When the crowd finally arrived before the mountain, they were stunned to discover that the entrance had already been sealed tight by the county yamen officers, as impenetrable as an iron barrel.
Acting Magistrate Cheng Yishu stood at the entrance, drenched in sweat as he tried to explain himself to the ever-growing, surging crowd.
“The Lengshan mines are a restricted site under imperial decree. No one is allowed to enter!”
“I am well aware that the recent erratic weather has indeed affected the growth of Lengshan Grass. But it is by no means as the rumors claim, that it has completely vanished! This county has already prepared a formal report to the imperial court, explaining the situation in detail and petitioning for a reduction of this year’s labor duties on behalf of all of you!”
Under Cheng Yishu’s mix of firm warnings and conciliatory reassurances, the crowd on the brink of rioting finally dispersed, though they did so with lingering doubt and deep reluctance.
“Guard this place with your lives! No one is to be allowed inside!”
Watching the crowd recede, Cheng Yishu’s face darkened as he issued a strict order.
In truth, he had already gone down into the mines himself to investigate. The remaining Lengshan Grass within had indeed completely withered.
But this truth could not be revealed now. If those unruly commoners outside learned of it, the ensuing riot would be far beyond his ability to suppress.
“What, am I supposed to mobilize the Black Armored Army and arrest them all over this? If it really comes to that, I won’t be able to keep my position as county commandant either!”
At this thought, Cheng Yishu had already cursed Fang Xun countless times in his heart.
By now, he had fully realized the truth.
What “path to glory” was there?
That old fox had clearly intended to use him as a scapegoat!
But boarding the ship was easy. Getting off was not. Since he had accepted the role of acting magistrate, there was no longer any way to distance himself from this disaster.
“That bastard Fang Xun hasn’t been seen lately either.”
“Luckily, his family is still here. Otherwise, I would have suspected he’d already packed up and fled.”
Pressing his throbbing temples, Cheng Yishu racked his brains, desperately trying to figure out how to suppress this looming catastrophe.
Yet he could never have imagined that the very man he was cursing through gritted teeth, Magistrate Fang Xun of Lengshan County, was at that very moment deep within the mines beneath his feet.
Yu Shang and Wu Kuang lay bound hand and foot, collapsed on the ground like two heaps of mud, their life or death uncertain.
Fang Xun, meanwhile, stood with a tightly furrowed brow.
Even he had not expected the news of the near extinction of Lengshan Grass to spread at such a critical moment.
But upon further thought, more than half a year had already passed since the incident. It was only natural that some perceptive laborers would have noticed something amiss.
With that realization, his expression gradually relaxed, and a cold, sinister smile curved across his lips.
“Indeed, when fortune arrives, even heaven and earth lend their strength.”
“I had been worried that a sudden landslide would arouse suspicion. But now, heaven itself has delivered me the perfect scapegoat.”
“Those ignorant rabble trespassed into the Lengshan mines, recklessly digging in search of Lengshan Grass, undermining the mountain’s stability and ultimately causing its collapse.”
“What remains is to wait for the right moment… and set everything ablaze.”
Fang Xun flipped his palm, and a brilliant golden light flashed across it.
What appeared was an official document stamped with the grand seal of the Imperial Censorate in the Sacred Capital, issued by the Bifei Court.
“Any local official promoted to the capital must first enter the Bifei Court for a full month of inspection and instruction.”
“With this as a pretext, I can withdraw in advance without raising suspicion.”
“As long as I am in the Sacred Capital, whatever happens in Lengshan will have nothing to do with me.”
Fang Xun gently stroked the radiant golden document, his expression almost intoxicated, as if caressing a lover’s skin.
“However, to ensure absolute certainty… I still need to leave behind a few hidden pieces within Lengshan.”
Moments later, he put the document away and cast a cold glance toward the two unconscious figures nearby.
“I was just wondering where to find suitable candidates.”
“And now, the two of you have delivered yourselves right to my doorstep.”
“In that case… don’t blame me for being ruthless.”
In that instant, the imposing official robes of Great Qian upon Fang Xun suddenly turned translucent and faded away. In their place appeared a long Confucian robe, ancient in style, fluttering gently despite the absence of wind.
“My Dao is unified by a single thread.”
He looked down from above at Yu Shang and Wu Kuang, his voice cold and detached.
As his words fell, the two men who had previously fainted stiffly rose from the ground. Yet within their eye sockets was a terrifying gray-white void, devoid of even the faintest trace of pupils.
Like walking corpses, their lips moved mechanically as they echoed in a chilling monotone,
“My Dao… is unified by a single thread.”
Immediately after, illusory Confucian robes condensed around their bodies as well. The gray-white in their eyes receded like a tide, restoring the vitality of the living.
Within the dim mine tunnel, three figures clad in Confucian robes stood in a triangular formation. At the same moment, they let out a synchronized, eerie, and sinister laugh.
…
December 31st.
The final day of the 572nd year of the New Calendar.
“Snow…?” Li Shun raised his head, watching the flakes drift slowly down from the sky.
Beneath the oppressive canopy of leaden clouds, the blizzard intensified with each passing moment. Amid the howling wind, faint bursts of cheering could be heard from the long street beyond the walls.
In the eyes of the simple folk of Lengshan, this heavy snowfall signified the deepening of winter’s chill and the rightful return of the cold season. Perhaps the damaged growing conditions of Lengshan Grass would finally see a turning point.
Yet Li Shun paid no heed to the thunderous cheers outside. Instead, the unease in his heart grew ever stronger.
“Something’s wrong. In the past, Fang Xun placed great importance on the Lengshan Grass in the greenhouse. Every few days, he would personally come to inspect and admire it.”
“But lately… he hasn’t appeared for quite some time.”
“And even more strangely…”
“Yu Shang and Wu Kuang have also vanished without a trace, as though they evaporated from the world.”
A vague but overwhelming dread loomed over Li Shun’s heart like gathering storm clouds.
…
But at present, both his strength and status were far too insignificant.
Even if he sensed that something was amiss, he was almost powerless to act. He could only watch helplessly as the situation unfolded.
“I have the Threefold Self-Reflection as my trump card. Even if I die, I can reverse time and return.”
“But what I fear most is dying in confusion. If I don’t even understand what happened after my death, then even if I repeat it, I may not escape the same fate.”
Li Shun’s thoughts raced as he searched for a solution.
After a long while, he let out a quiet sigh.
“My cards are too few. Aside from the Fangcun space, Spirit Division and Life Transformation is the only method I can currently rely on.”
“But how can I make use of it while ensuring my own survival?”
“As for places of safety, there is nothing in this world more secure than the Fangcun space.”
“If only my physical body could also enter it…”
At that thought, Li Shun’s heart stirred.
Over countless days and nights in the past, he had tried again and again to bring his true body into the Fangcun space. Every attempt had ended in failure.
“Since that path is blocked, I might as well take a drastic step and change my approach. I’ll abandon this fleshly shell and extract only my consciousness and soul!”
“When disaster strikes, my main consciousness will immediately retreat into the Fangcun space. Then I’ll split off a strand using the Spirit Division technique and attach it to a more resilient lifeform.”
“In this way, even if my physical body perishes, I can still borrow another vessel to observe the outside world clearly.”
“At the very least, I won’t be left completely in the dark, dying without understanding why.”
With his plan decided, Li Shun immediately began to put it into action.
As for the host he chose, it was naturally an old acquaintance… a gnat.
He caught one, and to ensure its survival, he spared no expense. He fed it leaves of the Lengshan Lord and nourished it with his own blood essence.
In less than half a day, the insignificant little gnat underwent a complete transformation, as though reborn.