Chapter 4: The Violet Fox Worships the Big Dipper

Yan Su’s anger was no small matter.

Lin Zhuoyu spent the entire journey cowering like a quail, not peeping half a word.

In less than half an hour, the Profound Flying Steed shrieked down outside Linchuan City’s gates.

He Xing, driving a flying steed for the first time, nearly lost the reins; the whole carriage lurched violently. Lin Zhuoyu, still hunched in the corner reflecting on his sins, had no time to steady himself, and in the weightlessness he went flying backward entirely.

“Ugh!”

Lin Zhuoyu tumbled backward, just barely missing the wall, when a hand caught him and gathered him in—his head smacking directly into a solid chest, and in his next breath he caught that crisp scent of cold snow.

Yan Su’s palm stopped before Lin Zhuoyu’s forehead. “Hurt?”

How easily did a cultivator’s body get hurt? At his lips, Lin Zhuoyu abruptly changed his tune, clutching his forehead with a woeful face.

“It hurts. Eldest Senior Brother, check for me—is there a great big hole in my head? Is it dented in? Shizun says if you hurt your head you turn stupid. Ah—what—who are you? I suddenly want to tell you something. ‘You’re the best senior brother.'”

Yan Su: “…”

—This was how Lin Zhuoyu had made up with people since childhood.

Yan Su had been indifferent by nature. The Heart-Purifying Dao that Daoist Lord Tongxu taught followed the natural order of heaven, the wheel of cause and effect—cling to no external thing, and the heart grows still.

Lin Zhuoyu was the opposite: the smallest thing could move his every emotion.

Two such different people seemed born to clash.

As a child, Lin Zhuoyu frequently rattled Yan Su’s composure, and Yan Su, incapable of squabbling with an unreasonable child, could only hide on Warm Spring Peak and see no one.

Once, Little Zhuoyu climbed the mountain to find him, cracked his head on a rock, bled a river, and wailed like an avalanche. Yan Su finally ended the cold war.

From then on, Lin Zhuoyu seemed to have found the shortcut to “reconciliation” with his senior brother—here hurts, there hurts. The sick have privileges; the moment Yan Su’s heart ached for him, they would be right as rain.

The carriage soon steadied.

He Xing hung his head, guilty.

Yan Su lifted the curtain and stepped out, not holding He Xing’s clumsiness against him, and raised a hand sidelong.

Lin Zhuoyu gripped his forearm and alighted lightly, looked up—and was stunned. “So this is Linchuan? So grand.”

Linchuan was not a large city, but with its riverside location came frequent flood seasons, so its walls had been built higher than those of most cities, majestic as mountains.

Lin Zhuoyu rarely left home and found everything novel, burrowing excitedly into the crowds.

He Xing, keeping one eye on Yan Su’s face, trotted after him and asked in a low voice, “How on earth did you sweet-talk Eldest Senior Brother around?”

Naturally, Lin Zhuoyu could not admit to the wounded-lamb act, so he held forth grandly. “What’s so hard about it? We sever our senior-brother ties, Eldest Senior Brother gets Little Junior Brother all to himself—of course he’s overjoyed.”

He Xing rolled his eyes. “I told you, you coming along is pure trouble…”

There was a stall in the distance. Lin Zhuoyu covered three steps in two. “What’s this? Can you eat it?”

“Hey! You can’t eat that, young master. Never seen amber before? Everything goes in your mouth—what are you, three?” He Xing snatched it away and continued, “Wouldn’t it be nice to stay put on Floating Jade Mountain? If Senior Martial Uncle won’t let you out, he must have his reasons…”

Lin Zhuoyu ran off again. “What’s this one, a flying artifact? How much—a hundred Crystal Jade? Such a bargain, I’ll take two.”

He Xing went green and hurried to stop him. “What flying artifact! It’s a bamboo dragonfly. No buying. Put it down. You’re always saying Senior Martial Uncle gets scammed—I say you’re no better! Ancestors, can you sit still for one moment?”

Lin Zhuoyu finally settled down. “What was it you said just now, Fellow Daoist He?”

Fellow Daoist He: “…”

The words were on He Xing’s tongue, but meeting Lin Zhuoyu’s undimmed interest, he swallowed them back.

“Fellow Daoist Lin, go play.”

Lin Zhuoyu knew he had not seen much of the world, so when he wandered again he made an effort not to gawk, stepping past with composure. A few children spun bamboo dragonflies in an open lot nearby.

Whoosh—a bamboo slice flew skyward, then came drifting lazily down.

Lin Zhuoyu was watching, head tilted, when a hand pressed down on his head. “Mmph…”

Yan Su did not pause his steps, did not turn around. “We’re leaving.”

Lin Zhuoyu raised a hand to his head and plucked a little wooden stick from his ink-black hair.

He pulled it out to look: a brand-new bamboo dragonfly.

Lin Zhuoyu laughed, and clutching his “flying artifact” in high spirits, trotted back up into the carriage.

A Great Demon’s traces had appeared in Linchuan City, and the Demon Suppression Bureau had arrived long ago.

Inside the city gate, a man in Bureau uniform spotted Yan Su from afar and hurried over, bowing respectfully. “Commander Yan.”

Yan Su acknowledged him with an “Mm.” “This is my junior brother, Lin Wuyou.”

Yuan Jiucang studied the young man behind Yan Su, surprised inwardly.

Commander Yan was famously a man of few words; this was the first time he had ever introduced anyone of his own accord.

“So it is Little Immortal Lord Lin.” Yuan Jiucang smiled. “Long have I heard your illustrious name; seeing you now, you are truly refined and striking, a cut above the ordinary.”

Lin Zhuoyu hid the bamboo dragonfly behind his back, wearing all the graceful dignity of a great sect’s scion. “You flatter me. And this must be Envoy Yuan—I have often heard my senior brother speak of you. Last year, when the snake demon rampaged through Dongdu City, it was Envoy Yuan who slew the Great Demon with his own hands and saved the people from disaster.”

Yuan Jiucang was thoroughly astonished.

Yan Su had been in the Bureau for years, and everyone knew his temperament—he rationed words like gold. Colleagues had even quietly taken bets on “whether Commander Yan can manage thirty words in a month.”

Yuan Jiucang had assumed Yan Su was simply taciturn by nature. Hearing this—was he secretly a chatterbox?!

Yan Su took Lin Zhuoyu’s forearm and cut through the pleasantries coldly. “Where are the bodies?”

Yuan Jiucang snapped back to his senses, chilled by the Commander’s icy glance, and said hurriedly, “We were just going to move them.”

“Take me there.”

“Yes.”

Inside the city, Lin Zhuoyu was even more dazzled; though his hand was held in Eldest Senior Brother’s grip, he absentmindedly looked at this and that, his eyes barely able to keep up.

Linchuan City was in the midst of the spring Big Dipper Festival. Cloud patterns and Dipper motifs covered the streets, and at the city’s center, a square Heaven-Worship Arena was ringed by great stones, a raging fire burning upon the altar.

Before nightfall had even come, commoners were already kneeling in prayer.

Lin Zhuoyu looked up at the Dipper patterns lining the road, remembering something. “Senior Brother, can I go play at the arena?”

Yan Su looked at him expressionlessly. “What did you promise me just now?”

“To stick to Eldest Senior Brother without leaving a single step.” Saying it did not make him feel guilty in the least. “But it’s broad daylight, nothing will happen. I’ll just take one look.”

Yan Su: “Not allowed.”

Lin Zhuoyu: “Eldest Senior Brother…”

Seeing the standoff, He Xing hurried forward to mediate. “Eldest Senior Brother is so busy—why don’t I keep Little Junior Brother company? Besides, Little Junior Brother has never seen a corpse in his life. If he gets there and screams like a lamb, it would only trouble you.”

Lin Zhuoyu nodded like a pecking hen. “Baa baa.”

Yan Su watched the two of them expressionlessly.

Yuan Jiucang held his breath.

After a long while, Yan Su said, “Fair.”

He Xing was ecstatic.

Barely halfway into his joy, Yan Su continued, “Fellow Daoist He has the nerve for it, then. You may follow Envoy Yuan to carry the bodies to the Linchuan Bureau.”

He Xing’s face went white with shock. “Eldest Senior Brother.”

“Now.”

He Xing fumed in silence and mooed off after Yuan Jiucang.

With no outsiders present, Lin Zhuoyu spun the bamboo dragonfly lazily between two fingers, his gaze circling the Dipper patterns around them before settling on the great arena in the distance.

Yan Su noticed his gaze. “What is it?”

Lin Zhuoyu gave the stick a light spin; the bamboo dragonfly flew up and landed back in his palm. Lazily, he said, “Nothing. I just find it interesting.”

“What does?”

“A Great Demon preys on people, heads vanishing without a trace, two cities’ Bureaus working a case of this scale—and these commoners don’t care in the slightest, busy only with the Big Dipper Festival.”

Yan Su looked around at the commoners coming and going, thoughtful.

The two did not linger; passing the Heaven-Worship Arena, Lin Zhuoyu did not even step inside, following Yan Su back to the Linchuan Demon Suppression Bureau.

The Bureaus of each city were laid out nearly identically, Qilin stone beasts standing at the gates, solemn and imposing.

He Xing had already moved the headless bodies back together with Yuan Jiucang, and was now squatting on the stone steps outside, small face bone-white, recovering his composure.

Lin Zhuoyu was about to go to him, but Yan Su raised a hand to stop him and strode inside himself.

The body lay across the Bureau’s side hall. Seeing him come, Yuan Jiucang looked troubled. “Commander Yan…”

Before he could speak, a voice dripping with passive-aggressive sarcasm came from the side. “So this is Commander Yan’s grand plan of ‘releasing the tiger back to the mountain’? Remarkably effective indeed—the Tiger Demon has slaughtered its way right into Linchuan City.”

At the head of the side hall, a man in the Bureau’s black robes sat with his legs crossed, a string of glass beads turning between his fingers. His face was peerlessly handsome, and at his waist hung the Bureau’s Qilin-pattern command token.

The Demon Suppression Bureau had three Commanders—this was one of them.

Yan Su ignored him completely, not even a glance, stepping forward to lift the white cloth, exposing a bowl-wide bloody gash at the corpse’s neck. From the wound, it seemed to have been sliced cleanly away by a sharp blade; the blood had long since congealed.

Yan Su said, “Track it.”

Yuan Jiucang said, “We are already searching, but there was a spirit rain last night, and the body was found out in the wilds. It will be difficult.”

“Yan Linyuan!” The man in black, ignored, slammed the table. “That Tiger Demon was clearly the culprit of the Boundless Cliff case, yet you willfully let it escape the Bureau. This innocent died because of you—how do you intend to answer to the Demon Suppression Bureau?!”

Yan Su looked at him expressionlessly.

The two had always been oil and water. Fearing they would come to blows, Yuan Jiucang hastened, “Commander Ling, the Boundless Cliff case is full of open questions, and Commander Yan does not wish to close it hastily—and besides, that Tiger Demon already died at Commander Yan’s hand yesterday…”

Ling Wensong shot back, “And who is to say the Tiger Demon that died was the one that was released?”

Yuan Jiucang’s brain was smoking.

Then Yan Su finally spoke, expressionlessly producing two words.

“Idiot.”

Yan Su had been young when he first came to the Bureau, and plenty had hassled him and questioned his ability—but he rarely traded words with anyone. Meeting provocation, he simply beat them into submission, without half a sentence of nonsense.

Ling Wensong had never accepted him, always scheming to drive him from the Bureau, obstructing him at every turn, their clashes always earth-shattering.

But this was the first time he had been so baldly insulted.

Ling Wensong froze; his first reaction was not anger but turning to his Envoy: “Has this man been body-seized?”

Envoy: “…”

“Even body-seized, it’s no use.” Ling Wensong recovered and sneered, “Your blunder got innocent civilians killed. As a Commander, I have the authority to imprison you in the Bureau’s dungeon.”

The words had barely fallen—BANG—

A frigid sword light slammed into a Qilin Seal; the shockwave nearly swept everyone present off their feet.

Ling Wensong’s Command Seal nearly shattered. He shot to his feet. “Yan Linyuan, the audacity! Your unauthorized release of the Tiger Demon is already known to the Chief Officer, who ordered me here to supervise you. Strike me—do you mean to defect from the Bureau?!”

Yan Su stood tall and remote, his expression indifferent, seven golden talismans wreathing his blade, cold menace seeping from his brow.

He moved his sword wrist, his whole body spelling out so what.

Just as the side hall sank into an eerie silence, a clear voice rang out: “Hold.”

Ling Wensong’s eyes narrowed; he looked up, impatient—and was, unusually, taken aback.

Lin Zhuoyu came trailing a green robe out of the sunlight. As he walked, the protective talisman sigils carved into his robes surfaced with a faint, flowing glow—utterly out of place in this grim, eerie Bureau.

Ling Wensong’s tone unconsciously lightened. “You are…”

“Lin Wuyou of Floating Jade Mountain.”

At that name, Ling Wensong seemed to remember something, and he forcibly swallowed his anger.

“So it is Little Immortal Lord Lin.”

Lin Zhuoyu was puzzled—how did everyone know him?

“And this must be Commander Ling. I have heard my senior brother mention you.”

Ling Wensong’s smile did not reach his eyes. He could guess with his heels that Yan Su would not have said anything flattering.

Lin Zhuoyu knew this man had always been at odds with his Eldest Senior Brother, and that now, holding a supervisory post, he would certainly embellish things to the Chief Officer and slip Eldest Senior Brother ill-fitting shoes at every turn. He thought it over and decided to try courtesy before force.

“No fool could serve as a Commander of the Demon Suppression Bureau. My senior brother was not deliberately insulting you just now—he was explaining.”

Ling Wensong: “?”

Even Yuan Jiucang, who had followed Yan Su for years, stared in confusion.

“Idiot” was an explanation?

Weren’t they being a bit too arrogant?

Ling Wensong nearly laughed in fury. “Then pray tell, Little Immortal Lord Lin—how does one parse the words ‘idiot’?”

“In the records, the dozen-odd corpses from Boundless Cliff all bore savage bite wounds, gnawed by fangs and teeth. But the Records of the Demon Race say that Tiger Demons eat only the five viscera and six bowels and a cultivator’s Origin Core.” Lin Zhuoyu was composed. “My senior brother’s meaning was: the Tiger Demon must have been directed by another Great Demon—hence taking only the heads.”

Ling Wensong: “…”

He said two words, and that could be unpacked into all this?!

Lin Zhuoyu was still ad-libbing. “The Records of the Demon Race also state that all demonkind under heaven devour human flesh to grow their cultivation and form Beast Cores—except the Violet Fox Clan, who must take skulls as bone masks and worship the Big Dipper in the deep of night to form theirs.”

Ling Wensong was stunned.

Records of the Demon Race were usually fragmentary; even the Bureau’s archives were incomplete, with little written on the Violet Fox. For a moment he could not tell whether this man was serious or making it all up.

“The Tiger Demon fled the Bureau and made straight for Linchuan; and today of all days, Linchuan City holds the Big Dipper Festival.”

Lin Zhuoyu said earnestly, “What my senior brother meant just now was: even an idiot could work out that ‘tonight, the Violet Fox will come in person to worship the Big Dipper and form its Beast Core to become a Great Demon’—so one need only lay an array and let it walk into the trap. He had no intention of insulting Commander Ling.”

Ling Wensong: “…”

Naturally, Ling Wensong refused to admit he was an idiot, tugging at the corner of his lips. “Little Immortal Lord Lin is indeed brilliant.”

Lin Zhuoyu was all polished charm, eyes curving in a smile. “Commander Ling’s father and my Shizun are old friends—we met when we were young, you know. No need to be so formal. Just call me by my name.”

The Ling family had drilled it into Ling Wensong countless times: in the Three Realms, one could offend anyone at all, but never Daoist Lord Tongxu’s youngest disciple. Even knowing Lin Zhuoyu was nine times out of ten patching things up for Yan Su, he could only play along and accept the offered step down.

Ling Wensong’s gaze rested on Lin Zhuoyu’s face for an instant, and he said with perfect courtesy, “Our families are of the same generation—you ought to be calling me senior brother by seniority. I hear Little Yu rarely leaves Floating Jade Mountain. Once we slay the Violet Fox tonight and close the case, this senior brother will show you Linchuan’s sights.”

The Envoy at his side, who had never seen his own Commander act remotely like a human being, drew a soft breath.

Lin Zhuoyu had not expected to be claimed so familiarly, but it was not worth taking back; he neither agreed nor refused. “Tonight will likely be a hard battle. The Violet Fox is cunning and a master of disguise—if it forms its core, it will be a calamity for the Three Realms.”

Ling Wensong reached out comfortingly to pat his shoulder. “Today I will make certain it never leaves alive.”

Seeing the saber-rattling atmosphere finally ease, everyone present quietly relaxed.

At that very moment, the silent Yan Su, watching Ling Wensong’s hand suspended in midair, suddenly said, “Idiot.”

Ling Wensong’s mouth twitched; out of regard for Lin Zhuoyu, he did not flip the table, asking with a smile that was not one, “And what is Commander Yan ‘explaining’ this time?”

Yan Su’s face held no expression at all—but Lin Zhuoyu, glancing over, felt his eyelids jump, suddenly realizing what Yan Su was about to say, thinking oh no.

Sure enough, Yan Su said, “That one was not an explanation. Just an insult.”

Ling Wensong: “…”