Chapter 119: Moonlit Reverie

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Upon hearing this, the man in black revealed a faint smile at the corner of his mouth. “In that case, let’s stick to the old plan and go big this time. The sooner, the better—preferably by tomorrow night. No need to drag things out and invite trouble.”

Wu Dali nodded in agreement. “Alright.”

After discussing the finer details, the man in black leapt away, vanishing into the woods.

“Although we’ve covered our tracks both ways, it’s only a matter of time before it all unravels. Since that old Yuan Feizhang has already slipped away, I should also withdraw as soon as possible.”

Wu Dali furrowed his brow, quietly pondering his escape route.

Having been stationed at Wolong Hill for two years, he was well aware of the petty intrigues that prevailed there. If the investigation caught up, Yang Xing could never bear the consequences, and the patrolling disciples would likely be held accountable as well.

And the hole in their scheme was only widening, growing impossible to patch.

Clenching his fists, Wu Dali muttered to himself, “This is the last time. Once it’s over, I’m leaving Wolong Hill and focusing solely on breaking through my Dan Qi.”

...

Inside a small courtyard at Wolong Hill.

Yang Xing was practicing the Black Tortoise Seal, which comprised seven moves and forty-nine forms, each intricate and ever-changing.

Every move required different hand seals and variations, combined with the Black Tortoise Qi flowing inside the body. It demanded constant practice and contemplation to grasp its mysteries.

Bang!

His fingers shifted, energy surging from his dantian as a series of powerful seal techniques exploded forth.

In an instant, a complete sequence of the Black Tortoise Seal flowed out like water and clouds.

Yang Xing concluded his practice, thinking to himself, “The Black Tortoise Seal is truly profound. At last, I’ve become proficient.”

A maid nearby hurriedly handed him a clean towel. “Manager, Patrol Officer Wu just delivered the ledgers a moment ago. I’ve moved them to the study.”

“I know,” he replied.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Yang Xing headed toward the study.

Every shipment of red angelica, seed purchases, and all financial expenditures were meticulously recorded in the ledgers.

Thus, the ledgers were of utmost importance—any discrepancy was unacceptable.

To reap ample profits, the ledgers naturally had to look impeccable.

His family had once run a general store, so he understood these matters well.

Yang Xing opened the ledger and examined it carefully.

Soon, he spotted some outrageously dubious entries.

For example, one month, a black dog owned by patrol disciple Zhang Guangyang had charged into the herb field, ruining dozens of nearly ripe red angelica plants.

In the end, the dog died suddenly after consuming too many herbs, its qi and blood agitated.

Zhang Guang was questioned and fined three months’ wages.

Yang Xing frowned. “Most likely Yuan Feizhang skimmed the profits.”

Such entries were clearly meant to gloss over the truth.

Everyone knew dogs liked to eat filth—how could one suddenly eat rare herbs unless it sought enlightenment?

Many such cases existed: herb masters misapplying potions, causing mass deaths of red angelica; natural disasters or accidents reducing yields.

These were the sources of illicit gains.

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As long as it wasn’t too blatant, higher-ups wouldn’t investigate.

Yang Xing continued flipping through the ledgers; the records from recent months appeared normal, with timely shipments and fewer mentions of natural disasters or accidents.

“No major issues, it seems.”

After reviewing several ledgers, Yang Xing concluded that the books seemed mostly sound on the surface—unless the transport team and Dan Hall colluded to falsify accounts, which would be a serious problem.

The minor issues were negligible.

As long as the monthly red angelica shipments remained steady, the authorities would likely turn a blind eye.

Satisfied there was nothing amiss, Yang Xing washed up and ate before settling cross-legged on his meditation mat to cultivate the Black Tortoise Sutra.

...

Late at night, Mount Floating Clouds lay in deep slumber.

In the darkness, the mountain contours blurred, illuminated only by scattered starlight and moonbeams.

The temperature dropped, and a gentle breeze carried the fresh scent of pine and the chirping of nocturnal insects.

At this moment, a horse-drawn cart laden with goods slowly descended the mountain.

Wu Dali sat atop the cart with two patrol disciples.

To his left was Cui Tianyou, short and shadowy in appearance; on the right stood Ran Ye, tall and wielding a spear.

Both were among the elite patrol disciples, their strength at the Qi Transformation level.

Wu Dali’s brow remained tightly furrowed.

Though this was his fifth or sixth time, his nerves were still taut.

Behind the cart were exquisite wooden boxes, each containing precious rare herbs.

“Senior Brother Wu, why are you coming down the mountain so late?”

Suddenly, a voice rang out.

Startled, Wu Dali turned toward the sound.

The speaker was Li Yuan, a patrol disciple from Huling Bay, who was just pulling up his trousers after relieving himself.

“Damn it...!”

Wu Dali cursed inwardly. He’d never encountered anyone on this path before—today, he had run into this brat.

Cui Tianyou and Ran Ye’s expressions shifted slightly.

Wu Dali quickly smiled, “Uncle Mo sent word that the Dan Hall urgently needs more red angelica, so I’m delivering it overnight.”

“So urgent?” Li Yuan asked, puzzled. “Don’t those Dan practitioners rest at night?”

“Not after that incident. Many disciples have started hoarding the Four Absolutes Pill. It’s unavoidable.”

Wu Dali sighed. “If you don’t believe me, take a look.”

He dismounted and pulled back the black cloth covering the cargo.

Curious, Li Yuan craned his neck to look.

Rows of exquisite wooden boxes appeared before him.

“This is...”

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Li Yuan barely got the words out before a heavy blow struck the back of his head, plunging him into darkness.

The assailant was none other than Wu Dali.

He gripped Li Yuan’s neck and twisted hard. A crisp snap sounded—Li Yuan’s neck broke, and he was lifeless.

“Don’t blame me,” Wu Dali said expressionlessly.

“Senior Brother Wu!”

The two companions’ faces darkened.

Wu Dali coldly ordered, “He’s seen too much. If he slips up, we all die. Dispose of his body now.”

Though fearful, the two understood and promptly tossed Li Yuan’s corpse off the cliff.

With the deed done, Wu Dali breathed a sigh of relief.

The death of a patrol disciple was no small matter, but once the investigation and search concluded, he would have long left Wolong Hill, making it impossible to trace back to him.

“Let’s move,” Wu Dali barked, cracking his whip harder.

The horse kicked sharply, galloping swiftly downhill.

“Huh!?”

Suddenly, Wu Dali spotted a figure standing atop a distant rock. He tightened the reins.

“Who’s there?!”

“It’s me.”

The voice calmed the tension inside.

Yang Xing!?

What was he doing here?

Cui Tianyou and Ran Ye felt a chill shoot from their feet to their skulls.

Wu Dali’s face paled, but he forced a calm tone. “So it’s Junior Brother Yang. Why are you out so late? What are you doing here?”

Yang Xing looked up at the moon overhead. “I’m admiring the moon. Senior Brother Wu, do you think it’s full?”

“Very full.”

Wu Dali had no mind for moon-gazing and casually replied.

Yang Xing shook his head. “You didn’t really look. How can you say it’s full?”

Wu Dali answered, “If Junior Brother Yang says it’s full, then it must be.”

Yang Xing smiled. “Senior Brother Wu, what brings you out at this hour?”

...