Chapter 68: Spider Detective

Li Banfeng crossed Mount Jiangyue beyond the outer moat, walked over a hundred li of mountain trails, and arrived at a gorge at three in the morning.

According to Yu Nan’s description, passing through this gorge would lead to the New Land.

This gorge was treacherous; its widest point was two or three meters, its narrowest only wide enough to squeeze through sideways.

Li Banfeng squeezed sideways through a long, thin crack for over a li, and by his perception, this stretch was more effective than walking ten li in Ligu Town.

As he stepped out of the crack, Li Banfeng didn’t notice the cliff beneath him—over ten meters high—and fell straight down.

Fortunately, his Traveler’s footing was excellent; he slid down the slope to cushion his landing and suffered no injury.

His clothes were torn, but that didn’t matter—they were from the Geng family’s guards.

But his shoes were worn through, and Li Banfeng felt a pang of regret.

He brushed the dust off his body, turned to look back at the cliff, and suddenly saw a spider crawling out of the crack, descending slowly on a strand of silk.

What was so unusual about a spider?

This spider was indeed peculiar—it was enormous; even without its legs, its body diameter exceeded one meter.

Even stranger, it wore a black top hat; when it reached Li Banfeng’s side, it deliberately removed the hat and bowed to him with perfect gentlemanly grace.

Not only could it bow—it could speak: “Madam, why are you walking alone through this perilous place?”

Madam?

Li Banfeng stared at the spider for a long moment: “You’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

Upon hearing Li Banfeng’s voice, the spider froze. This “woman,” with heavy makeup and striking beauty, was a man: “Ah, sir—I apologize for my error. Are you heading to the New Land to clear land? We’re going the same way.”

Clear land?

Farming?

“Are you a Cultivator of the Soil?” Li Banfeng asked.

“Cultivator of the Soil?” The spider laughed. “You’re joking, aren’t you? Look at me—you should know I’m a Body Cultivator.”

The spider’s way of speaking differed from the locals, and from the modern society Li Banfeng knew.

It had the cadence of an old dubbed film.

Of course, the tone wasn’t the point.

The point was: this was a talking spider.

At the Geng family’s pharmacy, Li Banfeng had met Song Baiming, a Body Cultivator who resembled a crab.

Before that, on Kuwu Mountain, he’d seen another Body Cultivator, whose body was naturally armored.

Now he saw a spider—Body Cultivation’s forms were remarkably diverse.

Ahead, the path widened slightly; the spider quickened its pace and walked beside Li Banfeng: “Friend, your steps are steady—you must be a Traveler. Traveler’s medicinal powders are expensive. You must be wealthy.”

“So-so,” Li Banfeng replied vaguely.

“My fate is hard—I can’t afford to build my foundation, can’t buy medicinal powders, so I’m heading to San Tou Cha for luck.”

The spider was talkative, and he mentioned San Tou Cha—Li Banfeng found it genuinely interesting.

“You’re building your foundation at San Tou Cha? Did you grow three heads?”

The spider chuckled: “Are you mocking Body Cultivators on purpose?”

Li Banfeng shook his head: “I’ve never left Yaowang Gou. I know little about San Tou Cha.”

The spider walked as he spoke: “Even if you’ve never been to San Tou Cha, you’ve surely heard of the origin of Body Cultivators. All Body Cultivators come from San Tou Cha. The poor who seek cultivation have no other path.”

“Why only the poor?” Li Banfeng didn’t care about appearing ignorant—he asked when he didn’t know.

The spider smiled: “Friend, are you pretending to be clueless? The poor can’t afford spiritual pills or divine medicines, can’t buy Dao fortune—so they risk their lives at San Tou Cha.”

San Tou Cha is naturally infused with Dao fortune, but not everyone can withstand it. Of ten who go, nine become three-headed monsters, doomed to live as abominations for life.”

Only one with a strong enough body can achieve true cultivation—that’s why we’re called Body Cultivators.”

“Achieving true cultivation means becoming a spider?”

“I feel you’re mocking me,” the spider’s eight eyes rolled upward. “What form you take depends on your luck and talent. Some become flying birds, some beasts, many become scorpions or spiders. Do you look down on my form?”

Li Banfeng shook his head: “Not at all. This path is so difficult, yet you move more smoothly than I do as a Traveler—that’s real skill.”

“Thank you for your praise,” the spider lifted his hat and bowed again. “I’ve told you all this because I’m an honest man. If you’re also going to clear land for the Lu family, let’s be partners.”

"Thank you for your compliment," the spider raised his hat and bowed again. "I've told you all this because I want you to know I'm an honest man—if you're also going to clear land for the Lu family, let's be partners."

That reminded Li Banfeng of his painful experience with temporary alliances.

“I’m not going to clear land,” Li Banfeng politely declined the spider’s offer.

“If you’re not going to clear land, then I can’t be blamed...”

“Blamed for what?”

Li Banfeng smiled at the spider.

The spider’s eight eyes fixed on Li Banfeng’s two.

They stared at each other for a moment—then the spider suddenly spat a strand of silk.

Li Banfeng’s smile remained, because the silk wasn’t aimed at him, and he sensed no malice from the spider.

The silk stuck to the cliff wall ahead; the spider retracted it and continued climbing along the rock face.

“If you’re not clearing land, I won’t accompany you. Hohoho!”

Ahead, the path narrowed and turned muddy; Li Banfeng struggled through the sludge, watching the spider gleefully dart across the cliff wall.

Minutes later, the spider vanished from Li Banfeng’s sight.

Two full hours passed before Li Banfeng finally reached the end of the gorge.

No wonder Yu Nan came here to hide—Li Banfeng, a Level One Traveler, had struggled so much; anyone else would lose skin just making this journey.

The gorge’s end wasn’t the normal exit he’d imagined—it was another cliff.

More precisely, the gorge was a crack embedded in the cliff face, and now Li Banfeng had to emerge from it.

Standing at the cliff’s edge, he had two choices: jump straight down, or climb down hand over foot.

The cliff below was hundreds of meters high—neither option seemed sensible.

Li Banfeng made the most sensible choice.

He opened his Portable Dwelling, and before stepping inside, threw his key over the cliff.

He waited a moment inside, then exited the Portable Dwelling and picked up the key beneath a tree.

Trees surrounded him—dense trunks and branches filled over ninety percent of his vision.

Li Banfeng took one step forward, and fallen leaves buried his ankles.

He took another step, tripped over a hidden root beneath the leaves, and plunged his foot deep into mud.

The mud swallowed him up to his thighs.

He grabbed a vine and yanked his leg free; as he regained his balance, he sensed danger approaching.

Not approaching—it had already arrived.

Li Banfeng felt a tingling itch on his calf; he rolled up his pant leg and saw leeches—dense, clinging, as if he’d put on a hairy stocking.

He pulled off one leech—it wasn’t ordinary; it was strong, biting tightly, tearing off a patch of skin with it.

If he pulled off the whole “hairy stocking,” his leg would be bare of skin.

He returned to his Portable Dwelling, removed his pants, and sprinkled salt on the leeches.

To his surprise, they were incredibly tough—salt didn’t make them let go.

He reached for his knife to cut their bodies off—when the phonograph suddenly spewed steam.

The high heat burned them; they shrieked in pain and released their grips.

The phonograph blew steam over his legs several times, disinfecting the wounds.

The phonograph blew steam over Li Banfeng’s legs several more times, disinfecting the wounds all over them.

But after the pain, it felt refreshing.

The phonograph played a song to comfort Li Banfeng:

“If I weren’t here, how would you get through the day...”

I remember the original lyrics were “If you weren’t here.”

Madam, are you comforting me—or boasting?

Geng Zhiwei’s soul had long been devoured; his corpse was consumed by the Bronze Lotus. The petals remained tightly closed, still refining the elixir.

Scattered on the ground were various items; Li Banfeng quickly cleared them away, and while the Bronze Lotus was occupied, he gathered the weapons of Geng Zhiwei and the two Wu Xiu.

Their weapons were decent: one Wu Xiu’s weapon was a one-foot-long iron spike, with two three-inch spikes at its base.

Li Banfeng called it the Iron Spike—but the phonograph mocked him mercilessly.

“Why laugh at me? Do you even know what this thing is called?”

The phonograph didn’t answer.

Another weapon was unusual: a fork shaped like two crescents, one large, one small, interlocked.

Li Banfeng called it the Fork—and the phonograph mocked him again.

Geng Zhiwei had a pistol, still loaded with bullets.

Li Banfeng secured the weapons, tossed the useless debris out of his Portable Dwelling, and followed Yu Nan’s map deeper into the forest.

After over an hour of walking, Li Banfeng checked his pocket watch.

It was nearly nine—why wasn’t it light yet?

It was nearly nine—why wasn’t the sky lightening?

Yaowang Gou, Jiangyue Mountain New Land, Lu Family Estate.

Yao Wang Gou, new land of Mount Jiangyue, the Lu family mansion.

A sliver of sunlight entered the main hall, where Zhuo Yuling, the second concubine of the Lu family head Lu Dongliang, lifted her teacup, took a delicate sip, and waited quietly for her guest to arrive.

After about an hour, a man of average build entered the main courtyard under the steward’s guidance.

The man wore a black tailcoat, a black top hat, and black round-framed sunglasses; his cheeks were full, his features well-proportioned, exuding an air of complete gentility.

He removed his hat and bowed to Zhuo Yuling: “Private detective Daboyens at your service.”

Daboyens?

The man standing before her was clearly a local with yellow skin and black hair, yet he had adopted a foreign name.

Moreover, he and Zhuo Yuling were old acquaintances.

Zhuo Yuling did not return the bow; she did not even rise from her chair. She looked at the bowing man and replied with a faint, mocking sneer: “It’s been years—how did you turn into a fake foreign devil?”

Her voice was soft, but her words were sharp.

Daboyens replied politely: “Madam, a gentleman knows no bloodline; manners know no borders.”

Zhuo Yuling gestured to the chair beside her: “Sit.”

Daboyens put his hat back on, slightly displeased by her arrogance, but he sat down nonetheless.

Zhuo Yuling lit a lady’s cigarette, drew a slow puff, and said: “I’ve called you here for three things: first, to reclaim land; second, to find someone; third, to kill someone.”

There’s no need to elaborate on reclaiming land—you know the market.

As for finding someone, I told you in my letter—it’s my daughter; this matter is most urgent.

As for killing, the man’s name is Li Banfeng. Here is his photo and intelligence. Best to capture him alive.”

Daboyens glanced at Li Banfeng’s photo, fell silent for a moment, and said: “What a pity.”

“What’s a pity?” Zhuo Yuling blinked.

Daboyens smiled: “Nothing. I just think this young man is a pity.”

PS: Dear readers, say something to Salarah—Salarah cannot live a moment without you!

(End of Chapter)