Chapter 33: Utterly Ridiculous

Jiang Min considered for a moment, then took out her spatial pouch.

She tried to put the peach branch inside, but failed.

“It seems I still have to store the peach branch in my dantian,” she mused.

With a thought, she brought the peach branch to her mouth; it slipped back into her dantian, nearly drained of spiritual energy, and took root there as always.

Jiang Min tried again to extract it, and surprisingly, she succeeded. To her delight, the mishap had turned to fortune—she had solved the problem of removing the peach branch from her dantian.

With that, she ceased worrying about the matter.

Her gaze fell once more upon Lin Mingyue’s corpse, her brows knitting in thought.

Earning spirit stones and cultivating the Crimson Flame Body to perfection would surely be her main goals in the future. For now, however, she had to resolve the issue of Lin Mingyue. The Disciplinary Hall would surely discover that she had come to see Lin Mingyue today, but how could she explain his death?

“Best search for evidence first. According to his memories, he destroyed all the proof, but there’s always a chance something remains.”

Rising, Jiang Min searched Lin Mingyue’s cave residence, but found nothing out of the ordinary.

Returning to the bedchamber, her eyes fell on the spatial pouch at Lin Mingyue’s waist. She picked it up and examined its contents. With its master dead, nothing barred her from taking what was inside.

Inside Lin Mingyue’s pouch were piles of gleaming spirit stones, boxes of finely drawn talismans that would fetch a handsome price if sold, and several jade slips recording cultivation techniques and spells. The haul was so plentiful that Jiang Min was overjoyed.

The matter of earning money, which had troubled her for so long, had been resolved just like that?

Yet she found nothing incriminating regarding Lin Mingyue’s character. How, then, could she expose him?

Her eyes brightened with an idea. She cast a fire spell, gathering a flame at her fingertip and flicking it to incinerate Lin Mingyue’s corpse.

She then took out the peach branch, gathered her abundant demonic power, and used it to write a few bold characters on a sheet of white paper:

“Filth concealed within, laughable beyond compare.”

As she picked up the paper, she could feel the thick, sinister aura radiating from it.

“Let’s hope this method serves some purpose…”

…

At the Disciplinary Hall.

The steward on duty was lounging in a rocking chair, humming a tune with his eyes closed, while the other disciples nearby busied themselves with their tasks.

Suddenly, Jiang Min burst in, flustered. Seeing an unfamiliar steward, she cried out in distress, “Shishu, help! Someone’s dead!”

“What?” The steward sat up immediately, fixing his gaze on Jiang Min. “Someone’s dead? Who?”

“Uncle Lin Mingyue,” Jiang Min panted, presenting the piece of paper with trembling hands, her face pale and stricken. “I went to visit Uncle Lin for guidance, and as we spoke, he just… died before my eyes! He turned to ash on the spot… Only this paper was left on the floor.”

“Lin Mingyue?” The steward repeated the name, a strange look crossing his face. “Such a bizarre occurrence? Let me see.”

He took the paper, where the words “Filth concealed within, laughable beyond compare” were written in powerful script, saturated with a fierce, oppressive demonic aura.

“What astonishing demonic cultivation—at least at the Foundation Establishment level!” the steward thought.

Demonic cultivators were those who practiced the ways of demon beasts—some born with demonic blood, others who willingly transformed themselves. Such practitioners were rare.

A Foundation Establishment cultivator’s death within the sect was no small matter. However, the steward, recalling it was Lin Mingyue, was not surprised. The outer disciples knew nothing of Lin Mingyue’s true nature, but as a steward of the Disciplinary Hall, he was aware of some of Lin Mingyue’s misdeeds. Yet Lin Mingyue had always been discreet, never letting matters get out of hand, so the steward had simply turned a blind eye.

Lin Mingyue’s death, he thought, was likely the result of crossing the wrong person—or perhaps someone from his past had come to settle old scores. Not strange at all.

“I understand. I’ll report this matter. You may go,” the steward said, putting the paper away and waving her off as if the incident were entirely trivial.

Jiang Min could hardly believe it.

Had she really gotten away with it so easily? Was it truly this simple?

Seeing the steward’s calm, almost indifferent demeanor, she began to suspect that these officials were all well aware of Lin Mingyue’s deeds.

At this realization, a chill crept into her heart. Drawing closer to the stern-faced steward, she put on a pained expression and asked carefully, “Shishu, will I be implicated, having witnessed this? I truly know nothing…”

The steward’s face grew troubled. After a moment’s hesitation, he replied, “In principle, it has nothing to do with you, but—”

He glanced meaningfully at her, leaving his words unfinished.

Jiang Min understood at once. She produced a jade box, apologizing, “I’m sorry to trouble you with this, Shishu. I happen to have some ‘Nine Bend Fragrance’ spirit tea here—please don’t mind the quality.”

The steward accepted it, weighing the box. The heft was off; a sweep of his divine sense revealed not tea, but five low-grade spirit stones.

His smile widened. “How thoughtful of you! I’ve been meaning to try some new tea. You needn’t worry—I understand how you feel. This is a matter between powerful cultivators and has nothing to do with you. When I report it, I’ll simply note that a disciple discovered Lin Mingyue’s death, without naming you.”

In truth, he had no intention of reporting the matter at all. He would draft a perfunctory case file and file it away, letting the incident fade. If Lin Mingyue’s death were truly investigated, it would likely lead to a host of troublesome revelations.

In his eyes, Jiang Min was simply an unfortunate disciple who had stumbled upon a cultivator’s duel—timid, eager to avoid trouble, and quick-witted. A rare talent. As such, he harbored no suspicion toward her. How could the death of a Foundation Establishment cultivator have anything to do with a fourth-stage outer disciple? He never considered Jiang Min a suspect.

With the matter settled for now, Jiang Min took her leave at once.

After she departed, the steward stood, straightened his clothing, and instructed the on-duty disciples blandly, “Inform the Registry and the Teaching Hall—Lin Mingyue perished in a cultivation mishap, suffering a fatal deviation.”

“Reclaim his cave residence today, and select a new steward for the talisman class.”

When a man dies, his story ends.

The truth, whatever it might be, no longer mattered.

…

Jiang Min returned to Peach Blossom Slope.

She wandered through the orchard, her steps unconsciously slowing.

It was spring, and the peach trees were ablaze with blossoms, the mountains awash with pale clouds of pink.

She broke off a branch, twirling it in her slender fingers, and thought that the sect truly was, as she had written in her forged note, a place rife with filth and hypocrisy—utterly laughable.

“I once sought the comfort of the sect, thinking I could preserve myself by staying within its walls. But now… is this grand sect really any better than the world outside?”

She let out a low, bitter laugh.

People’s hearts are hidden behind flesh and bone.

A mistake made once is mistake enough.

From now on, she would trust no one blindly.

Her trust, she realized, could be placed in no one but herself.

As she passed Xue Yiniang’s little courtyard, she saw the woman practicing martial arts—dressed in neat training clothes, every punch and palm strike fierce enough to scatter petals to the ground. Upon spotting Jiang Min, Xue Yiniang immediately stopped and called out warmly, “Junior Jiang?”

“Senior Xue.” Jiang Min looked up, unable to compose her expression in time.

Xue Yiniang paused, then quickly approached, puzzled. “What’s wrong? Why such a long face? You look so much prettier when you smile.”

Jiang Min watched her silently, wondering: was Xue Yiniang’s warmth sincere, or just another mask? Who is kind to someone they’ve only met a few times for no reason at all? Was it simply to make connections for her own convenience?

“I…”

Jiang Min took a deep breath, forced a smile, and said, “Senior Xue, I’m fine now.”

“I just feel… so terribly poor.”

“I really want to make money.”