Chapter 340
Chapter 340
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 340
>Chapter Title: Facai
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Chapter 340: Facai
Facing the retort from the Sitting Oblivion Daoist, Xinchi seemed to be arguing something back.
But Li Huowang wasn’t listening anymore. Xinchi’s act of personal vengeance had ultimately backfired on himself, and Li Huowang could already imagine how the Sitting Oblivion Daoist would toy with them using his identity.
But compared to watching the others suffer, what mattered most right now was figuring out his next move.
After careful consideration, Li Huowang settled on what he needed to do next.
“This mission is way too dangerous. Both allies and enemies are gunning for me. In this situation, it’s better to step back from the mess for now.”
“I’ll wait for them to start fighting, then swoop in as the mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind. In this hellhole, you can’t trust anyone! The only one I can trust is myself—at least I won’t lie to me.”
He glanced once more at the four figures regrouping in the distance and gradually moving away. Still cloaked in invisibility, Li Huowang gripped the roof tile and flipped down from the beam, slowly tailing them.
He saw that the other three had stopped arguing with the version of himself disguised as a Sitting Oblivion Daoist. Xinchi must have taken a silent loss and been forced to admit that the Sitting Oblivion Daoist was real.
From Xinchi’s vigilant movements, though, he was clearly on high alert against this Sitting Oblivion Daoist.
With the identity suspicions temporarily set aside for now, the four of them seemed to be searching for something.
Li Huowang knew exactly what they were after—they were looking for Ji Xiang. Ever since the Buddha Hall collapsed, the one with the golden abacus, Ji Xiang, had vanished, which was highly suspicious.
“If what they’re looking for is gone, where would Ji Xiang go now?” Seeing the four head toward a nearby side hall, Li Huowang quickly picked up his pace to follow.
But just as Li Huowang was about to enter, a hand clapped onto his shoulder.
Li Huowang broke out in instant cold sweat. He was clearly invisible—how could anyone see him!
He spun around with sword in hand and came face-to-face with a man dressed as a scholar standing right behind him.
“Whoosh~” The scholar flicked open his folding fan, revealing four bold brushstrokes on it: Heavenly Born Talent.
“You’re Er Jiu, right? How very strange. Your five elements still have fire and metal, but why are the other three missing?”
Li Huowang furrowed his brows, staring warily at this stranger of unknown origins, his guard at maximum.
In this bizarre place, the man’s identity could be anything, but the biggest possibility was that it was another Sitting Oblivion Daoist trick.
Worse yet, this could be the elusive Sitting Oblivion Daoist himself, whose face no one had truly seen. Li Huowang steeled himself—if the man made any sudden move, he’d go all out.
“Doesn’t that knife in your face hurt? Why not pull it out? Besides, it’s the Debt Blade Man’s knife. You borrowed it from him, and he’ll steal your luck for it.”
With a wave of the scholar’s fan, the rusted blade in Li Huowang’s face yanked itself free. Another flick, and the wounds on his face rapidly sealed shut.
The moment the scholar moved, Li Huowang’s fire striker was already pressed against his skin.
“Who the hell are you?” Li Huowang demanded, enunciating each word.
Seeing the deep wariness in Li Huowang’s eyes, the scholar sighed and stopped, seemingly lost in thought.
After a few breaths, the scholar spoke again. “Fine.”
“I have some matters to attend to, so I’ll take my leave. Since you’ve joined the Surveillance Bureau, stay alive, alright? Sometimes ignorance is bliss.”
With that, the scholar crouched down, pulled a black spindle wrapped in black thread from his robes, and placed it on the ground. “I’ll leave you something. It’s more useful than that mask on your face.”
Once done, the scholar did nothing else. He nodded approvingly at Li Huowang and turned to walk out of the Buddha Bone Temple.
“Until we meet again, Er Jiu. I’m Zhuge Yuan. If you run into unsolvable trouble, come find me on Apricot Island in the Western Sea. My abilities are limited, but I’ll help however I can.”
The scholar left. Li Huowang stood motionless. There was something off about this scholar, an odd feeling. Only after pondering it carefully for a long while did he realize what it was—it was genuine goodwill, something extremely rare in this world.
This was the first time he’d encountered such openly expressed kindness. He’d only ever felt it in his hallucinations.
Even Abbess Jingxin had never shown it so directly; she always kept her kindness buried deep inside.
After a brief moment of confusion, Li Huowang shook his head forcefully, his gaze hardening.
“No! That scholar’s definitely shady! I can’t let him fool me. I’ve suffered enough losses—I won’t fall into the same trap again.”
Li Huowang glanced at the black-threaded spindle on the ground and turned toward the nearby side hall.
Everything about this mission today—the events, the people he’d encountered—felt profoundly off to Li Huowang.
But he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. It was like viewing flowers through fog, always obscured by a veil.
When Li Huowang stepped back into the side hall, he froze.
The four people from before had become six. Beside them stood another Xinchi monk and a Hong Da.
Seeing them arguing fiercely, Li Huowang smiled. “This is getting interesting.”
Li Huowang brushed the dust off his robes, sheathed his sword, and strode across the side hall’s threshold to join them.
Seeing Li Huowang enter, the Li Huowang inside widened his eyes and slapped his forehead. “Great, another one!”
“This one’s the real Er Jiu.”
“This one’s fake—he’s a Sitting Oblivion Daoist.”
The two Xinchi monks gave two completely opposing answers through their mind-link.
Li Huowang eyed the two Xinchi monks, unable to tell which was the Sitting Oblivion Daoist in disguise and which was the real one who’d framed him.
The hall erupted into chaos. With an extra Xinchi, identifying the real from the fake no longer worked, and no one could sort out who was who.
It nearly came to blows several times, but persuasion from the others kept it from escalating.
Li Huowang, oddly enough, was the least concerned. He didn’t need to discern truth from lies—he was just there to watch the show.
He’d wait until they fought it out and a victor emerged before making his move.
Looking at the chaos before him, the corners of Li Huowang’s mouth curved upward. He was starting to understand the Sitting Oblivion Daoist’s mindset.
When things didn’t concern you personally, this was really quite entertaining.
“Enough!” An angry duck-like quack silenced everyone, heads turning toward the hall entrance.
It was Ji Xiang, holding a shriveled head reduced to half its size.
His sparse eyebrows twitched with fury, his expression utterly grim.
He pushed through the crowd, eyeing the two identical Li Huowangs, the two identical Hong Das, and the two identical Xinchi monks.
Staring at them, Ji Xiang raised the head in his hand and slowly opened his mouth. “What games are you still playing? This is Facai’s head! Facai’s been dead for ages!”
The words plunged everyone present into an icy chill. Facai—one of the Three Primes—was dead? Just how powerful was the one who killed him?
(End of chapter)