It wasn’t just Fu Juemin’s group on the streets; there were also shops, street vendors, and pedestrians... all of whom were now being shoved to the roadside.

Fu Juemin stood under an eave, watching the bustling stream of people. The stalls selling roasted chestnuts and sweet potatoes he had seen earlier were overturned in an instant, the owners’ helpless cries swallowed by the surging tide of the crowd...

The heat and energy radiating from over a thousand people was like a great, murky torrent sweeping over everything.

"THUNK—"

Suddenly, a board on the door of the shop behind him was removed. A head poked out, asking tentatively, "Want to come in?"

Fu Juemin was surprised, but he quickly shot Cao Tian a look, and Cao Tian swiftly went inside.

Half a minute later, Fu Juemin and his companions were all inside.

The room was small and windowless, lit only by a single kerosene lamp.

By its light, Fu Juemin saw a counter in the center of the room. Behind it were two rows of shelves stocked with goods like yellow wine, white vinegar, soy sauce, and matches. It was a small general store. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

The general store’s owner, who had let them in, replaced the door board, walked over to Fu Juemin, and bowed. "If you gentlemen don’t mind, you can take shelter here for a bit."

"Thank you."

Ma Dakui took two silver coins from his pocket and placed them on the counter.

"I can’t accept this!"

The shopkeeper quickly waved his hands in refusal. "I didn’t invite you in for money..."

"Just consider it payment in advance for tea, for letting us rest our feet here," Fu Juemin said casually.

Seeing that he couldn’t refuse, the shopkeeper hesitated for a moment, then said, "In that case, I’ll go make some tea for you gentlemen."

As he spoke, he turned and shouted something in a local dialect toward the back room. The door curtain was immediately pushed aside, and a woman in a floral padded jacket hurried in.

The shopkeeper urged the woman to hurry and boil some water, while he himself rushed behind the counter and began turning things upside down in his search.

While the shopkeeper was occupied with searching the room for tea leaves, Fu Juemin asked, "Do you have a second floor?"

"Yes, yes."

The shopkeeper hastily put down the tea canister and came over to lead the way. "This way, sir."

Fu Juemin followed the shopkeeper to the back of the store and, sure enough, found a staircase leading to a second floor. As he climbed the stairs, he could hear loud POUNDING from outside, as if people were hammering on the shop’s door boards.

The second floor was where the shopkeeper stored his inventory. The floor was filled with jars of wine, vinegar, and soy sauce, but it was reasonably clean, with little accumulated dust.

Fu Juemin walked to the side facing the street and pushed open a window. The view of the street from this angle was undoubtedly far more shocking than before.

By now, the entire street was almost completely packed with a teeming crowd.

Three streams of people converged at the street’s entrance and came to a stop. Everyone sat down on the ground, as if holding some grand assembly.

Fu Juemin saw the student demonstrators helplessly trapped in the crowd, unable to advance or retreat. One hot-tempered male student tried to force his way out, but he was quickly stopped by an elderly Western nun who was leading the group.

For the moment, the situation seemed stable, and no chaos had erupted.

Fu Juemin’s current position was excellent—on the second floor near the street entrance, giving him a perfect, unobstructed view of the commotion below.

"Tea for you, gentlemen."

The general store owner, coming upstairs for a second time, brought the tea and personally handed a cup to Fu Juemin. "It’s not the best tea," he said, a bit embarrassed. "I hope you can make do."

Judging by Fu Juemin’s attire, and his being accompanied by bodyguards and a driver, it was clear he was a man of high status. This was the reason the shopkeeper had dared to open the door for them in the first place.

"It’s fine."

Fu Juemin took the coarse tea in a white porcelain bowl from the owner and took a small sip. He then pointed below and asked, "This Civility Venerable Sect... do you know anything about their origins, shopkeeper?"

The general store owner thought for a moment. "They seem to have sprung up on the east side of the city. At first, it was just small-time stuff—claiming they could turn three pecks of rice into five, tricking old folks who love a bargain into joining the sect.

But with the recent famine, and the refugees pouring in from the west... who would’ve thought they’d cause such a commotion..."

"Turning three pecks of rice into five..."

A glint appeared in Fu Juemin’s eyes. He pointed below. "With this many people, can they actually deliver?"

"Deliver? Of course not! It’s all a scam."

The general store owner also sounded angry. "When they were first luring people in, they’d really exchange three pecks for five pecks of fresh, new rice. But as more people joined, the rice they gave out became old and stale, and who knows how much sand they mixed in...

Now, you can’t even see any rice. One scoop brings up nothing but crushed husks!

And that’s still considered good! They also have poisonous, rotten rice that’s been in a warehouse for who knows how many years... Aren’t they afraid of people eating it and dying?!"

"Even with such blatant deception, so many people still believe them?"

Fu Juemin frowned. The general store owner replied helplessly, "They have no choice. The Civility Venerable Sect offers rice on credit. You get five pecks just for joining. To those refugees who fled here, getting any bite to eat at all is good enough..."

With that, the general store owner picked up the kettle and excused himself. "I’ll go downstairs and get some pastries for you."

Watching the sallow-faced, raggedly-dressed famine victims below, Fu Juemin finally began to realize just how severe the locust plague in the Southwest had become.

If even a prosperous place like the Luan River region had refugees everywhere and folk Cults running rampant in the streets... the actual disaster zones must have long since become a realm of ghosts.

Fu Juemin’s heart sank at the thought. Suddenly, he heard the sound of gongs and drums from the street.

Looking toward the sound, he saw new activity on a two-tiered high platform at the street entrance.

On the lower tier, an old man and a young boy began a performance. The younger one, cradling a large blade that seemed to come from nowhere, staggered around the platform. Suddenly, he stumbled, and the blade flew from his grasp, cleanly slicing off the other man’s head.

This horrifying scene drew gasps of alarm from the crowd, especially from the students packed close to the stage. A few of the more sensitive female students went pale and shrieked in terror.

But just then, a figure who had been sitting still on the upper tier—clad in colorful clothes with their face hidden by a red cloth—floated down lightly. From within their robes, they produced a glittering golden jar and sprinkled something onto the headless corpse. The body then staggered back to its feet...

In an instant, the crowd below erupted in cheers. Countless people fell to their knees, kowtowing and crying out the name of the "Venerable of Compassion."

"It’s a trick," Cao Tian said from beside him.

"I know."

Fu Juemin nodded. This kind of folk Cult excelled at such smoke-and-mirrors trickery.

Just then, the man in colorful clothes who had just performed the "divine miracle" descended from the high platform. The dozens of burly men who had previously carried the platform now flanked him, each cradling a bundle of red cloth.

The crowd slowly parted before him. As the man in colorful clothes walked, his face still covered by the red cloth, he continuously pulled glittering grains from the jar and scattered them to either side. Wherever the grains landed, a frenzied scramble erupted.

The man in colorful clothes and his burly attendants walked slowly in Fu Juemin’s direction. Fu Juemin watched him, and the closer the man got, the stronger an inexplicable sense of familiarity grew.

When the man reached the street directly below the general store, Fu Juemin stared down from his high vantage point. A sudden tremor seemed to arise from the depths of his very bloodline. Memories of the Black-Scaled Snake Demon churned within him, and at last, he captured the source of that sense of déjà vu.

Over half a month ago, on New Street, at Shengchang Fragrance House... the Demon Minion he had been pursuing all along!

"CRACK—"

The white porcelain bowl in Fu Juemin’s hand was suddenly crushed into powder, and the warm tea flowed rapidly down through his fingers.

"Young Master?!"

Ma Dakui, standing nearby, was startled. Before he could ask, he heard Fu Juemin speak in a calm tone. "Dakui, go and get my Second Uncle immediately. Tell him to bring plenty of men and guns. The sooner... the better."

Ma Dakui froze for a moment at the words, but then his expression shifted as if in realization. He took one deep look at the strange banner in the distance, the one embroidered with a fat rat, then turned and bolted downstairs without another word.

At that exact moment, the man in colorful clothes, who was walking slowly below, abruptly lifted his head toward Fu Juemin.

Beneath the red cloth, a bewitching face with lips curled into a smirk was faintly visible.

He met Fu Juemin’s gaze.

The next second, the golden jar left his hand with a WHOOSH, smashing against the storefront of the general store. Instantly, thick yellow smoke began to billow out...