Chapter 815: Former Heroes

Jiang Linger used scissors to cut open Li Banfeng’s shoulder, then inserted the scissors into the wound and snipped through a mass of sticky flesh.

Yu Cuilou warned: “Girl, be steady—don’t rupture the sac. If it breaks, the bone marrow will leak out, and all this suffering will be for nothing.”

Zhao Xiaowan wiped Jiang Linger’s sweat away; Jiang Linger rotated the scissors inside the wound, then used tweezers to pull out a fleshy sphere: “All of Dan Chengjun’s bone marrow is here.”

Jiang Linger placed the sphere before Li Banfeng. Li Banfeng had just sighed in relief when Yu Cuilou reminded him: “Son-in-law, test the wound with your Gaozhen Wuyou Technique, move your limbs carefully, and check if anything still feels off.”

Li Banfeng moved up and down within Yu Cuilou’s chamber several times, feeling no abnormality, yet Yu Cuilou remained uneasy, repeatedly urging: “I fear some of that old villain’s bone marrow may still linger—if you feel any discomfort, use the Gaozhen Wuyou Technique to gather the anomaly in one place, then hurry home so my daughter can extract it.”

Jiang Linger held up the sphere: “What should we do with this?”

Li Banfeng had intended to take it back for Tong Lianhua to refine into an elixir, but Yu Cuilou spoke up: “Son-in-law, this is a priceless treasure—I wouldn’t feel safe leaving it elsewhere.”

Her words were tactful, but she plainly wanted to keep it.

Li Banfeng said: “Leave the bone marrow here at home.”

Yu Cuilou immediately took it: “Since it’s your thoughtful gift, I’ll keep it as a household talisman.”

Back at Suishenju, Li Banfeng rested at home; his wife wished to stay and care for him, but Li Banfeng gave her two hundred silver dollars and told her to take Hong Ying and Jiu’er out for a stroll.

Zhao Xiaowan said: “Hong Ying and I have nothing left to see—we ran every corner of Moxiangdian searching for you. Let Jiu’er go.”

Jiu’er shook her head: “I’ve seen it all too—I chased that old villain all over the city with my Young Master.”

Hong Ying glared at Jiu’er: “What are you calling him? Have you even consummated your marriage? You shameless thing!”

Jiu’er snorted: “I’ll call him Young Master—what are you going to do about it?”

Li Banfeng took another box of silver dollars and told Zhao Xiaowan: “You didn’t remind me, but I forgot—I fought Dan Chengjun all through Moxiangdian, burned down houses, smashed stalls—this money must be repaid.”

Zhao Xiaowan knew Li Banfeng’s nature—if he said he’d repay, it couldn’t wait.

She took the box of silver and led Hong Ying and Jiu’er out the door.

After resting awhile, Li Banfeng went to the Fourth Chamber to visit Murong Gui.

Murong Gui lay on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling; Li Banfeng estimated he breathed once every one and a half minutes.

He and the projector had escaped from the clouds, rushed to Willow Garden to check his contract, confirmed it was intact, then the projector called Li Banfeng.

The projector carried a common telephone; Li Banfeng had a spare one. Learning Li Banfeng was still at Moxiangdian, Murong Gui and the projector returned safely to Suishenju.

After entering Suishenju, Murong Gui had remained in bed, resting longer than Li Banfeng.

Li Banfeng said: “You weren’t injured—get up and move around. Just now, watching you lie still, I thought you were dead.”

“Moving around is fine,” said the Judge’s Pen, which rose and hovered beside Murong Gui.

"My body is safe now, so I don’t need to stay inside." The Judge’s Pen fell silent for a moment before the bookshelf, choosing a spot where the wind was light, the light dim, and not too conspicuous. It lay down, then used its technique to summon a newspaper and cover itself.

“My body is safe now—I don’t need to stay inside.” The Judge’s Pen fell silent before the bookshelf, then chose a spot with little wind, dim light, and no visibility, lay down, and used its technique to summon a newspaper, draping it over itself.

The glove flew up to the shelf and asked: “Brother, you really trust leaving your body here? Aren’t you afraid Tong Lianhua will refine you?”

“Let her refine me—it won’t benefit anyone else.”

The Judge’s Pen fell asleep; no matter how much the glove spoke, it ignored him.

Li Banfeng went to the Fifth Chamber, where the Fifth Lady was picking flowers while Tong Lianhua refined Dan Chengjun’s corpse.

Seeing Li Banfeng, Tong Lianhua showed no reaction; the Fifth Lady held fresh flowers, her expression tense.

Li Banfeng pulled a chair and sat by the wall: “There’s something I’ve always wanted to ask you—you’re a Food Cultivator Patriarch—how have you endured so long without eating?”

The Fifth Lady shook her head: “I’m in our home, surrounded by family warmth—I’ve never felt hunger.”

Li Banfeng glanced at Tong Lianhua: “Listen—how well she speaks!”

Tong Lianhua chuckled: “You’ve known this already—you’re deliberately testing her. Which meal in this house has ever been without her? You always accuse me of skimming, but do you know how much she’s consumed from you over the years?”

“Speak to men as men, to ghosts as ghosts—she knows you’re testing her, so she gives vague answers to stall you. What’s so remarkable about that? Do you think I can’t do the same?”

The Fifth Lady shook her head vigorously, her reddened eyes and student’s attire lending her an air of startling sincerity: “Seventh Brother, every word I say to you is true.”

Upon hearing this, Honglian trembled.

Li Banfeng looked at Tong Lianhua: “Are you convinced now?”

“Not convinced—repulsed!” Tong Lianhua floated slowly off the ground, heading toward the Sixth Chamber. “Talk all you want—I’m changing locations to refine my elixir. Listening to her say such nauseating things will ruin the medicine’s potency.”

Only Li Banfeng and the Fifth Lady remained in the room. Li Banfeng asked: “On Xueya Mountain, no one lies—what is your true relationship with the Xueya Monster?”

The Fifth Lady replied: “I do know her.”

“How well?”

“We’ve shared everything.”

“Let me be blunt—are you two the same person?”

“No!” The Fifth Lady answered sharply.

Li Banfeng picked up a feather duster from the empty table; the Fifth Lady had no idea where it came from.

Li Banfeng smiled: “I’m a straightforward man—I don’t like playing word games.”

“For example, if you and she were once the same person but aren’t now—playing with such semantics is pointless.”

The Fifth Lady saw the duster, tucked her hands behind her back, and grew tense: “I haven’t lied to you—I’m not her. Why do you think I’m deceiving you?”

Li Banfeng adjusted the feathers on the duster: “Because your methods are similar—she can consume certain things and transform them into elixirs, just like your Hundred Blossoms Kill Technique.”

The Fifth Lady nodded slightly: “Her methods do resemble mine—we share similar innate talents.”

Li Banfeng asked: “That puzzles me—why do you share such similar talents?”

The Fifth Lady sat on the grass, placed the flowers beside her, brushed a strand of short hair behind her ear, and suddenly asked: “Do you have brothers or sisters?”

Li Banfeng thought a moment, then nodded: “In a way, yes.”

“What are their names?”

“Why ask that?”

“Don’t worry—I won’t harm them. If I truly wanted to, I could find out from elsewhere.”

Li Banfeng said: “My brothers and sisters are Banluan, Banling, Bangang—”

The Fifth Lady asked: “Why do all your names contain the character ‘Ban’?”

Li Banfeng replied: “It’s a naming custom—sharing one character among siblings is traditional.”

The Fifth Lady smiled: “Our place has the same custom—I shared a character with my sister. Do you and your siblings share similar physical talents?”

“No,” Li Banfeng answered firmly. “My relationship with them is unlike normal siblings.”

The Fifth Lady’s large eyes sparkled as she nodded: “My relationship with her is also unusual—we’re a special pair of sisters, closer than ordinary sisters.”

“You’ve met sisters like us—they were born in the same place, share the same traditions, and use the same character.”

As Li Banfeng pondered who these special sisters might be, the wall’s image suddenly darkened.

The warm hues of sunset vanished; a gray wasteland, streaked with thick black lines like old film, appeared, desolate and bleak.

The Fifth Lady’s wind-tousled hair and long robe mirrored her inner turmoil.

“Every time I think of her, my heart aches,” the Fifth Lady crouched, plucking the flowers from the ground. “Some questions I can’t answer—I can’t speak her name or reveal her identity.”

“Not even mention them?”

“Yes.” The Fifth Lady nodded firmly; the wall’s image vanished.

Li Banfeng rested all day; his wife returned with Hong Ying and Jiu’er: “Husband, all repayments are made. Here’s today’s newspaper.”

His wife bought newspapers from several presses; Li Banfeng opened one—the front-page headline read: “Two Masters Clash in Moxiangdian—Reason Unknown, Outcome Unknown, Identities Unknown.”

This matched Li Banfeng’s expectations—he and Dan Chengjun had fought across the entire Moxiangdian; appearing in the paper was inevitable.

The report was vague because eyewitnesses had gathered only so much information from the battle.

But the second newspaper surprised him.

This one, titled “Moxiang Express,” had a headline: “High-Ranking Wu Xiu Killed in Moxiangdian—What Hidden Feud Lurks Behind?”

At first glance, it seemed unrelated to the previous article.

It never named Dan Chengjun directly, but repeatedly emphasized the deceased’s extraordinary status among Wu Xiu, analyzing and speculating on his purpose for coming to Moxiangdian.

Zhao Xiaowan said: “Husband, when I saw this paper, I felt something was different.”

“It’s decent—not too speculative,” Li Banfeng read the headline carefully. “It only guesses the Wu Xiu came to seize power in Moxiangdian, and notes Moxiangdian’s strategic importance in Puluozhou.”

The incident isn’t huge, but I don’t understand—how did the reporter know the victim was a high-ranking Wu Xiu? Did he know Dan Chengjun?”

Other papers were similar—none revealed valuable details. Zhao Xiaowan pulled out another: “Moxiang Weekly.” Its headline carried deeper meaning.

“Moxiang Weekly” didn’t describe the battle—it focused on Moxiangdian’s precarious situation, subtly hinting that with no local deity, it would soon become a target for all factions.

Among these factions, the paper specifically named local hero Li Qi and Dan Chengjun, who was tied to Neizhou. It never mentioned the battle, yet laid out the entire backstory clearly.

Li Banfeng placed “Moxiang Express” and “Moxiang Weekly” side by side—they came from different presses, written by different authors.

Zhao Xiaowan said: “Husband, Moxiangdian’s publishing industry rivals Heishipo. Though these two presses have different names—”

“Their backends may be linked.”

Li Banfeng left Suishenju and called Ma Wu, asking him to investigate these two presses.

Ma Wu replied quickly: “Old Seven, I’ve noticed these two presses too—on the surface, two separate brands, but one owner.”

“His name is Shao Yingzhen—early thirties, a rising figure this year, with deep roots in both Moxiangdian and Heishipo.”

Shao Yingzhen.

Li Banfeng had never heard of him.

Ma Wu gave a full account: Shao Yingzhen started in Heishipo with paper and stationery, only recently expanded into publishing.

Li Banfeng returned to Suishenju and stared at the two newspapers for a long time.

Hong Ying, learning the details, flew into a rage: “Who the hell is this Shao Yingzhen? Why does he meddle in everything?”

“Find where he is—today, we kill him!”

Li Banfeng shook his head slightly: “Every few years, a new strongman emerges in Puluozhou. When I and Ma Wu started, we too put effort into publishing.”

Even if we silence Shao Yingzhen now, it won’t help—Moxiangdian is about to get very lively.

Zhao Xiao said gently, “Husband, I’ll spend these two days wandering the Ink Fragrance Shop, seeing if I can run into anyone I know. You rest and heal—don’t show yourself yet.”

Li Banfeng rested in his personal dwelling for three days, during which Zhao Xiao spotted many familiar faces: “The Ancestor of Demon Cultivators, Chang Jiuhai; the Ancestor of Charm Cultivators, Sui Chanxin; the Ancestor of Glue Cultivators, Qi Wujian; the Master of Clothing Cultivation, Feng Xuanzhen; the Ancestor of Alcohol Cultivation, Liu Hutian—all of them have arrived.”

Looking at the list Zhao Xiao had written out, Li Banfeng was astonished: “So many old bastards are still alive? Are they all in Pulu Province?”

Zhao Xiao nodded: “Those who fled to Neizhou are few; those who still follow the Peddler are few; most are neither close nor distant from him.”

“These Ancestors and Masters of the Dao sects usually ignore worldly affairs, hiding away in Pulu Province to drift through life. I thought they’d truly retired—never expected this incident would draw them all here.”

Hong Ying exclaimed: “Xiaowan, you know all these people?”

Zhao Xiao shook her head: “Not all of them. But the Master of Sound Cultivation, Shang Yuwei, came too—I got a lot of information from her. Besides these, there’s the Old Witch, Huan Wuchang, He Jiaqing, and the Slut—Husband, all these people have come for the Ink Fragrance Shop.”

Li Banfeng’s eyelid twitched slightly, a chill flashing in his eyes: “With their status, they still want to seize territory?”

Zhao Xiao gently rubbed Li Banfeng’s forehead: “I learned from Shang Yuwei that they came because they heard the Ink Fragrance Shop has no Earth Spirit. But since the Shop is tied to Pulu Province’s literary vein, they can’t let it go—they all came to see for themselves.”

Li Banfeng said, “Wife, what do you mean ‘can’t let it go’? I don’t quite understand.”

“Put plainly—they want to claim it for themselves.”

Li Banfeng turned his gaze toward the Second Wing, frowning.

Zhao Xiao softly stroked Li Banfeng’s cheek: “My dear husband, don’t rush. They won’t dare act yet.”

Hong Ying had already prepared for battle: “So many Ancestors and Masters have come—and they still won’t move? Did they come just to eat New Year’s Eve dinner?”

Zhao Xiao shook her head: “Precisely because so many have come, none dare act first. The Ink Fragrance Shop is only one. No one wants to step forward and make someone else’s victory.”

“Besides, they’ve heard news: Shan Chengjun just died in the Ink Fragrance Shop. Ask any of them—does anyone not tremble at the name Shan Chengjun? As long as Husband remains in the Shop, they won’t dare stir up major trouble.”

Hong Ying worried: “I fear that if time passes, they’ll unite into one force. Even if we all fight together, we might not match them.”

Zhao Xiao smiled: “I think that force won’t form. People in Pulu Province have no natural tendency to band together.”

As they spoke, Tong Lianhua called from the Sixth Wing: “The elixir’s ready!”

Li Banfeng took a lotus seed and extracted a pill, black and white interwoven.

“What kind of pill is this? Snake-Spot Pill?”

Tong Lianhua laughed: “Shan Chengjun was no ordinary man—how could you possibly make a Snake-Spot Pill with him? This is the Yin-Yang Breaking Barrier Two-Stage Pill.”

“It’s deadly poison. A living person who eats it will suffer grave bodily damage—nine out of ten will die. A spirit who eats it can reverse yin and yang—nine out of ten will be resurrected.”

Zhao Xiao held the pill: “Nine out of ten? That’s still a bit short. What if it fails to revive someone—is it because of that one percent, or because the pill itself is weak?”

Tong Lianhua sighed: “Where in this world is there anything perfectly flawless?”

Zhao Xiao pinched a lotus leaf: “Why not make a simpler pill to boost Husband’s cultivation? Wouldn’t that be better than anything else?”

Tong Lianhua pulled back the leaf and touched Li Banfeng’s cheek: “What level is he at? A pill to raise his cultivation—how different is that from this Yin-Yang Pill?”

“How can you say they’re the same?” Hong Ying recalled Tong Lianhua’s earlier words: “Didn’t you say this Yin-Yang Pill can’t be taken by the living?”

“They’re the same,” Tong Lianhua sighed. “All pills in this world are the same—only their quality differs.”

Hong Ying didn’t understand Tong Lianhua’s meaning. She suggested giving the pill to Jiu’er: “Jiu’er has avenged her great Chou —take this pill, be resurrected, return to Yu Ren City, and resume her life as a noble lady. Wouldn’t that be perfect?”

Jiu’er shook her head: “I’m not in a hurry. Let Yingying take this pill.”

Hong Ying waved her hand: “I don’t need it. My body’s nearly fully formed—no different from being alive. Besides, if I’m resurrected, who’ll be the household spirit for Qi Lang?”

“I will!” Jiu’er blushed, looking at Li Banfeng. “I want to stay in this house, guarding my husband for life.”

“Why should it be you?” Hong Ying sat at the dressing table, sulking. She felt Jiu’er had grown too close to Li Qi these past days.

Jiu’er stepped forward to comb Hong Ying’s hair: “Why are you still holding a grudge? I offered you the pill because I truly want you well. Why do you always carry a spearpoint on your head? What kind of image is that?”

Hong Ying also found it strange: “My body’s nearly complete—why won’t this spearpoint vanish? If I’d known, I should’ve eaten Shan Chengjun’s flesh!”

Jiu’er shook her head vigorously: “You dare not eat that. When Husband once touched his bone marrow, how badly did it corrupt him? Only Tong Lianhua can stomach that old villain’s flesh. I say—you should take the Yin-Yang Pill.”

Zhao Xiao glanced at Li Qi. With such a precious pill, its disposition must be decided by her husband.

Li Banfeng’s thoughts weren’t on the pill. He kept rereading the list his wife had written, pondering how to deal with these old bastards.

Zhao Xiao still advised Li Banfeng not to show himself: “Husband, let them wait a few more days. They’ll start falling apart on their own.”

Li Banfeng waited two more days. He owned several houses in the Ink Fragrance Shop, and his wife received an invitation at one of them.

The Ancestor of Alcohol Cultivation, Liu Hutian, along with over thirty others who had arrived at the Ink Fragrance Shop, jointly invited Li Banfeng to meet at Yan Sha Zhai. “Husband, shall we go?”

Li Banfeng examined the invitation—the meeting was set for three days hence.

Being invited three days in advance showed proper courtesy and gave Li Banfeng ample time to prepare. To refuse now would be to admit defeat.

If Li Banfeng admitted defeat, these people would move to seize the Ink Fragrance Shop.

“Let’s go,” Li Banfeng checked his injuries—not fully healed, but he had six or seven tenths of his combat strength.

His personal dwelling was in worse shape—less than half his combat power.

Hong Ying took out a whetstone and prepared to arm herself: “Qi Lang, just go. When it’s time to fight, call me.”

Zhao Xiao worried about this: “Husband, listen to me—you can go, but absolutely don’t fight.”

Chaoge City, Qiao Mansion.

Nian Shangyou handed a letter to Qiao Yi: “Lord, Li Qi has agreed to the meeting.”

Qiao Yi read the letter and sighed deeply: “Given Li Qi’s nature, he won’t swallow this insult.”

Nian Shangyou said: “Rumors say he killed Shan Chengjun. If he truly has such power, the gathering of heroes at the Ink Fragrance Shop may not control him.”

Qiao Yi smiled: “The outcome here doesn’t matter much—I just want to see Li Qi’s true caliber.”

Nian Shangyou dared not ask aloud, but he truly couldn’t understand: why had Qiao Yi invested so much effort into the Ink Fragrance Shop?

He always said “it doesn’t matter”—as if he didn’t care about the Ink Fragrance Shop at all.

Was it still just to stir up chaos in Pulu Province, as before?

Nian Shangyou presented another list: “Lord, here’s the loss report from Bozhou. Since the Imperial Envoy arrived, over two hundred thousand people across Bozhou have died.”

“I understand,” Qiao Yi glanced at the list and set it aside.

He didn’t care about the Ink Fragrance Shop, nor about Bozhou City—what did he care about?

Nian Shangyou presented another document: “Lord, I’ve located the Ancestor of Craft Cultivation. He promised me he can repair the Great Furnace within three months.”

Qiao Yi examined the document—it detailed labor, materials, and methods for repairing the Great Furnace.

Clearly, the Ancestor of Craft Cultivation had put serious effort into this. Yet Qiao Yi still set the document aside.

“He defected from Tufang Nation—he cannot be lightly employed. Let’s wait and watch a while longer.”

Nian Shangyou stepped out of the study, walking as he pondered Qiao Yi’s intentions.

Now he didn’t even care about the Great Furnace—then what did he care about?

In the study, Qiao Yi picked up the Bozhou death report, staring at the number of those who died from plague, nodding slowly.

“Two hundred thousand—enough.”

PS: Thank you, Patron Shalagusi, for your unwavering support of *The Lord of Pulu*.

In the study, Qiao Yi picked up the list sent from Bozhou, nodding repeatedly as he viewed the number of deaths from the epidemic.

"Two hundred thousand is sufficient."

PS: Thank you to our patron Sharagusu for pinning my hair down, and for your tremendous support of The Lord of Pu.