Chapter 403: The Artful Thief Cultivator

After seeing off Sun Junfu, Liao Zihui had to attend to something serious.

Chu Huaijun was dead—an outcome Liao Zihui had not anticipated. Having served as Border Defense Commissioner for so many years, he had encountered many unexpected situations, but never before had a power he had cultivated been directly eliminated in such a reckless manner.

Determining the cause of Chu Huaijun's death was not difficult: the second daughter of the Chu family had returned, refused the Baiyue Gate's deal, and taken over the Chu family's business—Chu Huaijun most likely died at her hands.

But how should he deal with this woman next?

Eliminate her?

Eliminating her would solve nothing; it would only spark a storm, making the situation even more tense than it already was.

Liao Zihui summoned his secretary, Ling Sujun: "Draft a report: suspend the acquisition of Baiyue Gate, and suspend all operations targeting He Yuxiu."

Ling Sujun jotted it down in her small notebook, then offered her own suggestion: "Director, the original task list specified clear deadlines for both Baiyue Gate and He Yuxiu. Now suspending them may…"

Liao Zihui shook his head. "As long as I hold this position of Chief Commissioner, this matter must be delayed—otherwise, the consequences will be irreversible."

"Should we also delay operations against Li Qi?"

Liao Zihui hesitated for a long while, then pinched his chin. "Operations against Li Qi will continue, but the strategy must change."

…

Miao Sheng Phonograph Shop, Li Banfeng bought over a hundred reels of film, nearly emptying Ling Miaosheng's warehouse.

Ling Miaosheng was puzzled: "Mr. Li, as far as I know, you own a film company—you shouldn't need to buy film from me. My prices offer no advantage whatsoever."

Li Banfeng shook his head. "I don't care about price—I care about art."

Ling Miaosheng's shop primarily dealt in phonographs and records, but also sold film projectors and reels. He maintained strict standards for quality—only the finest film, rare even in Pulu Province, could be found in his hands.

This kind of film was perfect for rewarding projectors.

Besides film, Li Banfeng bought two wind-up phonographs—both manufactured in Amikan Country, compatible with Niangzi's parts.

These phonographs were exquisitely crafted, with certain details bearing a faint resemblance to Niangzi's own design.

Li Banfeng admired them for a moment, then a question arose.

Exquisite craftsmanship, standardized parts, distinct stylistic traits.

This could not be the work of an individual artisan, nor the product of some small workshop.

These two phonographs must be the output of a corporation.

In Waizhou, electronic devices dominated; electromagnetic playback systems were outdated. Did such ancient acoustic phonographs still have a market in Waizhou?

If they had no market in Waizhou, would any enterprise in Amikan Country still produce them?

Were they made solely for Pulu Province?

Even if Amikan Country had companies targeting Pulu Province, what about Chenman? Ingri? Aculi?

Pulu Province's market couldn't possibly be that attractive.

Li Banfeng asked Ling Miaosheng: "Is the Amikan Country you refer to the same as the one Waizhou speaks of?"

Ling Miaosheng, who frequently sourced goods from Amikan Country, understood Li Banfeng's implication immediately.

"This question is hard to answer. There are two theories—I don't know which you'd prefer to believe.

The first theory: there is only one Amikan Country, directly accessible from Waizhou. Their products are shipped through Waizhou to Pulu Province."

"And the second theory?"

"The second theory: there is an Outer Amikan Country and an Inner Amikan Country—their relationship is like that between Pulu Province and Waizhou."

Inner Amikan Country.

Does Amikan Country have its own Pulu Province?

Li Banfeng asked: "You've dealt with the outside world often—you should know which rumor is true."

"Mr. Li, you misunderstand. I rarely interact with the outside. Whether Inner or Outer Amikan, anything arriving from beyond must pass through Waizhou to reach Pulu Province—I can only source from Waizhou.

The official explanation is simple: all these goods come from Amikan. There is no distinction between inner and outer.

But if you want the truth, I can tell you honestly: Inner Amikan exists. All Amikan phonographs here originate from Inner Amikan."

Li Banfeng believed Ling Miaosheng—but he needed to know why. "How did you learn the truth?"

Ling Miaosheng looked at Li Banfeng for a moment, then spoke frankly: "In my youth, in pursuit of art, I once traveled to Amikan Country."

"Outer Amikan?"

"I've been to both," Ling Miaosheng's voice carried a trace of sorrow. "I paid a terrible price—I lost part of my memory, specifically the memories of Inner Amikan.

But some things cannot be taken: the art from Inner Amikan is etched into my mind, never fading."

"What kind of art?"

Ling Miaosheng shook his head. "I cannot describe it—I don't know how to express it, and the act of trying is excruciating."

"Then don't force it." To have revealed this much, Ling Miaosheng had already been more than candid.

Ling Miaosheng warned: "Mr. Li, what I've told you today—I beg you not to speak of it to anyone."

Li Banfeng nodded, pulled down his hat brim, and had the film and phonographs delivered to his outer residence.

After stowing the items in his Personal Dwelling, Li Banfeng returned to Xiaoyao Wu. Ma Wu handed him an invitation: "The Chief Commissioner invites you to dinner—two days from now, at the Border Defense Hall."

Li Banfeng glanced at the invitation, then handed it back to Ma Wu. "I won't go."

"Old Seven, even when Liao Zihui invites you personally, you won't show?"

"It's not about disrespect—if I go to the Border Defense Hall, I'll kill him."

Ma Wu chuckled. "Don't talk like that. Our future business still depends on the Border Defense Commissioner."

Li Banfeng didn't smile. "I'm not angry—I'm serious. If I go to the Border Defense Hall, he might kill me. Better I kill him first."

That was Li Banfeng's logic. Ma Wu found no flaw in it.

"What if I invite Liao Zihui to Xiaoyao Wu? If he comes, you meet him."

"Fine."

Ma Wu pulled out another invitation: "Li Haoyun of Furongzhai invites us to his home—also scheduled for two days from now. I told him we were busy, so he wants to move it to tomorrow. Should we go?"

Li Banfeng nodded. "We can go."

Ma Wu sighed. "I'm truly impressed—Li Haoyun's invitation carries more weight than Liao Zihui's?"

"Is Furongzhai a good place?"

Ma Wu nodded vigorously. "Excellent place. Once you go, you never want to leave."

"Why go to the Border Defense Hall when there's a good place like Furongzhai?"

Ma Wu blinked—he found Li Banfeng's reasoning perfectly sound.

…

At midnight, Li Banfeng went to the rear building of Xiaoyao Wu, ascended to the third floor, entered his private suite, hid the key, then returned to his Personal Dwelling.

In good spirits, Li Banfeng carried his oil can straight to Niangzi.

The phonograph trembled slightly: "Husband, listen, my dear—your humble servant has urgent news…"

"It's urgent indeed!" Li Banfeng embraced the phonograph from behind. "Come, Niangzi, tell me slowly."

…

At two a. m.

The suite door opened.

Li Banfeng's door and lock were custom-made—difficult even to break by force, let alone unlocked silently like this.

The intruder wore a ring on his index finger—a treasure for lock-picking.

Dressed in black, he entered the room without a single footstep. Even a high-level cultivation expert present would hear nothing.

Not only was his cultivation profound—his shoes and clothing were treasures too: soles made no sound on the floor, fabric made no rustle.

He scanned the room briefly, found no one inside, then pulled a multicolored feather from his sleeve and tossed it into the air.

Thief Cultivation Technique: Nothing Valuable Escapes Detection.

This was a thief cultivator's method for locating treasures—the higher the cultivation, the more refined the technique.

With this man's level, even a speck of dust could reveal a treasure's location if he watched its fall.

But Li Banfeng's suite was large—finding a treasure within such a vast space required external aid.

This feather was a specially crafted thief cultivator tool. It fluttered in the air, then settled on the safe beside the bed.

The intruder turned the dial twice, found the correct combination, and easily opened the safe with his finger glove—inside lay stacks of checks, gold bars, and silver dollars.

Were these treasures?

To a thief cultivator, absolutely—but they were not his target. He left anything outside his goal untouched, to avoid unnecessary complications.

He closed the safe, tossed the feather into the air again. It drifted, then flew toward the bed.

Under the bed lay a supreme treasure.

The intruder bent down, felt beneath the bed, and found a key lodged in a floor crack.

He held the key, pondering long, trying to deduce its purpose.

Since this key was a supreme treasure, its value lay not in itself, but in what it unlocked.

It could open a door—a room door, a cabinet door, a chest lid. The true supreme treasure lay behind that door.

But where was that door?

The intruder used Nothing Valuable Escapes Detection again, scanning every corner of the suite—no treasure detected.

He checked every box and cabinet again—still nothing he sought.

This required further investigation. Before he understood, he must not move the key—he must return it to its place.

Not just the key—everything in the room must be restored exactly as before.

The intruder stood in the room and gently swept his sleeve—a whirlwind stirred, erasing every trace. Even the dust he had brought in was drawn back into his sleeve.

Thief Cultivation Technique: No Trace Left Behind.

Everything was arranged, the black-clad man left Li Banfeng's suite, returned to his room downstairs, changed clothes, and went to sleep early, waiting until tomorrow to seek clues from Li Banfeng.

At three a. m., the phonograph wept inside the portable dwelling: "Shameless madman, ate Happy Soil again, spent three full hours tormenting this little slave!"

Li Banfeng gently stroked the speaker's mouth and smiled: "Wife, let your husband take a piss—he'll be right back."

"You're still coming?" The phonograph trembled, watching Li Banfeng's retreating back.

She spun around and seized Hong Ying, who struggled fiercely.

"Wicked woman, he's your husband—why are you mistreating me?"

"Wretch, didn't you grow a gate? If you don't use it, isn't that waste too?"

Li Banfeng returned to the suite and urinated in the toilet.

The glove wandered through the room and said to Li Banfeng: "Master, someone came into the room."

Li Banfeng startled, quickly crawled under the bed to find the key.

The key was still in its original place; Li Banfeng exhaled in relief.

The glove shook its index finger: "No, the key isn't where it was—someone moved it."

Li Banfeng thought his perception was sharp—he hadn't noticed the key had been touched—but he trusted the glove.

"Master, come with me for a walk."

Li Banfeng took the key and followed the glove out the door.

The glove groped along the corridor for a moment, arriving at the staircase.

Down the stairs to the second floor, the glove signaled Li Banfeng to stay silent, walked a short distance down the hall, and slipped into a room.

Two minutes later, the glove returned to Li Banfeng's pocket; Li Banfeng brought it back to his suite.

The glove told Li Banfeng: "I took care of that old bastard, Master—we can rest easy now."

Li Banfeng feared it wasn't safe, so he went to the portable dwelling to inform his wife he wouldn't be sleeping at home tonight.

His wife exhaled deeply and released Hong Ying.

Hong Ying sneered: "He ate Happy Soil—aren't you afraid he'll crawl into someone else's bed?"

"I'm not afraid—it's better than being worn out by him!" The phonograph shuddered with lingering dread. "Once we get a gate, life might improve."

"Didn't you say you could grow a gate?"

The phonograph sighed deeply: "I said that, but where do we get that one drop of blood?"

…

Li Banfeng carried the key to Jiang Mengting's room and slept there that night.

Jiang Mengting feared Li Banfeng would catch cold, so she stripped off all her clothes, draped them over him, and hugged him tightly.

In winter, two people sleeping together really were warm.

…

Before dawn the next day, Xie Juncong, Grand Master of the Ghost Hand Sect, opened his eyes and prepared to act.

Today, he had something very important to do.

What was it again?

Xie Juncong sat on the edge of the bed, unable to recall for a long while.

Where was this?

It seemed like Xiaoyao Wu.

Why had he come to Xiaoyao Wu?

Xie Juncong looked around—he couldn't remember why he'd arrived here.

It seemed he'd lost a portion of his memory.

Tap-tap-tap~

Someone knocked on the door.

Xie Juncong startled, trying to guess who it might be, when the old woman in charge of cleaning the guest rooms barged right in.

"Oh my! Shameless old man!" Seeing Xie Juncong naked, the woman slammed the door shut.

Xie Juncong froze, then realized he was bare.

Where were his clothes?

Where were his shoes?

Where was his ring?

Where were his feathers?

Where were his personal treasures?

The woman outside still cursed; Xie Juncong frantically searched for a solution.

Where was the sheet?

Where was the quilt?

Even a towel would do—wrap himself first!

PS: Could a single towel even cover him?

(End of Chapter)