Chapter Twenty: The Human Hell of the Qintai Quarter, News Arrives from Zhihan the Wandering Scholar

The moon shone bright, the clear dew chilled the air, and the vast heavens were untouched by a speck of dust. The light of fireflies scattered shadows, passing geese carved their script across the clouds. The entire city was aglow with lanterns, transforming Jian'an Capital into a city that never slept. From all corners, the stages rang with the melodious singing of courtesans, the interplay of fiddles and lutes weaving a tapestry of sound that unsettled countless impoverished scholars and fair beauties. Eyes reddened, windows grew damp.

The constables of Six Gates rushed to the deep courtyard of Qintai Lane in the Western Market. On the ground, aside from the barely alive Zhao slave, all were corpses. They scoured the courtyard inside and out, finding no trace of the Turks—clearly, they had already fled. Pushing open the hall doors, a pungent scent of blood wafted out. Even those accustomed to seeing corpses among the constables were seething with rage.

The corpses littering the ground were all girls in their early teens, their bodies slashed and gouged by blunt blades, blood drained dry. Each corpse was shriveled, clearly emptied of life by some unknown means.

"Take him back to Six Gates. Remember, don't let him die," said the elder constable, Old An, struggling to suppress his anger.

The constables pierced the unconscious Zhao slave's shoulder blade with an iron hook and marched him straight back to Six Gates.

The thirteenth year of Jian'an, fifteenth day of the eighth month, Six Gates, inner hall.

At the hour of the Dog.

Six Gates was cold and silent; though the lamps were lit, not a glimmer of warmth remained.

"So you’re saying Cold Garments is not a medicinal herb but a venomous insect?" Tang Yi asked, frowning. Jiang Wan Yi had fed him an antidote pill, and most of the poison had cleared, though his body remained weak.

Jiang Wan Yi played with the longsword in her hand, deliberately ignoring Tang Yi’s question.

Zhuge Changqing, the Divine Marquis, glanced at them and spoke, "The situation is urgent now. You two should set aside your grievances and work together."

Tang Yi hung his head in silence. Jiang Wan Yi watched him, half smiling, half mocking.

Zhuge Changqing rubbed his forehead, smiling bitterly. How could he not see the anger and resentment in Jiang Wan Yi’s gaze? Clearly, there was an entanglement between them.

Ah, youth is such a blessing.

"Cold Garments, insects found in the deep pools of the northern deserts, suspended beneath ice and above fiery clay, bearing the chill of nine hells, shaped by the garments of the underworld. They can seal the six channels, suppress the seven souls, a thing to prolong life, thus named Cold Garments," Jiang Wan Yi sheathed her sword and looked directly at Tang Yi.

"So, then, the Cold Garments parasite isn't necessarily a disaster?" Tang Yi asked, avoiding Jiang Wan Yi’s gaze.

Jiang Wan Yi shook her head. "Matters divide into light and dark, things into two extremes, people into good and evil. You understand what I mean?"

Tang Yi immediately grasped her point. Cold Garments was indeed a wondrous thing—it could use its extreme cold to seal a person’s channels and souls. For someone gravely injured and beyond recovery, Cold Garments could suspend their life, offering a glimmer of hope. In the hands of masters of the occult or famed physicians, it was an invaluable treasure.

But should it fall into the hands of villains, its uses turned sinister. They could freeze an important person, holding them in stasis.

Treasures themselves bear no inherent good or evil, but people conceal malice in their hearts.

As Tang Yi pondered this, cold sweat broke out across his body. The Turk assassins had already obtained detailed maps of the market from Liu Jinbiao, the manager at Ren'an. Today was the Lantern Festival, with the emperor bestowing grace and celebrating with the people. It so happened that Marshal Ma Sihu from the northern desert returned to the capital, with stages set up for lantern contests. Both would surely appear in the market.

Each event linked to the next, and Tang Yi felt dizzy—a vast net was being cast over Jian'an Capital.

"Are there skilled guards around the Sage? Does Ma Sihu have enough men?" Tang Yi rubbed his head, sharp pains throbbing at his right temple.

Jiang Wan Yi laughed lightly. "It's not as dire as you imagine. Though Cold Garments is remarkable, once removed from the deep pools of the northern desert, it falls dormant—unless," she paused, a trace of sorrow in her eyes.

"Virgin blood? Is that why you sent me to Embroidered Garments Lane?" Tang Yi recalled the horrific scene in Qintai Lane and his face darkened.

Jiang Wan Yi nodded. "Desperate times call for desperate measures. Jian'an has seventy-two lanes, all winding through Nanwan. Jade and Dark Fragrance are backed by powerful factions beyond reproach, their courtesans mostly official prostitutes—Turks wouldn’t dare target them. That leaves only Embroidered Garments Lane."

"Embroidered Garments Lane is most chaotic; its courtesans aren't registered with the Music Bureau. Many are red courtesans, serving countless common clients, often afflicted with syphilis. Among their regulars are many who prefer new virgins. Every month, young girls are bought from other provinces, making Embroidered Garments Lane the Turks’ first choice," Jiang Wan Yi continued.

Tang Yi’s face darkened further, his fists clenching and relaxing. "They shouldn’t have had to lose their lives. I should have realized sooner the Turks had been planning this, and Embroidered Garments Lane may well be riddled with their agents. Though my ruse flushed out their hideout, it cost half an hour, and so many lives were lost."

Zhuge Changqing stood and patted Tang Yi’s shoulder, speaking gravely. "This isn't your fault. Jian'an Capital has long been influenced by Hu and Wu customs. Hu girls are wild and bold, Wu girls graceful and charming, all sought after by scholars and gentlemen. So a few Hu girls appearing in Embroidered Garments Lane isn’t unusual."

He paused, then continued, "Moreover, the Turks had plotted for a long time. How could they leave any flaw among the Hu girls? Your tactic in Embroidered Garments Lane was the best possible."

Zhuge Changqing understood the stakes, but Tang Yi’s expression remained grim.

"If only I’d broken the door sooner, maybe..." Tang Yi closed his eyes, haunted by visions of the bloodless girls.

"Now the Cold Garments parasite has been awakened by virgin blood. The situation is out of control. I must go see the Sage immediately—impose a city-wide curfew and hunt down the criminals," Zhuge Changqing said, striding toward the exit.

"Perhaps it hasn’t reached that stage yet," Jiang Wan Yi suddenly spoke.

Zhuge Changqing halted. "What do you mean?"

Jiang Wan Yi glanced out the window. The moon was midway up, clouds drifting over the floating bridge.

"The Cold Garments parasite has only awakened. For it to truly wreak havoc, it still needs one final spiritual catalyst," she said solemnly.

"It’s still the hour of the Dog, more than an hour before midnight. We have time. What do you say, Marquis?" Jiang Wan Yi stared directly at Zhuge Changqing.

Her gaze startled him. He felt the young, striking demon-suppressor of the third rank possessed a peculiar maturity, as if her eyes could see straight through him.

He was right. Zhuge Changqing was reluctant to see the Emperor. Six Gates no longer enjoyed its former favor; exposing the Turkish threat now would only reveal the agency’s helplessness—something the Sage did not wish to see, nor did Zhuge Changqing himself.

After a moment’s hesitation, he turned back and asked in a low voice, "Do you know what the spiritual catalyst is?"

To his surprise, Jiang Wan Yi shrugged, almost shamelessly. "I don’t know."

All at once, the inner hall fell silent.

Thud, thud, thud—a rush of footsteps approached.

"Marquis, urgent news from the Smoke Guest in the Western Market," a constable said, holding a secret letter as he entered.

Zhuge Changqing took the letter, glanced at it, and his face immediately darkened. He handed it to Jiang Wan Yi.

Jiang Wan Yi read it quickly, her expression changing as she murmured, "So that's it. I understand."

With that, she slapped the letter onto the table and strode out.

Tang Yi looked up and saw the secret message sent by Hua Banxia. It bore just a few words:

"Yunying Lane, Western Market. Su Jin lost."