Chapter 2: Chapter One: Catch This Thief

Screams echoed from the dungeon below, clear even in the courtyard outside.

In the courtyard stood an ancient pine, gnarled like a dragon; Lou Zhenwu sat before a stone table beneath it, tapping the table in rhythm with the screams.

Not long after, the screams ceased. The Executioner came to report: “Fifth Brother, the case is mostly clear. Qin’s wife only begged for a quick death—she confessed to everything.”

Lou Zhenwu nodded: “Speak.”

The Executioner said: “Seventh Sister Qi acted out of good intent—she intervened when she saw injustice, accidentally killed Qin Wugou, and his wife, harboring resentment, gathered thugs to ambush her while she was unprepared…”

Lou Zhenwu coldly said: “Good intent? She was reckless! That’s her nature—don’t try to cover for her!”

The Executioner bowed his head, smiling bitterly: “Yes, but Qin Wugou and his wife quarreled fiercely—so much so they drew blades. How could anyone know? She likely thought… of course, Seventh Sister Qi did strike too hard.”

Lou Zhenwu shook his head: “Continue.”

“After Seventh Sister Qi was killed, her flying sword was taken by Qin’s wife. Since she carried no spirit pills or spirit stones, Qin’s wife compensated the other five with one spirit stone each…”

“One stone each?”

“These cultivators are all dirt-poor…”

Lou Zhenwu couldn’t help but laugh in anger: “One spirit stone each? Five stones total—and Seventh Sister Qi died for it?”

The Executioner was equally helpless: “That’s exactly what happened.”

Lou Zhenwu felt a wave of absurdity, too frustrated to speak for a long while. Finally, he exhaled a deep breath: “Deal with everyone involved—cleanly. Two bandits escaped?”

The Executioner replied: “One bandit claims the surname Wei, but his given name is unknown. He’s at Qi Refining Fifth Layer, a rogue cultivator from Xiangxi, and his cultivation origin remains unclear. The other bandit’s identity is vague, his cultivation level uncertain. According to the four culprits—including Qin’s wife—he’s closely tied to Wei and claims to be a disciple of the Pai Sect, surname Li.”

Lou Zhenwu said: “These bandits always hide behind lies—names they give may not be real. Send men to draw portraits and investigate every branch of the Pai Sect.”

The Executioner said: “During the attack, both Wei and Li wore conical hats and black face coverings. The four culprits never saw their true faces, but they said both were young. The one claiming to be from the Pai Sect specialized in stupefying incense—he used that vulgar trick to ambush Seventh Sister Qi.”

“Stupefying incense? Incense that could knock out Seventh Sister Qi?” Lou Zhenwu mused: “I’ve never heard the Pai Sect uses such incense.”

The Executioner agreed: “Indeed. Pai Sect disciples mostly deal with corpse-moving and insect-summoning—they’re notoriously insensitive to smells, or they couldn’t do the job.”

Lou Zhenwu said: “Using stupefying incense against my Dongyang Sect disciples is a despicable tactic. Increase manpower—capture these two bandits and avenge Seventh Sister Qi!”

After giving his orders, Lou Zhenwu left the dungeon and went to his ninth junior, Su Zhenjiu, saying: “Seventh Sister Qi’s death has enraged several senior uncles and aunts. If Master Zhang Xianbai’s seclusion ends in another mishap, the outer sect may become useless. We must also hurry with recruiting outer sect disciples—after all, we take only one every three years; this is fundamental to Dongyang Sect’s survival, not to be taken lightly. Last time I asked you to redraw the candidate list—any progress?”

Su Zhenjiu sighed: “Seventh Sister Qi was the most talented among our outer sect disciples. A true pity.”

Lou Zhenwu shook his head: “It’s a lesson. When recruiting disciples, prioritize character.”

Su Zhenjiu nodded and handed over a roster for his senior to review, adding: “As you instructed, this time we weighed character and talent equally. Those with reckless temperaments were discarded. Ten remain as candidates. As usual, most come from Jing-Xiang aristocratic families or minor rogue sects.”

Lou Zhenwu glanced at the roster and immediately rejected three names: “These three aren’t from Jing-Xiang. They’ve only lived here a few years—who knows their origins?”

Su Zhenjiu said: “Their talent is excellent.”

Lou Zhenwu said: “Still no. Remember, Dongyang Sect’s roots lie in southern Xiang. We must choose candidates with known lineage. Outsiders take thirty to fifty years to truly integrate. If trouble arises, they’ll be half-hearted.”

Su Zhenjiu nodded. Though disappointed, he agreed his fifth senior was right.

Lou Zhenwu reached the end and suddenly frowned: “Why is there someone from Wulong Mountain? Liu Xiaolou?”

Su Zhenjiu said: “He was recommended by our outer sect disciple in Xiangxi. He’s eighteen, with a calm character. Though from Wulong Mountain, no major evil deeds are known of him. His devotion to the Dao is sincere, his talent decent. His master just died, leaving him without guidance…”

Lou Zhenwu waved him off: “Brother, Wulong Mountain is full of rogue cultivators—known for low morals, vile methods, and terrible reputation. They’re unlike aristocratic families or minor sects. Such people are hard to reform. Besides, Liu Xiaolou is eighteen, not eight—his nature is already set, impossible to change. Bringing a Wulong Mountain rogue into our sect—even the outer sect—would make us a laughingstock across the cultivation world.”

Su Zhenjiu made one final effort: “They say he’s a disciple of the Three Mysteries Sect.”

Lou Zhenwu strained to recall: “Three Mysteries Sect?”

Su Zhenjiu reminded: “They say his ancestral master was one of the cave lords of Luo Fu Mountain. Two hundred years ago, he left after internal strife at Luo Fu and founded the Three Mysteries Sect. But his efforts failed, the sect declined, and now Liu Xiaolou is its last surviving disciple.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“...Rumors from the mortal world…”

Lou Zhenwu shook his head, smiling bitterly: “I’ve never heard of it. Even if true, we’d be better off avoiding Luo Fu Mountain entirely. Let him fend for himself.”

Su Zhenjiu sighed: “Understood. Then let the remaining six ascend for selection?”

Lou Zhenwu nodded: “Agreed.”

Since his fifth senior had decided, Su Zhenjiu had no choice but to obey. He wrote a letter to his uncle, Su the Shopkeeper, in Zhongyi Alley, Xiangxi, detailing everything and making clear he had done his best.

Su the Shopkeeper received the letter and sighed. After thinking it over, he decided to go to Wulong Mountain himself. Wulong Mountain rogues had a terrible reputation, and he’d accepted generous gifts—he couldn’t let the matter end in failure. If the boy turned desperate and caused trouble, it would be a nightmare. Of course, he wouldn’t return the gifts—no such thing as refunds.

Xiangxi, Wulong Mountain, Qianzhu Ridge.

A cluster of green bamboo, a fence, a thatched hut—this was Liu Xiaolou’s cultivation dwelling.

Su the Shopkeeper didn’t enter the courtyard. He called through the bamboo gate: “Young man, your character is solid, and so was your master’s—otherwise I wouldn’t have befriended you two. But your origin… there’s nothing I can do. I’ve done all I could.”

Liu Xiaolou fell silent for a long while, then forced a smile: “Thank you, Shopkeeper. I’ve troubled you.”

Su the Shopkeeper looked at Liu Xiaolou before him, deeply regretful. What a handsome young man—he’d have been a shining jewel for Dongyang Sect. But his origin was a den of bandits. I wanted to pull him out, but I’m powerless—my words mean nothing.

Having explained everything and shown sincerity, he felt he’d honored the gifts he’d received. Seeing Liu Xiaolou remained reasonable, without outbursts, Su the Shopkeeper bowed and took his leave: “If you face hardship again, come find me.”

He had no desire to linger in this barren land. The longer he stayed, the colder his back felt.

Liu Xiaolou bowed and smiled, watching until the man vanished down the ridge.

To win over this Dongyang Sect representative in Yongshun Prefecture, Liu Xiaolou had spent everything—nearly exhausted all his master Sanxuan’s wealth. Yet the result was a crushing blow. He’d known the odds were slim when he entrusted the Shopkeeper, but hearing the news still left him deeply depressed.

So what if he came from Wulong Mountain?

Who had he offended?

With this path closed, he sat for a long while on the porch, then remembered he had to attend his sworn brother’s dual-cultivation ceremony. He turned back inside—and froze.

The spirit stone meant as a gift was gone.