Chapter 75

Hou Sheng stared into the cave, listened for a moment, then pulled a rope from his sleeve, tied it around Liu Xiaolou’s waist, secured the knot, and wound the other end around his wrist. “You go first.”

Liu Xiaolou felt the faint spiritual energy pulsing through the rope and frowned. “Master Hou, after all this, you still don’t trust me?”

Hou Sheng’s expression didn’t change. “What if you’ve conspired with them? What if they’ve set an ambush inside? I must guard against it. If that’s true, you’ll be the first to die.”

Liu Xiaolou sighed, shook his head, and began climbing down the rock wall.

Hou Sheng followed, holding the rope in one hand, fingers digging into the cliff face beside Liu Xiaolou.

The cave entrance was an irregular elongated slit—a crack in the cliff. Such cracks were common in Shatoukou, mostly located above or below the waterline, likely carved by river erosion.

“Go in,” Hou Sheng tugged the rope, as if leading a dog.

After crouching inside, Liu Xiaolou found the space slightly wider, divided into outer and inner chambers. The outer chamber was less than a zhang deep, with a cold hearth in the corner; the inner chamber curved off to one side, also less than a zhang deep, with a bed of dried grass laid against the wall—nothing else.

The cave was well-sealed; river winds couldn’t enter, perfectly suited for activating Mili Xiang. Several air leaks had been blocked with broken stones—clearly Wei Hongqing’s work.

Hou Sheng lingered at the entrance, tossed a talisman into the cave, where it burned to ash. After waiting a moment, he cautiously stepped inside. He approached the hearth, reached into the embers, and murmured, “Yesterday’s.”

Liu Xiaolou asked curiously, “You can tell that?”

Hou Sheng remained silent, tugged the rope again, signaling Liu Xiaolou to enter the inner chamber.

Both entered. Hou Sheng ordered, “Lift the grass bed.”

Liu Xiaolou obeyed. Hou Sheng bent down to inspect it, then said, “Newly made.”

He scanned the inner chamber again, then said, “Begin. What token will you leave?”

Liu Xiaolou snapped, “Master Hou, you still don’t believe I’m not in league with them?”

Hou Sheng urged, “Hurry.”

Liu Xiaolou reached for the array plate. Hou Sheng replied, “Leave the token, then I’ll return it.”

Liu Xiaolou, having conceded repeatedly, refused now. “Master Hou, if you won’t return my array plate, I won’t leave a token.”

Hou Sheng shrugged. “By now, leaving a token doesn’t matter. If you won’t, I’ll kill you and wait here for them.”

Liu Xiaolou stared fixedly at Hou Sheng. “You never intended to let me live, did you? Then kill me now.”

Hou Sheng rubbed his nose. “What I plan is none of your concern. Your life hangs on my whim—but you can gamble. Bet that I’ll spare you and pay you. Or don’t gamble. I’ll count to three. If you still refuse, you’ll feed the river. Three… two…”

“I’ll gamble… I’ll gamble…” Liu Xiaolou drew a deep breath, pulled out Sanxuan Sword, and carved characters into the cave wall.

Hou Sheng paid no mind to the sword—Liu Xiaolou was only a Qi Refining third-layer cultivator, no threat. He watched as Liu Xiaolou finished carving “Tenth Month Fifth Day,” stone chips falling to the ground.

“Tenth Month Fifth Day? Today? Is this your signal? Will you meet here?”

“Not here. Master Hou, I’ve marked the date I left this message—not the meeting date, nor the place. When and where we meet… return my array plate, and I’ll leave a note on the willow above. And please wait half an hour before leaving.”

“The hearth and the bed…”

“Not theirs. I built the fire. Before going to Jiantian Lotus Pavilion to leave your note, I came here first, spent the night—waited for Xingde Jun and Zhou Qiniang. They didn’t come.”

Hou Sheng suddenly smiled. “So you refuse to gamble—or you’ve lost. When you’re dead, I’ll wait here three days. If Xingde Jun doesn’t appear, I’ll admit I was fooled. But I have other leads. I can always try again. Your corpse will stay here—this cave becomes your grave. Your carved words? Your tombstone…”

Before he finished, Liu Xiaolou interrupted: “Master Hou, why are you investigating alone? Why not report to Qingyu Sect? What do you want from Xingde Jun?”

Hou Sheng paused, then smiled. “Clever mind. A pity…”

The rope tied around Liu Xiaolou’s waist suddenly surged with spiritual energy, tightening relentlessly, crushing his ribs. No matter how he resisted with true qi, it did no good.

Hou Sheng spoke slowly. “You asked because I didn’t summon help? Let me give you one last piece of advice: some things, don’t ponder. Even if you uncover the truth, don’t speak it aloud—or you’ll die.”

Liu Xiaolou’s eyes bulged, gasping, “I’ll tell… I’ll tell… cough… cough… cough…”

The rope loosened slightly. He gasped for air, collapsed on the ground, coughing violently.

“Speak,” Hou Sheng sat on the grass bed, watching Liu Xiaolou curled on the floor. “This is your last chance.”

Liu Xiaolou’s voice was hoarse. “Seven… seven days… they come once every seven days…”

Xingde Jun laughed. The rope tightened again—this time without mercy, crushing Liu Xiaolou’s organs, white foam bubbling from his lips.

Liu Xiaolou coughed violently as he crawled toward the cave entrance.

Hou Sheng made no move to stop him, watching with amusement. “You kept asking how I dared come alone to capture Xingde Jun and his wife? Let me tell you—it’s this Disembodied Spirit Rope. A fine treasure. Dying by it is fitting—you’ll join the bandits and thieves I’ve slain.”

Liu Xiaolou kept crawling, reached the outer chamber, clung to the cave’s edge, ready to roll into the river.

Hou Sheng, inexplicably excited, couldn’t help speaking more: “Your cultivation is shallow, but your foundation is solid… yet this rope is like a blood leech—how easily do you think you can break free?”

As Liu Xiaolou neared the exit, about to tumble into the river, Hou Sheng grinned. “Stop struggling. You won’t escape. I’ll hang you here like a spider’s web…”

He laughed until his face flushed, throat dry, licking his lips, heart pounding. A vision flashed in his mind: a woman in sheer gauze, holding a pipa, bound by the Disembodied Spirit Rope into a spider-flower, suspended on the cliff—his throat parched, his body swaying, he collapsed back onto the bed.

At the same moment, Liu Xiaolou, choked and tongue protruding, finally rolled out of the cave and plunged into the riverbed.