Chapter 2: Throwing Himself Into the Net

The next day, outside Danyang City.

It was the eighth month; the warm autumn sun bathed the official road, while thousands of sails gathered at the riverside port, and people of all walks of life hurried along the docks, occasionally interrupted by murmurs from idle onlookers:

“I heard there was a thunderstorm last night—a dragon fell into Zihui Mountain, and the government office sent men to search…”

“Dragons are lustful by nature; if that’s true, the female birds and beasts of Zihui Mountain are in for it…”

…

Xie Jinhuan stood alone on the dock, shouldering Meiqiu, his eyes filled with existential doubt.

Last night, fearing the female demon would catch up, he fled the deep mountains overnight; after much inquiry, he confirmed it was indeed the eighth year of Jingning—he had been unconscious for nearly three years!

Amnesia wasn’t a problem; he could just find a physician to examine his brain. Even without a brain, one could still live.

But his father, an official, had vanished; his servants and maids had vanished; even his white horse, which had learned to move on its own, was gone.

All he had left was a lazy, gluttonous broken bird and a purse cleaner than his face.

Just now, on the ferry, everyone paid by face recognition—but the boatman didn’t care about appearances and only accepted hook payment, so he had to row the entire way for the old man.

In past years, Xie Jinhuan had at least been a young master—not rich or noble, but well-fed and clothed without lifting a finger; the only thing he’d ever worried about was that his mansion wasn’t big enough to house his future three wives, four concubines, five secondary wives, six side maids, eight serving maids, and over ten mistresses outside.

Now, not only was there no talk of three wives and four concubines—he had to serve the bodyguard on his shoulder.

Meiqiu couldn’t even catch rats; if he didn’t feed her, she’d starve him to death and take away his last beloved companion—she was a downright ruthless bird!

What should he do next…

Xie Jinhuan, bathed in the bleak autumn wind, pondered his next move, lost in thought—when someone tapped his back:

“Big brother, you leaving or not?”

He turned to see the villagers waiting to disembark, nearly crushing the gangplank.

“Sorry, I was distracted.”

Xie Jinhuan stepped aside and asked the boatman who had ferried him for free:

“Old man, could we make a deal? I’ll row myself to the capital—I’ll pay you double when we arrive. My father is Xie Wen, formerly the Legal Clerk of Wanan County…”

The old boatman tied the anchor rope to a post and sighed:

“Ah~ It’s not that I won’t help you, young man, but something happened in the city yesterday—every ferry across the river has been halted, and naval patrols are on the water. You can’t reach the Jingzhao Prefecture now.”

Xie Jinhuan gazed at the river—no boats passed. He asked curiously:

“What happened?”

“No one knows. Probably a serious bandit threat—afraid they’ll slip into the Jingzhao Prefecture and disturb the nobles. Don’t you have relatives or friends in Danyang? Stay somewhere for a few days; when the river reopens, I’ll take you.”

Relatives or friends…

Xie Jinhuan thought hard—he remembered one constable his father had brought along, transferred to the Danyang County government office, who had seen his father off three years ago.

A government official, and an old acquaintance—he might know what had become of his father these past three years.

“Old man, is Yang Dabiao still serving as constable in Danyang?”

The boatman, who made his living ferrying people, often dealt with government office officials and knew the bureaucracy well:

“Yes, just a few days ago, Captain Yang led government office runners to search the docks for bandits—he’s been promoted to Wushi now…”

Wushi was the deputy to the County Warden; though not an official rank, to common folk he was already a big shot.

Finding a familiar face, Xie Jinhuan wasted no time—he set off toward Danyang City, asking along the way…

—

Danyang City, Dongcang Ward.

Dongcang Ward was a storage district; the outer streets were lined with escort agencies and carriage houses, while the interior consisted of a continuous row of warehouses.

At noon, atop a tavern.

Yang Ting, the Danyang County Warden, sucked on his bamboo pipe, scanning the uneven rooftops outside the window:

“You’re certain a bandit demon hides among them?”

His son, Yang Dabiao, stood before him—over one meter ninety tall, broad-shouldered, chest like a double-door refrigerator, yet his expression was obsequious as he lit his father’s pipe with a fire-stick:

“Definitely. The wonton shopkeeper says a new face comes every day to buy three portions. The warehouse keeper at Li’s Depot heard dog barks at night, but found no one when he opened the door…”

Beside them stood a woman clad in black qilin armor, sword at her waist, young but with a cold, striking beauty—Linghu Qingmo.

Linghu Qingmo was a disciple of the current Sect Master of Zihui Mountain; now she was serving as a personal guard in the Wang Fu, on good terms with the Princess of Changning, holding high status. Hearing this, she interjected:

“Dongcang Ward is two li long and one and a half li wide, with complex terrain. If government office officers show themselves, the demon bandits will flee. How do you plan to search?”

Yang Dabiao snapped shut his fire-stick and turned:

“I’ll gather a hundred men, seal every entrance and exit, then trap them like fish in a barrel…”

Linghu Qingmo’s eyebrows twitched slightly:

“Last night, Zihui Mountain emitted ‘heaven-piercing blood-evil qi’—a great demon may have awakened. Two hundred and eighty of the three hundred Wu Zu have already been deployed, and constables are patrolling outside. You don’t even know what kind of bandits you’re facing—where will you get a hundred men?”

Yang Ting sucked his pipe and nodded: “If I mobilize a hundred men and end up catching three petty thieves, my skin’ll be peeled off by County Magistrate Zhang.”

Yang Dabiao knew calling for reinforcements was impossible—that’s why he’d brought his father and the Wang Fu’s female bodhisattva. He smiled ingratiatingly:

“Linghu Lady, you’re from the Daoist sect—surely you can sense demonic qi. Why not try a spell?”

Zihui Mountain belonged to the Daoist Dan Ding Sect, which cultivated both martial and spiritual arts, capable of exorcising demons and subduing evil—but as a Daoist sect, it required true cultivation.

Linghu Qingmo was currently serving in the Wang Fu for training, still uninitiated into the outer world. If she could detect even a trace of demonic qi among thousands of buildings, why bother training? She could go straight to the Imperial Astronomical Bureau in the capital as a “Celestial Official.”

“I have other duties. I’ll take my leave. If you confirm the demon bandits’ presence, notify me.”

“Eh?”

Yang Dabiao, with only a few lackeys, couldn’t possibly monitor the entire Dongcang Ward. Seeing the “female bodhisattva” leave, he hurried to block her, smiling obsequiously:

“Linghu Lady~ We’re neighbors after all. Why not call over Old Liu and the others? A dozen men can cover all four sides.”

“Liu Qing is serving as the Princess’s ceremonial guard. You want me to call them over—and you take their place?”

“Uh…”

…

As they argued, Yang Ting, who had been silently sucking his pipe, suddenly narrowed his eyes toward the outer street:

“Is that him?”

Linghu Qingmo returned to the window and saw a figure enter Dongcang Street.

The figure wore a white brocade robe, two blades at his waist, and carried a plump black hawk on his shoulder.

Though dressed like a wealthy young master, his steps were steady, his posture as immovable as a rock—his martial skill was certainly high. He was alone, glancing left and right as he walked, his behavior suspicious.

Yang Dabiao studied him closely—he felt he’d seen this man before. He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a wanted poster.

The man on the poster was thin, with a goatee, dressed as a wandering Daoist, around forty or fifty.

“No, the man at the wonton shop was middle-aged. But this one looks familiar—maybe another wanted criminal.”

Linghu Qingmo took down her long-range lens from her waist, extended it, and scrutinized the man.

The young man on the street indeed acted strangely—he walked a short distance, then quickly turned his head as if hearing a call, then vanished into an alley.

“He must be an accomplice!”

Yang Dabiao grew excited, leaning out the window to shout:

“Enough resting! Work’s here!”

Below the tall building, four resting constables scrambled up, adjusted their hats, and strapped on their waist blades.

Linghu Qingmo silently leapt out the window and slipped toward Dongcang Ward…

—

Danyang was no match for the capital, but its proximity to the imperial region made it highly accessible, with a permanent population of over seven hundred thousand—still very prosperous.

Xie Jinhuan walked through streets and markets, surrounded by dense crowds; the scent of food wafted from every shop. Several times, he realized Meiqiu was gone—only to turn back and find her squatting at a shop’s entrance, gaping for food.

Meiqiu could never be fed enough, and Xie Jinhuan didn’t stop to waste time. He’d just inquired at the County Warden’s office about Yang Dabiao’s whereabouts and learned he was patrolling Dongcang Ward—he’d come here to find him.

Dongcang Street was lined with carriage houses and escort agencies, crowded with a mix of people; the noise never ceased:

“Baozi…”

“Coal for sale…”

“Young master, where to? Need a horse? Just arrived from Fengzhou—a young mare, good for riding and breeding…”

But there were no constables on the street.

Xie Jinhuan held back Meiqiu, who was eager to gawk, searching the street—but hadn’t found anyone familiar when suddenly he heard:

“Wait.”

A sultry, alluring voice—clearly belonged to a woman with a large chest.

Xie Jinhuan froze, scanning left and right—but the street was full of peddlers and laborers, none matching the voice.

“Meiqiu, did you hear a woman say ‘wait’ just now?”

“Gujī?”

Meiqiu, perched on his shoulder, looked confused, glancing around.

She didn’t seem to have heard…

Was it hallucination?

Xie Jinhuan frowned, scanning again—finally his gaze settled on a green stone alley beside the street.

The alley lay between rows of warehouses, stretching deep with walls two zhang high, nearly invisible at the far end. Far off, he saw a figure dumping something into a sewer.

Though distant, Xie Jinhuan’s eyesight was sharp—he could see the figure wore yellow hemp robes and a felt hat, with no hair around the brim—like a bald laborer.

But even unconsciously, the man stood with one foot forward, one back—ready to shift or dodge at any moment—clearly a seasoned martial traveler…

A skilled martialist disguised as a laborer, lurking stealthily in the sparsely populated warehouse district…

Could he be a bandit?

Xie Jinhuan had come to find an acquaintance working at the government office; noticing something amiss, he naturally intended to greet them, but after searching left and right without spotting any constables, he turned into an alley and headed toward where the figure in yellow had vanished.

The blue-stone alley ran deep; after walking about half a li, he reached the dumping spot—leftover noodles and soupy scraps.

Xie Jinhuan’s ears twitched slightly; he slipped silently into a side alley and arrived outside a storage shed, listening through the wall, where he could hear voices inside:

“We’ve gathered enough dragon whisker grass. There won’t be much left to do from now on. Why not go out and celebrate tonight?”

“The corpse by the river last few days has drawn the office’s attention—everyone in the city is on patrol. Above has ordered us to keep a low profile…”

“We’re not going to cause trouble. Heard there are a few Hu women come to Flower Lane—red hair, blue eyes, tits bigger than their heads…”

“We’ll talk about it after we’re done…”

…

Tits bigger than their heads…

Xie Jinhuan memorized the key details, confirmed they were hidden bandits, and prepared to slip away quietly to report to the constables.

But Xie Jinhuan believed he had revealed no aura whatsoever—yet the coal ball on his shoulder, startled by some filthy thing, suddenly let out a “Ji?!” and fluffed up its fur, whirling its head to scan the surroundings before panicking and leaping high into the air.

At the sound of the disturbance, voices erupted from the warehouse:

“What was that?”

“Someone’s outside…”

…

Xie Jinhuan realized things had turned dire and immediately moved to flee.

But at that very moment!

BOOM—

CRASH—

The blue-stone wall thirty feet ahead shattered outright, and a figure shot out, landing in the alley.

The warehouse’s rear door exploded open, revealing a figure in blue robes.

Another figure burst from the rooftop, landing atop the eaves…

(End of Chapter)