Chapter 831: Take It Away!

Chapter 831: Chapter 831: Take It Away!

"The trick isn’t exactly new, but they’ve done it with reasonable subtlety — and impressive patience. Before gaining momentum, the Evil Spirit Sect didn’t flex their power. Instead, they spent a hefty amount of spirit stones to grease the palms of the local incense gods."

"When someone’s hands are already full of gifts, and you’re handing out money left and right, you can actually get a decent foothold early on."

A small hilltop outside the town.

Zheng Zhaoling held a jade token aloft with spiritual energy, her gaze cutting through the crowd toward the shrine where wisps of incense smoke curled upward. She continued:

"If we hadn’t gotten a single thread of intelligence, and they’d been able to pull this off in secret, we might not have noticed anything unusual for a long while."

"The water in that jar is no good thing either. Drinking it will cause problems."

Cui Hao stood beside her, nodding obediently:

"Indeed it won’t."

Zheng Zhaoling glanced at him with an odd expression. From his micro-expressions to the look on his face — it was still the same face, but it had a strangely fawning quality. Her expression turned to disgust:

"What is that look on your face? It’s nauseating."

"This is the look of admiration. What, does it really look like that?"

"It really does. But it’s nauseating. If you’ve done something wrong, just say so. Don’t torture my eyes like this."

"Oh... I intervened to save a believer who was about to die."

"Sounds minor on the surface, but knowing your standards, it probably isn’t that minor." Zheng Zhaoling turned her gaze back to the incense-drifting shrine. "But since it was saving a life, I can’t really blame you. Honestly, if I’d been there, I probably would have intervened too. So take it as insurance for my hypothetical future self — I won’t give you grief over this. Now drop the expression."

"Even if you’d torn down the shrine, I’d have let it slide."

Cui Hao nodded rapidly, then said softly:

"It wasn’t that big a deal, and I didn’t tear down the shrine. But the shrine keeper looked sharp enough that I’m worried he might notice I saved someone and figure out we’re already watching this place. To avoid ruining things down the road, I figured I’d come clean now. If it blows up later, you won’t be able to blame me."

Zheng Zhaoling sighed in exasperation: "How come all your cleverness is aimed at me? Can’t you focus it on the actual situation?"

Cui Hao cupped his hands in a crisp salute and spoke like a subordinate: "I have a small proposal. I request that Lord Zhaoling review it."

"Then present your proposal." Zheng Zhaoling nodded slightly, her gaze drifting into the distance, playing the part of a superior officer perfectly.

Cui Hao dropped the salute and looked toward the shrine:

"They’re courting believers, so we’ll court their believers."

Zheng Zhaoling’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at him. She waited for a long beat but heard nothing more. When Cui Hao stayed silent, she didn’t hesitate to smack him hard on the shoulder.

The hit carried real force.

Cui Hao’s face twisted in pain, teeth bared.

Though he hadn’t finished, Zheng Zhaoling picked up where he’d left off:

"You mean set up our own shrine and compete for devotees? Even if we won, we’d spook the snakes in the grass. If we’re going to spend that much effort, we’d be better off just storming the place and tearing down their shrine, then following the trail of information and cutting through everything."

Cui Hao rubbed his shoulder — it felt like it had been dislocated — but he knew that if he didn’t explain clearly, a second hit was coming.

"When you’re out on a job, drop the upright-sect act as fast as you can."

"If you really want to beat these evil cultivators, don’t compete with them at their best. Compete with them at their worst."

"They’re courting believers? Fine. We’ll mess with *their* believers."

"The crudest method: dump some croton seeds into the water jar. Let those fervent devotees spend the day sweating in the latrines."

"Or spread a few rumors, then pick out some true believers and use illusion techniques to conjure up horror stories."

"For example — the incense gods whispering in strange tongues, eating human flesh at night, children grinding their teeth in the dark."

"Do that a few times and I guarantee the incense shrine will descend into chaos. With a little finesse, the whole place could get branded a den of evil. Then we fan the flames, and the shrine gets torn down the same way it was built."

"It’s easy, simple, and barely costs any effort."

"After all, there’s an old saying: nothing succeeds like sabotage, and ruining things isn’t that hard."

"Also — didn’t you say the Evil Spirit Sect distributes spirit stones to make friends?"

"Yunze’s batch of subordinate Caotou Shen are practically too poor to sell their own hides, right? Call them over to collect their share — don’t be polite about it. Let Yunze and the others get a taste of the profit, and they’ll be even more willing to follow our lead."

"And this kind of dirty work won’t necessarily expose us. It’ll just make those evil cultivators think the local incense gods are unreliable — taking money and causing trouble."

"We take the Evil Spirit Sect’s spirit stones, wreck their plans, and force them to change tactics. Maybe they’ll reveal something beyond what Master’s intelligence already covers."

"Because I have a feeling Master doesn’t just want me to figure out the Evil Spirit Sect. He wants me to uncover what demons are hiding *behind* them."

Cui Hao finished speaking, his gaze deep and blazing, as though lost in thought.

Zheng Zhaoling heard his words and sank into thought as well, though her eyes drifted unconsciously toward Cui Hao.

This time, she finally understood what he meant by "competing at their worst."

Indeed — if the goal was just to wreck things... that really wasn’t that hard.

Cui Hao’s plan was wild, but it carried a strange sort of ingenuity.

Gu Ye Ting. Squire Zhao’s estate.

As the grandest mansion in the entire town, the Zhao family had built their fortune through smuggling. Rumor had it they had connections with immortal cultivators above and government officials below — ties that ran deep in the town’s soil.

Their influence was such that they could move heaven and earth, and even immortals were willing to act on their behalf.

How could mortals possibly compete with immortals?

They kept an army of hired fighters, and the mansion itself — sprawling across a huge plot in the center of town — was a monument to wealth.

In a town with a social hierarchy as rigid as iron, Squire Zhao sat at the very top.

No matter how the rumors outside swirled about how many immortals he was connected to, only Squire Zhao himself knew the truth: his vulgar wealth could only impress the common folk. Immortals wouldn’t spare him a glance. He’d planted those rumors himself, hoping local officials would turn a blind eye to his smuggling operation.

The method sounded crude, but given Northern Julu Continent’s culture, the results were excellent.

Squire Zhao also understood another principle — you burn incense at the hottest fire.

The Zijun Shrine. A freshly minted incense god that had instantly set all of Gu Ye Ting ablaze with fervor.

Squire Zhao, already draped in the cloak of an immortal-connected patron, naturally had to pay his respects.

Not only did he pay respects — he spent lavishly.

Most of the shrine’s money came from Squire Zhao’s own coffers.

In no time, the rumors flew again — Squire Zhao had hooked up with the newly arrived Zijun God.

The news was, naturally, planted by Squire Zhao himself.

But it was also what he truly hoped for.

Because a single bowl of divine water had cured a problem that had plagued him for years.

Sure, one bowl worked only once, but before, nothing had worked at all.

Squire Zhao genuinely believed, deep down, that this Zijun God was something entirely different — a true incense god who could benefit all living beings.

Gold-plated statues, paid publicity — Squire Zhao’s devotion burned so bright the whole town could see it.

But today, this paragon of piety had suddenly gone mad.

A servant had seen Squire Zhao at dawn, wearing nothing but his nightclothes, face pale with terror, the lower half of his body drenched in water, running barefoot all the way back to the mansion.

His face was a mask of horror, his words incoherent. When his wife asked what happened, Squire Zhao just clamped his mouth shut, refusing to utter a single word.

His wife thought he’d suffered a spiritual shock, so she hurriedly prepared a bowl of Zijun divine water.

Squire Zhao’s face was white as paper, lips pressed tight, silent.

But the moment he saw his wife carrying the Zijun divine water — the man who’d been mute all morning finally spoke. His voice was shrill with terror, his body nearly collapsing in his chair.

He almost howled:

"Take it away! Take it away! I won’t drink it! I won’t drink anymore!"