A Pawn's Passage

On the third morning, Chen Jianchou finally met Superintendent Lu.

The meeting place was the same tavern as before. The owner was one of Xu Jiaorong’s trusted people; hence, this place was secure.

Though the Great Sage of the Daoist Mansion had long abstained from mundane affairs, that did not mean he had been sidelined. He still had firm control over the majority of Spirit Guards in the Poluo Daoist Mansion. His presence alone remained a deterrent, a pillar of stability. A man of such stature would never be blind nor deaf to his surroundings. He had his own channels of intelligence, and Xu Jiaorong herself oversaw these matters.

Superintendent Lu came from the distinguished Lu family of the Central Plains and was a trusted aide of the newly appointed Second Deputy Daoist Mansion Master. Chen Jianchou deduced that his godmother and the new Second Deputy had already become allies since she had asked him to contact Superintendent Lu.

From this, he reasoned further that his godmother must have long known of the King’s illness yet had remained indifferent. But the new Second Deputy, having arrived only recently, had already launched an investigation. This made him wonder if the true hand behind all this was neither Xu Jiaorong nor the Great Sage, but Second Deputy Qi himself.

Second Deputy Qi was no ordinary man. Rumors said he came to Poluo on a special mission from the Golden Tower Council, bearing the ultimate authority. Perhaps he intended to use this case as leverage to bring down Chief Deputy Chen.

Lu Yuting brought with her a copy of the medical record. It was a difficult task, but not impossible for her. Being dispatched from the headquarters of Huasheng Hall in Jade Capital, she held special authority.

Thus, when Lu Yuting requested to inspect a year’s worth of records and accounts, the local superintendent naturally assumed it to be a routine audit from headquarters and dared not refuse.

That was how Lu Yuting obtained all records from the past year, including those of notable individuals.

Then, with a bit of careful planning, she secretly duplicated them when no one was watching.

The key was that such an act would not arouse Chen Shuhua’s suspicion, since it appeared entirely reasonable as a routine administration.

Only Lu Yuting could have pulled this off so cleanly. Even Xu Jiaorong could not have done it without leaving traces.

At the same time, Chen Jianchou carefully studied the superintendent before him, not with the eyes of a man admiring a woman, but with the instinctive scrutiny of a Green Phoenix Guard.

To Chen Jianchou, this Superintendent Lu resembled his godmother in some ways. She was intelligent, graceful, calm, and capable. She seemed aloof, as though she was keeping the world at arm’s length.

He thought to himself, This seems to be a common trait among Daoist women. They’re certainly unsuited for the bloody chaos of Jianghu. But they are perfectly at home with schemes and political rivalries of elite bureaucratic circles.

Compared to his godmother, Superintendent Lu was still young and not as polished or perfect. The former still retained a sharpness and forcefulness like an uncut gem, its edges not yet smoothed by time.

Chen Jianchou did not feel the stir of affection toward Lu Yuting as he did for Chen Jianqiu. Lu Yuting was also not as friendly as the princess was. She kept a cold, distant tone as she said, “This copy must not be circulated. Do you understand?”

“Understood.” Chen Jianchou nodded and immediately opened the copy of the medical record.

The contents were entirely handwritten, the script delicate and elegant, unmistakably from Superintendent Lu’s hand.

Huasheng Hall certainly had exceptionally high standards in their recruitment.

Naturally, there would be patients whom even Huasheng Hall could not save. But that was mostly due to the patient’s cultivation being too low to withstand the potency of the medicine. Many of Huasheng Hall’s elixirs were potent remedies that were actually deadly poisons in disguise. Those below the required realm would either explode upon consuming it or die outright from the toxicity. Such drugs could kill the healthy as easily as the sick. Only practitioners whose cultivation matched the prescribed level and who followed the precise intake method could bear the medicinal power. For them, it became not just a cure but sometimes a means of advancing their cultivation.

The King was a Xiaoyao-stage Heavenly Being. Thus, his capacity to endure potent medicine was exceptionally high, so that part was not a concern.

According to his medical record, after joint consultation among several senior Daoist superintendents from the Huasheng Hall, they concluded that the King’s confusion, delirium, and persistent nightmares were symptoms of the Lost Soul Syndrome. This meant that his spirit had departed his body.

There were many possible causes of this syndrome. But the most infamous was the Nightmare Bringer Method. This was an ancient technique from Ancient Wuism, considered witchcraft.

One would have to set up an altar, make a doll out of straw, and write the enemy’s name and birth date on the body of the doll. A lamp was placed on the doll’s head and another at its feet. Steps were traced in ritual with a divination compass, curses written on talismans, and burned to seal the spell. One would have to worship the altar three times a day until noon on the 21st day.

During this process, the victim of the curse had almost no ability to resist because their spirit would have been greatly damaged. The victim would not even know that they had been targeted. Twenty-one days later, the enemy’s soul and spirit would leave the body. At this time, the caster stabbed the doll with a magic sword, causing blood to spurt out of the doll and the enemy.

The disadvantage of this method was that it took too long. This method also required one to know the birth date and real name of their enemies.

Naturally, if the caster’s cultivation was insufficient, the ritual could not dislodge a stronger soul. Moreover, Martial Arts Practitioners and Diviners were innately resistant to such arts. The former was because their body and spirit were inseparable; the latter was because their yin spirit had already replaced the soul as their true essence, so their flesh was just a vessel. If so, how could one will the true essence of a Diviner away with such a ritual?

It had now been far beyond 21 days, so it could not have been the complete Nightmare Bringer Method. Could it have been interrupted?

The medical record explicitly rejected that possibility.

An interrupted Nightmare Bringer Method was considered a complete failure. The dispersed soul would naturally return to its host. It was either a success or a failure, with no middle ground.

The medical record pointed to another possibility—accidental ingestion of an elixir, resulting in the soul leaving the body.

Within the Daoist Order, there was a Soul-Severing Pill designed to allow one’s soul to depart the body voluntarily. However, if taken by mistake, it could cause the Lost-Soul Syndrome.

But that alone could not explain the Yu King’s series of strange dreams.

Such recurring dreams bore a striking resemblance to demonic possession, as though some malevolent spirit had taken hold of him.

Could someone have stripped the King’s soul and then filled the vacancy with a malevolent spirit?

The Daoist physicians argued fiercely over the cause.

Even within the medical record itself, there were numerous contradictions.

In the end, the Daoists of Huasheng Hall reached a preliminary conclusion that the King must immediately cease taking all types of elixirs and undergo a period of observation. That way, they could confirm or rule out the possibility of a drug-induced affliction.

Chen Jianchou frowned deeply as he read. Chen Jianqiu had said that Chief Deputy Chen claimed the King’s health would improve if he continued taking the elixir. But the Huasheng Hall’s official recommendation was to cease all medicine immediately. It was a direct contradiction.

More evidence pointed toward Chief Deputy Chen.

Was the case really that simple? Like many palace schemes, it might not involve a complex strategy. But because it involved highly sensitive individuals, their ranks made ordinary crimes seem like grand conspiracies.

So what was Chief Deputy Chen’s motive? Could it really be revenge? If this matter were exposed, she would face severe punishment from the Daoist Order. Would she really be willing to risk her entire future just to spite her half-brother?

By any fair measure, their relationship was strained but not murderous. The King had not killed her mother, and they shared the same father. There was no great life-and-death enmity between them.

If there truly were such a feud, the King would never have agreed so readily to Chief Deputy Chen’s proposal of reconciliation. He would have known something was wrong.

Chen Jianchou’s instincts told him the case was far from simple. Something deeper must be hidden beneath.

If it wasn’t hatred, then it must be interest—some form of gain.

But what could it be? Power? Rank? The Yu Kingdom? Or cultivation?

Unfortunately, Chen Jianchou’s position was too low to speculate any further. It was as if a heavy fog veiled his vision. Within it, he could only glimpse dark silhouettes flickering past.

Just as Chen Jianchou was about to read further, he realized the medical record ended abruptly.

He looked up at Lu Yuting and asked, “Mage Lu, is this all there is?”

Having personally copied the file, Lu Yuting had already read it in full. She replied, “That’s all. There’s nothing beyond this point. The original record was marked, ‘case ends here.’ It seems the investigation was halted under pressure from the Poluo Daoist Mansion, and the subsequent proceedings were taken over by them.”

Chen Jianchou immediately understood that it was Chief Deputy Chen’s doing. She must have pressured Huasheng Hall to stop the inquiry. Though the Huasheng Hall’s local branches enjoyed a high degree of independence, they were still part of the Daoist order and had to show deference to higher ranks.

A Deputy Huasheng Hall Master might dare refuse the Chief Deputy Mansion Master, but ordinary superintendents at the local branch certainly would not.

By this stage, Chen Jianchou had enough material to submit a report in half a month. His suspicions and conjectures about Chief Deputy Chen would count as a completed assignment. But it would be a mediocre one at best, certainly not enough to impress Second Deputy Qi and still lacking to earn him a place within the Daoist Order.

An unbidden thought suddenly surfaced in his mind. I’d only disappoint my godmother...and Chen Jianqiu.

After his initial confusion about why he suddenly cared about Chen Jianqiu’s disappointment, realization dawned on him. Ever since meeting Chen Jianqiu and falling head over heels for her, he had carried a deep sense of inferiority. Even setting aside their shared bloodline, he knew deep down that he was unworthy of her.

Thus, he grew desperate to change his standing, wanting to become someone worthy of Chen Jianqiu.

The only path to that change was to join the Daoist Order.

Therefore, he could not stop at Chief Deputy Chen. He had to find tangible proof or uncover a deeper motive behind her actions. Only then could he live up to his godmother’s expectations and ensure that Second Deputy Qi would remember his name.

Regarding this, Chen Jianchou fell short of Qi Xuansu. Qi Xuansu had never fretted over whether he was “worthy” of anyone, nor did he wait decades for his fortune to change. Poor as he was, he walked straight into the mighty Zhang’s family home, facing them head-on as a mere seventh-rank Daoist. That kind of fearless audacity was truly admirable.

Having made up his mind, Chen Jianchou closed the copied medical record, bid farewell to Lu Yuting, and hurried away.