Dead silence fell; no one present dared to breathe.
Everyone knew Yan Su cultivated the Heart-Purifying Dao—troubles that could be solved with one sword never got argued out with words.
Today was truly strange.
Ling Wensong’s smile turned vicious as he clenched the string of glass beads. “Fine, fine, fine. Since Commander Yan is so clever—if we fail to catch that Violet Fox tonight, I will report everything truthfully to the Chief Officer.”
Lin Zhuoyu: “Well…”
Yan Su could not be bothered to listen to Lin Zhuoyu trade empty courtesies with this man. A large arm wrapped around Lin Zhuoyu’s shoulders and turned to go, leaving Ling Wensong’s fury behind them.
Yuan Jiucang tiptoed out after them.
Lin Zhuoyu did not sing counterpoint to Yan Su, docilely letting himself be herded along; only once they were outside the Bureau did he murmur, “Senior Brother, better to offend a gentleman than a petty man. Ling Wensong holds supervisory authority now—if the Chief Officer really takes his slander to heart and expels you from the Bureau, what then?”
Yan Su said, “He has not the ability.”
Lin Zhuoyu frowned. “But…”
Yan Su pressed a hand down on his head and said mildly, “Don’t worry. Catch the Violet Fox first.”
“It won’t be that simple.” Lin Zhuoyu assumed the worst of everything. “The Records of the Demon Race say the Violet Fox wears a bone mask to worship the Big Dipper and gain human form; once its Beast Core forms, its cultivation will rival the Spirit Solidification Realm. What if Eldest Senior Brother slips up for one moment and it escapes?”
Yan Su’s steps halted; he gave him an icy look.
Lin Zhuoyu was still worrying. “Or the Violet Fox’s cultivation might skyrocket, leaping straight into the Spirit Refinement Realm through the Big Dipper worship, seizing Eldest Senior Brother with ease, crippling him with one palm so he cannot escape—first bite takes the head, second bite…”
Yan Su: “…”
Yuan Jiucang listened with his heart in his throat.
The Little Immortal Lord was young and flighty of thought, which was all well and good—but how could he not think a single hopeful thought?
Yan Su let Lin Zhuoyu stew in his gloom, walking a few steps ahead, until Lin Zhuoyu’s despair had escalated to Eldest Senior Brother left without even a whole corpse—at which point something was abruptly stuffed into his mouth.
“Mmph,” said Lin Zhuoyu, then pinched it and found that Yan Su had given him a sugar figure.
He took a bite. Quite sweet. Instantly gloomy no more, he said brightly, “Is Eldest Senior Brother feeding me sweets so I will forget my troubles?”
“No.” Yan Su said, “Feeding you sweets so you will say something nice.”
Lin Zhuoyu: “…”
Lin Zhuoyu was long used to Yan Su’s bluntness and sharp tongue, crunching the sugar loudly. “Can’t you tell kind words from mean ones? Isn’t this me worrying that you’ll be bullied?”
Yuan Jiucang turned aside and pinched his own thigh, keeping his face rigid.
Of the Bureau’s three Commanders, Yan Su had the shortest service yet held the Chief Officer’s greatest trust. Years of slaying demons and suppressing evils without a single failure—everyone respected him.
Ling Wensong was proud and could not stomach standing level with a man younger than himself, hence the constant obstruction—but he had never once come out ahead against Yan Su.
Yan Su was merely a man of few words, not a pushover. Bullied, where?
Yan Su brushed the stray hairs from Lin Zhuoyu’s face back behind his ear, careful of the sugar, his tone offhand. “Keep your distance from him.”
“I wouldn’t associate with him anyway.” Lin Zhuoyu’s mouth had gone sweet with sugar, sure enough. “Even if someone shows me Linchuan’s sights, it will only be Eldest Senior Brother. Anyone else who invites me, classify as Violet Fox in disguise on the spot—Eldest Senior Brother can just take its fox life.”
The corner of Yan Su’s lips curved into a barely-there arc. “Mm.”
Yuan Jiucang ached to find an Image-Retaining Pearl and capture this scene.
The thousand-year ice block had actually smiled. If word reached the Bureau colleagues, they would think him mad.
Just then, He Xing caught up at last, the corpse-frightened pallor of his face much recovered. “What are you all running so fast for? That Ling-whatever was howling through the Bureau like a mad dog—I thought he was going to eat someone!”
Lin Zhuoyu pointed his sugar figure at him. “What demon art is this, appearing before me? State your name!”
He Xing rolled his eyes. “No time for your nonsense… Hey, nice sugar figure. Let me have a bite.”
The moment the words left him, He Xing felt a chill down his spine; he twisted his head to find Yan Su watching him coldly.
He Xing scrambled to recall which sentence he had said wrong, or whether he had lifted the wrong foot in approaching.
Yan Su said, “Yuan Jiucang. Take men and lay the Demon-Trapping Array around Linchuan City’s outskirts. Not a single demon slips through today—He Xing, you go as well.”
Yuan Jiucang: “Yes.”
He Xing wilted instantly, mourning face and all. “Eldest Senior Brother, I just carried corpses—I haven’t even rested yet!”
Yan Su looked at him.
He Xing shuddered and hurried off to labor with Yuan Jiucang.
Linchuan’s main street was already bustling; many cultivators from outer cities had come from thousands of li away, all for tonight’s Big Dipper rite.
Down the great street, the ritual qilin dance paraded in full swing toward the Heaven-Worship Arena, drawing cheers from the crowds.
Darkness fell fast in Linchuan. Before long, the arena’s four directional flames blazed up, and at the very center a Seven-Star Lamp was lit. Priests knelt at the front, sending seven red cords flying up into the night sky, linking with the Big Dipper.
Lin Zhuoyu found everything novel, looking eagerly about; seeing people not far off tossing Dipper talisman papers into the altar’s flames, he dragged Yan Su over to join the fun.
Lin Zhuoyu watched the papers burn and asked curiously, “What’s this? Doesn’t seem to be a talisman—not a trace of spiritual power.”
Yan Su said, “At Linchuan’s Big Dipper rite, burning the paper on the altar dissolves your troubles and grants your wishes—a local custom.”
Intrigued, Lin Zhuoyu took two sheets. “I want to make a wish too—may all wishes come true. Eldest Senior Brother, do you have any troubles?”
Yan Su answered with perfect crispness. “No.”
“Stop fobbing me off—what person has no troubles?” Lin Zhuoyu smiled at his face. “Aren’t you worried about how you’ll explain to Shizun that I ran out to play without permission?”
Yan Su said flatly, “You left the sect without permission. What is there for me to explain?”
“Ahaha, still so stubborn.” Even without any expression at all, Lin Zhuoyu could see straight through Yan Su. He pressed a talisman paper into his senior brother’s hand. “Then let Little Senior Brother lift your burdens. When we get back, I’ll take all the blame on myself—Shizun couldn’t bear to punish me anyway.”
Saying which, Lin Zhuoyu spotted the qilin dance in the distance and scurried off to join the excitement.
Yan Su’s gaze followed Lin Zhuoyu’s retreating back; he casually tossed the talisman paper into the flames.
May all wishes come true…
Lin Zhuoyu had never been anywhere so lively; seeing the qilin dance’s merriment, he clumsily joined in the dancing.
Yan Su watched him—and then Lin Zhuoyu seemed to sense something, turning slightly to look back.
The crowd roared, all things clamored—yet his features alone were distinct.
Yan Su’s gaze flinched away instinctively.
Lin Zhuoyu beamed, running to him against the flow of the crowd, throwing himself joyously into Yan Su’s arms, warm arms winding around his neck, his breath spilling against Yan Su’s throat.
“Senior Brother…”
Yan Su’s body stiffened slightly.
Everything around seemed to freeze; only Lin Zhuoyu’s breathing remained, close enough now to hear the rustle of his robes.
The young man laughed low, rising on tiptoe to his ear, dropping his voice almost to a whisper.
“Senior Brother, why do you keep looking at me?”
Yan Su’s heart thundered.
“Senior Brother…”
“Senior Brother—!”
Yan Su snapped back to himself.
Lin Zhuoyu was ambling over unhurriedly, covering three steps in two to stop before him, a demon mask held in slender fingers over half his face, the other half puzzled. “Senior Brother, why are you daydreaming all of a sudden?”
Yan Su’s brows knitted; something felt wrong.
Yan Su held no guard whatsoever against Lin Zhuoyu—but even so, if the talisman paper had been tampered with, he should have noticed.
Lin Zhuoyu leaned in. “What’s wrong?”
Yan Su said, “Those talisman papers just now were not right.”
An illusion that could trap even a Spirit Solidification cultivator for two breaths—its caster was not to be underestimated.
Lin Zhuoyu was startled, taking a fresh paper and turning it over and over. “It’s fine. The talisman ink is the cheapest cinnabar—not a trace of spiritual power.”
Yan Su frowned slightly, looking up at the distant, swirling flames.
If the paper was fine—then it was the fire.
Yan Su fed a paper into the fire; the flames instantly swallowed it, and in the next instant, a barely-perceptible thread of violet qi rose silently from the fire, and under the cover of the cinnabar smoke, wound toward Yan Su’s fingertips.
Bang.
Yan Su’s face was expressionless as he struck the violet mist apart with spiritual power.
Seeing the mist, Lin Zhuoyu seemed to remember something. “Ah—the Violet Fox’s Fox Fire Bewitchment Art.”
Yan Su: “What?”
“Every fox of the Fox Clan has fox fire.” Lin Zhuoyu loved reading old books, loved studying the Records of the Demon Race most of all. “The Violet Fox’s is different. Its fire is born carrying the Bewitchment Art—it dredges up the deepest desire buried in a person’s heart and weaves an illusion to drown them in it, then devours them. Crunch crunch, three bites to a person.”
Yan Su went still.
Lin Zhuoyu warned, “If you fight it, Senior Brother, whatever you do, don’t touch the fox fire. Even a Spirit Refinement Sea of Consciousness cannot withstand the Bewitchment Art’s corrosion. Luckily this wisp was only hair-thin—no real threat. Doused and done.”
No wonder the whole city was so strange, worshipping the Big Dipper even with a demon on the loose.
So that was the kind of “wishes granted” this was.
Lin Zhuoyu summoned Qingru, and in a moment snuffed out that thread of fox fire in the altar. Before anyone could erupt in fury, he snapped his fingers, and a greater flame roared to the sky, drawing cries of alarm.
Lin Zhuoyu called out, “By decree vast and bright, evil purged and spirits exiled! Great fortune to Linchuan—link with the Big Dipper!”
Seeing his extraordinary bearing, immortal-like, the crowd forgot the just-extinguished fire and chorused along.
“Link with the Big Dipper!”
Having effortlessly dissolved the fox fire, Lin Zhuoyu folded his hands behind his back and waited with modest pride for his senior brother to praise his erudition.
Unexpectedly, Yan Su’s face was, for once, grim.
“Senior Brother? What’s wrong?”
Yan Su looked away, his voice no different from usual. “Nothing.”
Lin Zhuoyu knew Yan Su all too well—one look and he knew the man was hiding something. He was about to press further when Yuan Jiucang pushed through the crowd to report.
He Xing, exhausted and fearing another arduous task the moment he came near Eldest Senior Brother, had gone off to the side to loaf in peace.
Yuan Jiucang said, “Commander, the Demon-Trapping Array is laid. Only—with so grand a display, the Violet Fox may not walk into it.”
Lin Zhuoyu thought for a moment, then said, “It will.”
Yuan Jiucang blinked. “Why is Little Immortal Lord Lin so certain?”
Lin Zhuoyu cleared his throat and said earnestly, “A dozen-odd cultivators died at Boundless Cliff. It took all those skulls and still could not attain human form—so either it is stupid, or its talent falls short.
“Linchuan is hosting the grandest Big Dipper rite in twenty years tonight. The Dipper’s power is at its strongest—miss it, and it must wait another twenty years.
“This is its last chance. How could it give up so easily?”
Having shown off, Lin Zhuoyu tugged Yan Su’s sleeve and asked expectantly, “Senior Brother, am I right?”
Yan Su did not look at him. “Right.”
Yuan Jiucang sighed in relief and praised him. “Even the Bureau knows little of the Violet Fox—Little Immortal Lord Lin certainly knows the Fox Clan deeply.”
Yan Su’s brows drew together faintly, and he looked at Lin Zhuoyu instinctively.
Not a trace of anything unusual showed on Lin Zhuoyu’s face, still preening. “See? Shizun praises my learning too. Ah, if I hadn’t come along this time, what would you Commanders have done?”
Yan Su’s taut expression softened slightly, and he reached out to press down on his head—a gesture of soothing.
Lin Zhuoyu, well-practiced, tilted his head up to nuzzle into his palm. Seeing Eldest Senior Brother’s color improve, he asked curiously, “Senior Brother, you nearly got caught just now. Did you see anything in that fox fire?”
Yan Su’s hand on his head stilled—then changed to a one-handed seal, forcibly shutting him up.
It was the first time Eldest Senior Brother had ever cast the Silence Art on him. Lin Zhuoyu’s eyes went wide with disbelief. “Mmph mmph?!”
He’s angry?
Had the Violet Fox’s Bewitchment Art dredged up some desire of Eldest Senior Brother’s that could not even be mentioned?
