“You…” Cang Zhou choked back the tears. “You’re too kind!”
Like an Immortal descended to the mortal world.
Lin Zhuoyu clasped his hand. “You are kinder!”
“No, no, no—you are by far the kinder!”
“No, no, no! Divine Physician, where are these words coming from—!”
Qingshan Qi watched the two of them hand in hand, expressionless, and ground his canines together faintly, eyes gone dark, seized with the urge to eat a rabbit.
Lin Zhuoyu had been beloved by every sort of person since birth, and he adored all beautiful things—a kind-hearted savior like Cang Zhou was naturally someone to court with all his might.
As the two made to swear brotherhood, Qingshan Qi said with a smile, “Brother, the Divine Physician has spent too much strength. Let him go rest.”
Lin Zhuoyu gave him an approving “how thoughtful of you” look and ceremoniously saw Cang Zhou out.
Watching him wave farewell as though loath to part, a flicker of impatience crossed Qingshan Qi’s eyes.
What is there to befriend about a rabbit you could crush between two fingers?
“Brother.” As Qingshan Qi bent to tie his sash, he smoothly turned Lin Zhuoyu’s body—half-following Cang Zhou’s retreating back—and said in a small voice, “Brother, don’t you dislike the Demon Race?”
He braced for Lin Zhuoyu’s surprise—but Lin Zhuoyu only said, serene, “The Divine Physician Cang Zhou is different.”
Qingshan Qi went still for a beat. “You knew he was a demon?”
“Of course,” Lin Zhuoyu said. “The whole Demon Suppression Bureau knows.”
Qingshan Qi’s brow creased.
Lin Zhuoyu was used to being waited on. He tilted his head, waiting for Qingshan Qi to fix the collar he’d bunched up.
“The Divine Physician Cang Zhou only became a demon by accidentally eating a Nine-Day spirit grass. He is gentle and kind by nature; though a demon, he heals the sick and saves the dying, and carries not a trace of Baleful Aura—that is what the Demon Suppression Bureau Archives record. I heard it from my Senior Brother, and now, seeing with my own eyes—the reputation is well deserved.”
Qingshan Qi laughed silently, cold.
A demon, tolerated by the Demon Suppression Bureau. What an utter disgrace.
Eyes lowered, Qingshan Qi arranged Lin Zhuoyu’s collar, while his divine sense spread out soundlessly and settled on Cang Zhou.
Cang Zhou’s soul had nearly left his body from fright. Long after leaving the master courtyard, his legs were still going soft.
Grinding his teeth, he muttered curses—”stinking fox,” “damned fox,” “one day a wolf will eat you”—and the instant the words left his mouth, his foot caught, and he kowtowed flat into the ground in a perfect New Year’s bow.
Cang Zhou: “…”
Cang Zhou shut his mouth at once and scrambled up, grimacing, and fled with a whoosh.
A gentleman bides ten years for his revenge. Anyway, the Little Immortal Lord’s organs and Origin Core surely won’t recover within a month—and judging by how little the damned fox values his own core, he won’t come to steal a replacement either.
One month from now, when Qingshan Qi resumes his true form, I will flay that fox and crack his bones!
He was mid-thought when a knock-knock sounded.
Someone was at the gate.
Cang Zhou, fearing the gatekeeper and servants might be killed on the fox’s whim, had sent them all home; now he could only scurry to answer the door himself.
The door creaked open.
Cang Zhou nearly dropped to his knees again.
Standing outside was a company of Envoys in Demon Suppression Bureau robes. Seeing him, they all bowed in salute. “Forgive the intrusion, Divine Physician.”
Cang Zhou feared exactly two things in this life: the Demon Suppression Bureau, and foxes.
Now he had both.
Terrified of being exposed as a demon, Cang Zhou forced himself to stand straight. “The Demon Suppression Bureau honors me with its presence. Is there urgent business?”
The leading Envoy smiled. “No cause for alarm, Divine Physician. Commander Ling has just taken up his post in Guping City; the city must be screened for any of the Demon Race.”
“Oh,” said Cang Zhou.
Not everyone in the Bureau was willing to let this demon live on among humans.
While the Envoy was still speaking with perfect courtesy, someone behind him couldn’t be bothered with pleasantries and said impatiently, “He dismissed all his servants yesterday for no reason. Someone’s definitely hiding in there. Just storm in and search.”
Cang Zhou startled; his rabbit tail nearly slipped out.
“I-I-I… I’m not hiding any demons!”
Silence from everyone.
The lead Envoy said mildly, “No one said you were hiding demons, Divine Physician. This is routine—we’ll simply lay one Barrier, that is all. We ask for your understanding.”
Every hair on Cang Zhou’s body stood on end. The moment that Barrier goes up, I’m finished.
Even if he himself hid perfectly, if the Demon Suppression Bureau discovered Qingshan Qi’s whereabouts—with that monster’s viciousness, Cang Zhou was dead meat too.
No, no, no.
“So the Bureau takes me for a suspect?” Cang Zhou lifted his chin. “If you suspect me, just drag me to the Bureau’s dungeons. Why trouble yourselves with a Barrier?”
The Envoy behind him grinned viciously. “You said it, not me! Just as I’d hoped! Seize him! Drag him back for torture at once!”
Cang Zhou: “…”
Cang Zhou’s neck retracted into his shoulders. “P-please. Lay the Barrier.”
Everyone: “…”
The lead Envoy glanced at his overeager colleague, then turned to soothe: “Don’t be afraid, Divine Physician.”
Don’t be afraid did not, as it happened, make him any less terrified.
Everyone gained a far more vivid understanding of “rabbit-heart courage.” A demon this timid would probably cry if you killed a chicken in front of it—never mind eating people.
Even the resentful Envoy frowned and looked away, done with his hollering.
The Bureau laid a Demon-Detecting Barrier around Cang Manor—a film of spiritual power like the surface of water rising slowly on all sides, wrapping the great estate without a single seam.
Qingshan Qi glanced up at the Barrier overhead and gave a soft scoff.
Tricksters’ trifles.
Lin Zhuoyu had just been coaxed by Qingshan Qi into the inner room to meditate and regulate his breathing, and noticed nothing.
Before long, the Bureau withdrew the Barrier.
The Envoy bowed with perfect courtesy. “All is in order. Forgive the disturbance.”
Cang Zhou, who had already been braced for death, opened his eyes round with astonishment. “Really?!”
“Yes.”
Cang Zhou coughed dryly, forcing the smile back onto his face. “Well then. Are your minds at ease now?”
“Perfectly.” The Envoy asked, “The Barrier found only two humans in your residence and no demons. Relatives from afar?”
Cang Zhou, not noticing the leading question, answered offhandedly, “Patients. Still under treatment.”
“A physician’s hands and a healer’s heart.”
Everyone flattered him roundly, bowed, and took their leave.
The Demon Suppression Bureau in Guping City was stern and imposing, and at its center stood two men facing off.
Ling Wensong sat with his legs crossed, and at the report, gave a cold laugh. “Commander Yan, those Violet Foxes in Linchuan City were a fluke—I’ll let that pass. I was demoted here by the Chief Officer and took up my post barely three days ago, and now here you are claiming there are demons in my city. Are you picking a fight with me on purpose, surnamed-Yan?”
Yan Su’s face was pale, and he looked at him expressionlessly.
Just as the Envoys around them were sweating, afraid the two would come to blows again, Yan Su finally spoke.
“All the Violet Fox corpses outside Linchuan City and within the Bureau—their Heart’s Blood has been taken. Violet Foxes are cunning and excel at hiding; Heart’s Blood can mask their demonic aura and let them pass among humans.”
Ling Wensong hadn’t expected an explanation. His brows rose in surprise. “Which saint possessed you this time, that you’re speaking human language? Go on then—if you’re not here to make trouble, what do you actually want?”
Yan Su raised his hand and released a Gold Talisman on the verge of shattering.
The golden light should have found Lin Zhuoyu with perfect accuracy, as before. Instead it circled the air like a headless fly, its spiritual power thrown into utter disorder.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ling Wensong asked.
“Zhuoyu left the sect alone to train,” Yan Su said. “His life lamp has dimmed, and his trail ends here.”
Ling Wensong frowned. “Wuyou?”
“Mm.”
“I don’t believe it,” Ling Wensong said. “Everyone says the Daoist Lord dotes on his Junior Brother Wuyou—wouldn’t even let him join the Demon Suppression Bureau. Why would he leave the sect alone to train, and in some backwater like Guping City besides?”
Yan Su’s face went whiter still. He didn’t answer.
He had promised—if only Shizun consented, he would accompany Lin Zhuoyu on his training journey.
He had broken that promise. That was why Lin Zhuoyu was missing.
Yan Su closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the Wuyou Sword was already in his hand.
Ling Wensong’s face went green at the sight.
Last time in Linchuan City, this man had used the Wuyou Sword’s sword-shadow to sweep the entire city, pelting every last soul, to flush out demons. Was he about to run the same trick again?
“Control yourself!” Ling Wensong said coldly. “I know you’re worried—Junior Brother Wuyou’s fate is unknown. But as a Commander, you may not loose the Wuyou Sword at will.”
Last time in Linchuan City, flushing out dozens of Violet Foxes had been excusable. But Guping City was famous for its peace; if he invoked the Wuyou Sword’s shadow against innocent people without cause, it would spark panic and popular fury.
Yan Su looked calm enough, but a red light was creeping into his eyes, and guilt and remorse wrapped around him more tightly and torrentially than they had in Linchuan City.
Hundreds upon hundreds of blood-soaked “Lin Zhuoyu”s, dead in hideous ways, surrounded him in the illusions, crying out one after another.
“Senior Brother, save me…”
“Senior Brother, save me!!!”
The taste of blood was already in Yan Su’s mouth; he was circling the rim of madness, one thread from breaking.
He had to see Lin Zhuoyu. Now.
Seeing that the man would not repent, Ling Wensong surged to his feet and thundered, “Yan Linyuan! Why is your sword named ‘Wuyou’?! Was it so you could turn its blade on innocent civilians?!”
Yan Su’s whole body went rigid.
“Senior Brother! Senior Brother, Senior Brother!”
In his memory, ten-year-old Lin Zhuoyu sprawled laughing on his back: “Why is your sword named Wuyou too, Senior Brother?”
Yan Su had looked down, stroking the blade. “What do you think?”
Daoist Lord Tongxu hadn’t only renamed Lin Zhuoyu—he’d picked out his Courtesy Name well in advance. Lin Zhuoyu thought “Wuyou” didn’t match the characters at all, found it thoroughly lazy, and flatly refused to use it.
But Shizun was adamant, so he could only run wild across the mountain, dragging people into taking the name alongside him—He Wuyou, Li Wuyou, Yan Wuyou and so on. No one would share a Courtesy Name with him, and it left him sulking for days.
Little Zhuoyu had declared, terribly serious: “Senior Brother wants to join the Demon Suppression Bureau, and slaughter every wicked demon under heaven, and keep the Three Realms carefree—isn’t that right?”
The corners of Yan Su’s eyes had carried a smile he didn’t quite show. “Mm. If you say so, then so it is.”
And Lin Zhuoyu had laughed, bleating like a triumphant lamb.
Seeing Yan Su frozen, Ling Wensong seized the opening. “Guping City is enormous. You’ve searched half a day—no trail shows that fast. As long as his life lamp hasn’t gone out, he’s alive. You’ll find him sooner or later.”
Just as he spoke, an Envoy from the city-wide search hurried in.
“Reporting to the Commander—no demonic aura anywhere in Guping City.”
Yan Su’s breath caught.
Ling Wensong frowned. “Everywhere searched?”
“Yes, sir.” The Envoy continued, “We also checked everyone who entered the city from three days ago through this morning—no anomalies. Only…”
“Only what?”
The Envoy hesitated over whether to say it, then decided he must: “The Divine Physician Cang Zhou dismissed his household servants in the middle of the night yesterday. During today’s inspection, he mentioned two patients currently under treatment.”
Yan Su’s brow moved.
He had been out of his mind with worry all half-day, certain that Lin Zhuoyu’s wounds meant he’d been kidnapped and tortured, frantic to get him back—it had never once occurred to him that a stranger might have saved him and carried him to a physician.
Ling Wensong arched a brow. “If he’s at the Divine Physician Cang Zhou’s, then nine times out of ten, Junior Brother Wuyou isn’t in any danger—”
Before he could finish, Yan Su was already gone, sword in hand.
