Chapter 159 – Rouge Immortal Mountain, the Human-Head Lantern, and the Serpentine Brush of Fate - Part 3

Later that evening.

Dong Xiaolan found herself in the county office, looking uneasy. She was telling her story to a Blood Blade Sect inner disciple, who sat in the county magistrate’s seat, fuming. “Silver Creek has always been peaceful, and now we have thieves flitting through the skies? Audacious! Fear not, Miss Dong. Tell me exactly what happened, and we’ll see justice done.”

Spurred on by her desire to recover her rouge box, Dong Xiaolan spilled every detail she knew. Not long after, she left with red-rimmed eyes, clutching onto hope that the Blood Blood Sect would catch the culprit and return what was hers.

Once the doors were shut and the servants dismissed, the disciple stepped behind the nearby screen and bowed deeply to Li Yuan, who had been seated out of sight. “Patriarch, is there anything else you want me to do?”

Li Yuan replied, “Help her search, make a big show of it. We can’t allow

thieves

in Silver Creek, after all. Use this chance to pry into everything. If there are more rouge boxes like this one, gather them all.”

“Understood!” the disciple said at once. Then, hesitating, he added, “That rouge box was originally a gift from Qian Da...so about Qian—”

“Question him as well,” Li Yuan said. “No exceptions.”

“Yes! I understand!”

And so, in the name of helping a distraught victim, the Blood Blade Sect expanded its search, determined to find every last rouge box hidden within the county’s borders.

After scoping out potential targets, Li Yuan went in himself to seize the rouge boxes. As for the so-called

thieves

, they grabbed a few petty criminals from outside the township walls and pinned the theft on them. Word on the street was that the rouge boxes had been tossed away somewhere, and once these scapegoats were executed, the matter was declared settled.

The original owners of the rouge boxes were left helpless, wailing in despair as though they had lost a loved one. Yet there was nothing they could do. If the thieves had thrown the boxes away and those same thieves were now dead, what recourse was left?

Qian Da, meanwhile, was dumbfounded. He had originally planned to offer a rouge box to Li Yuan, but when that didn’t pan out, he gave it to a singer from Heavenly Scent Pavilion instead. Once he heard Li Yuan himself had ordered an investigation, he went to great lengths to assist.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

A few days later.

Five rouge boxes sat upon Li Yuan’s desk. One after another, reports poured in about the people who had owned them. They had gone mad at first, shouting, crying, and then fallen seriously ill and confined to bed. Though none were in immediate danger of dying, their behavior resembled those who’d barely escaped a delusional trance.

Li Yuan set the letters aside. He was now certain that the Fortune Trading Company steward had been a ghost servant, likely connected to Apparel Atelier in the Jade Capital—a group that appeared to be a powerful faction. It was unlikely they had focused on a small place like Gemhill alone. They were more likely casting a wide net, and these rouge boxes were the bait.

Before long, Pang Yuanhua wheeled herself in and joined Li Yuan in examining the items.

After a lengthy silence, she said quietly, “Apparel Atelier or...

Funeral

Apparel Atelier?” She was doing a play on words since the characters could mean funeral clothes, garments meant for the dead. No proper clothing merchant would use such a name unless they truly dealt in death shrouds.

Li Yuan gazed at the five rouge boxes. They seemed like a burning brand in his hands. After some thought, he decided to revert to an old method. He’d find a hardened criminal or condemned prisoner to test them on.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

The same day.

A male convict was hauled into a secret chamber. He was a lazy, abusive man. While his wife earned what little they lived on, he deemed her earnings too meager, beat her to death, and hastily buried her in their yard. The shallow grave gave off such a stench that neighbors alerted the authorities, and the killer ended up in Gemhill’s jail. His relatives tried bribing officials to lessen the sentence, but to no avail.

In the hidden chamber, a Blood Blade Sect inner disciple stood behind a screen, tossing a rouge box to the condemned man.

“Put it on,” he said. “Then tell me everything you see. If you cooperate, your punishment might be reduced.”

Desperate for any hope, the prisoner did as told. From behind the screen, Li Yuan watched through a tiny peephole.

He saw the convict carefully apply the makeup. At first, the man’s expression turned languid, almost blissful. Then, abruptly, he stood, eyes wide with shock, staring about as though he no longer occupied a dark cell, but some strange new realm.

Moments later, the prisoner fell into a daze. Half an incense stick’s time passed, and his face lit with ecstasy. That expression shifted to reverence as he sank to his knees, bowing repeatedly to empty air. The inner disciple watching him shuddered, tempted to draw his blade, but knowing Li Yuan was right there, he kept his composure.

After an hour, the convict ceased kowtowing, his gaze going blank before slowly refocusing. The instant he came back to himself, he scrambled for the rouge box, only for the disciple to plant a kick in his chest, sending him sprawling. A flash of steel followed, the drawn blade pressing cold against his neck.

“What did you see?” the disciple demanded. Only then did the prisoner realize where he was, though he still lunged for the box like his life depended on it.

“Speak,” the disciple said, “and the box is yours.”

Eagerly, the man recounted everything, while another disciple transcribed every word.

“Immortals! I saw Immortals! They flew through the air, and there was this magnificent Immortal mountain. I knelt outside a grand palace, convinced that if I showed enough devotion, they’d invite me in. I don’t know why I felt so certain; I just knew!”

He described the scene in vivid detail. He saw lofty jade halls shrouded in mist, marvelous flowers and trees, fairies soaring among the clouds, and a majestic Immortal perched high above on a cushion of floating vapor. The mortal world below looked like mere dust, its vast seas no more than a cup of water. From that mountaintop, he could see it all. At the entrance stood a jade statue of a celestial; the convict had prostrated himself before it, hoping to earn acceptance. It all felt utterly natural and right in that vision.

“I’ve told you everything,” he snarled, glaring hungrily at the rouge box. “Now give it to me.”

“Draw the Immortal you saw, and the mountain,” the disciple said. “Then you can have it.”

Try as he might, the prisoner’s sketching skills were poor, so the disciple called in another ally from the inner district who specialized in painting. Together, they managed to produce a rough likeness of the so-called

Immortal

and

mountain

.

But when the final image took shape, everyone but the prisoner felt a chill crawl down their spines. This was no enlightened being, no sacred peak. It was an ancient manor festooned with lanterns made from human heads, each face still speaking and showing emotion as though it were alive. Beneath them lounged a fiend in burial robes. And in front of the manor sprawled a stagnant pool filled with ghostly forms drifting just beneath the surface.

“Give it to me, give it to me!” The condemned man’s shrieks filled the chamber. While everyone else was momentarily transfixed by the gruesome illustration, he lunged forward, trying to snatch the box again. The inner disciple reacted swiftly, kicking him to the ground and drawing his blade.

A silhouette flickered behind the screen. Li Yuan stepped forward, delivered a single palm strike that knocked the convict unconscious, then handed him back to the disciple. “Execute him today.”

“Yes, Patriarch.”

“And one more thing, no one breathes a word of what happened here.”

“Yes!” came the crisp response from everyone present.

Li Yuan closed the lid of the rouge box, glanced at the macabre sketch one last time, and muttered, “So it really is

funeral apparel

...”

Then he held the drawing over a candle flame. Within moments, what had been an image of

Immortals and their sacred mountain

was reduced to pale, chilling ash.

Stepping outside into the springtime sunlight, Li Yuan felt a deep chill in his heart. If he’d ignored the steward’s suspicious departure, he might never have uncovered all this. He shuddered at the thought of what might have happened if people kept on

offering worship

after using that makeup, or what sinister goal lay behind it. At least he’d caught wind of it early and snuffed out the danger before it could grow.

Afterward, he asked Tie Sha to contact the neighboring counties so they could check whether similar rouge boxes had turned up there.

That night, Li Yuan returned to his residence and found Pang Yuanhua in one of the guest rooms. She and four other Frost Sword Sect disciples had taken up temporary lodging in the Hundred Lotus Manor.

“Miss Pang, pardon me for bothering you so late.”

“Not at all, Senior, please speak.”

Li Yuan recapped the events of the day, then asked, “Do you know of any way to handle these rouge boxes?”

He’d never entered the Clock Mansion himself, but Pang Yuanhua had. And she was the one who first told him about that strange ghost street market. Clearly, she understood much more than he did.

Pang Yuanhua gazed at the boxes. “I could bring them to the ghost street market. I’ve heard of wandering sellers managing to trade goods to spirits there. Let me bring these boxes with me; if I find a buyer, I’ll bring you back the ghost money.”

Feeling these five boxes were little better than hot coals, Li Yuan readily handed them over. He wanted no part of anything linked to the Apparel Atelier in the Jade Capital.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

The next day, Xiao Die wheeled Pang Yuanhua through the winding corridors and gardens of the manor. Half an hour later, Pang Yuanhua vanished into the ancient ghost market street, and then reemerged holding out four banknote-like slips to Li Yuan.

“I actually found a buyer for the rouge boxes. Altogether, they gave me these.”

Li Yuan examined them. One was labeled 1-candareen, another 3-cash, and two more marked 1-cash each.

“So in total, that’s 15 cash for five boxes—three cash apiece. Guess they aren’t considered precious.”

He trusted Pang Yuanhua not to skim any profit. Pocketing the ghost money, he glanced at his equipment list.

「

Equipment 1: 3-candareen, 1-candareen (x2), 3-cash (x2), 1-cash

Equipment 2: Li Yuan’s Wooden Doll

」

Just then, Pang Yuanhua spoke up. “I’ll compile a list of items we can buy in the ghost street market, along with their uses and prices. Gathering that information is slow going, but I’ll update it whenever I learn something new.”

She was a clever woman who knew exactly how to be useful.

Li Yuan returned the favor. “If you need any ghost money, let me know.”

“Understood, Senior.” Pang Yuanhua bowed, then called to Xiao Die, who wheeled her off to see Tang Nian about designing a new wheelchair. She was quite fond of that child.

Li Yuan exhaled and felt an unexpected sense of calm. For once, he had a bit of peace in his life, free of urgency and looming threats. The reprieve sparked a sudden rush of inspiration, his thoughts whirling, the threads of insight aligning perfectly with the pattern of his life chronicle.

He spread fresh paper on the table, picked up a brush, and after a moment’s reflection wrote—

𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

“

They gamble vast sums without a second thought,

and cross a thousand miles to repay a debt of blood as though it were mere steps.”

“All right, let’s paint a hero’s portrait.”

Capturing that sudden spark, Li Yuan immersed himself in a strange, profound state, dabbing ink and shaping figures on the page. Every stroke felt taxing, but also intensely satisfying.

He worked on it for a full day and night, wholly absorbed. Only at dawn did he finally set down the brush. Taking a long breath, he studied his completed piece, and then smiled.

He’d done it, the

visualization aid

of a life chronicle come to life.

Even so, the atmosphere of inspiration still lingered. Perhaps he could paint another piece, a different visualization but tapping into the same wellspring of energy.