Chapter 18: The Snake Pit Part 1

Since neither of them knew the other’s true name or origin, they were naturally far from a state of mutual trust.

Most importantly, it remained unclear whether they were friends or foes.

Feng Yun’ai cast a glance at the snake in the distance—cut into two pieces and still twitching slightly—before resting her hand on the hilt of the sword at her waist. “Haven’t you already tested me?”

“Whether I’ve seen through you or not, you know the answer in your heart.” Sang Chencao sneered and pushed the door open as if returning to her own home, appearing completely off-guard.

Fearing that scorpions or snakes might swarm out of the room, Feng Yun’ai took a half-step back.

The bamboo door creaked open. Inside, there were no people, let alone snakes or scorpions. It was deathly silent.

“In the Jianghu Records, Wen Lanxin is a loner. I’ve never heard of her living with anyone.” Feng Yun’ai watched the woman enter before finally stepping into the building herself.

The bamboo building had two floors. The upper level was furnished with a bed and chairs, seemingly a bedroom.

The layout was clever; the bedroom was divided into a master and a secondary area. It was clear that someone lived here with Wen Lanxin.

“As long as Wen Lanxin doesn’t speak of it to the outside world, who would know who she lives with?” Sang Chencao rummaged through the cabinets and drawers without the slightest hint of caution. She looked curious, yet her actions were far too natural.

“You—” Feng Yun’ai pursed her lips.

“How many people in this world have actually been here? How much do they really know about Wen Lanxin?” Sang Chencao opened a bamboo cabinet and pulled out several ceramic jars and porcelain bottles, sniffing them without any fear that they might contain venomous insects.

Fortunately, there were no bugs—only powders of various colors. It was impossible to tell if they were medicine or poison.

Feng Yun’ai remained silent.

She had not met many people, but fortunately, many martial arts experts were like figures in a painting—their skills and preferences were all recorded in the Jianghu Records. Even if she had never seen them with her own eyes, they felt like “old friends.” The only exception…

The only exception was Wen Lanxin. People knew very little about her, only that she lived permanently at Yellow Sand Cliff, raised a mountain of insects and snakes, and bore the title of Soul-Shattering Needle.

Everything else—Wen Lanxin’s past, the people around her, her current cultivation realm…

All of it was unknown.

The bottles and jars that had just been opened were left scattered on the table. The one who had taken them clearly had no intention of putting them back.

Feng Yun’ai didn’t know if the other woman’s actions were deliberate, but since the jars were already open, she stepped forward to take a look.

Half were poisons, and half were medicines. The poisons weren’t fatal, but the medicines were rare, life-saving concoctions.

However, none of these medicines or poisons had anything to do with Spirit-Awakening Powder.

Feng Yun’ai decided to cap all the bottles. She didn’t know their original positions, but she placed them back into the bamboo cabinet one by one regardless.

“Well?” Sang Chencao asked leisurely.

“If it were Spirit-Awakening Powder, it likely wouldn’t be kept in such a conspicuous place,” Feng Yun’ai said.

Sang Chencao gave a light chuckle and shook her head. “How is this conspicuous? Look at this Yellow Sand Cliff. Is it a place just anyone can enter?”

Feng Yun’ai’s gaze went still. She said tonelessly, “True. Then how did you break in?”

“As long as one isn’t afraid of death, one can naturally enter.” Sang Chencao’s eyes curved, her gaze seemingly drenched in a wicked intent. “But who in this world is truly not afraid of death?”

More riddles and nonsense. Feng Yun’ai decided not to waste any more energy asking questions. She stepped into the secondary bedroom and said, “Guess who would be living with Wen Lanxin.”

“Even Feng Rong took a disciple. Perhaps Wen Lanxin did the same,” Sang Chencao said unhurriedly.

“Feng Rong did not.” Feng Yun’ai glanced at the woman in the distance.

“Oh? You seem to know Feng Rong quite well.” Sang Chencao wore the expression of someone whose trick had succeeded.

Feng Yun’ai’s gaze turned cold. She turned to the vanity in the secondary bedroom and opened a box of rouge. “It seems to be a woman,” she said softly.

Sang Chencao asked casually, “Can you tell her age? Is she around the same age as that person under Feng Rong’s sect?”

“How can you be so certain that the person living with Wen Lanxin must be her disciple?” Feng Yun’ai looked back, her expression unreadable beneath the white veil. “It seems the world knows even less about Wen Lanxin than you do.”

“Just a guess. Didn’t I guess the same back at the Listening Moon Sand River?” Sang Chencao remained composed. She began rummaging through the cabinets again, then raised her voice. “It really is a woman.”

Her tone made even her surprise seem calculated.

Feng Yun’ai shot her a look, then lowered her head to sniff the scent of the rouge. However, the room was filled with the smell of medicine, and even the scent of the rouge had been tainted.