A Pawn's Passage

After leaving the Imperial Capital, Zhang Yuelu walked for a while on foot when dark clouds suddenly gathered, and the sky grew heavy and overcast.

It looked like a snowstorm was about to hit.

Zhang Yuelu was not afraid of snow or wind, but she had no set destination and had merely left the capital temporarily. So, instead of wandering aimlessly in the snow, she simply chose a roadside inn to wait out the storm.

With the snowstorm blocking the roads, the inn was already filled with travelers.

Since she was traveling, Zhang Yuelu wore a cloak, the same kind she had worn when journeying to the Western Region with Qi Xuansu. She had put up the hood to conceal half her face, leaving only her chin exposed.

Zhang Yuelu usually hated the act of veiling her face, but she felt a sense of guilt for this meeting with the Ziguang Society. Thus, she was reluctant to reveal her true appearance. It might also be a self-deceptive fear of being seen.

When Zhang Yuelu pushed open the door and stepped inside the inn, the entire main hall abruptly fell silent.

The reason was simple. It was not because Zhang Yuelu was exuding the aura of a Heavenly Being but because her cloak bore the distinct markings of the Daoist Order, signaling that she was a Daoist priest with a formal position of at least the sixth rank or above.

It was not as if Zhang Yuelu was flaunting anything. As a third-rank Youyi Daoist master, her clothing was officially issued by the Daoist Order, following uniform standards established by the fifth-generation Grand Master. She did not prepare any plain, common robes in advance.

When people from Jianghu saw Daoist officials, they either respectfully addressed them as Daoist Masters or called them Daoist Lords with subtle sarcasm. Insults like Daoist dogs usually came from cult demons, especially the three dangerous secret societies.

Many of the wandering swordsmen instinctively lowered their voices.

With no empty tables available, Zhang Yuelu chose one by the window. She did not mind sharing, but the travelers already at the table were intimidated, quickly vacating the spot to squeeze in elsewhere.

Zhang Yuelu let out a barely audible sigh, said nothing, and beckoned a server to order a jar of baijiu. She did not like the mellow sweetness of yellow rice wine.

These days, under a peaceful reign, the empire’s wealth stretched across the seas, maritime trade flourished, and the common people lived fairly well. Those who truly could not make ends meet could always head overseas to the New World that was fabled to have boundless gold and silver, where, with some luck, they might win fortune and glory. If they died along the way, it was simply their fate.

Moreover, to solidify its control over Borneo and East Shakya, the Daoist Order actively encouraged commoners to migrate overseas, even dispatching a Great Sage to personally oversee affairs and coordinate efforts. In effect, it was a new form of expansion. If ever there were displaced peasants, they did not even need to spark a rebellion before boarding a Daoist vessel bound for Nanyang. Thanks to this, for nearly 200 years, there had been no single peasant uprising involving over a thousand people. It was a record unmatched by any previous dynasty.

From this perspective, the Daoist-led Great Xuan Dynasty was similar to the earlier Qi Dynasty—outward-looking, expansive, and necessarily inclusive.

Setting aside the turmoil of the Qi Dynasty’s middle and late periods, in its early years, Xijing Prefecture was the world’s top metropolis, home not only to Central Plains folk but also to the Hu people, embracing all cultures.

The current Daoist Order operated under the same logic. They could only become great by being inclusive and embracing diversity. Thus, the Daoist Order had absorbed Western influences.

Since it embraced openness, the upper ranks must mind their words and actions, but ordinary people faced no punishment for what they said. In the inn, there were no signs warning the people not to discuss state affairs.

But at present, there was not much in the way of state affairs to discuss. The Western Region campaign had concluded in another predictable victory. As for the wars of the Western nations in West Shakya, that was too far away to capture the commoners’ attention.

Thus, most patrons of the inn were swapping heroic tales or Jianghu rumors, like a wager between a boxing master and a bodyguard, or some great fighter suffering humiliation when a rival stormed into his training center seeking vengeance.

For Zhang Yuelu, it was all exceedingly dull.

To be fair, the Daoist Order had once wrestled in these muddy waters of Jianghu, but times had changed. The Daoist Order was no longer what it once was. It was now the ruler of the world. Domestically, it governed 19 states. Abroad, it held territories like Fenglin, Borneo, Shakya, and even parts of the Western Continent and the New World. Thus, Daoist disciples no longer concerned themselves with mere Jianghu squabbles.

Just then, a woman’s voice called out, “Innkeeper, do you have any rooms left?”

The innkeeper smiled apologetically. “Sorry, we’re full today.”

The woman continued, “Alright then, do you have any open seats?”

The innkeeper glanced at Zhang Yuelu, who occupied a table alone, and kept smiling apologetically. “We’re truly sorry. There are just too many guests today. We really—”

Zhang Yuelu spoke up. “If you don’t mind, there’s an open seat at my table. We can share.”

The woman entered the main hall, drawing everyone’s gaze. The room brightened at her presence. She looked to be in her early thirties, with a heart-shaped face and soft pink cheeks. Her features were graceful and refined. She wore a pale blue silk-lined fur coat, her attire elegant yet not quite that of a noble lady—she looked more like a woman who roamed Jianghu.

The woman walked straight toward Zhang Yuelu’s table, thanking her as she approached. “Thank you.”

Zhang Yuelu did not reply, simply sipping her wine.

The woman sat across from Zhang Yuelu, studying the Daoist carefully, then suddenly asked, “Young lady, are you looking for someone?”

Zhang Yuelu paused slightly. Thanks to her experiences with Qi Xuansu, she did not underestimate these so-called seasoned travelers. Assuming she had unknowingly given something away, she calmly replied, “I’m looking for a woman.”

“A woman?” The woman chuckled. “It’s not strange for a man to seek a woman, but it’s interesting for a woman to seek another woman. Is it a sister? Or a mother? Surely not a daughter.”

Zhang Yuelu answered vaguely, “Neither a sister nor a mother, certainly not a daughter. Strictly speaking, I’m looking for a group of women. I’ve heard many of the brothel girls in the Imperial Capital are connected to them. But for certain reasons, I cannot go to those places myself.”

The woman did not answer immediately. Instead, she waved to the attendant. “Bring me your finest baijiu.”

Zhang Yuelu asked, “You know such women?”

The woman gazed at her and smiled faintly. “You’re talking about the Ziguang Society, aren’t you?”

Zhang Yuelu fell silent.

“Enjoy.” The attendant set the wine down before the woman and departed.

Only then did Zhang Yuelu speak. “I never said I was looking for a secret society.”

“But you spoke clearly enough.” The woman chuckled softly. “I’ve seen plenty of people. It’s easy to tell who you’re really talking about.”

Zhang Yuelu set down her wine jar and sized up the woman. “Who are you?”

The woman replied unhurriedly, “I’m Xuanji, a Jianghu wanderer.”

Zhang Yuelu studied this woman and asked, “Does being a wanderer count as an identity nowadays?”

The woman replied, “I once belonged to a sect, but the younger generation staged a coup and drove me out. So now, I’m just a lone soul drifting through Jianghu.”

Zhang Yuelu murmured, “Jianghu.”

“Yes, Jianghu exists wherever there are people. Anything beyond the courts is considered Jianghu.” Xuanji remarked.

Zhang Yuelu continued, “How do you know of the Ziguang Society?”

Xuanji looked straight into Zhang Yuelu’s eyes. “That’s a good question. Of course, it’s through various Jianghu rumors. As a professional wanderer, I can only pick up bits about powerful factions and figures through hearsay. Naturally, there aren’t many as well-informed as I.”

Zhang Yuelu lowered her gaze slightly. “You’re indeed well-informed, even more so than a Daoist official currently searching for clues on secret societies.”

Xuanji chuckled again. “Not just any Daoist official. I’ve run into the Daoist Order’s youngest third-rank Youyi Daoist master, the Heavenly Preceptor’s grandniece, and the Deputy Tiangang Hall Master—Zhang Yuelu.”

Zhang Yuelu was shocked inwardly, but she appeared calm on the surface. “Did you also learn about me from Jianghu rumors?”

Xuanji did not answer and simply took a sip from her jar of wine.

Zhang Yuelu pressed on. “Do you know where to find the Ziguang Society members?”

Xuanji set the wine jar down with a knock on the table. “Before I answer, I want to ask—does this concern the Zhang family?”

Zhang Yuelu’s tone turned solemn. “That’s none of your concern.”

Xuanji was not offended. She casually adjusted the hairpin in her hair. “True, I’m just a wanderer. Naturally, the dignified High Mage Zhang doesn’t owe me any explanation.”

Zhang Yuelu’s tone sharpened as she demanded. “What do you know? Tell me everything.”

Xuanji remained relaxed as she teased, “That’s no way to ask for help. You can’t even bring yourself to say ‘please.’”

Zhang Yuelu fell silent for a moment, then softened her tone. “Please, tell me.”

Xuanji said, “Finding the Ziguang Society isn’t hard. Head east from this inn for about 15 kilometers, and you’ll find a door-half-open establishment. Do you know what a door-half-open establishment is?”

If it had been before, Zhang Yuelu truly would not have known. But recently, thanks to frequent communication with Qi Xuansu, who had been tasked with cleaning up the Imperial Capital’s public morality, Zhang Yuelu found out what it was. She nodded. “It’s the lowest class of brothels.”

Xuanji smiled. “It seems the Zhang family ladies aren’t entirely detached from worldly affairs. If you want to find the Ziguang Society, go there.”

Zhang Yuelu stared intently at Xuanji.

Throughout their conversation, the other patrons acted as though they had not heard a word of what they said.

Xuanji kept drinking until her cheeks gradually turned red.

Soon, she was drunk. She slumped over the table and fell asleep.

About half an hour later, she woke up, blinking her bleary, drunken eyes and looking around in confusion as if she did not even recognize Zhang Yuelu. “Where am I?”

Zhang Yuelu frowned.

The woman before her was merely someone else’s puppet.

It was now clear that from the moment Zhang Yuelu set foot in this inn, she had already stepped under the watchful gaze of some unseen presence.