Chapter 69

County yamen.

Pei Ye stared at the black cat, and the black cat stared back at him in silence.

“You know, I’m inexperienced,” Pei Ye hesitated to ask, “is this thing really that important?”

“The Immortal Lord’s targeting is the highest form of recognition.”

“Then what do we do?”

“Find this object before He arrives, and let Ming Qi Tian take it away,” the black cat said calmly.

Pei Ye set down the basin, slung it over his shoulder, and strode to his room to fetch his sword: “How do we find it? Should we ask Commander Chang to mobilize men?”

“No need. Just a few capable people,” the black cat said. “The clues aren’t here, and I don’t even know where to start. More people would just be flies without a head.”

“Then how do we find it?”

“Follow the resonance of the Taiyi True Dragon Immortal Lord.”

“Didn’t you say He might not find it either?”

“He doesn’t know what this object is or its exact location—but he can follow the resonance to locate things connected to it. Once enough such things are found, he can pinpoint the object’s position.”

Such an ability was unheard of, but Pei Ye could roughly grasp the logic behind it.

Yet if that were true, the black cat’s claim of “getting there first” sounded utterly absurd. Pei Ye frowned: “Are you saying we trail behind Him, wait for Him to find it, then snatch it from His jaws?”

“What nonsense,” the black cat glanced at him. “We’re trying hard to buy time; He’s doing the same. Since awakening, He’s likely been laying this plan all along.”

“You mean… Zhu Gaoyang?” Pei Ye suddenly understood why the Immortal Lord hadn’t devoured him.

“He probably is too, but Zhu Gaoyang’s body holds none of my consciousness shards—we can’t track him. I’m referring to other ‘little ones’ who’ve come searching. I can roughly pinpoint their locations.”

Pei Ye nodded. He understood the black cat’s intent: to use the Immortal Lord’s reach to locate the object, then seize it during the time window before He arrived.

Pei Ye dressed fully and returned to the old man’s room.

The old man leaned back in his wheelchair, the contentment still lingering on his face.

“Going home?” the old man rasped upon hearing him enter.

“You’re eating well and living comfortably—why rush back?” Pei Ye murmured. “The matter isn’t settled. I have to find something.”

He then explained the current situation to him.

“You say this object could match the third-ranked crane list holder last night?”

Clearly, no one had told the old man the current plight of Fenghuai. His voice had hardened into the rasp of iron, a cold resolve seeping from his broken frame.

The danger the boy had faced exceeded the old man’s expectations. He rasped: “Is this what you’ve been facing these past two days?”

“Yes. He may arrive soon. Stay here in the yamen,” Pei Ye instructed. “It’s safer here.”

“What does this have to do with you?”

“...” Pei Ye froze, momentarily unable to answer.

It truly had nothing to do with him anymore.

He held no official rank, possessed negligible strength; he had merely been dragged into the situation. Now Ming Qi Tian had freed him from that web—he was just an ordinary civilian.

“Don’t worry. I’m not in danger doing this—I won’t even face the object directly,” Pei Ye reassured the old man. “If I just sit around waiting, I can’t stay still.”

“Idiot,” the old man rasped.

“Haha,” Pei Ye laughed.

He knew the old man’s concern ran deep. These past days, the two men, who had depended on each other for decades, had barely seen each other—the old man’s worry was only natural.

Now that he’d returned whole and unharmed, they’d barely spoken before he was leaving again.

The boy understood the helplessness and unease of a blind man confined to a wheelchair, forced to wait second by second. He reassured him again: “Don’t worry. This time it’s truly safe. I’ll just stroll around town—if I find nothing, I’ll come right back.”

Pei Ye gently gripped the old man’s frail hand, then turned and stepped out.

Listening to Pei Ye leave, the old man slowly leaned back in his chair, his two black hollows fixed on the empty air.

After a long while, he murmured: “Fate never bends to me—how many times must I start over?”

When Pei Ye arrived at the main hall, the black cat was pointing at the table, where Xing Zhi, Shang Lang, and several other masters from the state had gathered.

The black cat stood atop a full-sized map of Fenghuai County, marked with crimson plum-blossom stamps at several locations.

Xing Zhi was conveying its instructions to the newly assembled group: “The hosts at these two spots outside the city are small—likely rats or rabbits—but they’ll find a way to enter. Pay special attention to these areas; use sharp eyes. The hosts at Qingfeng Alley, the Old Riverbed, North Bridgehead, and the Big Willow Tree are larger—they’re all humans. First, record where they go and what they seek. Second, try to block their spread—the first goal is more important.”

All nodded.

Shang Lang and the others were all at the Sixth or Seventh Life stage; dealing with ordinary possessed people was effortless. But this mission wasn’t about eliminating the threat—it was about covertly using them as hunting hounds.

“Pair off in twos or threes, stay in constant contact. If you need more hands, recruit others—low cultivation doesn’t matter, as long as they’re sharp,” Xing Zhi ordered. Then he spotted Pei Ye entering and asked, “Would you like to join Shang Lang?”

“No. Let Shang Brother lead his own group. I’ll take the cat.”

“Fine. You know Fenghuai best—pick your location first.”

Pei Ye scanned the map at a glance. His gaze lingered on the crimson plum-blossom stamp over “North Bridgehead.” Memories of his childhood dashes across that bridge flooded his mind, and he smiled unconsciously: “I’ll take this one. It’s off the beaten path—you won’t easily find me.”

The group quickly divided their assignments, each taking a copy of the map, then leaping away, vanishing from sight.

Pei Ye saddled a horse, wrapped the black cat in his arms, and mounted, riding off at once.

North Bridgehead—this place felt familiar because it had been the mandatory route on Pei Ye’s daily commute to and from the martial arts school. When class ended early, he and his friends would fish for shrimp and small fish in the ditch under the daylight.

The neighborhood had always been sparsely populated, mostly abandoned old houses, winding and narrow—so Pei Ye had memorized it well.

Now, arriving here, he tied the horse to a tree and looked around. All the nearby homes were shut—likely everyone had gone out to tend the fields.

“Is this the place?” Pei Ye turned to ask the black cat.

The black cat said nothing, but gestured toward a man ahead wearing a straw hat.

The figure looked familiar. Pei Ye remembered seeing him every day on the bridge, cheerfully carving new furniture in his courtyard—but he never moved into the new house he’d built.

Now seeing him, Pei Ye thought it perfect to ask about any odd occurrences nearby.

He raised his hand, mouth open—“Guang Bo” rose to his throat, then stuck.

It was peak farming season—why had he come back from the fields so soon?

And he was heading toward the martial arts school.