The bulletin board outside the Task Hall was swarming with people.
Jiang Muchen had just collected his monthly guest stipend—ten low-grade spirit stones—carefully wrapped in a blue cloth bag and tucked into the most secure spot against his chest. As he turned to leave, the crowd suddenly parted as if sliced by a blade.
"Move! Make way!"
A few young disciples in inner sect attire pushed through, surrounding a woman as she approached the board.
She was barely in her twenties, dressed in a flowing pale yellow gown. Her hair was pinned with a jade hairpin, and tassels swayed with each step. Her brows were delicate, her skin paler than snow—but her eyes, lifted slightly in a habitual haughty tilt, made it clear she considered everyone else beneath her.
Lin Yueyao.
Three months ago, this same inner sect senior had publicly hurled the box of "Clear Heart Dew" Jiang Muchen delivered outside the Scripture Hall, saying, "Flattery like this is worthless."
Now, she pressed a yellow notice to the bulletin board with a sharp slap.
"Listen up." Her voice was crisp, cold as midwinter ice. "Field C-7 in the Medicine Garden is infested with Soul-Eating Bugs. Ten people needed for removal, five-day limit. Pay—thirty shards each."
The crowd froze for a heartbeat, then erupted.
"Thirty shards? Five days? Soul-Eating Bugs?!"
"One bite, and you're out for half a month!"
"This little pay is basically buying your life!"
But though whispers and complaints rippled through the crowd, no one dared protest openly. Lin Yueyao was an inner sect disciple, a named disciple of a senior on Danding Peak. Offend her, and forget any chance at work in the Medicine Garden or the Pill Room.
Jiang Muchen stood at the edge of the crowd, not pushing forward. He scanned Lin Yueyao's face, subtle perception stirring in his mind.
Information flowed in like a stream:
—Lin Yueyao, named disciple of Danding Peak, Qi Refinement level seven. Currently pushing for Second-Grade Alchemist certification, urgently needing contribution points to exchange for a rare herb called Seven-Orifice Exquisite Fruit. Field C-7 was her private patch, planted with golden-thread grass about to mature—but now ruined by Soul-Eating Bugs. She couldn't bear hiring expensive specialists and wanted cheap labor instead.
Deeper emotions: agitation, frustration. If this patch failed, her Second-Grade plan would be delayed at least six months. Meanwhile, two other named disciples were already one step ahead.
Jiang Muchen had his calculations ready.
Just as he turned to leave, her voice pierced the chaos like it had eyes:
"Jiang Muchen."
The crowd parted again.
Her gaze cut through the heads to land on him. In her eyes was scrutiny, faint complexity, and a subtle test.
"You're here too?" She tilted her lips in a faint, ambiguous smile. "Good. You're in."
All around, the laborers' eyes shifted—some gleeful, some sympathetic, others just curious. A few, close to Lin Tianying, watched with poisonous intent.
Jiang Muchen did not move, only bowed slightly. "Senior Sister Lin."
"Not interested?" Lin Yueyao raised a brow, the tassel on her hairpin swaying. "I've noticed you've been doing well—guest in the Artificer Hall, practicing in the Earth Fire Chamber. Even Fire Cloud Senior has taken note. A small task like this won't trouble you, right?"
Her words carried needles, each syllable a barb.
Jiang Muchen recognized the tone. Lin Yueyao wasn't inviting—she was testing. The laborer she had casually crushed three months ago—what had he accomplished? Why did he now dare to show himself in the Red Dust Pavilion?
"My senior's orders are my duty," Jiang Muchen said, voice calm as still water. "However…"
"However what?"
"These Soul-Eating Bugs are cunning. Ordinary methods won't eradicate them." His voice was low, but clear enough. "I've studied some obscure texts. I might have a clever method—but it requires some auxiliary materials. Might I trouble you, Senior Sister?"
Lin Yueyao stared for three beats, then smiled—mocking, almost scornful. "Clever method, huh? Fine, name it. What do you need?"
"Rotbone Flowers," Jiang Muchen said. "About twenty pounds."
A few stifled snickers ran through the crowd.
Rotbone Flowers? Poisonous, foul-smelling—using them for pest control? Absurd!
Lin Yueyao frowned. "Rotbone Flowers are toxic. Are you trying to poison my herb patch along with the bugs?"
"Senior Sister misunderstands," Jiang Muchen replied evenly. "Soul-Eating Bugs crave decay. The smell of Rotbone Flowers attracts them. Crush the flowers into a paste, mix with pungent powders, and spread along the field's perimeter. Bugs will cluster in targeted zones. Then we burn or unleash natural predators—far more efficient."
He paused. "Ancient texts call it 'Lure and Annihilate.' Unorthodox, but labor-saving and harmless to the plants' roots."
Lin Yueyao froze.
She knew alchemy, had a grasp of herbal principles—but pest control was rarely studied. His explanation, precise and cited, was convincing.
"Twenty pounds…" she murmured. "Western wild patch has it. Go gather yourself. But heed this—five-day limit. Fail to remove the bugs or harm my golden-thread grass, and three months' salary is deducted!"
"I understand, Senior Sister."
Jiang Muchen bowed and stepped out of the crowd.
He felt the eyes on his back—Lin Yueyao's scrutiny, the laborers' schadenfreude, and one cold, sticky gaze, like a serpent's tongue, slithering from the shadows.
He didn't need to look back. Zhao Xiaolu.
That afternoon, in the western patch of the garden.
Jiang Muchen carried a large bamboo basket, short hoe in hand, rummaging through weeds. Rotbone Flowers were unmistakable: gray-black thick petals, sweetly foul aroma that made the head spin after prolonged exposure.
By the tenth pound, footsteps came from behind—light, unhidden.
He didn't turn. Digging another flower with its roots, he said casually, "Brother Zhao, here for herbs too?"
Zhao Xiaolu emerged from withered shrubs. His face paler than before, sunken eyes and protruding cheekbones, but his eyes burned with eerie green fire. He stared at Jiang Muchen's basket. "What do you need Rotbone Flowers for?"
"Pest control," Jiang Muchen replied. "Senior Sister Lin's field is infested."
"Pest control…" Zhao Xiaolu repeated, then laughed dryly, like rustling dead leaves. "So Jiang is finally making waves—guest of the Artificer Hall, now even taking senior inner disciple tasks."
Jiang Muchen faced him. "Need something, Brother Zhao?"
"Nothing." Zhao shook his head, but his gaze lingered on Jiang Muchen's guest token for three beats. "Just a reminder—don't get in too deep with messy affairs. And some people… best keep your distance."
The words were loaded, chilling.
Jiang Muchen nodded. "Thanks for the warning."
Zhao Xiaolu said no more, turned, and drifted away. His steps were soft, almost floating, until he vanished into the weeds.
Jiang Muchen frowned. Zhao Xiaolu radiated heavy Yin energy—even from thirty feet away, the chill was bone-deep. This was no good omen: advanced Yin objects can backfire, twisting the host's mind, even enslaving them in darkness.
No time to ponder. He bent back to gather flowers.
By the twentieth pound, the sun was low. Bamboo basket heavy, he walked back. Passing the edge of the western patch, he paused at the rock crevice—a spot two laborers had dug three days ago, unearthing Zhao Xiaolu's buried jar.
Now the crevice was empty, shards gone. Jiang Muchen knelt, brushing aside the topsoil, spotting faint fresh scratches—not from a shovel, but clawed deeply, frenzied. A faint metallic scent of blood lingered.
He straightened, dusting off his hands, and strode away with the basket.
Back at the servant quarters, the sunset painted the sky red. He spread the Rotbone Flowers on the stone floor to dry. Just then, Wang Duobao burst in, round face sweating, breath ragged.
"Jiang! I've got news!" He leaned close, eyes bright. "Lin Tianying's stirring!"
"Go on."
"He went to the Enforcement Hall today, asked his grandfather for a 'Patrol Warrant.' He plans to clear the mountain of trespassers before the Medicine Valley opens next month. I think… he's coming for us!"
Jiang Muchen didn't pause, spreading flowers evenly. "Anything else?"
"His cousin, Lin Bao—the one who gambled on the transport—lost big yesterday, owes thirty shards! The debtors are from the Nether Ghost House, threatening to cut off an arm if unpaid in three days. Could be… an opportunity!"
"No." Jiang Muchen cut him off calmly. "Nether Ghost House is untouchable. Let Lin Bao deal with it himself."
Wang Duobao blinked, then realization hit. "You mean… use the knife?"
Jiang Muchen didn't respond, only said: "Prepare some sulfur, realgar powder, and 'Bug Lure Incense.' I have other plans."
"Bug Lure? That's expensive—markets sell it for—"
"Public funds will cover it." Jiang Muchen said, spreading the last flowers, standing. "Also, Zheng Xiaoqi, get a boat ready. Tomorrow at Zi hour, I'm scouting the Medicine Valley outskirts."
Wang Duobao's eyes went wide. "The valley isn't open! Outer wards! Trespassers punished!"
"I know." Jiang Muchen glanced west, where shadows darkened the mountains. "I'm only checking the perimeter. Need to see the terrain first."
Lin Tianying wants to clear the field early?
Fine. Let's see who clears whom.
Tian Dao Truth: When your opponent is still dreaming of seeing you beg, your blade is already at their back.