Chapter Fifty-Six: The Disappearance of Yan’er Liu

“The time left to us is running out...” Li Heyan gazed at the fishpond with a complicated expression, murmuring softly as he closed his eyes. Suddenly, he opened them wide, revealing a terrifying look.

Minister Fang shuddered in fear, no longer daring to meet his gaze. It had been a long time since he’d seen that look in Li Heyan’s eyes, and he wished never to see it again.

The last time he’d witnessed it was when one of the Grand Tutor’s servants, rumored to have glimpsed a secret, was silenced at once. Minister Fang had come to seek the Grand Tutor, and upon pushing open the door, stumbled onto the scene, collapsing in fright.

He had seen the Grand Tutor stretch out his left hand, claw-like, gripping the servant’s head as if it were prey. The servant begged for mercy, insisting he had seen nothing, pleading desperately for his life.

Right before Minister Fang’s eyes, the Grand Tutor shifted from claw to palm and, with a single strike atop the servant’s skull, reduced the living man to a pool of blood and gore, leaving only a pile of clothes behind!

Minister Fang’s body trembled uncontrollably. Though he tried to maintain composure, his stomach lurched; unable to endure, he hurried outside, turned, and vomited.

Truthfully, the servant had not lied; he had seen nothing. He was simply a habitual pilferer, sneaking into the empty room that day hoping to steal something. Unfortunately for him, the Grand Tutor was inside, practicing his martial arts. The servant, startled by the unexpected figure, tried to flee, but in his haste, knocked over a stool. The Grand Tutor, alarmed, chased after him and seized him by the throat.

“What did you see?” he demanded.

At that moment, the Grand Tutor’s white cat wandered by. When the servant failed to answer, the Grand Tutor struck, shattering the cat’s head with a blow of inner force. The terrified servant, never having seen such brutality, grabbed a fruit knife from the table in a panic, attempting a desperate resistance—but the Grand Tutor killed him instantly with a single palm strike.

Ironically, the servant’s intrusion spared Minister Fang’s life; had the servant not arrived first, the unfortunate victim would have been Minister Fang himself.

That day, Minister Fang witnessed the same dreadful look in the Grand Tutor’s eyes.

After feeding the fish, the Grand Tutor claimed fatigue and wished to rest. Minister Fang offered a formal bow and took his leave.

Li Heyan returned to his room and stood before an iron candlestick, placing his hand atop a monkey-shaped iron sculpture. Pressing down lightly, he felt it yield—the monkey’s head sinking in, as if triggering a hidden mechanism. The floor trembled faintly, just perceptibly.

Next, he pressed the monkey’s body, turning it three times clockwise, then one and a half turns counterclockwise. The mechanism whirred to life.

With a series of clicks, the floor behind the candlestick opened, revealing a stairway descending into darkness. Taking up a lamp, Li Heyan made his way down. His shadow stretched long and thin along the walls, each step carrying him deeper until the lamplight was swallowed by the gloom.

He passed through several more traps and pushed open a stone door, entering his secret underground chamber. On either side, the candleholders sparked to life one by one, bathing the room in a growing glow.

Gradually, the surroundings were revealed. When the entire chamber emerged into view, the sight could only be described as dazzling splendor.

There, beneath a canopy of golden light, stood a majestic, miniature model of the imperial city of the Great Song Dynasty, crafted entirely of gold. Aside from the difference in scale, it was flawless in every detail.

Each palace within the city was meticulously fashioned. What drew the eye most, though, was a life-sized crane beside the model, carved from a single block of jade. The sculpture was so vivid and lifelike that, gazing upon it, one felt an immortal grace, a transcendence that irresistibly drew the gaze.

Such a large piece of jade was rare enough, but to have it carved into such an exquisite crane was a marvel of craftsmanship. The crane faced skyward, wings poised for flight, its talons resting on a cloud—an image rich in symbolism. In the past, the crane was called the “bird of highest rank,” second only to the dragon, signifying a status just beneath the emperor’s, above all others.

Li Heyan walked between these two treasures and seated himself on a chair at the back, the candlelight slowly revealing its full shape.

It was a dragon throne.

Forged entirely of gold, the dragon throne gleamed with opulent extravagance. Ordinary men wouldn’t dare touch it, let alone sit upon it; only the emperor himself had the right and the courage. Yet Li Heyan not only sat with confidence, but reclined, as if to rest atop it.

Beside the throne stood a sand table, marked with mountains, rivers, and place names corresponding to those on a map. Strangely, several black flags had been planted at certain positions. Though the flagged locations seemed unrelated and far apart, there was a mysterious sense that they were connected by a common thread.

The first black flag marked Baiwu Village near Tianyu City. The second was at Xiao Ning Village, near Cangzhou, which had been destroyed by the poisonous Spider Demon Mother.

Curiously, in both places, troublesome monsters had appeared one after another—perhaps the only thing they had in common.

Reclining on the dragon throne, the Grand Tutor soon fell asleep, murmuring a woman’s name in his dreams, though the voice was too faint to discern.

...

Having completed the task entrusted by Old Lin, Li Pingyang dragged his weary body home. As he approached the gate, he saw Little Dragonfly waiting outside, her face filled with anxiety.

Li Hu sat crouched to the side, sighing heavily.

“What’s happened?” Li Pingyang’s instincts told him something was wrong, though he wasn’t sure what.

“Y-young master! Something terrible has happened—Miss Liu has gone missing!” Little Dragonfly rushed over and grabbed his arm, overwrought with guilt. Li Pingyang calmed her and told her to explain everything in detail.

How could a living person simply vanish?

Here’s what happened: That morning, when Little Dragonfly returned from the market, she saw Liu Yan’er talking to a strange man. She had never seen him before and, uneasy, watched carefully, committing his face to memory.

At the time, Li Hu was chopping wood in the courtyard when he heard Little Dragonfly scream. He ran out and saw Liu Yan’er being carried away by a man, rushing toward the alley.

Li Hu didn’t hesitate; grabbing his axe, he gave chase, shouting for the man to halt. The man, clearly familiar with the terrain, did everything he could to shake him off.

But Li Hu took a shortcut, intercepted the man, and kicked him over. Liu Yan’er seemed unconscious, her eyes closed, unresponsive when Li Hu called her.

“I’m warning you—don’t make me use force!” Li Hu threatened, brandishing his axe. The man, face covered by a black scarf and clutching his belly—evidently hurt by Li Hu’s kick—remained silent, reaching behind his back. Li Hu tensed, suspecting a hidden weapon, but the man merely drew a dagger from his belt.

Relieved, Li Hu raised his axe to strike. The man dodged, bending low and thrusting at Li Hu’s belly, but Li Hu seized his hand, and the two struggled for the dagger. Injured and weakened, the man was no match for Li Hu; in the scuffle, he was stabbed in the abdomen.

At that moment, a true expert appeared. Li Hu barely had time to react before he was kicked to the ground. As he struggled to rise, the expert struck again, chopping with the side of his hand and knocking Li Hu unconscious. He could only watch helplessly as Liu Yan’er was carried away.