Chapter 13: Severed Finger

◎ A pity there’s no beauty dancing under the moon ◎

Jiuqu City, known as the outer city of the Dayan Sect.

The ruling powers of the Dayan Sect designed it according to their own plans, paving the streets with white jade tiles using immense financial resources, and constructing orderly square-shaped city walls with intricate and profound magic. The streets were straight as if cut by a blade.

Every morning at the hour of the rabbit (5–7 AM), the drums beat three times—activating the teleportation array.

Every evening at the hour of the rooster (5–7 PM), the drums beat eight times—deactivating the teleportation array.

Jiuqu City contained 108 wards. The highest taxpayer was Pingkang Ward, the brothel district; the most prosperous was Jingming Ward, full of restaurants and inns; and the least populated was Changming Ward in the south.

The white jade paving ended at Changming Ward, leaving behind potholes from unfinished digging. The muddy ground made it feel all the more dilapidated.

The moment one stepped into the ward, the lights behind dimmed and faded away. In view were only a few scattered lanterns, their glow faint and flickering. Crooked houses and makeshift buildings were crammed along the roadside. There were barely any pedestrians, and the few that passed moved quickly, without lingering.

Changming Ward was like the dark side of Jiuqu City—a slum for cultivators.

You Xiaowu held his breath slightly. The impure spiritual energy made him feel uncomfortable. Just as he was about to seal off some of his spiritual orifices, he met He Guang’s warning gaze.

“Do you have a death wish?”

He scratched his head and smiled sheepishly, opening them again. “I was just trying it out, Senior Sister, don’t be mad.” He turned his eyes away and happened to spot an inn with the character 余 (“Yu”) on the lantern hanging from its eaves.

“Senior Sister, that inn looks like it still has rooms.”

With the Lantern Festival approaching, inns in Jiuqu City were all full. Over the past few days, they had been forced to stay in the brothel district. Though the Red Sleeves Pavilion was expensive, You Xiaowu still didn’t want to stay at Mo Changge’s house.

He felt that man harbored ill intentions.

Though what kind of intentions, You Xiaowu couldn’t say for sure.

He Guang looked in the direction he was pointing. It was a rather shabby inn, spider webs hanging from the beams—not quite uninhabitable. But the lantern at the entrance had red characters on a black background.

“Don’t you notice anything different about that lantern compared to the others?”

You Xiaowu blinked. Now that she mentioned it, there was a difference. Most had red backgrounds with golden characters.

“Black background and red text—stay at your own risk,” He Guang said, giving him a kick. “With your cultivation? You’d shut your eyes tonight and be reincarnated by morning.”

You Xiaowu paled and stuck close behind He Guang without another word.

He Guang studied the map Mo Changge had given her and tried to take a shortcut through an alley. Just three steps from the entrance, she suddenly stopped, blocking You Xiaowu as he was about to enter.

You Xiaowu looked at her, puzzled. As dark clouds gradually covered the full moon, the light on her face shifted from a gentle glow to a pale and eerie white. Her expression grew solemn.

A crow perched on the eaves let out a mournful caw and flew off. A spider beneath the eaves split in two, falling into the mud along with its torn web.

A figure in a black cloak strolled out from the shadows of the alley, moving with an unhurried, elegant gait. He stopped three paces away and stared intently at the two of them.

“Hm? A Buddhist cultivator?”

His voice held a hint of curiosity. The hood of his cloak tilted slightly, revealing thin lips and a cold lip ring glinting at the corner of his mouth.

He Guang positioned herself in front of You Xiaowu and nodded slightly, trying to step around him and enter the alley.

He suddenly let out a low laugh that echoed eerily through the quiet ward.

“Wanna eat chicken?”

This was a code phrase among demonic cultivators. It meant, “Want someone dead?”

He Guang had intended to walk away, but hearing that, she paused again and asked, “Both of us are at the Golden Core stage—how do you plan to ‘eat chicken’?”

The man lifted his hand without a word. The joints of his fingers and knuckles were stitched with red thread. As he pulled back his hood, his pinky twisted unnaturally.

Under the hood was a stark contrast of a half-shaved head—left temple clean-shaven, the rest tied back into a ponytail. A few strands of hair hung loosely over the right side of his face.

He Guang’s eyes widened slightly. Since when were demonic cultivators so fashionable?

Behind her, You Xiaowu drew in a sharp breath. Sensing danger, He Guang quickly pulled him into her arms and clamped her hand over his mouth.

A flicker of suspicion passed through the man’s eyes, but he slowly drawled, “So, what do you think?”

Out of the corner of her eye, He Guang scanned his hands. His ten fingers were abnormally long, each threaded with red string. A puppet master.

Puppet masters were exceedingly rare. In a head-on fight, He Guang had confidence in beating him. But in terms of assassination, he might succeed without her ever noticing.

With the Lantern Festival approaching and the city filling with outsiders, it was hard to believe he was here just to admire the lights.

“How much for a chicken?”

The puppet master seemed amused by her question. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, his lip ring catching the light. His voice was cold and sticky, like a snake slithering in circles.

“Those without crowns—1,000. With crowns—8,000. You can pick the method: raw sliced, stir-fried, boiled, or deep-fried.”

His eyes slid over the hem of He Guang’s robes. “But that will cost extra.”

“Wearing a crown” meant Golden Core cultivators; “no crown” referred to those below Golden Core. The “method” referred to the way of killing, customized to the client’s request.

When He Guang didn’t respond, his face darkened. He sneered, “Eggs are for sale too. Price depends on the type. No choosing the method.”

Oh.

This time, He Guang was genuinely surprised. So even Nascent Soul cultivators were fair game. This puppet master was clearly no ordinary rogue.

She cupped her hands respectfully. “This humble nun holds no grudges at the moment. No need to trouble you, fellow cultivator. But if I do have any in the future, may I come seek you again?”

“Heh.”

The puppet master twisted his pinky, the joint rotating with a series of sharp click-clack sounds under You Xiaowu’s horrified gaze.

“I hate you righteous cultivators the most. Just say no if you mean no—what’s with all the pomp and pretense? Leave my name? So you can come arrest me later?”

He Guang showed no sign of awkwardness at being seen through. She just smiled faintly, neither admitting nor denying it.

A wind rose, blowing from the puppet master’s direction, stirring up dust and rustling the hem of He Guang’s robes.

The Puppet Master’s fingers brushed his lip corners, with the red thread accentuating the blood-colored, thin lips, looking vivid and dripping with allure.

“It doesn’t matter if I tell you, my name is ‘Canzhi’ (Broken Finger). If you have the guts, come catch me,” he said.

After speaking, he put on his hood and entered the inn, which had a lantern with red characters on a black background hanging outside.

In his arms, You Xiaowu lifted his head and asked dazedly, “Aren’t you going to catch him?”

He Guang squinted her eyes, looking at him as if he were an idiot. “Are you going?”

You Xiaowu quickly shook his head. He was joking, but he was probably going to be taken down in one move.

He Guang glanced at the inn, noticing three rooms lit on the second floor.

It was unusually quiet for an inn that was supposed to be occupied by guests. It felt more like a morgue, filled with corpses. On the blackened, curved eaves, an eagle was carved, its wings spread wide, and one corner of the roof was missing.

Inside one of the rooms, a light was lit, casting the shadow of a figure in a robe on the window.

The light illuminated the spider webs under the eaves, where a long-haired spider ensnared a moth. The spider slowly crawled forward to feed on it, but suddenly its body split in two. The moth shuddered, flapping its wings in an attempt to escape, but it too fell into the same fate as the spider.

The light went out again.

He Guang glanced at the scene one last time before leaving with You Xiaowu. They crossed a narrow alley, reached the end of a small path, and stopped in front of a two-compartment courtyard.

Before they even entered, their gaze was drawn to the person perched on the roof beam.

Mo Changge had changed into tight-fitting black clothing, the collar open wide, revealing his strong chest. He sat on the beam with one leg bent and the other hanging down, wearing rough hemp shoes on his feet.

As the moon reached its peak, he pointed at the full moon above and spoke in a somewhat resentful tone, “It’s midnight. I’ve been waiting since I finished my work.”

He Guang chuckled and tossed a pot of wine to him. “The grape wine from Fan Lou, is it enough to soothe your anger?”

Mo Changge tore open the seal, sniffed the wine, his eyebrows curling in amusement. “Pity it’s missing the beauty that dances under the moon.”

He Guang grabbed You Xiaowu by the collar, leaped onto the roof, and took out a flame. Mo Changge raised his eyes, furrowing his brow in confusion.

He Guang held the flame high, and its light grew brighter, surpassing the moon’s glow. The light passed through Mo Changge and cast a long, slender shadow on the ground.

He Guang formed a hand seal, and a breeze gently caressed the flame. The shadow on the ground danced, twisting like a startled dragon, resembling a wandering swan.

“Isn’t this enough?”

Mo Changge arched his back and chuckled lowly. The laughter grew louder, and the shadow on the ground danced more wildly.

He raised his hand to cover his face, his hoarse voice filled with both pleasure and helplessness. “I am honored.”

Mo Changge’s house was an old-style courtyard with only one floor. The white-painted walls were chipped, and spider webs and fallen leaves were scattered in the corners. The owner was too lazy to even clean, so it was easy to imagine that the guest rooms weren’t much cleaner.

The courtyard was large, with two martial training posts, and in one corner, there was a pile of discarded iron blocks. In front of the main house, two bamboo trees were planted, their trunks covered with numerous sword scars.

You Xiaowu curiously walked up, struck a pose, and attempted to strike the iron man post with a palm. Before he could even cry out in pain, his entire arm twisted backward.

Mo Changge clicked his tongue and grabbed the iron rod that was about to strike You Xiaowu, then swung it at the wooden training post. The sound of clashing echoed, and sparks flew. It didn’t sound like the collision of a human and iron, but rather like iron blocks crashing into each other.

He Guang held You Xiaowu’s hand, ignored his cries of pain, and directly twisted his arm back into place without any warning.

“Do you think you can touch a martial tool meant for a God-Transformation stage cultivator?”

Mo Changge leaned against the iron man post, standing in a very inviting manner, and beckoned to He Guang with his finger. “Want to try?”

He Guang thought for a moment. If she twisted her arm like You Xiaowu, it would be a huge embarrassment. Mo Changge’s direct gaze made it seem like if she refused, it would make her look like she had no courage.

So, she pushed You Xiaowu into the house to sleep. At least she couldn’t lose face in front of her junior brother.

He Guang focused her mind, activated the Indestructible Vajra Technique, and struck the iron post with a palm.

Damn.

Her hand.

He Guang inhaled sharply, biting her teeth to suppress the scream that almost escaped her mouth. She forced herself to act like nothing happened, hiding her hand behind her back. She turned around and met Mo Changge’s gaze, who was smiling behind his hand.

Damn.

His eyes were fixed on her hand behind her back. He curled the corner of his mouth. “You’ve fractured it, haven’t you?”

She maintained a calm expression and said two words, “It’s fine.”

Her hands were still behind her back, preparing to twist her fingers back into place when he grabbed her arm.

He pulled her hand in front of her, skillfully and deftly straightening it. His fingers, calloused from years of sword practice, brushed her palm with a warm, tempting touch, like a feather stirring her heart.

The dark night, the gusting wind, a lonely man and woman.

He Guang felt a little uneasy. She wanted to pull her hand back, but his little finger hooked hers.

Mo Changge pulled her closer with his pinky, while his other hand gently brushed her right temple.

The distance between them was extremely close. He Guang looked up and found herself staring at his defined chest, the prominent Adam’s apple, and his deep-set eyes. Finally, her gaze settled on his dark, glossy eyes, misty with emotions that stifled the blood and cold air around him.

The moonlight bathed the courtyard, falling on both of them.