Chapter Twenty: The Bounty

All the hairs on his body stood on end as the figure in black, eyes wide with shock, prepared to retreat in an instant. But before he could move, a large, iron-hued hand surged through the air, searing with force, and seized his wrist in a crushing grip.

Clang!

With his free hand, the black-clad man drew a steel dagger from behind his waist and slashed down toward Qi Xiu's right hand, intent on severing it. But Qi Xiu’s fingers tightened with sudden, brutal strength.

The sharp sound of bones breaking echoed audibly, drawing a muffled groan from the black figure as his dagger faltered mid-swing.

“Tempering Realm!” he gasped, catching sight of the iron-blue hand shrouded in swirling energy.

A split second’s hesitation was all Qi Xiu needed. He rolled to his feet and drove his palm with unrelenting force into the man's chest, power surging like a furious dragon from a deep abyss.

Blood spurted from the man’s mouth, soaking his mask in a crimson stain.

Qi Xiu lit the candelabrum in the room, the flames casting a bright glow over the space. He glanced at the figure sprawled helplessly on the ground, then stooped to pick up a scroll that had fallen.

“It’s quite a likeness,” he remarked grimly, holding the scroll up as he approached the black-clad man and yanked away his mask.

The face revealed was that of a man in his thirties, honest and unassuming in appearance.

“Why do you have my portrait?” Qi Xiu demanded.

The scroll bore a half-length portrait of Qi Xiu himself, rendered with exquisite skill and an uncanny resemblance. Clearly, the mysterious intruder had entered the houses at night with a specific mission—to find him.

The man stared coldly at Qi Xiu without a word.

“I see, professional ethics, is it?” Qi Xiu nodded in understanding, then turned to take a small porcelain vial from a drawer. “Please, direct your attention here. This medicine is called ‘Longing for a Single Twig.’”

“If a male creature ingests this, he’ll be plunged into an unending state of mating frenzy—for ten hours.”

“You think I’d be afraid of something like that?” The man’s tone was mocking.

“Ah, you misunderstand. This isn’t meant for you,” Qi Xiu replied with a relaxed smile, uncorking the vial. “About five miles from here lies the city’s refuse yard, where perhaps thirty beggars linger. Suppose I mixed this into their food, broke your limbs, and delivered you to them. Just imagine that scene—wouldn’t it be harmonious?”

The man’s face turned ashen. He hadn’t expected that this scholarly, gentle-seeming youth could wield such cruel and inhuman methods.

“I told you, I’ll die with nothing left of me,” the man spat through clenched teeth.

“If you refuse, you’ll wish for death but be denied even that,” Qi Xiu replied coolly, holding up the vial.

Finally, the man yielded.

“There’s a bounty on the ghost market for your head—a thousand taels of silver to anyone who finds you.”

Qi Xiu’s heart sank at this news. He didn’t need to think long. The one who had posted the reward was undoubtedly Qian Yuchuan, the second son of the Qian family. So he still hasn’t given up searching for me.

No, it’s not me he wants. It’s the one-third fragment of the Cold Waterfall True Art.

The night he killed Gong Yan and fled, he destroyed all the translated texts and stained the beast hide scroll with thick ink. That meant only he now knew the content of that incomplete manual.

“He’s so desperate to find me, offering a thousand taels as reward. Perhaps he’s already discovered the missing part of the Cold Waterfall True Art.”

The more Qi Xiu thought about it, the more likely it seemed. He asked, “How many have taken the bounty now?”

“Around two hundred,” the man replied.

“So many?” Qi Xiu was taken aback.

“Who wouldn’t? A thousand taels for a mere scholar—would you turn it down?” The man cursed silently. A thousand taels to catch a bookish youth—I should’ve known it wasn’t so simple. Damn it, a martial artist at the Tempering Realm—what a trap.

Qi Xiu’s gaze fell on the man’s bundle tied at his waist. He picked one up and opened it.

The man instinctively tried to stop him, but thought better of angering Qi Xiu and reluctantly shrank back.

A pungent stench of blood hit Qi Xiu as he saw what was inside—a human brain, wrapped in oily paper.

“You…” Qi Xiu’s expression grew complicated as he narrowed his eyes. “Care to explain?”

“I took another job along the way. Eighteen fresh brains, fifty taels each,” the man answered in a low voice.

“Were you the one who killed those people in the western market yesterday?”

“Yes.”

Qi Xiu took a deep breath, forcing down his disgust as he wrapped up the brain and tossed it beside the man. “You killed eighteen people—aren’t you afraid the authorities will come after you?”

“The authorities? Hah. The Golden Flower Matron Sect is already in Shuyang. The officials have no time for meddling—they’re all busy planning their escape,” the man muttered.

“What is this Golden Flower Matron Sect?” Qi Xiu pressed, frowning.

“You don’t know?” The man looked at him in surprise. “The sect is one of the most powerful rebel armies in Dianchuan Province. Although all its members are women, their numbers are the greatest among the rebel forces. Two months ago, they took over Yuantong Prefecture and have been advancing north ever since. Half a month ago I heard they’d reached Shuyang. If all goes well, they’ll reach Huangtan Prefecture next month.”

“Golden Flower Matron Sect… rebel army…” The man’s words sent Qi Xiu deep into thought. Though he had lived in this world for two years, nearly all his time had been spent in Baohe County, struggling for his daily bread. He knew almost nothing of the world beyond. All he knew was that the current dynasty was called the Great Xuan, ruling over one capital and thirteen provinces.

The Dianchuan Province where he lived was in the northwest.

“Great Xuan has continued the old system—except for the Sacred Capital and Jiangnan Province, which are directly governed, the other twelve provinces each have a Military Governor. The governor, or ‘Jiezhen,’ holds the highest authority in a province, controlling military, civil, and financial affairs. Could it be that the Great Xuan dynasty is entering its final years, with regional warlords rising up?”

Qi Xiu’s face grew grave. The political structure of Great Xuan so resembled the flourishing age of his previous world. The concentration of power in the hands of autonomous governors had fended off foreign invasion, but at the cost of central control. All it would take was a single spark, and chaos would erupt as warlords carved up the land.

In such times, evil cults and rebels would naturally thrive.

After a moment’s thought, Qi Xiu’s gaze returned to the man.

“I see now, I was too rough with you. Come, get up,” he said warmly, helping the man to his feet and brushing the dust from his clothes.

Bewildered by this sudden kindness, the man instinctively tried to shrink back. “What… what are you doing?”

“Oh, nothing. I just have a small favor to ask,” Qi Xiu replied, all smiles, handing the scroll back.

“What favor?” the man asked, wary.

“I’d like you to take me to the ghost market.”

“What?!”

…