit:

Afterwards, we brothers walked several li further along the riverbank and found several more piles of the same dung, plus some hoofprints. The prints are larger than ordinary horses' by a margin, the spacing wider, like those of a long-distance runner, the horseshoes heavily worn.

The brothers picked out the residue from the grass, consulted several old hands for identification, and in the end it was a seasoned horse trader who had traveled south and north who recognized it......

He said, this kind of forage only grows farther south, in the An Nan region.

Du Shanü's brow had already furrowed when she first heard that the forage was rare locally.

Now, hearing the two words "An Nan" from his mouth, the worry in her heart could finally be considered dead—

She certainly hadn't forgotten a major matter!

The original Dun Cheng was in the hands of Ouyang Wu of the King of An Nan's royal household!

It was she who ambushed Ouyang Wu, eliminated his henchmen, and thus stole Dun Cheng!

Now Ouyang Wu is missing, and An Nan has sent people to investigate......

If she mobilizes militia to attack Zhoufu, the rear Dun Cheng might well be lost!

?? Lately there's no one...... withered