Ding Songyan had just finished sneering inwardly when he suddenly felt a belated fear.

He was currently in the sea of consciousness, where thoughts converged. Although it appeared he needed that "seed" to communicate with Yan Changqing, and his spoken words and inner thoughts seemed separate, he still lacked understanding of this wondrous art’s finer details. What if Yan Changqing, having given him the qi, could simultaneously monitor his thoughts?

Save the dangerous thinking for after I leave the dungeon!

The thin-faced Yan Changqing, hands clasped behind his back, looked at Ding Songyan. His posture was composed and his voice unhurried.

"If you cannot make up your mind just yet, take another two or three days to think. But remember, the longer you hesitate, the fewer opportunities you will give us to survive.

"What I said yesterday was no lie. I am truly skilled in the art of numerology. I could already see that you are surrounded by hidden dangers—and not just from the Zhen household. Heh. The qi I gave you can pierce illusions. It should help you see your situation clearly and make your decision sooner."

The old man suddenly smiled.

"Are you thinking of finding a chance to go to the county or prefectural office and report this to the Yi clan or the Brightnight Sect? You may try. Once you have, you’ll understand that the only one who can save you is me, and the only one who can save me is you."

I was indeed thinking of reporting this... The Zhen household can’t possibly have no contingency against me going scorched-earth and spilling everything, can they? How would they prevent it? Follow me and intercept? Or is Yan doing it deliberately using the principle that ’in order to take, one must first give’. He’s suggesting I could report the matter while actually using the suggestion as intimidation? Ding Songyan neither said he would report it nor said he wouldn’t.

Yan Changqing changed the subject and asked with a smile, "Do you wish to learn martial arts?"

"Yes." Ding Songyan wanted to see how the other planned to "entice" him.

To that end, he deliberately added, "The Zhen household’s promise to me was to find a martial hall and cover all costs."

"If you lend me your aid, I would take you as my disciple. Even if you’re unwilling to formally become my disciple, I will still teach you secret arts." Yan Changqing’s aged, rasping voice spread slowly. "You’re no longer very young. Disciples of great sects train their bodies from childhood, just keeping it below dangerous limits, and don’t formally begin body tempering and qi cultivation until sixteen or seventeen. Within two years they show results.

"I’ve calculated that you’ve just turned twenty. Starting body tempering and qi cultivation at this age, even with superior arts, will take three to five years. Being one step behind leads to being steps behind at every turn. The saying ’if you haven’t become a Grandmaster by forty, you never will’ isn’t absolute, but it holds true for most martial practitioners.

"My secret art allows you to complete body tempering in six months, and within a year, have qi circulating through your entire body without cease."

Now that’s an "enticement" that truly stirs the heart... The only problem is, who knows whether what you’re saying is true or false? Whether that secret art is really this powerful? After all, if I agree to help you escape, I’ll be lucky to survive six days, let alone know the results after six months of cultivation... Given your earlier display of treachery, feeding me a fake art isn’t out of the question. A dead man can’t verify anything... Ding Songyan considered for a moment.

"I’ll think about it for a day."

"Very well." Yan Changqing’s figure gradually faded, and the pale luminous glow that had fallen into the sea of consciousness dissipated rapidly.

This mist-shrouded world returned to silence. The gap above was gone.

With the "seed" present, Ding Songyan could split his attention at will, or merge back into unified awareness with a single thought.

Returning to his normal state, he narrated earnestly through Lady Bai revealing her true form and frightening Xu Xian to death, concluding today’s storytelling session.

Out of the dungeon and back in the small building, the moment Ding Songyan removed the black cloth from his face, he saw Master Yu waiting beside him.

His heart clenched, but Master Yu simply gave a slight nod.

"You may visit various martial halls these next few days and pick one you’d like to attend. Once you’ve finished telling The Legend of the White Snake to the distinguished guest, we’ll make the arrangements."

"I was worrying about this very thing last night, and am deeply grateful to receive an answer today." Ding Songyan showed delight on his face and cupped his hands.

But what flashed through his mind was a common saying: The money’s there to earn, but you won’t live to spend it.

A promise that will never be honored is worth nothing!

Leaving the Zhen estate, Ding Songyan immediately spotted Ren Youyang in his cyan jacket and plain cap, waiting at the mouth of the lane diagonally across.

The bruising on his face had not fully faded, and the scab at the corner of his mouth was conspicuous. Seeing Ding Songyan emerge, he smiled with relief.

The sight warmed something in Ding Songyan’s chest.

He and Ren Youyang had shared only one meal together. Their relationship was barely stronger than that of strangers. Yet the man had gone this far to help.

Truly the spirit of an ancient hero!

"How did it go?" Ren Youyang asked with a smile as Ding Songyan approached.

Ding Songyan deliberated his choice of words.

"They didn’t bring up anything."

He was uncertain what the exact relationship between the True Spirit Sect and the Zhen household was, or what they were doing in secret. For now, he decided against telling Ren Youyang about Yan Changqing, to avoid putting him in a difficult position.

Of course, if he truly reached the end of his rope, he would not be so considerate. He would beg even a passing dog for help.

"If they didn’t bring it up, that’s good." Ren Youyang waved his hand. "No need to thank me. Go about your business. I’m off to the North Lane pleasure quarter to watch some opera."

After watching Ren Youyang leave and exiting North Water Street himself, Ding Songyan finally noticed his stomach rumbling loudly. He was famished.

He hadn’t eaten lunch. He had gone straight to the Zhen estate with Ren Youyang, and his nerves had been wound so tight the whole time that he hadn’t noticed.

Rounding a wooden railing, Ding Songyan found a noodle stall and sat down.

"One bowl of plain noodles, with a piece of braised pork belly."

The braised pork belly was a dish brought south when the dynasty had relocated its capital from the north.

"Coming right up!" The stall owner’s reply was full of vigor.

Before long, a bowl of noodles in dark broth was set before him, sprinkled generously with green scallion and topped with a glistening piece of braised pork, streaked red and white with alternating layers of fat and lean meat.

Fresh from the pot.

"Eleven coins, please," the stall owner said with a smile.

Ding Songyan took out his money pouch, paid with one five-coin piece and six singles, then picked up his bamboo chopsticks and lifted the pork that weighed about 100 grams. He took a gentle bite.

The sauce was rich in flavor. The fat was not greasy and the lean meat was not dry. Chewing it filled his mouth with fragrance.

Savoring the food carefully gradually calmed down Songyan’s racing thoughts and taut emotions. He was no longer so nervous.

As he drank the last few mouthfuls of broth, he held the bowl and sank into thought.

He ran through everything in his mind and sorted through every possibility, his gaze completely unfocused, staring at nothing in particular.

A long time passed before he finally wiped his mouth, set down the bowl and chopsticks, and stood.

He planned on going to the county office after all.

How could he know where the problem lay without trying?

What if there was no problem?

Asking for directions along the way, after a quarter of an hour, Ding Songyan finally saw Linjiang County’s county office, also in the northern part of the city.

Before the county office’s entrance stood a large idolatry wall, carved with the image of a deity with a beast’s body and a human face, riding two dragons.

Zhurong the fire god. Right, the Hong imperial family has always claimed descent from Zhurong... The corresponding entry from the Secret Classic naturally flashed through Ding Songyan’s mind.

Zhurong, god of fire: essence of summer, lord of the hearth, minister to the Red Emperor, manifestation of Mars.

Gathering his thoughts, Ding Songyan cautiously surveyed his surroundings, searching for possible tails or anyone who might stop him. But the people coming and going were mostly constables in black-patterned red uniforms and Brightnight Sect disciples in black fitted garb.

Nothing out of the ordinary... Ding Songyan withdrew his gaze, carefully rounded the spirit wall, and headed toward the county office’s main entrance gate.

Along the way, people greeted him from time to time, calling him Songyan or Ding Songyan.

Clearly, the original had visited the county office to see his father Ding Shengyi quite often.

"Songyan, what brings you here?" Ding Shengyi, wearing a square cap, was chatting with someone in the side corridor.

"I happened to be passing by and came to check on you, Father." Ding Songyan smiled.

The clerk facing Ding Shengyi laughed.

"Songyan is still so filial. You’re a lucky man, Brother Shengyi!"

Ding Shengyi waved his hand with a tinge of self-satisfaction.

"He still needs discipline, still needs discipline."

Ding Songyan chatted with them briefly, said his goodbyes, and walked out through the yamen’s main gate.

The scriptures inscribed on the back of the spirit wall outside fell into his vision, and he suddenly froze.

Wait. What did I come to the county office for...

Ding Songyan’s brow creased.

He strained with everything he had to remember, thinking until sweat beaded on his forehead.

Finally, it came back to him.

He had come to the county office to try reporting this to the authorities. To reveal that the Zhen household was keeping a suspicious, mysterious figure locked in their dungeon!

Man... Ding Songyan broke into a cold sweat, terror flooding through him.

Someone quietly stripped that thought from me after I stepped inside the yamen?

This world has martial arts that can do that?

It’s similar to how Yan Changqing affected my sea of consciousness and spoke directly into my mind...

So is it that the county office has a Zhen household plant, and whenever I come here they influence my thoughts? Or is Yan Changqing orchestrating this himself?

He’s the one who said the county office would be useless. Could he be controlling my thoughts through that ’seed,’ preventing me from reporting?

I can verify this later. The Brightnight Sect and the Yi clan aren’t only at the county office...

If it really is Yan Changqing’s doing, then the fact that the Zhen household didn’t stop me from coming here suggests they roughly know what their ’distinguished guest’ is capable of...

Ding Songyan found an excuse and turned back to the county office to look for Ding Shengyi.

This time, once again, he simply chatted with his father and left the county office without incident.

Something is definitely wrong... Ding Songyan stood beside the spirit wall, murmuring soundlessly.

His clothes were soaked through at the back.

Just then, a donkey cart approached carrying a corpse, with two constables seated on it.

"Something happened?" a passing Brightnight Sect disciple asked.

Both constables leaped down from the cart simultaneously. One spoke in a low voice, "Looks like a natural death. But the body’s organs have decayed as if he’s been dead two or three days, while the face shows no more than four hours. Very strange."

"This... is very similar to what happened to the Small Boat Gang’s Chen Yuliang after he died. Junior Sister Zheng has already reported it to the sect, to the provincial capital, and to the Flame Capital. No reply yet." The Brightnight Sect disciple suppressed his nausea as he examined the corpse.

Nearby, Ding Songyan heard Chen Yuliang’s name and instinctively looked toward the donkey cart, right at the body.

An instant later, he saw a familiar yet pale face. It was ordinary and unremarkable.

It was the man who had been following him yesterday!

Ding Songyan was struck with shock.

The body’s organs appeared to have been dead for two or three days?