Chapter 78: Incision

“How much do you know about Manager Qian?”

Lu Chenyuan had just taken action and felt somewhat weary. He glanced around, then sat down at an Eight Immortals table, waiting for the merchant from the Zhang clan to report.

The wound on his chest was slowly healing, yet his vitality was depleted. Moreover, moments earlier, the puppet had devoured some of his vital essence, rendering the young man’s face particularly pale.

The Zhang merchant, though a seasoned veteran of the rivers and lakes, now seemed a fledgling before this youth. Just by taking a seat at the table, Lu Chenyuan released an invisible pressure that weighed heavily upon him.

He dared not conceal anything.

He recounted, in detail, how he had been coerced, how he had feigned camaraderie with Qian Dahai and his associates, pouring out everything like beans spilling from a bamboo tube.

“Reporting to Master Lu, as for the background of Qian Dahai, I can’t claim to know much. I only know he is a branch master installed here by the Sacred Sect, managing the comings and goings as his daily business. In reality, he’s responsible for gathering information and passing orders to all the fellow sect members who arrive.”

He paused, then continued, “That day in the main hall, those men you saw playing dice with me were actually meeting him. Though they appeared to be speaking with me, their words contained coded phrases meant for Manager Qian.”

Lu Chenyuan’s gaze sharpened. “Coded phrases? What do you mean?”

The Zhang merchant’s heart skipped a beat, a doubt rising within him. He had taken this youth to be an unfathomably accomplished elder of the Sacred Sect, yet it seemed he didn’t even recognize the most common coded language used within the sect.

Yet no sooner had this thought arisen than he found a plausible explanation, dispelling all suspicion.

“Ah, how foolish of me! Though the demonic cult is collectively referred to as the Sacred Sect, internally it’s hardly united—there are countless factions and branches. This Master Lu’s supernatural abilities are so strange; clearly, he’s not of the same path as Master Li. It’s only natural he wouldn’t recognize another faction’s codes.”

The more he considered, the more sense it made, resolving all previous confusions.

“No wonder Qian Dahai and those shallowly tainted cultivators failed to recognize the mountain before them, unaware Master Lu was present. Qian Dahai even audaciously tried to treat him as a ‘lamb,’ and those reckless fools dared to bluster in his face.”

“Hmph! If Master Lu hadn’t needed to conceal his identity here, avoiding unnecessary trouble, those fools’ graves would have weeds growing ten feet high by now!”

His thoughts raced; the fear on his face transformed into obsequiousness and self-display. He fawned, “Master Lu, you may not know: those of the Sacred Sect are most wary of being discovered by righteous sects or the Demon Suppression Bureau’s hounds. Thus, their speech is riddled with secret codes—ordinary words to outsiders, but full of meaning to insiders.”

“Do you recall, during the card game, a man said, ‘Bluebird eats nine, open the door for joy’? He appeared to be speaking to me, but it was meant for Manager Qian.”

“‘Bluebird’ refers to the messenger; ‘eats nine’ indicates the number of their group and a token. Together, the phrase asks Qian Dahai, ‘Our people have arrived. Is this place still clean?’”

Lu Chenyuan was stirred by these words, recalling the moment—it had indeed happened.

At the time, he had thought it mere banter at the gambling table, never suspecting such cunning was concealed within.

His expression remained unchanged, and he replied calmly, “I see.”

The Zhang merchant, seeing his composure, assumed his explanation had hit the mark. He grew more animated, chuckling, “There’s more! Do you remember, after Qian Dahai dismissed a young beggar, he complained to an attendant about ‘watching over that fine new lambskin in the backyard’? That, too, holds a hidden meaning.”

Lu Chenyuan’s eyes narrowed. “What does it mean?”

The Zhang merchant explained, “That statement was meant for the evil cultivators. ‘Strong winds’ refers to Demon Suppression Bureau agents nearby—warning them to be cautious.”

“As for ‘fine lambskin,’ in our jargon, it means someone with pure roots, suitable as a sacrificial offering or a vessel—a prized commodity. ‘Watch over’ is a warning to those evil cultivators that the person in the backyard belongs to Qian Dahai, and they must not covet him.”

At this point, he stole a glance at Lu Chenyuan, secretly relieved. Everyone knew the backyard had been home to this very master and his peerless teacher.

Lu Chenyuan listened in silence.

He had already guessed as much, but confirmation left a complex taste in his heart.

Qian Dahai, Qian Dahai—you sought to make me a sacrifice, yet why speak to me of your granddaughter? Why help me with advice on defeating enemies?

Was that bowl of hot tea, those fried dough sticks, truly the meal for the condemned?

He mocked himself inwardly, betraying nothing on his face.

The Zhang merchant, seeing his silence, felt the air thicken, becoming ever more uneasy.

Suddenly recalling something, he hurriedly drew from his bosom a small, oil-stained, dog-eared booklet, offering it with both hands.

“Master Lu, this is a collection of codes and jargon I’ve gathered over years wandering the world. Though crude, it might prove useful. If you don’t mind, please accept it as my humble offering.”

Lu Chenyuan, seeing the merchant so cooperative, spared himself further effort. His eyes glinted with amusement as he took the booklet without refusal.

After a moment, Lu Chenyuan asked, “What about Master Li? How much do you know?”

The Zhang merchant shook his head, smiled bitterly, and said, “Master Li’s origin is truly unknown to me. I only know he holds great status within the Sacred Sect, seemingly from an extremely mysterious branch, beyond ordinary reach.”

“He’s come to Zhenhaichuan for some earth-shattering purpose. Since he’s a Lamp Bearer, he must consume blood offerings, which is why he ordered us to procure them…”

His voice grew ever softer, his anxiety deepening.

Master Li was a Lamp Bearer, and this Master Lu seemed to walk the same path.

He had barely survived—would he be forced again into that damned occupation?

Lu Chenyuan, seeing there was nothing more to be gained, fell silent, pondering the merchant’s fate.

Should he kill him? Or simply let him go?

The Zhang merchant, unsettled by Lu Chenyuan’s gaze, felt his life hanging by a thread and tentatively called out, “Master… Master Lu?”

Lu Chenyuan ignored him. Instead, he looked at the wooden puppet cradled in his arms, stroking it as if no one were present. His gentleness was unnerving, and he murmured to the puppet, “Let’s spare him this time. But if I learn he commits evil again, we’ll make him wish for death yet deny him even that.”

Upon hearing these words, the Zhang merchant felt a chill rise from deep within.

He saw clearly the puppet, suffused with resentment—obviously forged from countless sacrificial victims. Yet now it uttered words urging goodness, a bitter irony.

The merchant’s knees buckled. He knelt and kowtowed repeatedly. “Rest assured, Master! I dare not again! From now on, I’ll eat vegetarian, chant prayers, and do a good deed daily. If I utter a single falsehood, may lightning strike me dead!”

Lu Chenyuan finally nodded, raising his eyes and speaking coldly, “If you see me again, do not address me as ‘Master’ in front of others. Understood?”

The merchant, realizing Lu Chenyuan wished to conceal his identity and dwell among mortals, dared not disobey, replying quickly, “Understood, understood.”

As his words faded, he saw Lu Chenyuan say nothing further but continued gently stroking the puppet in his arms.

The bizarre sight sent fresh chills down the merchant’s spine. He ventured, “If Master has no further orders, I’ll take my leave…”

Lu Chenyuan said nothing.

The merchant took a deep breath, cautiously stepped back. Seeing he was not stopped, he finally fled.