Chapter 15: Why Is It You Again!

Yang Li!

Indeed, the neighbor next door was the very man who had come to visit in the southern district not long ago.

What a coincidence.

When Yang Li stepped out of his room and caught sight of Shen Lian, he was just as surprised.

“What a small world,” he said, nodding to Shen Lian before quickly shutting his door.

Shen Lian nodded in return and closed his own door.

In the days that followed, Shen Lian once again threw himself into his grand enterprise of earning spirit stones.

Three days later, a sharp scream pierced the morning calm.

Peering through a freshly pried crack in his door, Shen Lian watched as cultivators gathered in the alley, crowding around a house not far away.

Someone else had fallen.

“How is this fellow so lucky every time?” someone muttered in the crowd.

Among them, Shen Lian spotted Yang Li again, whispering conspiratorially to those around him and gesturing toward the house where the incident had occurred.

As he watched, an uneasy thought surfaced in Shen Lian’s mind.

“Could this fellow be a demonic cultivator?”

Most cultivators would instinctively stay away from anything related to demonic arts, so why was Yang Li so eager to involve himself each time?

Some demonic cultivators were just like that—cruel and ruthless, all the while presenting themselves as model members of the righteous path.

Yet there were also righteous cultivators who played even dirtier games than the so-called demonic ones.

In these times, the line between demonic and orthodox had become all but meaningless.

In the past half year, the demonic cultivators had not come for him directly, but from careful observation, Shen Lian had noticed that they preferred to strike at night, gouging out hearts with chilling efficiency.

Yet not a sound of struggle was ever heard in the darkness. The victims’ doors and windows were always intact, the carnage only discovered the next day by the scent of blood and the presence of a new corpse.

Each time, the killer managed to ensure the victim did not resist.

Was he always blessed by lady luck during his grisly work?

Either the demonic cultivator struck with lightning speed and precision, or he employed foul tricks in advance to subdue his targets.

Shen Lian suspected the latter.

Just like those who had once targeted him—these people always poisoned first.

The methods of demonic cultivators were even more insidious, employing tricks beyond imagination.

“Sigh... even if I dig three burrows outside the marketplace like a cunning rabbit, it’s no use. I have to move into a small courtyard in the center,” he thought to himself.

He wasn't afraid of trouble, but trouble always seemed to find him, and that was a nuisance in itself.

After another cultivator fell in the alley, the following weeks passed in relative peace, almost as if a sacrifice had been offered.

But after ten more days, Shen Lian could stand it no longer. Packing up his things, he pushed open his door and headed toward the commercial street.

Treasure Pavilion.

Weng Xia was meticulously examining the patterns on the miasma-expelling talismans. After looking over each one, a smile broke across his face.

“Fellow Shen, I’ll still take this batch of miasma-expelling talismans at eight spirit stones apiece,” he said.

“I appreciate it,” Shen Lian replied, cupping his fists in gratitude.

This time, he had brought a hundred talismans.

He wasn’t blind; as he entered the Treasure Pavilion, he noticed others were there to buy the same talismans. The shop sold them for just seven spirit stones each, yet Weng Xia was still willing to buy his at eight. Whatever his motive, the spirit stones were real enough in Shen Lian's hand.

“Brother, take a look at these talismans,” Weng Xia said, pulling out a stack of a dozen or so from behind the counter.

Shen Lian took them and inspected each one.

“This one has a broken pattern, so its power will be lacking when activated.”

“This one is flawed from the very first stroke.”

...

“And this one...”

Of the dozen talismans, not a single one could be considered top quality.

“You always say your experience with talismans is lacking, but is there a single flaw you can’t spot?” Weng Xia laughed.

“These are practice pieces from disciples in the sect, and some were bought from other talisman makers,” he explained.

“Truth be told, I’ve tested your talismans. Once activated, yours can drive away miasma within a radius of fifty zhang and last for a quarter of an hour.”

“These others vary, but the best ones only cover thirty zhang,” Weng Xia went on.

“Their endurance is worse, too—half a quarter of an hour at best.”

“Brother, would you be interested in continuing our partnership?” he asked.

“I would be delighted,” Shen Lian agreed on the spot.

Even if Weng Xia reverted to the original buying price, Shen Lian would have no leverage—and might even lose the old man’s favor.

As things stood, both sides benefited and all were pleased.

Besides, Shen Lian was hoping to glean some hints from Weng Xia about leaving Yunmeng Market in advance.

A hundred talismans, eight hundred lower-grade spirit stones.

“Brother, a house in the central area has just become available,” Weng Xia said before Shen Lian even had a chance to ask.

“Courtyard No. 23 on Ding Street. Don’t worry about spending spirit stones—act quickly, there are many looking to rent.”

He leaned in conspiratorially.

“Courtyard No. 23 on Ding Street?”

Shen Lian nodded, just about to ask what set that courtyard apart, but Weng Xia was already off to serve another customer.

When Shen Lian arrived at the Administrative Hall, he found it crowded with cultivators.

The steward he sought, Wang, was surrounded.

“Fellow cultivators, the allocation of houses must be decided by the Foundation Establishment patriarchs. I am but a steward,” Wang said.

“I serve at their pleasure, and I follow their orders. Serving you all is my duty.”

“The housing is still being tallied, but in less than half a month, everything should be sorted out,” he assured them.

“We’ll work as quickly as possible to help everyone find a suitable place to rent.”

A polite smile was fixed on Wang Yang’s face as he sent the loose cultivators on their way.

Once the crowd had dispersed, the smile vanished. His gaze landed on Shen Lian, and he gave the faintest of nods.

When Wang Yang retreated to the inner room, Shen Lian glanced around and slipped in after him.

“Fellow Daoist, it’s been a while,” Wang Yang greeted, not rising from his seat behind the stone table, but smiling nonetheless.

“I happened to have some free time today and thought I’d pay you a visit,” Shen Lian replied, returning the gesture of respect.

Wang Yang motioned for him to sit and got straight to the point. “You’ve come at a good time. I just happen to have a few extra houses available.”

He made no effort to hide this, a stark contrast to his words outside.

“I’d like to rent Courtyard No. 23 on Ding Street. What’s the price?” Shen Lian asked.

Wang Yang narrowed his eyes and leaned back. “It seems you’re quite close with Steward Weng Xia.”

“...If I recall, you wanted to co-rent. For a shared courtyard, it’s fifty spirit stones a month.”

He lowered his voice.

“But… if you want to secure it, you’ll need to pay an extra fifty spirit stones.”

With a flick, a small pile of sparkling objects appeared on the stone table.

A moment later, they vanished as if they had never been there.

Only the smooth, polished surface of the table still glimmered faintly.