Chapter 427

Yu Chengbang glanced at the night sky, oriented himself, and instead of returning to his mansion, hurried off into a dark alley, slipping toward a lawless district of the city where under cover of darkness countless clandestine transactions took place.

He knew there was a hidden emergency contact point left behind by the Cult of Longevity, usable only in direst necessity.

This was that direst necessity!

Yu Chengbang's figure darted like a startled rat through the labyrinthine shadows of Wulong Mansion's alleys.

He avoided the brightly lit main roads, choosing only the remote, filthy back alleys where night patrols rarely ventured.

The night wind, carrying the stench of rotting garbage and the damp chill of evening, blew against his sweat-soaked back, making him shiver uncontrollably—yet his fear was colder still.

Surrendering authority, house arrest, the list…

Tang Bin's calm face, and those subtle yet unmistakable "clues" he'd dropped…

All of it felt like a dull blade, slicing repeatedly at his heart.

Yu Chengbang knew all too well the methods of the Pacifying Martial Bureau: once marked as a prime suspect, "cooperating with the investigation" or "awaiting summons" were merely slow-boiling frogs—eventually, he would face torture until every last scrap of value was squeezed from him, then public execution and display of his head.

"No… I can't wait to die…"

Yu Chengbang gritted his teeth, eyes bloodshot, his fear slowly replaced by a desperate, cornered-animal madness.

He had to save himself!

He had to contact the Cult of Longevity!

Make them find a way to get him out—or…

At least make them know he'd been exposed, so they wouldn't be traced through him!

The place Yu Chengbang was heading to was "Heishui Fang," a "no-man's-land" in the city.

There, low-ranking cultivators, fugitives, smugglers, and all manner of illicit dealings gathered.

The Cult of Longevity's emergency contact point was hidden in the backyard of an unremarkable shop bearing a faded, crumbling sign reading "Chen's Miscellaneous Goods."

The contact method was extremely covert and dangerous: once used, the point would be abandoned within days, and the user had to flee immediately.

Yu Chengbang knew this well—but now he had no other choice.

At this moment, he was like a trapped beast, desperate to grasp the last straw of salvation.

What Yu Chengbang failed to notice was that his clumsy stealth and frantic movements were as glaring as a torch in the night to any true tracking expert.

Four ghostlike figures maintained a perfect distance from him—some lurking on rooftops, using shadows to conceal themselves, others silently shadowing him in parallel alleys, observing every move he made.

…

The night in Heishui Fang was far "busier" than anywhere else in the city.

The reek of cheap liquor, the cloying scent of cheap powder, sweat, blood, and the murmur of suspicious deals mingled into a chaotic, filthy tapestry.

Flickering yellow light seeped through broken windows and door cracks, casting twisted shadows on the ground.

Yu Chengbang knew this place well; he pulled a cloth over half his face and turned confidently into a narrow alley choked with garbage and stagnant wastewater, stopping before a rusted, unassuming iron door.

A crooked wooden sign reading "Chen's Miscellaneous Goods," nearly illegible, hung askew beside it.

He glanced left and right, confirmed no one was watching the alley entrance, then, following memory, tapped three short, two long, one short knocks on the iron door.

The moment he finished, a rustling came from within; the door opened just wide enough for a man to squeeze through sideways, and an old man with white hair, hunched back, and cloudy eyes peered out, scrutinizing him warily.

Yu Chengbang said nothing, swiftly pulling from his robe a sliver of bone, no larger than half a fingernail, jet-black and carved with twisted, eerie patterns, holding it before the old man's face.

The old man's cloudy eyes fixed on the bone sliver for an instant—deep within his pupils, a faint, almost imperceptible glimmer flashed.

He said nothing, merely stepped aside to clear the passage.

Yu Chengbang slipped inside; the iron door closed silently behind him.

In the shadow of the roof opposite the alley, one of Tang Bin's trusted surveillance officers' eyes flashed with sharp light; he made a series of subtle hand signals toward another direction far away.

…

The backyard of the miscellaneous goods shop was even more dilapidated and cramped than it appeared from outside, piled high with discarded junk; only one low earthen hut glowed faintly with oil lamp light.

The old man led Yu Chengbang into the earthen hut.

Inside, the furnishings were sparse: one table, one chair, one bed; the air was thick and foul.

A middle-aged man, dressed plainly, his face hidden in shadow, sat behind the table; his gaze, like a cold venomous snake, fixed on Yu Chengbang as he entered.

"Lord Yu? What urgent matter compels you to use this 'Ghost Bone Signal'?"

The middle-aged man's voice was hoarse and low, laced with clear displeasure.

Activating an emergency contact point meant exposure and inevitable complications.

Yu Chengbang, however, paid no mind to the man's tone, blurting out urgently, "I've been exposed! Tang Bin summoned me tonight—he demanded I surrender my authority, placed me under house arrest, told me to await investigation, and mentioned the Mo family caravan ambush as a clue!"

The middle-aged man frowned. "Explain clearly—what exactly happened?"

Yu Chengbang recounted, incoherently yet frantically, Tang Bin's summons, the list, the rumors—he ended with, "They must have something on me. I can't stay here another moment—I must leave Wulong Mansion immediately! You… you must help me!"

The middle-aged man fell silent.

Yu Chengbang's panic seemed genuine, and Tang Bin's actions had indeed been swift.

If Yu Chengbang had truly been exposed and was captured for interrogation, his knowledge of certain sect affairs could indeed cause serious trouble.

"Help you?"

The middle-aged man sneered. "Lord Yu, when we first partnered, it was agreed: mutual benefit, each bears his own risk. Now you've exposed yourself through your own carelessness—what does that have to do with our Cult?"

Yu Chengbang turned pale. "You… you can't abandon me after I've done so much for you! Without me, how could your last attack have succeeded so smoothly? Now that I'm in trouble, you must—"

"Must?"

The middle-aged man cut him off, eyes flashing with cold light. "Lord Yu, don't forget your secrets are still in our hands. Do you think escaping Wulong Mansion will make you safe? Without our protection, you won't take a single step!"

He paused, weighing his options, then softened slightly. "Still, given your past contributions, the Cult won't abandon you entirely."

"So—stay here tonight. Before dawn, we'll arrange for you to leave the city via a secret tunnel, and someone will meet you to escort you out of Wulong Mansion. As for what comes after, we await higher orders."

First, keep Yu Chengbang contained—send him out through the tunnel before dawn; then decide whether to kill him or spare him.