Chapter 660: The Hell Flower Appears

Having their identities exposed, the four men on the ground trembled and lowered their heads.

Li Yan said grimly, "Does Chen San know this man?"

"I've heard of him."

Chen San replied, "They're a theatrical troupe from Wqiao in Jizhou, drifting along the Huaitong River. They're well-known, and I heard they had a clash with another troupe and hired someone to mediate."

He sneered, "I wonder what kind of bear's heart and leopard's gall they swallowed to dare ally with demons and rebel!"

"Rebel?!"

At these words, Yang Laohai on the ground shot up, gritting his teeth: "We're all fellow travelers. I've lost—I admit it. Kill me or cut me up, do as you please—but don't spout nonsense!"

No wonder he panicked; murder and rebellion were two entirely different things.

Murder meant one man, one crime—worst case, a scar the size of a bowl.

But rebellion? That would drag down his entire clan—countless innocents would suffer.

"Oh ho! I see you won't cry till you see the coffin!"

Chen San laughed, eyes brimming with mockery. "This is the famed Twelve Zodiacs. Use your dog-brain—would ordinary Jianghu affairs warrant their intervention? Let me tell you straight: the Commandant's Office and the Xuan Sacrifice Office have both moved. This isn't your business to meddle in!"

"The Twelve Zodiacs?!"

The old man on the ground froze, staring in disbelief at Li Yan and the others, voice trembling: "How could it be you? He didn't say…!"

Seeing his panic, Li Yan wasn't surprised.

The old man's cultivation barely reached the first floor.

His flashy tricks were merely simple illusions fused with the Xi Cai Sect's traditions.

They might fool laymen, but to them, they were transparent at a glance.

Thinking this, Li Yan spoke without expression: "You've been deceived too. Tell us everything clearly—you can redeem yourself, and avoid becoming someone else's scapegoat."

Yet the old man on the ground clenched his teeth and said nothing.

Seeing his demeanor, Li Yan already understood. He gave Chen San a glance.

"Bring them in!"

Chen San understood at once, roaring: "Stubborn fools! Execute those three brats on the spot!"

"Yes, Boss!"

Immediately, several men from the Canal Guild drew knives and advanced menacingly.

"Master!"

"Spare us! We had nothing to do with this!"

The three children turned deathly pale, screaming and wailing.

Li Yan stood aside, watching coldly.

Once you step onto the Jianghu path, you're no longer clean.

These brats didn't blink when they killed or set fires—no doubt countless souls lie beneath their hands.

The corpses of dozens from Bao Hua Bookstore and the Meng Mansion still lie in the yamen's morgue.

No matter the reason they fell into Jianghu, he felt no mercy.

"Shut up!"

Yang Laohai, veins bulging on his face, spat: "When we drank blood wine to join, I told you—this day would come. You ate the meat, fucked the women—don't beg for mercy when your head rolls!"

"This can't be escaped. Die like a man!"

He spoke with fiery passion, but his three disciples didn't buy it.

"Bullshit!"

"You old bastard, talking so lightly!"

"You only did it to save your son—don't drag us down with you…"

Under the knife's edge, the three disciples began spilling everything.

"Fool!"

Yang Laohai wanted to bite these brats to death, but he couldn't move—only sighed helplessly.

Chen San pressed the advantage and finally broke the old man's silence.

"We came to Zhang Qiu because we heard our senior took on several Kong disciples here and made a name for himself, so we came to beg for a handout…"

Listening to his tale, Li Yan and the others understood the full story.

The Xi Cai Sect's origins stretch through Shenzhou's history.

Though it gradually took shape during Han's Baixi and Tang-Song Sanle, its roots run far deeper.

The origin of martial arts lies in ancient tribal hunting; acrobatics are no different.

Throwing spears and daggers, climbing, taming beasts—all clearly echo its shadow.

By the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, as feudal lords vied for power, the custom of "nourishing retainers" flourished—among them were thieves and rogues, as well as warriors and strongmen with extraordinary skills.

These men were the embryonic form of the Xi Cai Sect.

Today, they've become a major force in Jianghu.

According to Jianghu classification, they fall under "Cai" and "Gua" in the Jin, Pi, Cai, Gua categories.

Though they revere Lu Dongbin as their ancestor, they're considered heretical in Xuanmen.

They study "techniques," not the Dao.

The Xi Cai Sect spreads across Shenzhou, countless small factions like fish crossing a river, concentrated mainly in Puyang and Zhoukou in Yuzhou, Linquan in Huizhou, Jianhu in Su, and Liaocheng in Luzhou.

Wqiao in Jizhou is among their strongest.

The children there begin training from infancy.

When they come of age, they form troupes and roam the land.

You could say they're born into Jianghu.

Yang Laohai wasn't just from Wqiao—he was a sorcerer, skilled in illusions and secret arts, and thrived accordingly; every year when he returned home, visitors came in droves.

But no one in his hometown knew the old man had long gone astray—he despised the hard-earned pay from performances and secretly took contracts to kill and plunder, earning blood money.

Yet everything has a price.

Repeatedly doing such work inevitably left him injured and ill.

In youth, it was manageable; in old age, he was already weakening.

Worse, in his youth he only cared for his own pleasure, and his parents spoiled him so badly that his only son became a troublemaker, tormenting neighbors and committing countless cruel acts—until even his hometown couldn't hold him.

Even so, it might've been bearable.

Yang Laohai had saved plenty of silver—he could've moved and lived as a wealthy gentleman.

But his son squandered it all on drink, gambling, and women—not only ruined the family fortune, but also owed huge sums to gambling dens, and was caught in the grip of a mysterious group who blackmailed him.

For years, Yang Laohai and his disciples committed crimes everywhere, all under orders.

Earning money was only half the reason—they feared more than anything that the Yang family line would end.

"It's a joke!"

Chen San sneered, "You're a ruthless bastard who lives with a knife at his waist—how could you fall for a tethered horse post and not try to break free?"

"Hahahaha~"

Yang Laohai laughed bitterly, "It's not that simple."

"Those people are skilled and cruel—they've dosed us. If we don't take it for a few days, we're racked with agony, as if in hell—we can't even muster the will to fight back…"

As he spoke, the two disciples beside him began to show signs of distress.

First, cold sweat broke out all over their bodies, then their limbs twitched unnaturally, as if fighting something.

Soon, they couldn't hold on: "Great heroes, we know all about this old man—ask us anything. Our addiction's flaring up—let… let us have a puff…"

As they spoke, tears and snot streamed down their faces.

A puff?

Li Yan frowned, voice turning icy: "What are you puffing?"

"The drug those people gave us."

At this, Yang Laohai also showed similar symptoms—teeth clenched, veins bulging on his forehead: "Honorable ones, please let us have a puff. Otherwise, these brats will bite through their own tongues."

Li Yan sniffed the air. "Where is it?"

"It's… at Hejin Inn…"

Yang Laohai's forehead was now slick with cold sweat.

"Take a few men and get it!"

Chen San sensed something wrong and immediately ordered his men to retrieve it.

Soon, their packs were brought over.

Yang Laohai and his three disciples knelt like dogs, trembling hands pulling out small boxes from the packs. Inside were black-brown, sticky ointments, reeking of old urine.

They stuffed them into their pipes and lay on the ground, exhaling clouds of smoke.

Their symptoms vanished instantly; their expressions turned blissfully euphoric.

"What… what is this?"

Those around stared in horror.

Yang Laohai was a sorcerer—even aged, his willpower should've been strong.

His three disciples, who had mastered such advanced bone-shrinking arts, must've endured great hardship.

How could they be so powerless against this?

Li Yan's face grew dark and cold.

Opium!

He hadn't expected this destructive substance to appear here.

At this moment, a crowd had already gathered around.

The Kong family father and son were also pushing through to watch the commotion.

The young scholar Kong Shangzhao, seeing this, his eyes thoughtful, stepped forward amid the gazes of others, pinched a bit of opium between his fingers, and rubbed it open: "This seems… to be the mǐnáng flower."

Wang Daoxuan's expression was equally grave: "Master Kong, do you recognize this substance?"

Li Yan was also curious.

This was certainly opium, but he had never heard the name "mǐnáng flower" before.

"I read about it in books."

Kong Shangzhao nodded, then rose and said: "This substance originates from the Western Regions and entered the Central Plains during the Six Dynasties. The Old Book of Tang records that the Fulin Kingdom once presented it as tribute; the Tang poet Guo Zhen even wrote a poem titled 'Mǐnáng Flower'…"

"It blooms, said to surpass grasses in beauty, yet its fruit never aided the people. Yet one laughs at the wild fields' millet and rice, never hearing strings and pipes pass through their youth. Originally, this plant was grown for ornamental purposes, praised by literati for its brilliance, and some physicians even used it medicinally…"

"During the Song Dynasty, it was regarded as a tonic. Su Shi mentioned 'yīngsù soup' in his poetry—this very substance—and it was even made into 'Buddha porridge' and 'fish cakes' for consumption…"

As he spoke, his expression grew solemn: "I've also heard something else."

"During the time of the Golden Tent Wolf Kingdom, the Tianzhu Record records that in the twenty-third year of Yuanjing, the Privy Councilor Tuotuotie'er led troops to campaign in Tianzhu and encountered the A fúróng technique, capable of communicating with the netherworld and disrupting human consciousness."

"I recall the original words: A fúróng, in Sanskrit, is called 'Poxun's Tear.' Its flower is deep red as blood, its fruit like a poppy pod; when split, it yields black paste. Tianzhu demon monks mix it with corpse oil and human bones to brew the 'Aroma of the Netherworld'—inhaling it reveals visions of immortals and gods, lasting three days without end…"

"The captured demon monk Narayana confessed: A fúróng paste can be used to forge 'Ghost Soldiers.' Inject the dying with the paste for three days, and though dead, they can still fight—impervious to blades and spears…"

"The Golden Tent Wolf Kingdom sought to use this to train soldiers, but the plan was eventually abandoned."

Chen San, upon hearing this, felt his back hairs stand on end, his voice trembling:

"You mean… remnants of the Golden Tent Wolf Kingdom are behind this?"

He wasn't afraid—he was excited.

If they truly captured remnants of the Golden Tent Wolf Kingdom, this would be a monumental achievement.

Though the Great Xuan Dynasty had ruled for over a century, the terror the Golden Tent Wolf Kingdom brought to Shenzhou had never faded.

In the countryside, many bizarre legends were tied to them.

Even decades ago, during the northern frontier rebellion, remnants of the Golden Tent Wolf Kingdom had participated.

"It's probably not that simple…"

Li Yan shook his head slightly, sensing something else at play.

Thinking of this, he added in a low voice: "Speak—who is the mole inside the mansion?"

At these words, none of the others were surprised.

Wang Daoxuan had just received Xu Fu's final testament; few knew of it.

Moreover, the enemy had first lured the snake out of its hole, then sent someone straight to Wang Daoxuan's room—someone must have leaked information, acting as an inside agent.

On the ground, Yang Laohai and his three disciples, after taking a few puffs of opium, had now regained some strength, their eyes vacant, pupils dilated, utterly defenseless, mouths opening to speak.

But before they could utter a word, a figure suddenly spun around and bolted for the door.

It was a middle-aged man from the Chen mansion.

Li Yan recognized him—he was the mansion's gardener.

Yet the Chen mansion had Paojiao disciples guarding the gate; the gardener was an ordinary man—how could he possibly escape?

After only a few steps, a Paojiao man seized him by the throat and slammed him to the ground.

Chen San's eyes were filled with murderous intent: "Speak—who ordered this? I'll let you die whole, without harming your family."

Planting spies inside the mansion had crossed his line.

"Master Chen, spare me!"

The gardener fell to his knees, pounding his head on the ground: "I didn't know it was this big! The temple priest Wang Miao Zhu of Ren Fanzhi Temple gave me twenty taels to pay off my gambling debts, and told me to spy on this matter."

"Ren Fanzhi Temple—go!"

Chen San immediately ordered, leading his many Paojiao brothers out.

After Li Yan confirmed the location, he immediately activated the Jia Ma Technique, stepping on water and floating grass, racing ahead through the gale to reach Ren Fanzhi Temple first.

Though Ren Fanzhi was suspected to be one of the Eight Immortals of the Lower Realm, the temple was merely built by commoners in his memory; no one knew where he had truly ascended to immortality.

When Chen San and the others arrived, only Li Yan stood before the temple, engulfed in roaring flames.

"They've already fled."

Li Yan shook his head slightly, gazing toward the dark expanse of the canal.

"Chen San, report this immediately."

"Have the Commandant's Office investigate those Japanese and red-haired foreigners—see who else is trafficking this substance."

"This matter is definitely not that simple…"

…………

The next morning, Li Yan and the others boarded a boat and departed.

The "Ran Du Master" Kong Hui was a taboo within the Kong family; after years of reincarnation, he likely had no ties left to the Kong clan—staying longer would yield nothing.

But Yang Laohai and the others had provided a clue.

The men who had set the trap to ruin his son,

were in Tianjin!

This time, Li Yan's boat voyage was personally arranged by Chen San.

The crew were all Paojiao members; along the way, no one dared trouble them.

Water bandits and road tyrants all kept well away.

This allowed Li Yan to witness the Paojiao's power.

Compared to the Pai Sect, the Paojiao was closer to the court; thus, along the northern canals, the Paojiao ruled supreme—the Pai Sect couldn't even insert a small skiff.

After one day of sailing, dusk approached.

Li Yan was meditating in the cabin when he heard a Paojiao disciple respectfully call from the deck: "Gentlemen, we've arrived at Linqing."

At once, everyone rose and headed outside.

Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west.

The qi of Shenzhou shifts: as the divine capital Luoyang declined, other cities rose.

Take Linqing City—its reputation now surpassed even Jinan.

"Wealth rivals Qi Commandery; prosperity crushes the Two Capitals"—this describes the place…

(End of Chapter)