Chapter Ninety-Eight: The Painting

In the streets of Hangdu, a dozen people were huddled outside the entrance of a narrow alley, most of them merely curious passersby unaware of the truth. Seeing the layers of yamen runners standing guard, they gathered around to watch the commotion.

A man carrying a shoulder pole passed by, and feeling thirsty, he sat down at a nearby sugar water stall, spending a few coins for a bowl of refreshing, sweet syrup. The stall owners, a middle-aged couple, kept their prices low, largely because sugarcane was abundant in Yangzhou and water transport was convenient.

"Old Li, what’s going on here?" the man asked casually as he sipped his drink.

The stall owner glanced cautiously at the bustling scene not far away and whispered, "That Tang Yin, who’s been the talk of the town lately, has gotten himself into a major mess."

"Oh? It’s serious enough to bring in the officials?"

"Forget the officials; the Immortals from the Ministry of Nether Rites might even show up. Why else would there be so many guards?"

The man’s curiosity was piqued, and he quickly pressed, "Old Li, what exactly happened?"

"Sigh, he’s gone mad. I don’t know if he’s dead or alive, but word is there’s been a casualty..." Old Li said with a helpless sigh. At his words, the other customers at the stall turned their attention toward them.

"How mad? Why are even the Immortals involved?"

"I only heard it through the grapevine. They say Tang Yin hasn't been seen in days, hiding in his room, obsessed with painting. And what he’s painting... tsk, tsk..."

Old Li shook his head, his expression a mix of shock and uncertainty. "The old man next door took a peek through the window, and it was as if his soul had been snatched away."

"What exactly is he painting?"

"They say..."

Just as Old Li was about to continue, his wife jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. He looked up to see two men in black approaching the alley. The leader was a tall, imposing figure with a heroic air, carrying two long swords—he hardly looked like an ordinary man. Following him was a short, hunched-over old man clutching a horsetail whisk, who looked more like a traveling con artist than a Taoist priest.

Behind them trailed several yamen runners and a crowd of onlookers who loved a good spectacle. Seeing Zhou Bai and his companion, Old Li immediately went silent. He signaled to his wife, and they hurriedly began packing up the stall.

"Hey, Old Li, why the rush? You haven't finished your story," the man said, trying to block them in his curiosity.

"What story? Once the Immortals are involved, it means demons are at play. Don't go looking for trouble, or you’ll end up burning yourself."

By the time he finished speaking, the stall was packed. The couple carried their goods and walked in the opposite direction.

"What about this bowl?" the man asked, stunned, still holding it in his hand.

"Keep the sugar water; we’re neighbors. Just bring the bowl back tomorrow morning."

"Sigh." The man shook his head, clutched the bowl, and after a moment’s hesitation, slipped into the crowd at the alley entrance. He peered inside and saw Zhou Bai standing at the doorway of a house.

"Why not head inside?" Daoist Hou asked, patting him on the shoulder.

Zhou Bai narrowed his eyes. From the outside, there was not a trace of Yin energy, which reminded him of the grotesque infant in the mansion. Not wanting to act rashly, he turned to the yamen runner beside him and asked, "Does anyone here know what’s going on?"

The runners looked at each other blankly. Just then, Wang Yuanfang hurried over from outside and cupped his hands toward Zhou Bai.

"My lord, I am aware of the situation here."

Zhou Bai couldn't help but blurt out, "Oh, and Yuanfang, what is your take on this?"

Wang Yuanfang was taken aback. He had been about to speak, but his superior’s interruption left him momentarily at a loss. He began to overthink, desperately trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind the question to ensure his answer wouldn't jeopardize his future.

Zhou Bai, seeing the awkward silence, had no idea that his casual remark had sent the man’s thoughts spiraling into the abyss.

"Yuanfang, just tell me what happened."

Wang Yuanfang finally snapped back to reality and began his report. It all started when Zhou Bai ordered them to investigate the paintings. It seemed like a minor task, but with a population of hundreds of thousands in Hangdu, it was an incredibly tedious process. Lin Chong and Wang Yuanfang, both veteran runners, knew they had to be methodical. After some discussion, they decided to visit the city’s most famous painters one by one. They spent the better part of the day at it, but they had nothing to show for their efforts, and the artists had been less than welcoming, leaving them feeling quite frustrated.

Finally, only Tang Yin was left. He had recently gained fame in Hangdu—coincidentally, with a piece that had some connection to Zhou Bai: a painting of Immortals and celestial trees drinking wine. His location was difficult to pin down, and it took several inquiries to find his home.

When they arrived at the alley, they quickly spotted the dilapidated house. At the same time, Wang Yuanfang noticed an old man hunched outside the window, peering through a gap in the paper.

Lin Chong frowned and walked over, shouting, "Hey, old man, what are you doing?"

There was no response after several calls; the old man remained in his frozen, peering posture. Lin Chong felt uneasy and was about to move closer to investigate, but Wang Yuanfang stopped him.

Wang Yuanfang signaled him not to act rashly, then unsheathed his sword and used the scabbard to nudge the stiff old man. "Old Wang, this is..." Lin Chong felt a chill; he suddenly remembered this was a mission assigned by Zhou Bai, and it likely had something to do with ghosts or demons.

Wang Yuanfang shook his head and reached out to touch the man. The skin was already cold and lacked elasticity; he had likely been dead for half a day.

"We cannot enter this house. Lin Chong, take off your outer garment. Once I move the body, use your clothes to cover the hole in the window. Whatever you do, do not look inside."

Lin Chong nodded, and they carefully moved the body and successfully stuffed the hole with the clothing. Afterward, they contacted the authorities and Zhou Bai, knowing the matter was far beyond their authority.

Zhou Bai looked puzzled. "And where are the body and Lin Chong?"

"We couldn't see anything unusual about the corpse, and since the old man’s family arrived to claim him, Lin Chong went to escort the body to their home."

"Disaster!"

Zhou Bai slammed his hand against the wall. If this was linked to that grotesque infant, that corpse might also possess the power to corrupt the minds of others and drive them to madness. It was likely a subtle, gradual process, which was why Lin Chong hadn't been affected immediately, but as time passed, there was no telling what might happen.