Chapter 52: Mohe Envoy

His mind made up, Chen Lingxi barely hesitated.

He immediately drove the Concealed Edge Method to its limit, tightly sealing the strand of azure qi in his dantian. He suppressed the faint silvery glow deep within his bones and deliberately slowed his breathing, keeping every exhalation shallow.

He became like a lifeless stone, leaving no flaw to be found.

Then he rose and rummaged through his Cosmos Bag, pulling out a pitch-black robe.

The garment was so dark that when he slipped it on, he seemed to melt into the night.

Next, he retrieved a half-mask carved into a snarling, green-faced fiend with bared fangs. It left only his mouth and jaw exposed.

He had slowly acquired these items during his trips out of the estate after obtaining the Cosmos Bag, preparing for a moment just like this.

The moment he donned the robe and secured the mask, his demeanor transformed.

Dressed in solid black, only his eyes and mouth remained visible past the green fiend mask, which glinted with a cold, eerie hue in the candlelight.

At his waist hung the Gold-Slaughtering Precious Saber. Its dark, heavy scabbard bore no ornamentation. Standing in the shadows, he looked like a sheathed blade—his killing frost drawn inward, yet unable to conceal his razor-sharp aura.

A night breeze funneled in from the veranda, carrying the lingering scent of garden flowers that had yet to wither.

He stepped out of the courtyard gate, passed through the moon gate of the West Courtyard, and followed the covered corridor northward.

His steps were so light that they barely made a whisper against the bluestone flagstones, moving like a prowling cat in the dark.

The Concealed Edge Method circulated through him, dampening his breath, body temperature, and heartbeat well below what an ordinary person could perceive. Blending into the night wind and the chirping of insects, he left no trace.

He slipped out through the corner gate without alerting a soul.

Beyond the gate lay the long street.

His pace quickened as he left the city behind. Moonlight washed over the open fields, turning the ripe grain into a sea of silver. Whenever the night wind swept through, the stalks rippled in layered waves, rustling softly.

After traveling for the better part of an hour, he suddenly veered off the official road and took a shortcut.

It was the same path he had taken the last time he went searching for the purple qi fragments.

Roughly two hours later, he passed through a thick forest, and the view before him suddenly opened up.

Cuojin Mountain rose in the distance, its slopes sheer and abrupt. The silhouette of the main peak stabbed into the night sky like an inverted sword, pitch-black and imposing.

Above the mountainside, swirling mists shrouded the summit in a hazy blur.

Chen Lingxi found a concealed spot along the riverbank at the foot of the mountain and quietly hid himself.

About fifteen minutes passed.

A single point of light appeared on the river.

The light was extremely far away. At first glance, it was nothing more than a tiny speck flickering where the water met the sky, like a star that had fallen into the current.

Gradually, the light drew closer.

It was a small boat.

As it neared the riverbank, it began to slow.

The boatman drove his bamboo pole into the water and brought the vessel to a halt.

The cabin curtain parted, and a figure stepped out.

It was Wang Chu, exactly as he had seen in his Vision Wander.

Chen Lingxi held his breath.

Wang Chu stepped ashore without breaking stride, heading straight for the mountain path of Cuojin Mountain.

Chen Lingxi waited until she had gone several dozen paces before darting out from behind the rocks.

He pushed the Concealed Edge Method to its absolute peak, sealing the strand of azure qi in his dantian behind an incredibly thin yet resilient barrier so not a shred could leak out.

He suppressed the silvery glow deep within his bones until it was practically nonexistent, and even slowed his heartbeat to a crawl. Lost in the rustling of the reeds and the night wind, his presence was impossible to detect.

He trailed her from a distance, keeping a gap of roughly thirty paces as they climbed the mountain.

After walking for about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the slope began to level out, and the woods grew sparser.

A sprawling complex of buildings appeared ahead.

It was a palace complex built into the mountain, tier upon tier of soaring eaves and sweeping corners sketching a jagged silhouette against the dark.

The palace walls stood tall, their crimson paint peeling, while weeds sprouted from the crests, swaying gently in the night wind.

'The Cuojin Mountain East King Palace—just as the records described.'

Chen Lingxi paused behind a clump of low pines and looked up.

This East King Palace had been the East King's residence during his stays in Yuanjiang Prefecture years ago. It had been built to be resplendent and luxurious to the extreme.

Only later, an inauspicious incident had occurred within the palace—rumor had it that the place was haunted—and from then on, it had stood empty.

The imperial clan considered it taboo, so it had remained vacant ever since.

When the Crown Prince had first visited Yuanjiang Prefecture several months ago, he had likely borrowed this vacant East King Palace to host his beast-fighting banquet.

As a cultivator, he had cared nothing for superstitions about luck; it was only the sudden intrusion of a saber-wielding assassin halfway through that had forced him back to the capital to nurse his wounds.

As for the East King's daughter, County Princess Yunhe, she had never stayed here during her visits to Yuanjiang Prefecture either. Likely, she had either been wary of those inauspicious rumors or simply found the palace too desolate, preferring the comfort of her own estate.

Wang Chu reached the palace gates but did not knock. Instead, she circled around the side and slipped in through a half-open corner door.

Chen Lingxi waited a moment to confirm no one else was around before darting out from the low pines, moving soundlessly toward that same corner door.

He slipped inside.

Beyond the door lay a long, shadowy corridor that opened into a courtyard, and directly across from that courtyard stood the main hall.

The doors of the hall were thrown wide open, firelight blazing within.

Chen Lingxi's gaze swept across the courtyard, and he suddenly froze.

Several silver-armored guards lay strewn across the stone path, the grass, and the steps. Their armor was completely intact, but their bodies had withered into dry husks, as if every drop of blood had been drained from them.

Their faces were twisted, mouths gaping wide and eyes bulging from their sockets. They seemed to have experienced immense terror before they died.

'Some kind of wicked art?' Chen Lingxi frowned.

He skirted around the courtyard, using the covered corridor along the side to approach the main hall without a sound.

The pillars of the corridor were thick, casting deep shadows. Keeping close to the base of the wall, he melted into the darkness, almost impossible to spot.

The carved lattice windows of the main hall were covered in worn gauze, letting the firelight and silhouettes within spill through.

He picked a concealed corner behind a massive pillar and peered inside through a gap in the lattice.

The interior of the hall was vast, its high-vaulted ceiling gleaming with opulence.

The floor was paved with solid lapis lazuli bricks, polished enough to mirror a man's face.

Immense brocade draperies hung from the four walls, embroidered with dragon and cloud motifs that shimmered darkly in the firelight.

Yet all those magnificent decorations were now cast in shifting shadows by the bonfire burning in the center of the hall, stripped of their grandeur and left looking distinctly eerie.

The bonfire crackled fiercely, and two men sat beside the flames.

One looked like a scholar with a short sword at his waist. He appeared to be in his thirties, with fair skin, clean features, and a long beard. Dressed in a green robe and a square cap, he held a wine flagon and drank with his head tilted back.

His manner was calm and composed, his brow carrying the haughty pride of a man of letters. It was as if he were not sitting in a derelict palace at all, but drinking alone beneath the moon in his own study.

The other man had a thick beard and a frame as sturdy as an ox, with broad shoulders and arms as thick as roof beams. Just sitting there, he looked like a wall.

He wore a brown martial outfit, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal forearms knotted with bulging veins.

Right now, the bearded man held an iron skewer threaded with several dark lumps, holding them over the fire to roast.

Fat dripped down into the flames with a hiss, sending up puffs of grey smoke that filled the hall with a strange, charred aroma.

Chen Lingxi's eyes landed on the iron skewer, and his pupils shrank.

That was not ordinary meat.

They were hearts.

Human hearts.

Three hearts were skewered on the iron rod, roasted crisp on the outside and tender within, grease still sizzling on their surface.

The bearded man turned the skewer as he looked up at the palace's vaulted ceiling, clicking his tongue in marvel.

"Never mind the old emperor—even that East King had a palace this grand just for his travels," his gruff voice echoed through the cavernous hall. "The sweat and blood of the people, all spent on places like this."

As he spoke, he tore a charred heart off the skewer and took a bite.

Grease ran down the corners of his mouth, but he did not bother to wipe it away. He simply chewed in huge mouthfuls, his lips smeared with blood and black ash that dripped down his chin onto his collar.

The scholar lowered his wine flagon and suddenly recited:

"Red gates smell of wine and meat, on the road are bones of those who froze to death. Glory and ruin lie but a foot apart; the bitterness of men is too deep to tell."

He chanted with rising and falling cadence, his voice clear and resonant, sounding like a satirical play echoing through the derelict palace.

The bearded man grinned, showing teeth stained red with blood. "You sour pedant, all you know is reciting those lines. What's the point? It's not like the old emperor can hear you."

The scholar shook his head without replying and simply tilted his head back for another swig of wine.

Right at that moment, Wang Chu stepped into the main hall.

She was still wrapped in that drab grey cloak, her bamboo hat tilted low, her footsteps so light they were barely audible.

Stopping a few paces from the bonfire, she wasted no words. She reached into her robes, produced a letter, and offered it forward with both hands.

"My master asks the Mohe Envoy to pass this letter to the Martial Immortal."

The scholar took the letter, folded it away into his sleeve, and gave a faint nod.

Seeing her message delivered, Wang Chu clasped her fists in salute and turned to leave.

"Why not eat some meat before you go?"

The bearded man spoke up, his gruff voice booming through the empty hall.

Wang Chu paused her steps, but she did not turn around.

The bearded man suddenly reached out, tore a piping-hot heart from the iron skewer, and extended it toward her.

"Even if you're the secretive sort, I'll still invite you to drink wine and eat meat."

His tone was bold and rough as he let out a wide grin.

The scholar saw this and shook his head, saying to Wang Chu, "Pay him no mind. He eats meat because his cultivation demands it, not because he's some villain indulging his appetite."

His voice was clear and gentle, sounding as though he were excusing a friend's awkward habit.

Wang Chu turned, gave the scholar a slight nod, and moved to depart.

Just then, a rustling sound came from the direction of the side hall.

Chen Lingxi looked through the lattice and saw the door to the side hall crack open, a figure squeezing through the gap.

The man wore silver armor—he was likely one of the palace guards—though his armor was caked in dust and dark red grime.

He was tall and should have been a strapping fellow, yet he stood with a hunched back and cowering shoulders, looking like a rat frightened out of its wits.

He carried a bronze basin in his hands, heaped with several skewers of fresh meat—dark red, streaked with blood, and still wet.

The guard approached the bonfire, his legs giving out so badly he nearly dropped to his knees.

"My lord..." his voice trembled. "The meat... the meat has been carved."

He raised the bronze basin above his head, his hands shaking violently.

The bearded man took the basin, glanced down into it, and frowned. "This little bit? Who is that supposed to feed?"

He set the basin casually on the floor and pointed toward the side hall, his tone impatient. "Go carve a few more skewers. Get some tender ones."

The guard shuddered from head to toe and left.

The scholar said nothing, merely lowering his head to sip his wine as if everything happening before him had nothing to do with him.

Wang Chu stood where she was, watching the silver-armored guard disappear behind the door to the side hall, her brow furrowing slightly.

Fighting down the nausea rising in her stomach, she took a deep breath and turned to leave.

Standing outside the window lattice, Chen Lingxi took in the reactions of everyone in the hall.

He drew a deep breath, rested a hand on the hilt of the Gold-Slaughtering Precious Saber at his waist, stepped out from behind the pillar, and strode toward the main doors of the hall.