Chapter 246: A Blunt Club?

After being dragged to the Criminal Investigations Office at noon, Xie Jin and Jiang Qizi spent the entire day poring over hundreds of case files in the Archives Room, only to discover that the Red Witch Cult was even more mysterious than they’d imagined.

The Red Witch Cult first emerged around two or three decades ago, around the time of the Northern Zhou witchcraft plague, when both the emperor and the crown prince were killed by witchcraft; the Witch Religion’s Zhujì Sect, as the state religion, became the target of public outrage, and the court and countryside alike descended into chaos.

Then Grand Empress Guo appeared, seized control of the government, and purged internal and external threats; afterward, rumors spread through the populace that “the state fell to red, and demons came to Zhou soil.” These rumors stirred up trouble everywhere, and investigations pointed squarely to Grand Empress Guo and the Guo clan—but the trail ended there, and for over a decade, no progress was made.

Xie Jin couldn’t figure out where these people came from, but he could be certain: since they were targeting Grand Empress Guo and the Guo clan, they weren’t merely chaotic sorcerers—they were likely a faction with conflicting interests, such as powerful clans, feudal princes, or even Daoists, martialists, or Buddhists who held grudges against the Zhujì Sect.

This range of suspects was too broad; Xie Jin had no leads. Jiang Qizi said she’d go patrol the streets to look for clues and notify him if she found anything, so he took his leave and returned to Duanli Street.

By evening, lanterns began to glow across the city.

Xie Jin walked near the Princess’s Mansion, paused to consider, then first visited nearby Yingwu Alley.

Duanli Street bordered the imperial palace and was prime real estate, but Yingwu Alley housed mostly impoverished nobles—whose ancestors, generations back, had been marquises and generals who followed Emperor Zhou Taizu into the pass—but after three centuries, their fortunes had vanished entirely, leaving only their titles; at night, even lanterns were rare.

Xie Jin passed through the alley to the courtyard he’d rented; from afar, he heard a “gugugiji~” sound, leapt over the wall, and saw a small table set up below the back courtyard steps, piled with snacks.

Meiqiu squatted on the table, nodding her head as she ate, looking so delighted she’d forgotten her own name.

But Bu Yuehua was nowhere to be seen; the courtyard had no lights, no movement. Only when he drew closer did he faintly hear breathing from the main house.

Xie Jin walked to the steps and lightly knocked on the door:

“Sister Hua?”

Thump-thump~

After a brief pause, a surprised female voice replied from inside:

“Xie Jin? What are you doing here?”

Xie Jin heard no hurried rustling of clothing, so he gently pushed the door open and glanced inside.

The room had just been rented and held little furniture; a redwood bed stood near the back window, and a woman in a deep-blue long skirt lay dressed on it, now sitting up and rubbing her temples—as if she’d just dozed off.

“Sister Hua, why are you sleeping in your clothes? Are you still unwell?” Xie Jin stepped closer, studying her with concern.

Although Bu Yuehua had been stabbed in Lishan, it was only a flesh wound with no serious damage—but her spiritual soul injury would take weeks to heal. She’d been fine this morning, but after her master visited and mentioned marriage prospects,

she’d sat alone at home, lost in idle thoughts, and hadn’t noticed when she’d fallen asleep on the bed.

Seeing Xie Jin suddenly appear, Bu Yuehua gathered her thoughts and smiled:

“I’m fine. Just bored, dozed off by accident. How did things go in Lishan?”

“Taken care of. Now I just need to find the one who set me up.”

“Oh…”

Embarrassed by her daytime daydreaming, Bu Yuehua wanted to rise and offer hospitality, but there was nothing in the room to offer, so she smiled:

“I don’t know when Mu will arrive… I’m fine alone. You don’t need to worry—go keep your beauty company.”

Xie Jin did want to rush home to his wife, but bringing Senior Bu all this way and abandoning her here was plainly rude. He thought a moment and said:

“You haven’t finished memorizing the Martial Dao Divine Scripture I taught you a few days ago. It’s still early—shall I teach you more now?”

“…”

Bu Yuehua blinked, slightly wary upon hearing this.

After all, she sat here fully dressed as Sister Hua—but in the dream, who knew what form she’d take?

Last time she’d been a roasted chicken demon with no cover for her backside; who knew what she’d become this time…

“Hmm… your illusion technique—can you really not control the dream realm yourself?”

Xie Jin sat on the edge of the bed and sighed:

“I’m just a martialist. My illusion technique is uncontrollable. How about I close my eyes this time? You check and confirm it’s safe, then I’ll open them.”

Bu Yuehua, a master of illusion, didn’t believe him—but Xie Jin had always behaved honorably, and he was teaching her a scripture. She said nothing, drew her legs up, and sat cross-legged on the bed, waiting.

Xie Jin sat beside her, feigning the hand seals of a spellcaster, while silently praying to A Piao to take it easy.

But Ye Hongshang was no meek little wife; she appeared beside them, curiously studying the tense Bu Yuehua:

“You sure you don’t want me to mess with her?”

Xie Jin wasn’t against teasing Senior Bu—but from her perspective, the illusion was his doing; if he messed up, he’d have no good explanation. He subtly blinked.

Ye Hongshang nodded slightly, said nothing more, and began linking the two like a two-headed dragon.

Bu Yuehua closed her eyes, bracing herself. As Xie Jin’s clear chant echoed in her ears, dizziness rose from her mind, then her spiritual sense plunged into darkness.

When she awoke again, a faint floral scent filled her nose, and distant bird calls echoed across empty mountains.

“Ji-zha… ji-zha…”

Having been burned before, Bu Yuehua’s first instinct was to check her body—she felt cloth covering her chest and backside, and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She opened her eyes and saw her robes had changed to a hezi dress, revealing a sliver of pale skin, but she was still mostly covered.

She scanned her surroundings: she remained on a foreign beach, a hundred-zhang cliff towering at the horizon, stars and moon hanging in the sky—the scene was nearly identical to last time.

“Looks like the illusion didn’t go wrong… Xie Jin?” As she turned, she saw only empty beach—Xie Jin was gone.

But his voice came from beside her ear:

“What the…!”

It was tiny, like the voice of a thumb-sized person.

??

Bu Yuehua froze, followed the sound—and realized a white-clad young lord, no taller than two inches, stood on her shoulder, staring up at her cheek in utter shock.

“Eh? Xie Jin, you—”

Bu Yuehua had seen much of the martial world, but never this. She stared at the tiny figure on her shoulder, too startled to move.

Xie Jin opened his eyes to find himself standing atop a deep-blue mountain ridge—he froze. When he turned and saw Bu Yuehua’s serene face, vast as a mountain, his eyes widened in shock:

“Sister Hua, why are you so huge?”

Bu Yuehua feared speaking too loudly might blow him away; she gently spread her hands:

“This is your illusion—how should I know? Besides, it’s not me that grew; it’s you that shrank. Look at the cliff.”

Xie Jin studied the distant cliff and realized his proportions were off. The situation was strange, but not embarrassing—rather, it was novel. He sat down on her shoulder:

“Illusions don’t follow logic. Don’t dwell on details—the scripture is in the sky.”

Bu Yuehua found it fascinating too. She wanted to reach out and touch little Xie Jin, but feared offending him, so she acted as if nothing were amiss, sat on the sand, and gazed up at the stars.

Xie Jin sat atop the giantess’s shoulder, curious and wide-eyed, examining everything—he’d never experienced such a transformation.

Midway, however, a strange sense of déjà vu stirred in his chest—he’d felt this before, somewhere… but like always, he couldn’t recall the source.

After fruitless brooding, Xie Jin set aside the distraction and focused on studying the Martial Dao Divine Scripture.

Xie Jin had advanced rapidly: since entering the First Rank at Sanjiangkou, and enduring blood and fire in Huofeng Valley and Lishan, his cultivation had climbed to mid-First Rank—and the scripture’s upper limits were now revealing themselves.

The Joyful Heart Scripture was his own creation; he’d only conceived it up to the peak of First Rank, never imagined how to reach the Super Rank. Now that he was nearing the limit, if he didn’t quickly devise a Super Rank method, he’d be stuck in place—or worse, waste time on a wrong path.

Moreover, he held the Zhenglun Sword and bore the Lingguang Divine Gift—but these two treasures, ill-suited to martial cultivation, had remained unused.

Thus, Xie Jin’s next steps must be refining the “Alternating Candle Pouring” technique and adding thunder and fire methods—otherwise, he’d waste vast combat potential.

As he pondered this, his peripheral vision caught something odd. He turned—and saw a breathtaking view below.

Because he’d shrunk so much, looking down, he saw beneath her neck: a vast, smooth, snow-white expanse of soft flesh, with a deep, bottomless crevice between them—so vast it defied description…

Xie Jin had merely glanced casually—but A Piao clearly favored him; an unseen gust of wind blew from behind and sent him tumbling down.

“Eh? What the—”

He bounced twice on the pale skin, then plunged into the endless abyss, enveloped by intoxicating milk-scent and softness…

?!

Bu Yuehua, absorbed in studying the scripture, was startled. She wanted to catch him but feared crushing him—so she lifted her chest and held her hands out, shielding him from falling to the ground.

Once the tiny figure rested on her chest, her face flushed. She carefully pulled him out:

“How did you fall?”

“Uh… slipped. Sorry.”

“Really?”

Bu Yuehua thought his slip was suspiciously precise—her gaze was half-skeptical.

Xie Jin couldn’t explain how he’d tumbled into a girl’s chest. After a flustered apology, he climbed back onto her shoulder and resumed studying the star map…

——

Elsewhere, the Ministry of Rites.

Night deepened; the office emptied.

Lu Yan walked alone through the streets, his inner turmoil best described as stifled frustration.

He could accept losing the Fire Phoenix Valley dispute—he’d lost, so he’d concede.

But back in Northern Zhou, Xie Jin openly murdered someone; Lu Yan lawfully pursued him—only to be falsely accused of “colluding with demonic Daoists.” Worse, Chen Chi and the Censorate were half-suspect, ordered Xie Jin to investigate, and seized his Chi Fire Edict.

Isn’t this favoring the enemy?

Xie Jin’s reputation among orthodox cultivators is indeed great, and he does have real talent hunting demonic bandits—but Lu Yan’s loyalty isn’t questionable either.

Lu Yan felt a chill in his heart, but the Zhujì Sect controlled Northern Zhou’s cultivation realm—he couldn’t openly defy court orders. He could only let Xie Jin investigate; after all, he had nothing to hide—no matter how Xie Jin probed, the outcome would be the same…

But what if this brat fabricates evidence and frames him?

As he pondered this, Lu Yan returned to his residence in Jingcheng.

As Vice Minister of the Ministry of Rites and the second-highest leader of Northern Zhou’s Daoist sect, Lu Yan’s home was near the imperial palace—elegant, yet Daoist sects all emphasized quietude and restraint; employing many servants violated doctrine, so only a few disciples and apprentices lived there.

Lu Yan had been wounded and hadn’t fully recovered; he’d been resting at Wuling Mountain, but rushed to Jingcheng after the Lishan incident. He’d planned to return to his main chamber and meditate to heal.

But whether he’d seen a ghost or not—he sensed nothing unusual in the room. Yet the moment he opened the door, he instantly sensed something wrong!

Huh~

Though he reacted swiftly, he’d barely raised his right hand, hadn’t even cast a spell, when a muffled “thud” rang out—and his spiritual sense shattered, his vision went black. Before losing consciousness, he saw a black cloth descending over his head, blotting out all sight…

(End of Chapter)