Chapter 153: Chapter 153
【Intelligence 2: Bai Fufeng’s cultivation has reached Grand Perfection of Manifest Strength. He is currently in seclusion within a hidden chamber in the Bai estate’s second courtyard and will break through to Hidden Strength in nineteen days!】
“Oh…”
Shen Xiuhan’s brow arched. His gaze drifted unconsciously toward the Bai estate, across layers of rooftops and alleys.
‘Nineteen days… that falls right at the end of this month. Should I try to sabotage his breakthrough?’
The thought flickered, and half a dozen schemes surfaced in his mind.
Poison. A covert ambush. Disrupting the qi-flow at the critical moment to trigger a backlash. Methods aplenty.
But one by one, he shook his head and dismissed them.
‘Forget it. Not worth the risk.’
‘Bai Fufeng is in seclusion — the guards and hidden sentries around him will be thick as flies.’
‘Any rash move that alerts the Bai estate and raises their suspicions could compromise the entire plan. Losing the war to win a skirmish.’
‘Besides…’
‘Even if he reaches Hidden Strength, he’ll be early-stage at best. Against the me of today, he’s nothing but a clay chicken and a tile dog.’
“Fine — I’ll let you live a few more days.”
Shen Xiuhan exhaled, pressed every restless impulse down, turned his eyes away, and moved to the third entry.
【Intelligence 3: Bai Qingcang’s trip to Guangwu Commandery is in truth a secret meeting with Liu Huan, one of the four great elders of the demonic sect — the Yin-Fiend School — to negotiate transforming Changyun County into a Yin-Fiend School branch altar. However, Bai Qingcang is deeply suspicious by nature. Fearing his rear will be left unguarded, he has secretly sent word requesting that Chenjian Wu’s Great Chief Duan Xiao enter Changyun in secret and sit watch inside the Bai estate!】
“Hm?”
Shen Xiuhan’s face darkened the moment he finished reading.
‘Clever old ghost — so that’s his play!’
The Yin-Fiend School…
His brow locked tight. A leaden weight settled in his chest.
The Yin-Fiend School was a notorious demonic power in Guangwu Commandery.
Its experts were legion. Branch halls and sub-altars blanketed the commandery’s counties like a spider’s web, its reach immense — its raw strength even eclipsing that of the Nanxiang Commandery’s four great sects.
In all of Guangwu, only the other great power — the Biwu Sect — could stand against it head-on.
The school’s methods were vicious and ruthless — raids, exterminations, clan-wipes carried out without so much as a flinch. A demonic sect in the truest sense.
If they sank their roots into Changyun County and built a branch altar…
Countless lives would be ground to dust, reduced to cultivation fodder.
‘The old ghost Bai, the entire Bai family… every last one deserves to die!’
Shen Xiuhan stared at the entry, drew a deep breath, and forced the churning fury down.
‘But the old ghost is cautious beyond measure. Afraid of trouble at home while he’s away, he’s invited Duan Xiao into Changyun to sit watch inside the Bai estate!’
Shen Xiuhan’s expression soured, brow knotting.
‘This complicates things…’
Xiao Wu’s plan hadn’t accounted for the presence of another Transforming Strength fighter.
Of course, it was possible Xiao Wu had a hidden card he hadn’t revealed — some trump he’d kept to himself.
But what wasn’t spoken couldn’t be relied upon.
Shen Xiuhan never liked resting his safety on someone else’s hand.
‘Whether or not Xiao Wu has another card, I can’t go in unprepared. I need my own answer for dealing with a Transforming Strength fighter.’
The thought crystallized. His steps halted — then turned sharply toward the south of the city.
There stood Changyun County’s courier station.
…
Day ten since Tian Ping’an was no longer at peace.
Three days passed in the blink of an eye.
Mei Hall. The inner court.
Dawn light, pale and thin.
Shen Xiuhan stood at the center of the yard, hands behind his back, overseeing Sun Yi and Huang Shutong’s stance practice.
Both had their legs nailed to the ground, fine sweat beading at their temples. Neither dared so much as twitch.
Suddenly, an outer-court disciple came running in, clutching a black cloth pouch.
“Senior Brother — Senior Brother Shen — someone delivered this!”
Shen Xiuhan took the pouch, tugged the drawstring open, and looked inside. A wooden identity token lay at the bottom.
About three fingers wide and a palm long, its edges worn smooth with a patina of age. The front was vertically engraved with three characters — Chenjian Wu. On the reverse, a line of smaller text:
‘Granary Camp, Squad A, Farming Overseer.’
Shen Xiuhan understood at once.
This was the identity token Tang Jin had sent.
He pocketed the pouch and looked at the outer-court disciple.
“Where’s the man who brought it?”
“Uh…”
The boy scratched his head.
“Real secretive, that one. Wore a wide hat. Handed me the thing, told me to make sure it got to Senior Brother’s hands, then headed west. Moved fast.”
‘Careful as ever…’ Shen Xiuhan thought with a cold, inward smile.
Tang Jin clearly didn’t trust him.
The man was afraid that once the goods changed hands, Shen Xiuhan would flip on the spot — take his head and cash it in for the bounty.
The yamen’s reward for Chenjian Wu’s top five chiefs started at a hundred taels of silver for the lowest-ranked. No small sum.
Given that level of paranoia, it was hardly surprising.
Shen Xiuhan shook his head and turned his attention back to the yard.
“Keep training!”
His gaze swept across the two, correcting their form as he went.
“Sun Yi — your waist and hips haven’t sunk. If the center doesn’t drop, the force won’t penetrate.”
“Huang Shutong — stop staring at your own hands. Eyes forward. The claw follows intent; where the mind goes, the claw goes.”
“Yes, Senior Brother!”
Both answered in unison and reset their stances.
…
Days rose and fell.
Two more slipped past.
Shen Xiuhan had visited Mei Hall in the morning, returned home for lunch, and had been waiting at home ever since.
By his count, if the letter he’d sent a few days ago had arrived without a hitch, a reply should have come by now.
Today or tomorrow at the latest.
But until that letter was in his hand, his heart refused to settle.
So Shen Xiuhan drew Cold Granary and began running through sword-forms, tamping down the restlessness.
Once his sinews and bones warmed through and a thin sheen of sweat had formed, he sheathed the blade with a ring of steel.
With nothing else to do, he squatted by the wall beside the wicker fence, scattered a handful of grain, and amused himself with Shen Momo’s Azure Spike Fowl and Purple-Beaked Ducks.
Early in the late afternoon, as the shadows lengthened, a voice boomed from beyond the gate.
“Is this the home of Shen Dalang, number seven, South Apricot Blossom Alley?”
Loud and road-worn, its edges roughened by dust — the voice of a courier who’d been running hard.
“Coming…”
From the eatery, Liang Xiuhe’s call answered.
Shen Xiuhan heard the stir and was on his feet at once, striding to the door. He arrived just as Liang Xiuhe came in with a letter.
She’d been at the eatery for twenty-odd days now. Time and familiarity had smoothed the edges. Gone was the timid, tiptoeing manner of her first week — she ran the shop with brisk efficiency, and her bearing with customers had grown easy and open.
Seeing Shen Xiuhan, she smiled and held out the letter.
“Young master, a courier brought this. I signed for it.”
“Thank you.”
Shen Xiuhan smiled, took the letter, and glanced down.
The instant he spotted the character ‘Zuo’ written at the bottom right corner of the seal, his eyes lit up.
‘At last!’