Lian turned toward my voice, his gaze sharpening instantly—bright and lethal, like fire sliding along the edge of a blade. His lips curled into the faintest smirk. He didn’t waste a breath.

  The whip in his hand cracked through the air with a vicious snap.

  The lash danced like a striking viper—no, a venomous dragon shaking free of its chains—screaming through the air straight toward the eagle-eyed man’s face.

  I instinctively shrank back.

  If that thing landed on someone’s face, “handsome” would turn into “steamed bun with bonus pockmarks” real fast.

  The eagle-eyed man must’ve sensed it too. He twisted aside and raised an arm to block, but even then the sheer force behind the strike drove him back step after step. His boots scraped over the stone tiles with a teeth-grinding, gravel-chewing sound that made my jaw ache.

  I barely had time to breathe before a guttural roar shook the whole shrine.

  The “pig demon.”

  He swung two cudgels—each thicker than my waist—with both hands. Every strike came down like he was trying to smash a man and the floor into paste. One of those sweeps sliced the air right in front of my face, and I yelped, rolled across the ground like a panicked sparrow, and only narrowly avoided cracking my kneecap on a pillar.

  In the chaos, the pig demon’s wild swing smashed into a dusty incense burner in the corner, sending ashes flying everywhere—right into my eyes, nose, mouth.

  I wiped my face furiously, thinking, Is this guy fighting people or renovating the place?

  Hua, by contrast, moved like lightning. His folding fan flicked left and right, targeting wrists, ankles, knees—vital but non-lethal spots. Every strike made another man hop or howl like a monkey that’d sat on a hot stove.

  The Vice Envoy… looked like he was taking a quiet stroll.

  His sleeves drifted lazily as he moved, but from the fabric flew needles thin as hair. Every one of them hit home, each followed by a scream. One man grabbed his butt, another clutched his knee, and together they writhed like a flock of geese that had been secretly fed peppers.

  Meanwhile, I clung to a pillar like it was the only real parent I had. Any of those random swings could take my head off. And the pillar—unfortunately—was not exactly fortress-grade.

  Just when I managed half a breath, the pig demon’s cudgel whistled through the air again, slamming into the offering table behind me. The corner exploded into splinters that rained down over my head.

  I jolted upright, tried to scuttle to a new hiding spot—

  Only to freeze when a silver needle thwip-thwip buried itself right between the tiles at my toes.

  My legs turned to jelly and I dropped back behind the pillar like a sack of wet grain.

  Thankfully, the fight didn’t last long. Half a cup of tea later, the rebels of the West Altar were sprawled everywhere—some twitching, some howling and holding their backsides, and one guy clutching his brother and sobbing “Dad—!”

  For a moment I honestly couldn’t tell whether they’d come to fight or to attend a family reunion.

  I watched from the sidelines, nodding in approval. I even almost applauded.

  But then my brows knitted.

  Wait a second.

  Why was the pig demon fighting alongside Lian against the West Altar traitors?

  Shouldn’t he be the type who led the traitors?

  Just who was this pig demon?

  When the dust finally settled, I crept out to ask.

  Lian hadn’t even opened his mouth yet when the pig demon shook blood from his arms and flashed a smile that tried very hard to look humble—barely hiding the pride beneath.

  Lian said coolly, “He’s not a stranger. He’s the former master of the Blood Lotus West Altar—Shangguan Fengliu.”

  I almost choked on my own spit.

  “Shangguan… Fengliu?!”

  My eyes darted over his massive shoulders, his barrel chest, his tree-trunk arms, his bristling beard, and the general impression of a wild boar that had learned to stand upright.

  I tried—really tried—to paste the words “graceful and romantic” onto that face. They slid right off.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “Are you sure you don’t mean ‘Shangguan Brickwall’?” I muttered. (‘Fengliu’ literally means graceful, charming, and effortlessly stylish in Chinese)

  The pig demon’s face darkened. “Kid, you know nothing. It’s what they call beauty in contrast—or, as I like to call it, shockingly charming.”

  All I could think was:

  If that’s beauty, then beauty itself has taken on a new meaning.

  I wiped the ash from my cheek. “Hold on—so you’re saying… you’re that boar spirit?”

  Shangguan Fengliu planted one cudgel on the ground, giving me a sideways glare.

  “Boar spirit my ass. That’s just your lousy eyesight.”

  “Oh, confident, are we,” I said, folding my arms. “Then tell me this—how did the missing former West Altar master suddenly reappear, and why are you helping Lian fight the traitors?”

  Lian’ didn’t even look up. “Because he’s not one of them.”

  The Vice Envoy added, “More precisely, he’s been working against them from the shadows. He just never told you.”

  I raised a brow. “What, afraid I’d get scared?”

  Shangguan Fengliu snorted—half bitter, half mocking. “You think I was always as showy as you? I used to have a proper life.”

  The Vice Envoy coughed quietly. “Almost had a proper life.”

  Shangguan shot him a glare, then continued,

  “I was in love with the Prefect Wang’s daughter. We were going to marry. But that prefect—oh, he wore the face of a kind father, loyal official. In truth? A greedy rat. He kept making trouble for the West Altar. I held back for my future father-in-law’s sake… until he went too far.

  Soon enough, the court noticed. Then—head off, property seized.”

  He paused. His expression flickered with something softer.

  “I took the young lady away in advance.”

  Then his tone shifted slightly brighter.

  “And when the West Altar rebellion broke out, I left the Vice Envoy in charge and hid with her at Qingyin Hall.”

  My brows lifted. “So that woman I saw at Qingyin Hall… was Miss Wang?”

  Shangguan Fengliu nodded proudly. “That’s right. She’s now Madam Shangguan.”

  And then I remembered every humiliating moment I’d had while being kept at Qingyin Hall.

  I immediately barked at Lian, “He knew I was your person and still locked me in his house?!”

  Shangguan rubbed his head sheepishly.

  “It was during a critical phase of tracking the rebel headquarters. West Altar matters were urgent. You can’t fight, you’re obsessed with ghosts, and you wander everywhere—hard to keep you safe. So the Chief and I agreed to stash you at Qingyin Hall. Madam would look after you.”

  My eyes widened.

  “So… Lian, Hua, you both knew about this?”

  Lian snorted coldly. “Did you really think we’re that stupid?”

  The Deputy Envoy quickly chimed in. “At first, the Master and I weren’t sure of the Leader’s stance. But after seeing you encounter those strange incidents, the Leader took a particular interest in the rebel faction. Once he made his position clear, we hurried to report everything to him and Hua.”

  Hearing that, my chest tightened—so it was just me in the dark!

  It turned out these people had long understood each other, all the while watching me tiptoe around, terrified, trying to outwit a demon dog and the pig spirit.

  I, being broad-minded—or mostly because I was powerless—took the opportunity to ask, “So… all those weird pig spirit and demon dog stories, those were deliberately spread by you?”

  Shangguan Fengliu answered matter-of-factly, “Better to play the ghost than be watched by the enemy. As soon as the rebel spies heard there were monsters here, they didn’t dare step in casually.”

  I frowned. “And that demon dog… don’t tell me there really was a big yellow hound in my dream that beheaded people?”

  Shangguan Fengliu chuckled. “Dreams always get a little embellished. The one you encountered… was real.”

  “Real?!” I could hardly believe it.

  “Real, yes. But that dog was originally my wife’s pet. I trained it myself, familiarized it with the terrain—it’s long been a seasoned veteran, far from some legendary monster.”

  I rubbed my head, puzzled. “But I distinctly remember it spoke to me!”

  Shangguan Fengliu smiled. “That was Lao Jiang.”

  “Lao Jiang?” I asked, confused.

  “You saw him the first time you came to Qingyin Hall for a drink,” he explained.

  I suddenly recalled—the old servant with a full head of silver hair, a peculiar attitude, calling me ‘honored guest’—that was him.

  “But why was I awake in Qingyin Cemetery?” I asked. “Are Qingyin Cemetery and Qingyin Hall… both run by your family?”

  Shangguan Fengliu nodded, a hint of pride in his expression. “Qingyin Hall was originally our old residence. Later, to hide it from prying eyes, we built secret passageways in a desolate spot near Qingyin Cemetery. On the surface, it looks like a graveyard, but it allowed us to discreetly monitor the rebel faction.”

  Immediately, I pictured the old man guarding the cemetery—hard of hearing, eyes clouded, shuffling along like a wandering spirit, unnervingly persistent. I had seen him before but never knew his name, only that he seemed bizarre.

  I couldn’t help asking, “So… that graveyard guard, he’s one of you too?”

  Shangguan Fengliu laughed heartily, eyes narrowing. “That was still Lao Jiang. He’s a master of ventriloquism and disguise, specially assigned to stay with the yellow hound, and also creates all those ghostly illusions to scare people.”

  I nearly went pale. “…So all this time, I’ve been walking on eggshells, but it was just a dog and an old man playing tricks on me?”

  Shangguan Fengliu said seriously, “Exactly. A mighty yellow hound and the prodigy Lao Jiang, putting on a show just for you— All the juicy stuff stays in the family.

  I rolled my eyes. Well, then—so all the strange incidents in Luoyan City were just “homegrown theatrics.” Quite the production.

  On second thought, it made sense: the rebel faction was scattered and dangerous; confronting them directly was risky. Creating ghostly illusions to deter intruders was clever. Only… I, the ‘outsider,’ had somehow become the star clown of the whole show. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  I let out a sigh and decided then and there: it was time to get along with these ‘insiders,’ or else I’d be the butt of their jokes forever.