At dawn, Xiang Xian rose earliest. After washing up, he arrived on the second floor of the inn still bleary-eyed. Outside the two upper rooms lay a hall. Xiang Xian had yet to fully awaken and wrapped himself in his crimson outer robe against the morning chill as he gazed at the hazy mist in Wu Town. The dream from the previous night still lingered in his mind, impossible to shake off.
Wu Yingzong’s hearing was sharp. He pushed open the door, stepped out barefoot, and came to Xiang Xian’s side. He fastened his robe sash, knelt on the ground, fetched a hot towel for wiping hands, and began brewing tea for him.
Xiang Xian rarely paid attention to other men’s bodies or appearances in detail on ordinary days. But for some reason, after meeting Xiao Kun, he developed a strange feeling and started noticing the looks of other men.
He could not help but scrutinize Wu Yingzong a few more times, thinking to himself: Why was Chaosheng so infatuated with this guy? Xiang Xian had known Wu Yingzong since he was twelve, and they had spent over ten years together. Back then, Xiang Xian had never wanted to pounce on him like Chaosheng, and even now, he saw no allure in Wu Yingzong.
Was he not just a tall, upright thirty-year-old man? Compared to himself and Xiao Kun, Wu Yingzong could not be called “handsome,” but he was certainly heroic, full of masculine vigor, with large hands and feet, rather rugged. Did Chaosheng prefer intensely yang types? He himself possessed a Pure Yang Body, yet Chaosheng showed no such fervor toward him. Truly strange.
Wu Yingzong remained silent, meeting Xiang Xian’s gaze. Xiang Xian pulled back his wandering thoughts and composed himself.
“How about it?” Xiang Xian yawned again, took out Xiao Kun’s Dragon Jade Pendant from his bosom, and produced a length of red rope. He compared it to the originally broken cord, dismantled the old tying, divided his fingers to hold strands—index, middle, ring, and pinky each gripping one—and began weaving a new cord for it.
A Huang also rose early and was quite spirited. It hopped about on the table, helping Xiang Xian by holding one end of the red rope in its beak.
“Per your instructions, I investigated Shangjing, Dading Prefecture, and other places for nearly a month,” Wu Yingzong said as he knelt. After pouring tea for Xiang Xian, he placed some bamboo rice in a dish and pushed it toward A Huang. “I gathered quite a bit of information.”
“Take it one piece at a time.” Xiang Xian focused intently on weaving the red rope, not lifting his head. “Background?”
“Xiao Kun hailed from the fourteenth generation of the Xiao Family. His mother was the eldest daughter of the thirteenth generation, Xiao Shuang. Rumors held his father to be a War Dead Corpse Ghost general named Jing Pian Ge.”
“No wonder.” Xiang Xian had long puzzled over Xiao Kun’s peculiar Self-Healing Technique. Now it all made sense—his father was a War Dead Corpse Ghost, also known in legends as “Shiba.” After ancient soldiers fell on the battlefield, their heroic spirits often lingered with unresolved obsessions. Under strange principles, their souls rebonded with their dead flesh, forming a new race called the Ghost Clan.
The Corpse Ghost Clan had its own king and bowed to no Demon King of the Central Plains world. They rarely interacted with the mortal realm and were said to mostly dwell underground in the northwest, in places like Dunhuang Yadan and the Western Regions.
The War Dead Corpse Ghost Clan also possessed near-immortal bodies—as long as their Inner Elixir remained undestroyed, their flesh could repair itself. But they could only perceive the world as living corpses.
“Can War Dead Corpse Ghosts produce offspring?” Xiang Xian pondered.
“As far as is known, only him,” Wu Yingzong replied.
“Mm.” Xiang Xian nodded.
“Worth noting is another matter,” Wu Yingzong continued. “According to Yao Clan members who dealt with him, Jing Pian Ge’s duty was to guard an utterly crucial treasure, one surpassing all Magic Treasures between heaven and earth, directly tied to Shenzhou’s fate.”
Xiang Xian replied offhandedly, “I’ve seen plenty of so-called supreme treasures. Heaven’s Mandate Box contained a person’s head; the renowned Mountains and Rivers Sheji Map was originally made just for loosening garden soil. If Jing Pian Ge’s treasure was that remarkable, wouldn’t the Demon King called ‘Mu’ have seized it long ago?”
Wu Yingzong nodded. A sudden thought struck Xiang Xian, and he asked, “What’s the treasure’s specific name? What does it do? Where is Jing Pian Ge hiding?”
Wu Yingzong spread his hands, unable to answer.
“This information came through word-of-mouth from monkey demons in Liao Territory—impossible to verify.”
“Continue.” Xiang Xian cared only about the Heart Lamp. After all, the Wisdom Sword he carried was already a divine weapon without peer; he had no interest in the “supreme treasure” from little demons’ tales.
Wu Yingzong went on, “Regarding Xiao Kun himself, he displayed extraordinary talent from childhood. From age ten, he studied under a woman of mysterious identity named Le Wan Shuang. His weapon was a Tang Dao. At sixteen, he succeeded as Liao Exorcism Envoy, after which Le Wan Shuang departed overseas, never to be heard from again.”
“Mm.” Xiang Xian’s handiwork was not particularly refined; he simply wove a crooked knot for Xiao Kun’s Dragon Jade Pendant, focusing on sturdiness. Wu Yingzong shared more of Xiao Kun’s background, most of which Xiang Xian had heard before. Xiao Kun had never deceived him.
“…It’s said he was born with the Divine Pupil,” Wu Yingzong said, “able to read people’s innermost thoughts at a glance. If he willed it, others held no secrets from him.”
Xiang Xian recalled their first meeting in the underground cavern of Xuan Yue Mountain, when Xiao Kun’s eyes had blazed with blue light, inducing dizziness in him.
“But from my observations,” Wu Yingzong said tactfully, “he does not seem to use it frequently.”
“How do Liao people evaluate him?”
