Chapter 55: Secrets Beneath White Jade Langhuan

The entrance to White Jade Capital’s sect grounds might not compare to the splendor of Nine Clouds Pavilion, but it was still bustling with traffic, thronged with people coming and going, lively beyond measure.

Having snagged Zhan Yujie’s Qiankun Pouch, Yan Zhichuan had tossed not only the daoists in Town Prison but even the nine Dao Pills to the winds. She eagerly dragged Zhan Yujie along, itching to charge straight to the bookshop.

Though Zhan Yujie had agreed to the outing, she hadn’t specified a time. She pressed down the beaming Yan Zhichuan and said, “Junior Sister, cultivate first.” She’d gained some insights from her clash with the Golden Core daoist earlier. Her sword intent sharpened in every battle, and she hoped this time to push her cultivation into Nascent Soul.

Yan Zhichuan let out an “Ah,” flopping back like a limp dead fish.

Seeing her energy utterly drained, Zhan Yujie rubbed her forehead with a sigh. “Let’s go.”

Yan Zhichuan tilted her head and blinked. After Little Fat Chirp prodded her a few times with its feet, she sprang up lively as ever, instantly back to her bubbly self.

The sun dipped into the river, painting the sky aflame.

They’d said it was just for storybooks, but Yan Zhichuan’s curiosity latched onto everything novel. By the time they turned from the wide, sprawling streets into the narrow alleys of the market district, she clutched a smoking pipe in her left hand and a skewer of candied hawthorns in her right, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. That pipe was a magical artifact, designed to hold Dan Sand.

Ordinary cultivators simply drew in Dan Sand during meditation with their magic power. Containers for it were commonplace. But the world was vast and full of wonders. Some found direct absorption too dull and devised all sorts of methods—like smoking it from a pipe, dubbed “puffing Dan Sand.” The only difference from straight uptake was that once the Dan Sand’s primal energy was spent, it turned to hazy wisps of smoke drifting away.

Zhan Yujie couldn’t fathom it and saw no point in stopping her, so she pretended not to notice. On the bright side, at least Yan Zhichuan was refining her magic power with Dan Sand while walking. But that optimistic thought evaporated when Yan Zhichuan sidled up, eyes squinted in delight, and puffed a clawing cloud of smoke right into her face—strangely choking.

A vein throbbed on Zhan Yujie’s forehead. Expressionless, she snatched the pipe and stowed it in the Qiankun Pouch. Yan Zhichuan let out an “Ey,” lunging to grab it back. She threw herself at Zhan Yujie, all but hanging off her. Right there on the main avenue, the pair stacked together drew weird stares from passing daoists—this kind of public clinging was pure moral decay.

Yan Zhichuan shot Zhan Yujie a resentful glare, voice pitched low: “Senior Sister.”

Zhan Yujie lifted a hand and ruthlessly pried her off. “Didn’t you want storybooks? After all this detouring, I’m afraid your remaining Pill Jades won’t cover it.”

Yan Zhichuan had no choice but to back down.

Night fell swiftly, darkness blanketing the sky in the blink of an eye.

A cool breeze brushed their faces, stars scattered like spilled chess pieces.

The city blazed with lights, bright as day.

Fearing the bookshop might close, Yan Zhichuan tugged Zhan Yujie into a brisk run, halting only before an exquisite, opulent pavilion gleaming with gold and jade. She looked up at the plaque—White Jade Langhuan, the grandest bookshop in White Jade Capital. Hadn’t gotten lost after all?

Taking a deep breath, she weighed the Pill Jades in her pouch and strode in chest puffed. The shop was gorgeously appointed, shelves towering with scrolls aglow in starry specks of light, yet sparsely peopled. The shopkeeper slouched over an abacus, an old cat dozing on the counter—until it spotted Little Fat Chirp and bolted awake, pouncing forward.

Heavenly Dao System: “!”

No time to soothe her bristling Little Fat Chirp, Yan Zhichuan fixed on the shopkeeper and cleared her throat: “Shopping.”

The shopkeeper lazily flicked up an eyelid. “Which sect’s Dao manuals? Nine Abyss? Chongxu Sect? Or Cihang Studio?”

Yan Zhichuan: “Ah?” She twisted to the entering Zhan Yujie, blinking. This place sold Dao manuals too? Would major sects’ scriptures leak out? But she didn’t care about those and was about to ask for storybooks when Zhan Yujie’s cool voice cut in.

“Nine Abyss’s.”

The shopkeeper patted the old cat.

With a meow, it flexed its claws, reluctantly tearing its gaze from Little Fat Chirp. Lithe as could be, it vanished into the shelves and soon returned with a jade slip in its mouth. The shopkeeper shoved it forward. “Sword of Nine Abyss. Fifty thousand Pill Jades.”

Yan Zhichuan: “?”

She picked up the jade slip—Great Void Nine Abyss.

Yan Zhichuan: “…” She couldn’t hold back. “You’re selling fakes?”

The shopkeeper rolled their eyes. “Take it or leave it.”

Zhan Yujie took the slip and scanned it. No issues—the technique was solid, if shallower than Supreme Void Nine Abyss, suitable for those with insufficient cultivation. At the end, it bore Nine Abyss Sect’s grand seal.

Not fake.

White Jade Langhuan must be backed by White Jade Capital’s Cave Heaven and Soul Transformation experts, right?

Seeing even Zhan Yujie uninterested in defending the sect, Yan Zhichuan dropped it. She fiddled with the Heaven-Penetrating Treasure Mirror, searching for White Jade Langhuan guides. After a bit, she found the “code phrase” and declared: “I want to go downstairs.”

The shopkeeper’s expression shifted subtly. “You two?”

Yan Zhichuan nodded “yes,” then pointed at Little Fat Chirp: “And one bird.”

The shopkeeper ignored that. “What relation?”

Yan Zhichuan: “Senior and junior sisters.”

The shopkeeper: “Married?”

Yan Zhichuan, utterly baffled but storybooks on the line: “No.”

Zhan Yujie, eavesdropping, sensed something off but couldn’t pinpoint it.

The shopkeeper’s eyes glinted. “Fine,” they barked, urging the old cat to lead them down.

Uncontracted senior-junior sisters—probably here to learn.

The wooden stairs creaked and swayed downward, red lanterns swaying nearby to illuminate weathered planks, exuding an eerie, shadowy aura.

The old cat licked its paws, occasional meows shattering the silence.

“What’s downstairs?” Zhan Yujie frowned, hand on her sword hilt. A great demon leaping out wouldn’t surprise her here.

Yan Zhichuan licked her lips. “Good stuff.” New arrival that she was, she didn’t know bookshops. Only the Heaven-Penetrating Treasure Mirror clued her in: hit White Jade Langhuan at midnight and say “go downstairs.” The shopkeeper’s technique needed myriad books to cultivate their “million tomes,” and downstairs tomes went for a thousand gold per character—paradise for storybook lovers.

Zhan Yujie wasn’t buying it.

But rash action felt unwise.

After roughly a hundred steps, the dim light brightened to a fierce glow—not flames, but priceless pearls embedded in the walls, casting a soft radiance. Upstairs had been deserted, but here clusters of guests argued intently, faces flushed, eyes agleam, almost like they’d dosed on Bewitching Passion Powder.

The old cat leaped away and vanished.

While Zhan Yujie fretted, Yan Zhichuan was right at home, like a fish in the sea.

Her gaze roved the shelves, soon alighting on a copy of Enchanted by Cihang. She’d read this one before and meant to replace it, but its unusual thickness gave her pause. Maybe the author updated it? With that thought, she flipped it open—and her face burned red!

Yan Zhichuan yelped. Were the copies she’d bought upstairs all censored versions?

Harboring that suspicion, she grabbed several more she’d read, confirming it.

Clutching the books in a daze, she froze—until Zhan Yujie approached, sword in arms.

Yan Zhichuan hadn’t shut the book in time; Zhan Yujie caught her red-handed.

Zhan Yujie: “…”

A flush crept over her flawless jade face.

She closed her eyes, then opened them.

So this is what Yan Zhichuan reads all day?

Yan Zhichuan’s heart hammered, eyes wide and innocent, but panic churned inside.

Before she could spin an excuse, a bang sounded nearby—two daoists tangled up, one pinning the other to the wall.

“Made you study, not right now,” the pinned female cultivator grumbled.

The other drawled an “Oh,” smoothing her dao companion’s robes with a gentle hand. “Buy them all?”

The woman: “Too pricey. Read a few more times, memorize ’em.”

…

Zhan Yujie felt like she’d stumbled into a den of thieves. She seized Yan Zhichuan’s wrist. “We’re leaving.”

Yan Zhichuan clung reluctantly, feet rooted. Heart guilty, she whispered: “Buy any?”

Zhan Yujie glared. “What for?”

Yan Zhichuan’s voice shrank: “Learning.” She pouted pitifully. “Senior Sister doesn’t want to, can’t I read alone?”

Before Zhan Yujie could reply, a familiar voice sank her heart: “Fellow Daoist Zhan? Fellow Daoist Yan?”

She looked up to see Sui Heng at the stair rail, curiosity and surprise mingled with an ambiguous smile.

Zhan Yujie’s face stiffened, turning faintly green.

Seen by others was bad enough—but Hidden Dragon Division of White Jade Capital…

Who knew what “entangled with Yan Zhichuan” would add to her file. If it stayed classified, fine; if it leaked to the Heaven-Penetrating Treasure Mirror, the fallout bore imagining.

“Fellow Daoist Sui, a word in private.” Zhan Yujie spoke.

Sui Heng rubbed her arms, feeling a chill like graveyard wind.

Dodging Zhan Yujie’s icy glare, she asked politely: “Here for Li Jing Daoist’s matters too?”

Yan Zhichuan eyed Zhan Yujie’s face. No clue what Sui Heng meant, but she chimed: “Yes.”

Sui Heng: “Someone tipped that Li Jing True Person and Luo Guanyin’s escapades were sighted here. Find the book, track the author, pry clues on those two from her. But with seas of tomes…” She turned to the frost-radiating Zhan Yujie. “Since you’re here, Fellow Daoist, lend a hand?”

Zhan Yujie glanced at Sui Heng.

Sui Heng was sharp—dropping it meant letting it slide.

Zhan Yujie pocketed Yan Zhichuan’s book and calmly said: “Sure.”

Down here, some storybooks were pure fiction, others hid real intel, truth and lies blurred. Sui Heng had come on a whim; Li Jing was in Town Prison and would spill eventually. But if they weren’t mere collaborators? If intimately linked, might Luo Guanyin rescue Li Jing True Person?

Sui Heng shared her thoughts with Zhan Yujie—fair trade for help.

Yan Zhichuan, who’d fetched another storybook from somewhere, looked up earnestly: “Fellow Daoist Sui, you read too many storybooks, don’t you?”

Who’d willingly court death? Was White Jade Capital’s Town Prison that easy to bust?