The people of the Night-Watch Bureau arrived rather quickly—not long after that third-stage tribulation cultivator fled, a surge of aura forcibly shattered the Spirit-Locking Formation.
The one who came was none other than the Vice-Commander of the Night-Watch Bureau, Wang Daoling.
His gaze first swept over the two second-stage tribulation cultivators lying on the ground, heads parted from bodies, then flicked to Song Qing, and at last came to rest on Gu Chengming.
Setting aside, for the moment, just how Gu Chengming managed to hold his tongue.
Song Qing, sensibly enough, recounted the whole of what had just happened.
With so many people present, Song Qing did not bother to cover up the matter of the sword formation on Gu Chengming's behalf.
And as Song Qing's account went on, Vice-Commander Wang's expression grew somewhat surprised, somewhat taken aback.
At the early second-stage of cultivation, to tangle with a third-stage tribulation cultivator while slaying two second-stage sword cultivators at the same time—set him down anywhere you liked, and he would still merit the title of a prodigy.
Just as the atmosphere had eased a touch, a flurry of somewhat disorderly, hurried footsteps came pouring in from the direction of the auction hall's main gate, shattering the calm within.
A throng of officers clad in dark-red flying-fish robes came charging in with menacing momentum. At their head, a patrol officer wore a grim face as he looked over the wreckage strewn across the floor and the Night-Watch Bureau's men who had long since brought the situation under control; his expression was decidedly ugly.
The men of the Demon-Catching Bureau, subordinate to the Ministry of Justice of the Great Qian, had at last arrived—late, and in no hurry.
The intricacies of this were plain to every discerning eye present.
According to the statutes of the Great Qian, robbery cases occurring within the Capital—especially affairs involving cultivators dueling with techniques, killing and plundering—did, in name, indeed fall under the jurisdiction of the Demon-Catching Bureau.
And the relationship between the two great offices had never exactly been harmonious.
Within the bounds of the Capital, merit was like a limited cut of meat; everyone wanted to take a bigger bite.
The Demon-Catching Bureau, relying on the convenience of its authority, was no stranger to that sort of "enforcement beyond its bounds" in ordinary times.
Whenever they ran into some evil spirit that had grown into a real menace, they would often muscle their way in under the pretext that the spirit might be under someone's control. Such behavior had long since bred deep resentment throughout the Night-Watch Bureau—it was only out of regard for the courtesies owed to fellow officials of the same court that they could not openly tear off the mask.
Today's scene could be called a turning of the wheel of fortune.
Here was a textbook major case of tribulation-cultivator robbery, the very sort of case the Demon-Catching Bureau coveted most, and yet it had been snatched up first by the Night-Watch Bureau.
This was a solid, undeniable great merit, and now they could only watch helplessly as it dropped into Wang Daoling's pocket; the face of that Demon-Catching Bureau patrol officer was so grim it seemed water might wring out of it.
Several times he opened his mouth to speak, trying to drag out the letter of the law to contest jurisdiction, insisting on the rigid principle that the criminals belonged to the Demon-Catching Bureau.
But the moment he met Wang Daoling's eyes, the words already at his lips had to be swallowed back down.
After all, the men had been slain by the Night-Watch Bureau, the scene was controlled by the Night-Watch Bureau, and even the aggrieved party belonged to the Night-Watch Bureau.
To insist on snatching the merit at such a moment was simply indefensible.
Wang Daoling, for his part, was in a rather fine mood just now; he had taken no small amount of grief from the Demon-Catching Bureau in the past, and watching the other side eat a setback yet be unable to lash out naturally felt gratifying.
In the end, he assumed an air of strictly-by-the-book formality, declaring that the situation at the scene was complicated, that it involved an attack on Night-Watch Bureau personnel, and that it must be rigorously examined by his own office—no need to trouble the colleagues of the Demon-Catching Bureau with the bother.
Though these words were spoken politely, the intent to show them the door could not have been more obvious.
Without waiting for the other side to respond, Vice-Commander Wang simply ignored the presence of the Demon-Catching Bureau crowd, turned, and began directing his subordinates to clear the field, gather the corpses, and register the evidence.
And Gu Chengming and Song Qing, as the parties involved, were arranged to be taken away to recuperate.
The next day.
As expected, the matter had spread throughout the entire Capital.
The Night-Watch Bureau, the Vice-Commander's office.
Vice-Commander Liu sat behind his desk, a teacup in hand, gazing with a complicated look at Gu Chengming, who stood before him with his spirits already recovered seven or eight parts out of ten.
After a long while, he heaved a long sigh, his tone subtle: "Chengming, I'm honestly starting to believe it a little now."
Gu Chengming did not understand.
Vice-Commander Liu set down his teacup, his face full of feeling:
"I used to think all those talk of fate and destiny was nonsense, but you—this is just too uncanny. How long have you even been on the job? You go out for a few cups of wine in the company of women and run into an evil spirit; you go to an auction and run into tribulation cultivators."
"Every single one of these affairs, it's as if they're lined up in a queue to come crashing into you, rushing to deliver you your performance record."
Hearing this, Gu Chengming could only feel helpless—it wasn't as if he wanted any of this either.
"Never mind. Whether it's fortune or not, so long as a man's unharmed, that's a good thing."
Vice-Commander Liu composed his expression and picked up a case file from the desk:
"The identities of those two second-stage tribulation cultivators you slew yesterday have already been traced. This time the trail wasn't cut off as cleanly as it was in that Yayuan affair before."
"After the Investigation Hall analyzed their bones, meridians, and the residual sword-qi, it turns out these two practiced the orthodox-lineage swordsmanship of the Red Apricot Sword Manor."
"Though the Red Apricot Sword Manor has little renown in the jianghu, its manor lord shares no shallow ties with certain high officials at court. The Bureau's people went to investigate, and the Red Apricot Sword Manor, naturally, flatly denied everything—they even turned the accusation around, claiming a disciple of theirs had gone missing, supposedly harmed by some wicked party."
"This sort of thing can never be sorted out cleanly."
Saying this, Vice-Commander Liu dipped his finger in his tea and wrote on the tabletop the character for "Rites," then wrote another character for "Chancellor."
"At court, the one who keeps closest company with the Red Apricot Sword Manor is a Vice-Minister of the Ministry of Rites, and this Vice-Minister is in turn a protégé of the reigning Chancellor."
"You ought to know—the Ministry of Rites and the Chancellor's faction have always been quite displeased that our Night-Watch Bureau and the Demon-Catching Bureau hold independent powers of inspection."
Vice-Commander Liu sighed: "This auction-house robbery, on the surface, looks like it was about money. But dig deeper—if that tribulation cultivator had succeeded, with a great number of cultivators dead, or even the commerce guild destroyed, then the charge of failing to safeguard the imperial environs would be firmly pinned on us."
"By then, those civil officials and censors would need only level a single impeachment at court, and life would turn very hard for us and the Demon-Catching Bureau both."
"So we can't rule out that this was a play they staged and directed themselves—all to build momentum and pare back our authority."
Gu Chengming did not betray much emotion on his face; he merely cupped his hands and said:
"Many thanks for informing me, Commander. Since this matter touches upon the games of the court, this subordinate well knows his station is low and his voice carries little weight; I shall, of course, guard my words and tread carefully."
"Ah, now that's the spirit!"
Seeing how clear-headed he was, Vice-Commander Liu felt relieved.
"Enough. Those matters are for the Director and the great lords above to shoulder."
Vice-Commander Liu rose to his feet, took a long rectangular wooden case down from the rack behind him, and held it out before Gu Chengming:
"These are your spoils from yesterday."
"By the rules, the tribulation cultivators were slain by you, so these things naturally belong to you. The Bureau has already filed the record in the storehouse; you may use them with peace of mind, or take them to exchange for other resources."
Gu Chengming took the wooden case; it was heavy in the hand.
He opened it for a look—inside were precisely the Dharma Swords used by those two second-stage tribulation cultivators.
One was named "Light-Splitter," silvery-white through and through, nimble and translucent; the other was named "Stone-Render," thick and heavy, ancient and unadorned, its baleful aura held inward.
Both were second-grade Dharma Swords, and together with the Wave-Listening Sword in his possession, they made exactly three—enough to activate the initial bond of the "Dharma Sword."
"Many thanks, Commander."
Gu Chengming thanked him with genuine sincerity.
[Hundred Bones Resonance is also rather pleased]
[It thinks to itself that, just as it predicted, this auction really is a fine place to make one's fortune]
At the same time, deep within the inner gardens of the Capital.
In a study that was by no means lavish yet exuded a tranquil, antique air, a Boshan censer slowly exhaled curling wisps of blue smoke.
A middle-aged man in plain-colored official robes stood with hands lowered, his bearing solemn, his tone so level not a single ripple could be heard in it, reporting on the recent goings-on in the Capital to the graceful figure behind the writing desk.
"Your Highness, the aftermath of the Jubo Commerce Guild case has yet to settle. The Demon-Catching Bureau is now in utter disarray within—Zhao Tieyi's faction is scrambling to shirk responsibility, while the other faction seizes the chance to press the attack, trying to wrest more allocations of money and grain from the hands of the Ministry of Justice."
The middle-aged man paused: "The few nails we've planted within the Demon-Catching Bureau have all held still and stayed out of these muddy waters this time. As for the two tribulation cultivators who died at the scene—though their identities were never made explicit, leads from many directions all point to the Red Apricot Sword Manor."
"The word throughout the court and countryside now all says this affair was the handiwork of that Vice-Minister of the Ministry of Rites, meant to frame the Night-Watch Bureau and build momentum for the Chancellor's coming proposal to curtail our powers."
His report finished, the middle-aged man bowed slightly and said no more, quietly awaiting the decision of the one seated above.
Behind the writing desk sat a woman dressed in pale cyan palace robes.
She did not sit upright as ordinary members of the imperial house might; rather, her whole body sank somewhat slackly into the broad, high-backed armchair, both hands cradling a teacup that had long since gone cold, her gaze fixed somewhat blankly on the few tea leaves settled at the bottom of the cup.
That was the Second Imperial Princess of the Great Qian, Ji Yixi.
A long while passed—long enough that the middle-aged man began to wonder whether Her Highness had fallen asleep sitting up.
At last Ji Yixi stirred; she blinked once, her movement as slow as a person in their twilight years, then set down the teacup:
"It wasn't the Ministry of Rites."
At these words, the middle-aged man's heart gave a violent jolt.
Not the Ministry of Rites?
Right now the witnesses, the evidence, the prevailing winds of the court, the motives of self-interest—every single arrow pointed at the Ministry of Rites and that Chancellor whose power swayed the whole court, and yet Her Highness said it was not?
"Your Highness, this…" The middle-aged man instinctively wished to argue a few words, to lay out the stakes and the reasoning involved.
But the moment he met Ji Yixi's eyes, all his words were swallowed back down. He did not know where this reclusive, rarely-seen Second Imperial Princess obtained her information, still less did he know just how vast and hidden an intelligence network she held in her grasp.
He knew only one thing.
Ever since he had begun following this Highness, every judgment that issued from that perpetually tight-pressed mouth—however inconceivable, however contrary to common sense…
had never once been wrong.
"This subordinate understands."
The middle-aged man drew a deep breath, his manner growing ever more respectful:
"If it wasn't the Ministry of Rites, then the waters of this Capital are murkier than what we've been able to see. This subordinate will at once have the men pull back the probes aimed at the Ministry of Rites, and wait quietly to see how things develop."
Ji Yixi gave no reply; she lowered her head once more, her gaze drifting aimlessly across that mountainous heap of official documents.
Seeing this, the middle-aged man sensibly bowed and took his leave. Once the chamber door had closed, the study fell back into deathly silence.
At the same time, that fair, pale hand drew a thin document out from the bottom of a disordered stack of files.
It was the latest detailed report submitted by the Night-Watch Bureau concerning the case of the Jubo Commerce Guild.
Amid those densely packed lines of text, one name had been circled out in vermilion ink.
—Gu Chengming.
Ji Yixi stared at those three characters.
Meanwhile, on another side.
Back in the quiet chamber of his small courtyard, Gu Chengming laid the two newly acquired second-grade Dharma Swords, Light-Splitter and Stone-Render, side by side with the Wave-Listening Sword upon the desk.
As his divine sense probed into them, the spirit-light upon the sword bodies flickered faintly.
At the same time, within his sea of consciousness, that dialogue box surfaced almost impatiently.
[The Huiyuan Sword Formula gazes at the two newly added blades on the desk, brimming with fondness]
[Though these are merely two Dharma Swords of passable quality, far from being as spiritually attuned as Wave-Listening, in its eyes this is proof that this household is, bit by bit, getting better and growing more abundant]
[The Huiyuan Sword Formula is in excellent spirits]
Looking at this line of text, a subtle notion could not help but rise in Gu Chengming's heart.
Did this count as the gift-giving system in a galgame?
Pity, though, that the Huiyuan Sword Formula's affection had already maxed out…
Gu Chengming privately lamented it, but on second thought—seeing the Huiyuan Sword Formula, which usually fretted over this and that, so rarely showing such pure, unadulterated joy—it wasn't a loss after all.
Just then, another dialogue box, unwilling to be left out, squeezed its way in.
[Hundred Bones Resonance is also rather pleased, swaying back and forth, now and then sneaking a glance at you.]
[Hundred Bones Resonance began to mutter to itself: Ah, who was it that saw through the true nature of the auction long ago? Who was it that guided Heavenly Emperor Gu to seize this windfall of riches? Such deep foresight, such masterful strategizing…]
[It gazes at you eagerly, as though waiting for your answer]
Looking at these hints all but overflowing the screen, Gu Chengming was inwardly amused.
Going along with the other party's wishes, he sincerely offered a couple of words of praise: "Were it not for Heavenly Emperor Bai's Piercing Insight, perceiving the opportunity before it came, I fear I would have missed these two fine swords today. For this harvest, Heavenly Emperor Bai ought to claim the foremost merit."
The instant the words left his mouth, the feedback was immediate.
[Hundred Bones Resonance feels that Heavenly Emperor Gu truly is the bosom friend who understands it best!]
[Hundred Bones Resonance affection +5]
[Current affection: 180/∞ (Faithful Through Life and Death)]
Gu Chengming sighed with feeling—Old Hundred really was the easiest cultivation method in the world to coax, the easiest to raise affection with.
So long as you stroked its fur the right way, it would relish even the emptiest of promises.
The days that followed were rather ordinary.
Since there were no registered evil-spirit records, the matter of earning merit had, for the time being, no occasion to present itself.
And the commerce guild, ever since the tribulation-cultivator incident, had been undergoing "rectification"; the auction, too, was nowhere in sight for now.
With this rare spell of leisure, Gu Chengming also began devoting his full effort to conceiving the latest two volumes of his storybook.
Roughly two days later.
The autumn air in the Capital was growing thicker; the old osmanthus tree in the courtyard had already shed all its blossoms.
Only the sparse, open boughs remained, swaying gently in the night wind, sifting down a courtyard full of dappled moon-shadow.
Gu Chengming sat upright before his writing desk, the purple-hair brush in his hand suspended in mid-air, its tip soaked full of thick ink, yet slow to come down.
This was the storybook's final volume.
The protagonist had passed through a thousand trials and ten thousand hardships, cut down all the demons and evils of the world, and would dwell together for a lifetime with the one who accompanied him—the most clichéd ending, and also the most perfect one.
"Whew…"
Gu Chengming let out a long breath, his wrist sinking slightly, and at the volume's end wrote the final line—[The End of the Book].
He set down the brush, looked at the thick stack of manuscript, and a nameless sense of satisfaction welled up in his heart.
This counted as a kind of record of his coming to this place, didn't it? He'd been writing it since not long after he transmigrated, and now that it had truly come to a close, it felt as though some milestone had been put to rest.
Gu Chengming stretched lazily, then carefully blew dry the xuan paper whose ink had not yet fully set, arranged it into a volume, and bound it neatly with a length of red cord.
He pushed open the chamber door, and a gust of night wind carrying a chill rushed against his face.
In the courtyard, that familiar figure was curled up as always upon the glimmering, cloud-piercing swing-chair.
Yu Wenqiu held in her hands a cup of spirit tea that had long gone cold, a stray tangerine-colored stray cat—one that often came to mooch a meal—cradled in her arms, listlessly counting the stars in the sky. At the sound of the door opening, those eyes of hers, originally a little drowsy, instantly lit up, and her whole body sprang upright from the swing.
"You've finished it?"
Yu Wenqiu's voice carried an anticipation she couldn't conceal; were it not for some regard for an Elder's dignity, she'd likely have pounced over to snatch it outright.
Seeing her like this, Gu Chengming couldn't help but smile, and gave the thick volume in his hand a little shake:
"Finished."
"Quick, quick, quick! Give it to me!"
Yu Wenqiu flung the still-dreaming tangerine stray cat from her arms onto a soft cushion to one side; the cat let out a disgruntled "mrrow," rolled over, and went back to sleep.
She, meanwhile, took the volume as though receiving a treasure—it was heavy in her hands, still carrying the lingering warmth of Gu Chengming's palm.
Yu Wenqiu drew a deep breath, but did not open it at once; instead she first smoothed out the barely perceptible creases on the cover with her hand, then, with great solemnity, cradled the volume and sat back down on the swing-chair.
Gu Chengming did not leave; rather, he rose and walked over to the small red-clay stove nearby, stirred the charcoal fire within with iron tongs, and set a few peeled chestnuts and a few pieces of rice cake upon the wire mesh racked above it.
As the charcoal fire toasted them, the sweet fragrance of the chestnuts and the rice-scent of the cakes gradually spread, intertwining with the scent of osmanthus to form the most reassuring aroma of that late-autumn night.
Time slipped away bit by bit.
The courtyard was hushed and still, broken only by the occasional low chirp of an autumn insect.
At first her expression was happy; she turned the pages quickly, even, now and then, laughing so hard at some plot point in the book that she couldn't close her mouth, utterly heedless of her image.
Gradually, her movements slowed, and when she reached those final few pages, her hand stilled.
She seemed unable to bear reading on; her fingers caressed the corner of the page for a long while before, ever so slowly, she turned it over.
Gu Chengming nodded inwardly.
This reaction was perfectly normal. By his design, though this final volume was a grand reunion, it was also interwoven with several wistful flashbacks and farewells to bygone years—it was bound to carry a faint trace of melancholy.
And yet, just as Gu Chengming assumed she would close the book with a smile and then, as usual, heap praise upon him—
An extremely conspicuous, heavily nasal sniffle broke the quiet of the courtyard.
"Elder?"
Gu Chengming set down the sword in his hand and softly called out.
Yu Wenqiu's body gave a shudder, like a dreamer startled awake.
She flusteredly raised her hand, wanting to wipe away the tear-tracks on her face, but the more she wiped the more there were, until at last she gave up on herself and buried her face in that thick collar of her robe; once she realized what a sorry state she was in, she hurriedly explained:
"The wind's just too strong tonight—sand got in my eyes. Why is the wind and sand in this Capital so awful?"
"Ah, indeed it is."
Seeing that he didn't expose her, Yu Wenqiu's confidence picked up a little, but the tears still wouldn't stop falling; somewhat sheepishly she snatched up the still-sleeping tangerine cat and rubbed her face into its fur, her voice coming out muffled:
"And this cat—it sheds, and the fur got into my eyes! It's just awful!"
The tangerine cat: "Mrow?"
Though she kept up the cover all the while, the tears seemed bent on defying her—the more she wiped, the more there were; the more she wiped, the less they could be stopped.
In the end the tangerine cat sprang away in distaste, exposing Yu Wenqiu's red, red eyes.
At last there was no way to keep up the pretense, and she could only say, giving herself up:
"Haah… how could it just end like that?"
"It's such a good ending—they passed through a thousand hardships and finally got to be together, I ought to be happy…"
Gu Chengming looked at her crestfallen, soul-lost state, and was inwardly amused.
This Elder, who usually seemed so carefree and easygoing, who did nothing but eat and sleep, was in truth more delicate of heart than anyone.
He thought about it, and did not say anything so spoilsport as "stories are all made up."
Instead, he turned around and took from atop the stove that plate of rice cakes, toasted golden and crisp and still coated in honey and osmanthus.
"Elder."
Gu Chengming speared a piece of rice cake on a bamboo skewer, held it out before Yu Wenqiu, and said with a smile:
"The story hasn't ended, you know—it's just that we can't see it anymore."
Yu Wenqiu was stunned for a moment; looking at that piece of rice cake giving off wisps of heat, she sniffled and caught the sweet fragrance.
"Even though we can't see their lives anymore, our lives go on still."
"Look—this rice cake's been toasted just right, crisp outside and tender within. And this osmanthus is the very batch you picked with your own hands a few days ago, Elder."
Yu Wenqiu instinctively opened her mouth and bit into the rice cake.
The crisp skin shattered between her teeth, the soft, glutinous core wrapped in the sweetness of honey melting upon the tip of her tongue.
Chewing the rice cake, she mumbled a vague reply, polished it off in two or three bites, then took a sip of hot tea—and her whole self seemed to come back to life.
That hollow, empty feeling in her heart really did seem to be filled, no small amount, by this single mouthful of warm, worldly comfort.
"Little Gu."
Yu Wenqiu licked the honey from the corner of her mouth, then suddenly raised her head; those eyes, their spark restored, fixed brightly and expectantly upon Gu Chengming:
"Since this story's ended…"
"then when do you start writing the next one?"
Gu Chengming: ...
He looked at Yu Wenqiu's face, all "hurry up and feed me a promise," and was about to refuse, but seeing that not-yet-faded flush at the corners of her eyes, the words at his lips turned, once again, into a compromise.
"Still—might this disciple first rest a few days, to mull it over?"
"Sure!"
Yu Wenqiu was instantly revived at full health:
"Then rest three days! In three days, I want to see the first volume of the new book!"
You might as well ask for my life.
Gu Chengming was about to refuse when a pop-up suddenly appeared before his eyes.
[The Qingxin Formula is propping its cheek in its hand, savoring the joys and sorrows, partings and reunions of the story]
[It suddenly feels that its old self always regarded itself as a mere spectator—holding the storybook, cracking melon seeds, relishing its commentary on your life, watching you walk step by step from that outer-sect disciple to where you are today.]
[But somewhere along the way, it discovered that it was no longer content to be only a spectator.]
[So this—is what it means to be a person within the play?]
[Affection +5]
[Current affection: 90]
[Affection level undergoes a qualitative change: promoted from [Fondness] to [Adoration]]
[Spirit attribute +3]
Seeing this, the words of refusal already at his lips turned once again into a compromise.
"All right, then."
Gu Chengming thought to himself: with you nagging for an update like this, how could I possibly refuse?
Within the small courtyard, the lamplight was warm and dear.
The joys and sorrows, partings and reunions within the book had already drawn to a close, yet that hollowness born of the ending had likewise already dissolved away.
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