The annual New Year’s Eve vigil in Jiugao was always the city's most boisterous event. By tradition, the Commander of Water Defense would release lanterns from the city walls to pray for blessings. However, rumors had been swirling for half a month that Commander Qiu was gravely ill, his days numbered like the setting sun, and that he would likely not appear this year. At first, few believed it. After all, who didn't know that Commander Qiu hailed from the Black Moon? How could a man forged of steel and iron simply collapse? Yet, as the year’s end drew near and the Qiu Estate remained silent, disappointment began to take hold.
Just as the people feared their long-awaited festivities would fizzle out, the Prefect’s Office made its move. Notices written in gold on red paper appeared overnight across the city, stating clearly: Fan Tong, the Prefect of Longshu, would hold a grand ritual to the heavens at the end of Leitian Avenue on the day of the Winter Solstice. There would be the burning of firewood to dispel evil, the distribution of blessings, and the forging of good karma.
The idea of Lord Fan "sharing joy with the people" was as preposterous as an old mountain demon "taking up a vegetarian diet and chanting sutras."
Yet the official seal on the red paper was unmistakable, leaving no room for doubt.
Some whispered that perhaps the recent strange rains had prompted a master to advise Lord Fan to perform timely acts of charity to avoid greater calamity. After all, when the Heavens grew angry, even the Emperor had to hold grand ceremonies. Others suggested it was related to the recent floods in Jiao and Yu Provinces; the government was using Lord Fan’s hand to soothe the populace and give them a glimmer of hope to endure the winter. There were even more sinister rumors—that it was all connected to the murders at the Su Estate, that Lord Fan had been tainted by evil spirits during the investigation, and the Qiu family had suffered as a result, necessitating a master’s intervention.
Speculations were endless, but not a single soul guessed that Lord Fan had found his conscience and wished to share the wealth he had squeezed from Jiugao over the years.
Gossip aside, who would refuse a free handout? They might never touch the grace of an Imperial sacrifice, but they could not let a blessing delivered to their doorstep slip away. The price of rice at year’s end was enough to make one wince, and word had it the "Fortune Rice" was consecrated by a master. To receive it was a true stroke of luck. Just after the hour of the Rabbit, figures carrying cloth bags and bamboo baskets could be seen in every alley. They poured in from the four city gates and crawled out from every corner of the city, moving steadfastly in one direction. Everyone hoped to snag a spot at the front, fearing the stingy Lord Fan might withdraw after scattering only a few grains.
Since ancient times, monarchs of every dynasty would sacrifice to the mountains and rivers and open the agricultural altars before the spring plowing. When natural disasters struck, the Ministry of Spring would organize an exorcism ritual called the *Nuo*. This was once part of the military rites of the previous dynasty. The presider of such a rite was known as the *Fangxiangshi*. People believed the Fangxiangshi could communicate with gods and drive away ghosts, banishing plague, disaster, and death to restore blessings to the masses. Whether such acts truly reached the ears of the divine or earned their pity was unknown to mortals, but seeing such a spectacle provided comfort. It felt as though the suffering that defied common logic would vanish, and good days were just ahead.
And Jiugao, having endured months of torrential rain and flooding, desperately needed such a ritual of hope.
The crowd on Leitian Avenue was far denser than imagined. A sea of black heads stretched as far as the eye could see, ending at a high platform erected in a single day. The platform was built against a half-collapsed ancient pagoda, which marked the end of Mingde Avenue. Mingde Avenue, originally built for pilgrimages, had been derelict for years. The origins of the pagoda were shrouded in conflicting legends; some even said it suppressed gods and demons and was the geomantic lifeblood of Jiugao. Thus, even though it was a ruin, no ruler dared to demolish or move it.
Now, that half-pagoda stood in the center of the sacrificial altar, draped in divine silks and hung with colorful spheres, lending the Nuo rite an inscrutable, mystical power. Though it was daylight, candles burned all around, thousands of flickering flames weaving a curtain that connected heaven and earth. In the center of the firelight, the figure of the Fangxiangshi appeared intermittently—clad in a feathered robe and a colorful crown, face hidden behind a beast-bone mask. His form was obscured, let alone his true face.
In the depths of the seventh alley of Sunshi Street, on the second floor of a refined villa, the steam from a hot spring veiled this perfect vantage point in mist.
Qin Jiuye’s gaze followed the Fangxiangshi on the altar, trying to discern some secret from his every movement, but she came up empty-handed.
"I do not believe Ding Miao will show himself in person."
Beside her, Xu Qiuchi sensed her inner turmoil and softly offered his judgment.
Qin Jiuye stared at the performers dancing on the altar. For some reason, she was reminded of the River God dance she had glimpsed on the flower boat. That primitive, mysterious dance began slow and eerie, then accelerated with the drumbeats, as if intentionally stoking a suppressed emotion—taunting and provoking them as they waited breathlessly in the shadows, forcing them to taste the bitterness of anxious anticipation.
"When will this dance end? Surely they won't pull some other trick mid-performance?"
"Xiangliang has long discouraged talk of ghosts and gods. The so-called Nuo rites have lost their essence and are usually just for show. However, this Mr. Ding has clearly put effort into his research; it is quite convincing. If I didn't know his true intentions, I might actually believe he came to Jiugao solely out of interest in the River God dance..."
Xu Qiuchi paused mid-sentence, a realization dawning on him. He and Qin Jiuye simultaneously looked toward the massive sacrificial table behind the priest.
No matter how the Nuo rite had evolved or what flourishes were added to the dance, the one constant was the offering of sacrifices to the gods. The so-called "blessing" was merely the distribution of these offerings to the people. Whether it was sacrificial meat or Fortune Rice, the moment it was swallowed, it was considered a blessing received—never realizing that illness enters through the mouth, and calamity was being sown right then.
Perhaps their gaze was too conspicuous. Li Qiao, who had been silent, assumed they were staring at the priest and suddenly spoke.
"To catch the bandits, one must first catch their leader. Does Sister not want to see that man's true face?"
He seemed different from his usual self, his entire body taut like a drawn bowstring, harboring a suppressed emotion. Xu Qiuchi narrowed his eyes and spoke immediately.
"Today is a golden opportunity to wipe them out. If we alert the enemy now, it will be difficult to pull them out by the roots later. Brother Li is usually not an impulsive man. Why today..."
Before he could finish, Qin Jiuye understood. She wasn't entirely oblivious, but her mind was preoccupied with more pressing matters. She whispered a warning.
"In any case, do not let your guard down. Ding Miao is fond of schemes within schemes. I feel today will not be so simple. We must be wary of him 'repairing the gallery roads while secretly marching through Chencang.'"
"Lin Fang is watching the city's waterways, and Lu Zican is in the alleys. Gao Quan has also led men to blend into the crowd, waiting to strike the moment the Fortune Rice is distributed. Fan Tong shouldn't dream of transporting the infected here under our noses. As long as we hold our positions, we can respond to any change."
As Xu Qiuchi’s voice fell, a cold wind blew from the side. The mist surrounding the villa was swept away for a moment, and the air turned several degrees colder.
The rain of the past few days seemed to have completely vanished. Today was clear and windless, providing a sharp field of vision to scout the enemy and control the situation. But no one knew how long this fair weather would last.
"The wind is picking up. We must also guard against someone hiding on high ground to scatter bamboo pollen," Qin Jiuye reminded them worriedly, leaning forward to try and see the rooftops of the surrounding buildings. "Though we don't know if there are latent patients in the city yet, it's better to be cautious..."
As she spoke, her vision suddenly dimmed. At first, she thought a cloud had blocked the sun, but she quickly realized the shadow was being cast from behind her.
Qin Jiuye sniffed. For some reason, she smelled a faint, cloying sweetness—reminiscent of the brown sugar on Bobo Street—wafting from behind.
Sensing something, she tried to turn. In the moment she tilted her head, she saw the boy's frozen expression. His light brown eyes seemed turned to ice, reflecting her and the blurred silhouette behind her.
Qin Jiuye dared not move. Her fingertips turned cold as she rolled her eyes downward.
Unbeknownst to her, a hand had appeared at her throat.
It was the hand of a swordsman, with thin calluses over the knuckles and the webbing of the thumb, hovering just a hair’s breadth from her warm skin. A giggling sound rang in her ear, and she felt something flick past her neck like a prank. Severed strands of hair fell lightly, yet they felt like boulders crashing into the sea, raising monstrous waves.
The boy’s suppressed roar erupted. The flash of the Qingwu Blade being unsheathed dazed her for a moment. When her vision cleared, Li Qiao was already on the flying eaves ten paces away.
The enemy they had been searching for had appeared just like that. It couldn't be a coincidence; it meant Ding Miao had mapped their movements long ago and had been watching from the shadows. But now that he had shown himself, why hadn't he started a massacre? Why feint and then flee?
Unless this wasn't just a secret march, but a diversion. Risking everything on a single throw was not Ding Miao’s style; interlocking traps and successive ruses were his tried-and-true methods.
"Li Qiao! Don't chase him! Don't—"
In a flash, Qin Jiuye regained her senses and shouted to stop him.
However, after the incident on Bobo Street, the fear of loss had already taken root in the boy's heart. It was too late. He was blinded by rage and fear, unable to hear any external voice. Or perhaps his pace was so fast that her call could no longer catch him.
Despite the untamable wildness in his bones, Li Qiao was not an impulsive or reckless person, especially not at such a critical moment.
Qin Jiuye watched his figure vanish rapidly, a cold, ominous premonition blooming in her heart. Something else must have happened on Bobo Street that day. In a moment she hadn't noticed, Ding Miao had used some despicable means to seize Li Qiao’s weakness. The mastermind's game had only just begun.
"Not good! Bloodstains were found in the alley on the next street!"
Before she could process it all, Lu Zican’s voice rang out from the courtyard on the first floor. Events were unfolding too quickly, like the intensifying drumbeats on the altar. Qin Jiuye could no longer hesitate. She threw a sentence to Xu Qiuchi and rushed downstairs.
"Guard the altar! I'll be right back!"
While Xu Qiuchi remained on the balcony, she had already reached the courtyard to join Lu Zican and the others.
Lu Zican looked at the empty space behind her and asked urgently as he led the way.
"Where is Li Qiao?"
Qin Jiuye didn't answer. The urgency of the situation and the sudden sprint left her breathless. She didn't know how to explain the absurdity of what had just happened to Lu Zican; she could only try to clarify the current situation.
"Besides the blood, did you find anyone suspicious?"
Lu Zican shook his head, his worry only increasing.
"The blood is fresh. I'm not sure if it's from an infected person, and no victims were found nearby. But the location is bad—it's a blind spot we didn't have time to scout, and it's very close to Leitian Avenue. I'm afraid..."
He didn't continue, and Qin Jiuye didn't ask.
If Ding Miao truly used some means to hide the infected somewhere, waiting to release them at the height of the ritual when the crowd was densest, the consequences were obvious. But what about that sudden swordsman? Was the place Li Qiao was chasing him toward the same direction they were investigating?
Her mind was a tangled mess. The familiar streets and alleys seemed to grow labyrinthine. The intermittent bloodstains led deeper into the alleys, as if toward some unknown, terrifying truth. Suddenly, Qin Jiuye stopped, panting as she looked back.
"Wait. Don't you think these bloodstains are a bit too obvious? The nearby alleys are all mud, yet the blood only appears on the easy-to-search bluestone paths."
Fan Tong had posted the notice early, as if giving them advance warning of his actions on the Winter Solstice. Their entire focus had been concentrated near the altar, wasting massive manpower to watch every suspicious person. Just like this vivid trail of blood, it was leading them somewhere.
Lu Zican was no fool. Reminded of this, he broke into a cold sweat.
"The timing of this blood is indeed too coincidental, as if it's meant to lure us to the other side."
But what was it? What had they overlooked?
The sacrifice on the distant altar had begun. Livestock, jade, and silk were placed upon the burning wood, sending a plume of black smoke into the sky above the city. The roar of the crowd could be heard even several streets away. Qin Jiuye stared blankly at the rising smoke and suddenly murmured.
"Where was the Fortune Rice on the altar transported from?"
Duan Xiaozhou, who was responsible for scouting, was stunned. He tried to recall.
"Shortly after Fan Tong posted the notice, they began building the altar with great fanfare. We initially thought he would build it near Yuedi in the north, since it's closer to the Prefect’s Office and would favor their secret movements. But they built it by the ancient pagoda in the east. The convoys transporting timber and miscellaneous goods were very complex. Our men could only check them one by one at night, but found nothing suspicious..." Duan Xiaozhou’s voice trailed off as he realized the discrepancy. He looked at Qin Jiuye. "Come to think of it, we really didn't see any carts transporting the Fortune Rice or the sacrificial offerings. But..."
But if Fan Tong hadn't moved them recently, where did the offerings and rice on the altar come from? Or... were they stored somewhere long ago, waiting for the right moment? The collusion between Fan Tong and Ding Miao was a matter of the last month, and they had been watching the city closely. The enemy couldn't have moved large quantities in a short time. The largest granary in the city was on Four-Son Street, several blocks away from here...
But what if there was a secret passage connecting two seemingly unrelated locations in the city?
The ancient pagoda in the west, Four-Son Street, and an invisible underground tunnel... The dots connected into a single line. Qin Jiuye snapped her head up.
"Hongzhi Lane. It's Hongzhi Lane." As she spoke, her feet were already moving. "Do you remember? When Baoshen Pavilion caught fire, Li Qiao escaped from Hongzhi Lane. There should still be a secret passage there connecting to the back alley of Four-Son Street. If Ding Miao hid something there..."
She didn't finish, but Lu Zican and the others were already in motion.
The shortest path from Sunshi Street to Four-Son Street required crossing Leitian Avenue, which would inevitably delay them and expose their movements.
"I know a shortcut." The street smarts she had accumulated over years in the southern city erupted. Qin Jiuye quickly mapped out a route in her mind. "After Four-Son Street caught fire, I saw people helping to move rice bags using the back alley. It's been sealed because of the plague and the fire, but it's not completely impassable."
The direction of their pursuit shifted instantly from northeast to southwest. The sun climbed higher, shifting from one side of their heads to the other, and their shadows changed accordingly, only to be shattered by their urgent footsteps.
As soon as they entered the alley, the surroundings dimmed. The walls were blackened by fire, and charred beams leaned precariously in mid-air. A layer of black ash still covered the ground, yet faint tracks of carts and horses were visible.
The fire in the back alley of Four-Son Street had happened six months ago. With the frequent rains of the wet season, these tracks couldn't have survived until now. The only possibility was that someone had recently used this path to secretly transport something.
Her suspicions were being confirmed step by step. Qin Jiuye ignored her weakening legs. The sprint and the anxiety made her heart feel like it was about to explode, but she didn't dare pause for a breath. For some reason, she thought back to the rainy night Li Qiao had broken into Baoshen Pavilion. Back then, he had stepped into a trap set by Gongzi Yan in pursuit of a "secret formula." Was Ding Miao now repeating the trick, leading him into another hell?
With every corner she turned, she hoped to see his figure, but she was met only by one empty, narrow alley after another.
The gardenia lanterns of Hongzhi Lane could be seen in the distance, and the dark alley ahead narrowed sharply. Turning the next corner would lead to the main street of the district, where everything would be revealed. Qin Jiuye summoned her last bit of strength and charged forward.
The sound of her own footsteps hit a wall and echoed back instantly. The surroundings darkened, and the air went silent.
Wait, why was this a dead end?
Qin Jiuye froze. Her first thought was that she had taken a wrong turn, but another instinct took over. Her primal sense of danger made her try to back away, but it was too late. A secret door dropped silently behind her. In the next moment, the figures of Lu Zican and the others flashed past the other side of the door. She screamed their names and pounded on the wooden planks, but the noise wasn't enough to catch them. She could only watch as they vanished at the end of the alley.
*Thud.* Her body hit the moldy wooden boards behind her. It felt as if the sword that had been hanging over her head for so long had finally fallen.
She had reached this point after all.
Ding Miao’s goal was Jiugao; logically, trouble shouldn't be aimed solely at her. Yet for some reason, before all this began, she had a faint premonition that no matter how much she calculated or what skills she used, she wouldn't be able to avoid this encounter.
From the start, she had chosen to hide in the villa with Xu Qiuchi to observe, keeping Li Qiao by her side. But that sudden assassin had instantly lured Li Qiao away. Worried for his safety, she thought acting with Lu Zican was better than sitting idle. She had calculated everything except one thing: as a merchant who had wandered the southern city for years and frequently traversed the back alleys of Four-Son Street, she was far more familiar with these narrow paths than Lu Zican and the others.
This had been her advantage in leading the way, but it was also the fundamental reason she was now alone. Her desperate desire to catch Ding Miao, driven by her survival instinct, had pushed her to a speed she had never reached before. She had arrived before everyone else, only to fall straight into a trap designed specifically for her.
A trap designed just for her.
But why? Why her?
A creaking, operatic singing voice drifted through the cracks in the wooden boards, sounding like a vengeful ghost singing to lure a lost soul into the depths of darkness.
Whether it was a man or a ghost, she had to find out.
There was no retreat. Qin Jiuye took a deep breath, crouched down, and felt the wall behind her. She quickly found traces of a newly built wall. She thrust her fingers into a gap between the bricks and pulled hard. The loosely placed bricks tumbled away, revealing a pitch-black hole. She ducked inside, feeling her way along the damp, moldy wooden boards as she moved deeper into the darkness.
After an unknown amount of time, light finally appeared at the end of the narrow, oppressive passage. She crawled out and found herself inside a theater. Colorful lanterns hung on all sides, and the walls were painted with wisteria, but there were no actors or musicians on the stage. The mournful singing had also vanished.
But that wasn't the most eerie part.
Qin Jiuye’s gaze slowly moved to the area below the stage. It was packed with spectators. They didn't make a sound. The ritual a few streets away was reaching its climax, the dense drumbeats and clamor rising to the heavens, yet the people in this theater seemed oblivious. They sat like puppets, all staring at the empty stage.
"It is too noisy outside. The drama of sacrificing to heaven and gods is far less exciting than the slaughter of the mortal world. Don't you agree?"
That gentle voice from her memory rang out as expected. Qin Jiuye couldn't help but shudder. It took her a long moment to turn around.
Ding Miao had appeared behind her at some point, standing only three or five paces away. He looked exactly as he did when they first met, but the gaze he directed at her was laced with a complex emotion that made her deeply uncomfortable. By luring her here and showing himself, he was clearly certain she was alone and without help.
A corner of her heart skipped a beat. She suddenly looked up at him.
"Where is Li Qiao? Where did you lure him?"
"What is the rush? Since you are here, sit down and accompany me for a play."
Ding Miao’s tone was gentle, like a casual invitation, but Qin Jiuye knew she had no choice.
The seats below were full, leaving only two empty chairs. Qin Jiuye took a deep breath and walked through the stiff-faced crowd, sitting down beside Ding Miao. The latter looked toward the stage with an air of leisure.
"This play is called *The Fisherman’s Fatal Visit*. It hasn't been performed in a long time. They say the lyrics are inauspicious, so few people listen to it. But today is a rare occasion. I specifically found some old-timers to sing it. Miss Qin, please give them your support."
Qin Jiuye spoke coldly, her voice devoid of its former polite warmth.
"If Mr. Ding wants to play, I can only see it through to the end."
Theaters were everywhere in Jiugao, each with its own specialty, usually romantic tales or heroic legends. This *Fisherman’s Fatal Visit* was unheard of. Compared to the usual lavish stage sets, the opening of this play was excessively plain. A single male actor dressed as a fisherman stepped onto the empty stage.
The story was half-truth, half-fiction. It told of a highly skilled blind physician who, in his twilight years, changed his name and traveled extensively. He once took a fisherman’s boat south to the Longshu area to cultivate the Way amidst the mountains and rivers. This was the first meeting between the fisherman and the blind physician. The fisherman did not know the physician's true identity, and they parted ways, forgetting each other in the world of rivers and lakes.
People in the martial world heard rumors and traveled thousands of miles to seek the blind physician, but he kept his doors closed. The fisherman’s wife and daughter fell gravely ill. Hearing the news, he realized the passenger from before was actually a divine physician and traveled far to beg for medicine. This was their second meeting. The blind physician no longer wished to interfere in worldly affairs, but remembering their time together braving the wind and waves, his heart softened. He gifted the fisherman a spiritual medicine. The fisherman was moved to tears of gratitude, and his wife and daughter’s lives were saved.
However, not long after, the fisherman’s wife and daughter perished in a flood. The fisherman thought of the blind physician again and visited him for a third time. This time, the physician refused him, telling him that the dead cannot return to life and even immortals are powerless. The fisherman refused to give up and lingered outside all night. Unexpectedly, he overheard a conversation between the physician and his disciple. It turned out the blind physician had discovered a secret formula that could bring the dead back to life and grant immortality; his travels were to decipher its mysteries. The fisherman, missing his family and believing the physician’s refusal was due to stinginess and hoarding, grew greedy. Under the cover of night, he broke into the physician’s residence and stole the so-called secret formula. But the moment he opened the box, its contents vanished as the sun rose.
On stage, the actor playing the fisherman fell to the ground clutching a treasure box and began a long, piercing wail. The shrill sound echoed through the theater, refusing to fade. The audience below was deathly silent. No one cheered, no one spoke; the atmosphere grew increasingly bizarre.
Just then, a sharp, sudden sound of clapping rang out.
Qin Jiuye looked at Ding Miao beside her. He was smiling, showing his appreciation without reservation, like an ordinary spectator.
"This is my favorite play. Do you all not like it?"
As his voice fell, the stiff spectators in the seats began to clap one after another, their faces wearing rigid smiles that made Qin Jiuye’s skin crawl.
"The play is over. How much longer does Mr. Ding intend to act..."
Before she could finish, he suddenly asked.
"Miss Qin, why do you think the secret formula flowed into Jiugao City?"
Qin Jiuye stared straight ahead, a cold sneer on her lips.
"Does Mr. Ding forget the things he has done so quickly?"
Ding Miao laughed, seemingly oblivious or indifferent to the sarcasm in her voice.
"The formula in my hand came from the World’s Greatest Villa. I was able to touch it because of the greed of that pagoda slave. The formula from the World’s Greatest Villa was brought out of Juchao by Di Mo. Di Mo did so only because he could not let go of his obsession with the Black Moon. Ultimately, the formula’s leak was a man-made disaster, not an act of God. It was the complexity, greed, and selfishness of human nature that led to the final tragedy. This is the true meaning of *The Fisherman’s Fatal Visit*." As he spoke, his voice grew colder. "Though Zuo Ci was a legendary physician, he was but a blind man. He could not see that the malignant disease was not in the skin or bone, but in the human heart. Hearts are fickle, and evil is hard to guard against. For thousands of years, those on stage have been seekers of fame, and those below have been scoundrels chasing petty gains."
Seeing the expression on his face, Qin Jiuye’s sense of shock and disgust became unbearable.
"A blind man is still better than a black-hearted one. How many layers of scrutiny can Mr. Ding’s heart withstand?"
Ding Miao laughed. He didn't seem to mind her offense at all. Like an old friend of many years, he leaned close to her ear and whispered.
"Do not be angry, Miss Qin. I simply like this story very much, and I like the term 'secret formula,' so I used it. Facts have proven that the world is indeed obsessed with it. Whenever I mention those two words to them, they always show an irrepressible yearning."
Qin Jiuye laughed out of sheer anger.
"Then perhaps you haven't asked many people. If you mention those words to anyone in the southern alleys, they would surely drag you to the authorities as a charlatan."
"I don't need to mention it to them. Because soon, everyone in this city will taste its flavor."
Had she not heard it with her own ears, Qin Jiuye could not have imagined that someone could use such a gentle, soft tone to say such terrifying words. Even more terrifying was that she knew he was not a man of empty bluster. What he said was very likely to happen.
But she couldn't show a hint of it now.
"Such big talk. Do you know how many people are in this city? Even if they waited for you to feed them one by one, it would take at least three days and nights. Before then, you would already be a prisoner."
"I said before, I am just an academy teacher. I am not suited for this business of killing. But some things do not require my personal effort. The story in the play has ended, but the story outside the play is no longer up to you or me." Ding Miao said softly, then suddenly stood up and called out to the trembling spectators around them. "The play is over. You may all depart. We shall meet again if fate allows."
Before his voice even landed, the stiff crowd exploded into a frenzy. She didn't know what terror they had experienced in this theater before, but after a chaotic rush of footsteps, only empty chairs remained around her.
Unease spread in her heart. She turned to look, and sure enough, the first person to run toward the street entrance began to scream in collapse.
"This side is sealed off!"
The crowd rushing to the other side soon let out wails of despair. All exits of the theater had been sealed. Even though the play was over, they had nowhere to run.
The play had moved from the stage to the floor; the spectators had become the actors. Chaos erupted instantly—screams, running, pushing, and trampling. Yet the more they struggled, the more trapped they became. Fear accumulated like air in a raft, about to destroy everyone's reason in an explosion.
Finally, the frantic crowd turned their eyes upward. Someone was the first to climb onto the stage, and the rest followed in a swarm. They stepped on anything they could find on the stage, even the bodies of those beside them, desperately trying to climb higher to escape. The wooden stage could not withstand the weight of dozens of people. The central planks began to bend downward, emitting a terrifying sound.
"Stop! The stage is going to collapse—"
Qin Jiuye shouted as she tried to rush forward, but she was held fast by the person beside her. She never knew a mere scholar could have such terrifying strength. In the next moment, a dull thud rang out as the central planks of the stage snapped, revealing a large hole. Those who had piled up like a human pyramid fell, groaning on the ground.
*Click-clack, click-clack.*
A familiar sound came from the pitch-black hole. The hair on the back of Qin Jiuye’s neck stood on end. She finally knew where the bitten guards from the Prefect’s Office had gone, and what the things Cao Jin had helped Ding Miao transport out of the office really were.
"When a person sees a box, they want to open it. This is an eternal, primal impulse." Ding Miao’s voice was right against her, his grip on her hand tightening. "If you understand these impulses, you can easily stir a crowd, moving them like a school of fish fighting for food. Or perhaps, in the end, we are no different from those fish."
It was so for Gongzi Yan, so for Fan Tong a month ago, and so for this chaotic crowd now.
In the play, the unwilling fisherman opened the treasure box containing the secret formula; in reality, the people desperate for life had personally released the sealed monsters.
The fisherman’s visit; the fool’s petition.
In the eyes of the one who orchestrated this grand play, these vibrant lives crushed by fear and pain were ultimately nothing more than walking stupidity and talking greed.
A terrifying roar erupted. A blood-stained hand reached out from the hole. The person closest to it fell to the ground in terror. Those fleeing trampled over him. He curled up in pain, his body tripping two or three others. Someone cracked their head open, and the scent of blood filled the air. Qin Jiuye’s heart sank as a dark shadow lunged out of the hole—it was a red-eyed guard, his official uniform soaked in blood. His body was hunting by instinct, seeking fresh flesh to fill his void.
Qin Jiuye had seen much and had even fought a mad monster on a flower boat for three hundred rounds, but the others in this theater were not like her. The suppressed screams and cries exploded in an instant. The fleeing crowd was like a rope tied in a dead knot, winding tighter and tighter.
"Don't panic! Don't make a sound! Find a place to hide and you'll have a chance to live—"
She shouted at the top of her lungs, but her voice was instantly swallowed.
A strange fragrance hit her from behind. Unable to dodge, she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her.
"It is useless. In a chaotic world, who can save whom?" The woman’s gaze was still fixed anxiously on the chaotic crowd, while he looked at her from beginning to end, his eyes filled with infinite pity. "It is because I did not want to see you like this that I did not let you see what is about to happen in the city with your own eyes."
"What did you say to Fan Tong? What did you..."
As she spoke, she could no longer resist the vertigo and collapsed forward, caught easily by him.
Ding Miao’s gentle, smiling face gradually blurred, and his voice drifted away.
"Is this not your method? I am merely applying what I have learned..."
***
Noon arrived; the Winter Solstice had descended.
On the altar at Leitian Avenue, the Fangxiangshi suddenly changed his mask and drew a sword from nowhere, holding it high above his head.
"The auspicious hour has arrived! Receive the dew of grace! Distribute the Fortune Rice!"
The moment the sword swung down, the five-colored rope knots were severed. The colorful spheres hanging from the top of the pagoda scattered like dandelion seeds, and their contents poured out. The sound was heavier than soil and swifter than water—white, glistening piles of rice cascaded down. Cheers and clamor erupted like a mountain flood. Wave after wave of people surged forward toward the altar.
Whether Lord Fan of Longshu had gone mad was unknown, but the crowd in Jiugao had undoubtedly lost control.
If the Rejuvenation Soup on Shouqi Street was a glimmer of hope for seven wen, then this free Fortune Rice was everyone's salvation. They did not know the bloody, filthy secret within the rice, nor did they know of the disaster and terror beneath this auspicious atmosphere. Each came with a heart full of gratitude, seeking only enough grain for the next half-month. And the "spectator" had shamelessly exploited this tiny wish to sow the seeds of calamity.
The young officers, overwhelmed, tried to guide the crowd into the surrounding alleys, but the situation was beyond anyone's control. The crowd was like a flood from a broken dam, plugging every gap around the altar so tightly that not even a needle could pass. Those close by raised their hands, wishing they were a few inches taller; those further away pushed forward with all their might, shaking the entire altar.
The guards on the altar watched the surging tide of people, their tongues knotting with fear.
"This... this isn't what was agreed upon! Weren't we supposed to distribute the rice?"
His question went unanswered. The Military Secretary, Lord Zhao, drew his sword and stood on high ground, shouting to stabilize the situation. However, his voice was swallowed before it could travel five paces. The priest and the performers on the altar continued to dance frantically, as if performing an evil ritual of enchantment.
That priest was one of Mr. Ding’s men. He had long felt that the frail scholar was suspicious, and this scene was truly an eye-opener. Lord Zhao cursed under his breath, leaped onto the nearest roof, and abandoned the mess to flee.
The guards distributing the rice panicked even more and scrambled to retreat.
"Where is Lord Fan? Go report to Lord Fan—"
Before he could finish, another guard ran up, face pale as death.
"Lord Fan is gone."
Not only was Lord Fan gone, but the carriages filled with the Prefect’s entire fortune were no longer by the road.
They finally realized they had never been anything more than disposable pawns in Lord Fan’s pocket, no different from the crowd below blinded by desire. Their official uniforms had not made them superior; they only made them look exceptionally foolish. A faint sound came from behind. They turned to see cracks growing wildly along the pagoda’s body. Then, with a thunderous roar, the entire sacrificial altar collapsed, and the chaotic crowd was instantly swallowed by the ruins.
***
On the Gantang Stone Bridge in the north of the city, Lord Fan’s carriage sped toward the North Lou Gate.
The crowd was blocked by the collapsed altar in the east, and this road was empty. Even pursuers wouldn't be able to catch up for a while. Only the trembling earth hinted at the terrifying disaster occurring on the other side of the city. This was something he had planned long ago. Having sat in the Prefect’s seat for so many years, he was finally showing some true skill today.
"Lord Fan, today is the ritual. The city gates were all closed after the hour of the Dragon..."
"We must leave the city today!" Fan Tong’s voice came impatiently, laced with madness. "If we cannot get out, I will have all your heads!"
The pressure of execution arrived unexpectedly. The guard driving the carriage realized this was a far more dangerous path than imagined. But knowing they had come this far, even if he fled now, he wouldn't escape the eventual reckoning. Better to take a gamble; wealth was always found in danger.
As the city gate came into view, Fan Tong was so anxious his mouth was dry. He wished he could lend his own legs to the horses. But the Heavens seemed intent on working against him, presenting a problem at this very moment. Several carriages suddenly cut in from the side, blocking his path. The driving guard was startled and pulled the reins. Fan Tong slammed forward.
"Lord Fan, the gate... the gate is blocked..."
Fan Tong’s heart sank. He pulled back the curtain and looked out. The once-empty space before the gate was now filled with three or four carriages horizontally blocking the way. He recognized the one that had cut him off—it was the carriage of the Bai family from the north. It was loaded with so much rice and supplies that it had rammed the other carriages aside until it hit the city wall.
Bai Xun leaned out of the carriage. The moment their eyes met, Fan Tong understood—they were playing the same hand. He sensed something was wrong and shouted to retreat and find another way. But it was too late. Over a dozen carriages poured out from the surrounding alleys, clogging the gate area in the blink of an eye. Most were wealthy families from the north who had heard rumors and chosen to flee during the ritual, only to encounter other "clever" people with the same idea.
They had all risked everything to seek refuge outside; how could they give up easily? They fought even more fiercely, no one willing to yield. Yet, if anyone had paused to think, they would have noticed the anomaly. What kind of "inside information" could reach so many families simultaneously? Unless the information came from a single source, and the one spreading it intended for them to become the clowns in this farce, unable to back down.
Fan Tong looked at the tangled mess of carriages and let out an absurd laugh, sweat pouring down his fleshy face.
He knew very well that this was all Ding Miao’s doing.
The man had calculated his escape, even the timing and the gate he would use. This calculation had likely begun the moment the man first approached him. He hadn't been without suspicion of the scholar, but until the end, he didn't understand what the man stood to gain. The moment he agreed to the ritual proposal, he had begun planning his escape. The so-called sharing of the plague’s curse was merely a desperate, delusional hope. Su Lin’s family was in the medicine business and had sought every famous physician, yet he had been helpless to save his own mother.
He wasn't stupid. He knew his "illness" was likely incurable.
But so what if it was incurable? Hadn't the old Madame Su lived for months by consuming human blood? If the eldest son of the Qiu family hadn't captured her, she might have lived forever.
Why? Why should he be the one to die? Let others die first; he still wanted to live.
Another wave of chaos erupted at the gate. A cold voice shouted from outside.
"By order of Lord Fan, no one is allowed to enter or leave the city during the ritual!"
The curtain was ripped down, and Fan Tong’s obese body squeezed out of the carriage.
"Open your dog eyes and look closely! I am your Grandpa Fan! Open the gate! Open it now—"
His shout cut off halfway because he recognized the man guarding the gate as one of the young officers under Qiu Ling.
Duan Xiaozhou narrowed his eyes, his spear planted firmly on the ground, his presence overwhelming.
"Someone is trespassing at the gate! Seize them!"
The gate guards surrounded them from both sides. They were clearly prepared. Fan Tong’s makeshift team was no match for the trained officers. They didn't last three rounds before throwing down their armor. The officers were upon them in an instant.
"Get out of the way! I'll do it myself!"
Fan Tong was seeing red. He didn't care for his loyal subordinates, kicking them aside. Relying on the bulk he had cultivated over the years, he shoved people away and actually drove the carriage through the checkpoint, racing toward the city gate.
"Lord Fan, don't leave us! Lord Fan! Lord Fan—"
Lord Fan had lost his ears. His eyes were fixed solely on the end of the bridge ahead.
"Fan Tong has escaped! Notify the Second Young Master!"
Duan Xiaozhou roared. The soldiers obeyed, nimbly climbing the city wall and unhooking the horns at their waists to blow.
The desolate, wailing sound of the horn carried an air of omen and slaughter, drifting over Jiugao like a call to battle. But this was a war where no blades were seen and enemies were indistinguishable; even the finest soldiers were at a loss.
Cold wind whipped his face. Fan Tong looked back at the gate he had left behind. His cap had flown off, and his disheveled hair flailed in the wind like wild claws, making him look even more insane. He shouted in triumph. It felt like the most dazzling victory of his life. Thinking of the chaos in the city and the hellish scene to come, he felt an unspeakable thrill. The ecstasy of cheating death possessed him as his whip lashed down.
Once he crossed the moat, he would be completely free of Jiugao. He could leave all trouble behind, take his accumulated wealth, and join the nobles in the north to enjoy a comfortable old age.
Once he survived this, he would wash his hands of it all. He promised not to be greedy, not to steal, and not to abuse his official robes again.
He would spend the rest of his life atoning, if only he could leave this place.
Ten yards, nine yards, eight yards...
Fan Tong stared at the vibrating reins in his hands. He realized the drawbridge across the moat was shaking violently.
The last time he had felt this strange sensation was on the Su family’s cargo ship...
In the next moment, the thunderous roar of ignited explosives erupted directly beneath him. All his madness, his tremors, his hope for life, and his fear of death vanished in the flames.
The carriage filled with gold and silver, along with the bridge beneath it, was blown to pieces. Gold, silver, and fire mixed with the flesh and blood of Fan Tong, the Prefect of Longshu, as they fell into the moat. As the roar of the explosives echoed, numerous dark shadows converged in the cold, black water. The river seemed to boil as the shadows instantly devoured the shredded remains.
It turned out the rumors that Lord Fan kept man-eating river monsters in the moat were true.
The city gate fell into a deathly silence. Those who witnessed it were paralyzed by shock and fear, unable to move or speak, until the sound of an arrow piercing the air rang out. The soldier standing closest to the gate was struck in the chest and fell instantly.
Since the indestructible walls of Jiugao were built, when had they ever faced an enemy attack? No one expected today to be the first. The guards were still dazed, let alone the wealthy lords crowded at the gate, who stood like sitting ducks.
In an instant, several flaming arrows whistled past. The sound of splashing oil and arrows entering flesh rang out. Only then did people snap out of their trance, screaming and retreating to escape the sudden carnage.
However, the gate was already a mess. Those in carriages wailed with their heads covered; those who tried to abandon their vehicles were struck by arrows the moment they poked their heads out. Wherever the flaming arrows landed, everything ignited, the fire climbing higher in the wind.
Finally, someone reacted. Using a leather curtain as a shield, he raised his arm and shouted.
"Don't panic! Close the gate! Close the gate now!"
The voice belonged to an elderly gate guard who rarely spoke. Now, his voice was deafening. Others finally responded and joined in.
The gate hinges groaned. Everyone used their utmost strength, but the massive gate still had a gap the width of a wheel track that wouldn't close. Just then, a woman in green appeared from the side. Her bare palms seemed to possess the strength of a thousand catties. With a heavy shove against the gate, the door, which had been jammed by arrows, finally slammed shut, blocking the flaming bolts outside.
"Draw river water to extinguish the fires! Stop the spread! Evacuate the people to the nearest firebreaks!"
A weathered voice rang out from horseback. Everyone turned to see an old general with thinning clothes and white hair flying in the wind dismounting. The long-absent horn had pulled him from his lingering illness and old dreams. He wore no armor, not even his official robes, yet no one dared ignore the aura around him. It felt as though a bright moon had arrived in the long night.
"It's the Commander! Commander Qiu is here!"
Old Tan, the gate guard, was the first to shout. It was just a name, yet it invigorated everyone.
Duan Xiaozhou approached with excitement, but before he could say a word to the legendary leader of the Black Moon, the old man’s expression changed. He lunged forward and tackled Duan Xiaozhou to the ground.
"Get down!"
A blinding flash of fire and a wave of heat struck from behind. The roar of falling debris instantly buried everything. When people struggled to their feet and looked back, they found the North Lou Gate had vanished, replaced by a high wall of massive stones.
Horns sounded from three other directions in succession, signaling that various parts of the city and the other three gates were under attack.
Jiugao City had completely fallen.
***
