I didn’t sleep a wink that night.

  Turn left—it was a grave.

  Turn right—it was a dog.

  Close my eyes—it was the old servant.

  Open them—it was bones.

  I curled up in my blanket like a salted vegetable that had been scared dry. I didn’t even dare dream, afraid one careless moment would land me as the nineteenth dish on that banquet table.

  System: [Host, I suggest counting sheep to relax.]

  “I close my eyes and all I see are bones, not sheep.”

  System: [Then count bones. You’ll probably need the practice in the future.]

  “…Shut up.”

  I endured until dawn. My whole face had stewed into bacon color, and even after three rooster crows I still hadn’t shut my eyes. Finally—finally—I heard footsteps outside. I shot upright like a stringing arrow on the bow。

  “Lian! Hua! You’re back?!”

  Lian was unfastening his sleeve dart buckle. He paused mid-motion. “…?”

  Hua gave me the look of a man who absolutely knew I got myself into trouble again.

  “We told you last night to stay put in the inn, didn’t we?”

  “I did! I only went out for a walk after dinner to help with digestion!” I slammed myself into a chair and chugged half a pot of water. “But halfway there I ran into a yellow dog—it talked—and tricked me into a mansion. I drank wine, ate meat, fell asleep—and when I woke up it was a graveyard!”

  I slapped the table for emphasis. “A real dog! A real grave! A real feast! Not a dream!”

  Lian frowned at me. “You were drunk?”

  I shook my head hard. “The meat was delicious.”

  Hua waved a hand lazily. “Maybe you just dreamed of royal feast.”

  “I’m serious!” I hopped anxiously in place. “That old servant even told me—‘May your companions not mistreat my master in the future.’”

  I looked at them, voice dropping. “Tell me… could this be related to the West Altar traitors?”

  That one sentence wiped the casual expressions off their faces.

  Hua leaned against the window and flipped open his fan with one hand.

  “We finished our sweep last night. The West Altar division in Luoyan City only has a few scrap-level errand boys left. The real core figures? Not a single one showed up.”

  Lian nodded. “There was one old unit, loyal to me in the past. I’ve had them clean up the mess. But the ones who planned everything, who stirred the rebellion… they’re gone.”

  I slapped my leg. “Then it matches! I think they’re hiding inside that Qingyin Hall place, using spooky tricks to lure people in.”

  “Qingyin Hall?” Lian frowned. “Never heard of it.”

  Just then, the deputy of the West Altar arrived to report.

  I immediately grabbed him. “You ever heard of ‘Qingyin Hall’? I went there last night! Walked into a grand mansion, woke up in a cemetery!”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  The deputy blinked at me. “Never heard of Qingyin Hall… but the west outskirts does have a Qingyin Cemetery.”

  My eyes lit up. I smacked my thigh. “I knew it wasn’t a dream! When I woke up, Qingyin Hall had turned into Qingyin Cemetery!”

  The poor deputy flinched so hard he nearly tossed his dried tofu.

  I lunged and grabbed his sleeve. “I swear I went into a huge mansion! Blue tiles, winding corridors, banquet hall full of lanterns! But after one nap—bam! Gone! Turned into a graveyard! My horse was tied to a pine tree, snoring!”

  The three of us exchanged a look.

  Hua snapped his fan shut. “Shall we go look?”

  Lian nodded. “Let’s.”

  On the way, I noticed Hua staring at me from the corner of his eye. When the deputy moved up to report to Lian, Hua leaned in close and whispered, lowering his voice:

  “So? Why did you take your horse out last night? Planning to run again?”

  His fox-eyed smile was pleasant, but the edge in it was sharp enough to cut leather.

  I peeked at Lian—his expression unchanged, but the small knot between his brows had tightened. He definitely heard it.

  My brain spun like a frying wok. I raised my voice dramatically:

  “What kind of accusation is that?! I was clearly—

  enjoying the moonlight with my horse! Look at that night sky! Such beauty! Moon bright, stars shining—how could I not take a stroll? To stay indoors would be an insult to life itself!”

  The deputy, turning back just then, nearly stumbled from the volume.

  Soon we reached Qingyin Cemetery.

  My heart pounded as we rode. “What if I really did missee something… but that old servant’s face—too vivid to be imaginary…”

  The place was even lonelier than expected.

  Weeds everywhere.

  Broken stones.

  No eerie aura—just neglect.

  A white-bearded old caretaker sat under a tree, wearing patched clothes, a cracked teapot by his side. A sleepy yellow dog lay next to him—looked a bit like last night’s mutt.

  I jumped off my horse and seized the old man’s arm.

  “Was it YOU last night?! Did YOU invite me to drink?! Did YOU say—‘may your companions not mistreat my master’?! Who is your master?! Take me to Qingyin Hall!”

  The caretaker jolted like I shocked his soul out. “Ayya heavens—where'd this lunatic jump out from?!”

  I fired questions like arrows.

  He blinked at me, panicked, fumbled out a horn-shaped ear trumpet, muttering as he strapped it on:

  “Ah? You say what? Looking for who? My son doesn’t live here…”

  My scalp exploded. I shouted right into his ear:

  “I said—were YOU the one who invited me yesterday?! Your place called Qingyin Hall?! Wine! Meat! Lanterns! A whole banquet—remember?!”

  He finally secured the ear trumpet, covered one ear, squinted, and yelled back:

  “Speak softer! You say what? Qin… Chin Jean? Kin Yin?”

  My face collapsed on the spot.

  This reaction…

  He really was just old and deaf.

  No.

  Something was wrong.

  Slowly, the realization crawled up my spine:

  Last night’s old servant—

  sharp hearing, steady tone, eyes deep, unsettling smile.

  This one—

  muddy eyes, deaf ears, trembling hands.

  Not the same person at all.

  My back went cold.

  Lian stepped forward, clearing his throat lightly.

  “No need to ask further. He is not the man from last night.”

  I slumped onto a tombstone, staring at the weather-worn characters “Qingyin Cemetery,” and the more I thought about last night, the more surreal it felt.

  If it wasn’t hallucination, why no trace?

  But if it was a dream…

  the taste of the wine is still in my throat!

  Hua stroked his chin. “Someone’s playing tricks, deliberately baiting you. “Come on—why do you think they picked you? Because you’re the easiest fool in sight.”

  “…”

  We exchanged looks. The air grew heavy.

  Lian lowered his gaze. His voice was calm, but cold as the grave.

  “Send people to investigate. Ten years of burial records for Qingyin Cemetery. Also check the entire city—any house, clan, or old district with the characters ‘Qing’ or ‘Yin’ in the name.”

  The deputy straightened instantly. “Yes! I’ll go at once!”

  I swallowed. My voice trembled. “You’re checking all that because… you think…”

  “Someone is pretending to act in the Blood Lotus Sect’s name,” Lian said quietly. “I want to know who.”

  A chill slid down my spine. “So… you’re saying… they’re not done yet?”

  Hua drifted up beside me, patting my shoulder with a smile that was not at all comforting.

  “Which is why,” he murmured, “you’d better not sleep too soundly tonight.”

  “…”