Chapter Forty-Five: Midnight Assault

On Feng Yuan’s side, the afternoon was uneventful, so he took Hu Xiao out shopping. His old home was destitute, barren walls and empty rooms, lacking even the basics. Living there would certainly be uncomfortable, so new household items were needed. In addition, the house itself was in a sorry state, badly in need of repairs, so Feng Yuan hired a team of workers to go ahead and fix it up. Now that he had money, he wanted to improve his home and enjoy the fruits of his labor—otherwise, what was the point of earning it?

Thus, they spent the whole afternoon shopping. Feng Yuan followed Hu Xiao from store to store, buying whatever was needed: expensive furniture, clothing, household goods—money was no object. By evening, they’d spent only a hundred taels of silver, a trivial sum to Feng Yuan, hardly worth mentioning.

They didn’t return home until nightfall. Hu Xiao’s face was alight with happiness, for Feng Yuan had bought her several new dresses, powders and rouge, as well as gold and silver jewelry. Women, after all, loved to adorn themselves.

When they arrived home, Feng Yuan found Fat Zhang waiting at the door, with four or five large food boxes at his feet.

“Oh, Feng Yuan, my lord, you’re finally back! I’ve been waiting forever!” Fat Zhang greeted him with delight, his tone overly polite.

“What’s wrong? Why the strange way of speaking?” Feng Yuan looked at him askance.

“Hehe, let’s talk inside, let’s talk inside!” Fat Zhang could barely contain his excitement.

Feng Yuan told Hu Xiao to open the door, and the three of them carried their things into the house. Fat Zhang quickly turned around to lock the door, then pulled them to the pavilion in the courtyard and sat down, looking at Feng Yuan with exhilaration. “Feng Yuan, you were right! This afternoon was chaos—the whole lot of them didn’t care about money at all. As soon as they heard there were books to read, they started shelling out cash, and the tipping was insane. You wouldn’t believe it—when they heard you were dying, it was ‘here’s two taels,’ ‘here’s three taels’...!”

“Wait, Fatty, I’m dying? What’s that supposed to mean?” Feng Yuan interrupted.

“Cough... don’t mind the details, let’s talk about the money.”

“Talk about the details!”

“Alright, but don’t get mad!” Fat Zhang chuckled awkwardly and recounted his afternoon, telling how he’d spun tales to the students.

Instead of getting angry, Feng Yuan found his estimation of Fat Zhang rising. He hadn’t expected this portly fellow to be so quick-witted. It seemed he’d judged him correctly after all.

“Well done, though it’s a bit unscrupulous,” Feng Yuan said.

“Hehe, these rich kids aren’t short of money anyway, a little trickery doesn’t hurt, as long as we don’t cheat the poor scholars!” Fat Zhang laughed, then produced a banknote from his pocket and handed it to Feng Yuan.

“Three hundred taels!” Feng Yuan was stunned. At their agreed split, that meant nearly six hundred taels in total income.

“Surprised? If they hadn’t stopped us from publishing tomorrow, we’d have made even more—it’s really a pity,” Fat Zhang said with a look of regret.

“Be content with what you have,” Feng Yuan replied, taking the banknote.

“Let’s eat!”

...

After dinner and a bath, it was already past ten at night. Feng Yuan sent Hu Xiao off to rest, while he went into his study, taking out the nameless cultivation diagram to examine it closely and see if it contained any clues about the golden light appearing atop his head.

At that moment, golden radiance was gathering above Feng Yuan’s crown, twice as much as the day before, like a sky full of stars inside his mind.

“Hm? What’s going on?” Feng Yuan unfolded the nameless cultivation diagram, only to find that all the drawings had vanished, leaving the parchment spotless. Nothing remained.

“Did I pick it up backwards?” he wondered, flipping the diagram over, but it was the same—completely blank.

Feng Yuan was puzzled. He was sure he hadn’t made a mistake, and the ink used for those drawings was permanent, impossible to wash off. How could they disappear? He studied it for a long time but couldn’t make sense of it, so he set it aside, carefully folding the diagram and tucking it away, unwilling to discard it. He sensed it was no ordinary artifact.

He left the study and returned to his bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the bed to cultivate before sleep. The golden radiance atop his head absorbed slowly; it took him over three hours to gather it all.

Once absorbed, just as before, the golden ball in his dantian began to release rays, striking the acupoint in his chest again and again, uncontrollable, until the golden ball dimmed and the process ceased.

Now, the acupoint in Feng Yuan’s chest shone even brighter, its human-shaped figure gradually becoming clearer—appearing to be mimicking some sort of movement, though still indistinct. Judging by the pattern, Feng Yuan reckoned that after four or five more cycles, the figure inside the acupoint would be fully visible, so he wasn’t anxious to see what it was doing.

Cultivation complete, he turned off the light and went to sleep. The night deepened, and fatigue overtook him. As soon as his head hit the pillow, his eyelids began to droop, and before long, he was fast asleep.

He had no idea how much time had passed when suddenly a chilling gust swept over him, blowing against his face. Instantly, Feng Yuan snapped awake from his slumber.

Opening his eyes, he found the face of a woman right before him—none other than Lan Qirou.

Startled, Feng Yuan was about to speak when Lan Qirou quickly gestured for silence.

“Hush, don’t speak. I’m not here to harm you. I came to tell you—someone outside is here to kill you.”

Lan Qirou whispered, pointing toward the door.

“Someone wants to kill me?” Feng Yuan was taken aback and instinctively glanced toward the doorway. What he saw made his blood run cold—a towering shadow stood outside, at least two meters tall like a giant, working the door open. The figure slipped a dagger through the crack, carefully prying at the bolt, inching it aside with utmost caution.

Feng Yuan realized the danger and quietly slipped from the bed, tidying the covers and stuffing a pillow under them to mimic a sleeping form. He quickly crouched beside the bed, using it as a shield.

Lan Qirou vanished, leaving Feng Yuan alone. He had hoped for her help, but she was suddenly gone, and he dared not call out for fear of alerting the intruder. He could only rely on himself.

At that moment, the door was forced open, and the stranger, dagger in hand, crept stealthily into the bedroom...