Early in the morning in Sanxiang City, as soon as the roosters crowed, peddlers pushing their stalls were already making their way from every corner of the city toward the marketplace.
Although there were no loud cries advertising their wares, the atmosphere grew increasingly lively.
Several sleepy constables mixed into the bustling crowd, complaining about the damp chill of Xiangxiang that seeped into the bones while chewing tobacco leaves.
The martial halls and escort agencies briefly opened their side gates. Grain merchants had long been waiting outside, helping carry sacks of rice into the courtyards.
The merchants found it rather strange, but according to the authorities, the coming months would be the days of ordination held in honor of the Dao Ancestor and the Buddha, so everyone would remain behind closed doors.
The contact between the Daoist temples, Buddhist monasteries, and the outside world was even more limited.
The Daoist and Buddhist establishments usually owned at least dozens of acres of farmland, barely enough to sustain themselves. Even when they needed daily necessities, they only sent novice monks or Daoist acolytes into the city to make purchases.
Compared to the odd behavior of those various factions, the lives of the common people seemed perfectly normal.
More and more people gathered for the market, and the noisy chatter awakened the entire city. The aroma unique to breakfast stalls had already spread everywhere.
Only when the Hour of Chen arrived did the crowd begin to thin, as the vendors moved into the streets and alleyways.
Just then, amid the flowing crowd, the sound of a gong echoed from afar. A squad of soldiers clad in light armor, long sabers hanging at their waists, escorted a prison cart covered with black cloth toward the marketplace.
The people fell silent. Their eyes held a trace of curiosity, but even more fear.
They voluntarily cleared a path, allowing the prison cart to reach the entrance of the market.
The crowd whispered among themselves, keeping their voices low. They were clearly extremely wary of whatever was inside the prison cart, afraid of inviting disaster.
"A demon?"
"They say it was found in Great Yellow Mountain outside the city. Didn't expect it to be executed today."
"This is already the fifth time this month, isn't it? Why are there so many demons?"
"Sigh..."
"Silence!!!"
The soldiers' mouths were filled with sharp fangs that clinked together like metal. At a glance, it was obvious they were Insect Martial Artists, imposing and majestic.
The marketplace instantly became deathly quiet. Even children dared not cry. Only heavy breathing and the retreating footsteps of the women remained.
The soldiers waited for a while until all unrelated civilians had left before pulling away the black cloth.
Amid a wave of shocked exclamations, the half-human, half-insect "demon" was revealed. The upper half was human, but its legs resembled those of a flea.
Ren Qing sat in a teahouse beside the marketplace, overlooking the absurd and grotesque scene.
"So it really is one of Insect Nest's human-insects."
The human-insect was tied to a wooden stake. No matter how desperately it begged for mercy, Xiangxiang and the Insect Nest shared no common language. In the end, the soldiers pinned it down.
"Execute!!!"
The executioner swung his sharpened tiger-head blade down with all his might. Part of the Heavenly Dao insect person's spine was exposed, and its entire body convulsed uncontrollably.
It took five strikes before the "demon" in the eyes of the townspeople was finally beheaded.
Ren Qing's gaze swept across the crowd before settling on an ordinary-looking middle-aged man whose soul had reached the Yin Difference realm.
"Waiter."
"Coming."
"Do me a favor..."
Ren Qing pointed at the man in the marketplace and whispered a few words into the waiter's ear before tossing him a piece of broken silver.
The waiter nodded repeatedly before hurrying out of the teahouse.
The man's name was Wushanzi. Although his expression appeared calm, his right hand remained hidden in his sleeve, tightly gripping something in his palm.
As he clenched harder, a cut opened across his wrist. The blood that flowed out was absorbed by the object in his palm, making it obvious that it was a magic artifact.
"Hook souls and seize spirits, go..."
Wushanzi's expression grew ugly. He muttered the incantation several times in succession, but the magic artifact showed no reaction whatsoever, indicating that the beheaded demon no longer possessed a soul.
"How is this possible? That evil cultivator from the Insect Nest died right before my eyes. There shouldn't be no soul. Could the fierce winds have scattered it?"
Just as he was growing increasingly anxious, someone behind him said, "Daoist, a guest has invited you upstairs for some tea."
After speaking, the waiter quickly backed away, unconsciously weighing the silver Ren Qing had given him in his hand.
Wushanzi's expression turned grave. He was not from Xiangxiang but had come to Sanxiang City from Tushan. There was no way anyone in the city should recognize him.
After hesitating for a moment, he hurried into the teahouse and cautiously made his way to the window seat on the second floor, only to find it empty.
Instinctively, Wushanzi looked at the tabletop. Characters written with tea were slowly fading with time, though they could still barely be made out.
"One hundred and three days?"
"Could it be..."
After muttering a few words, he hurriedly looked around, trying to find Ren Qing, but there were only a few scattered customers drinking tea.
"Did any of you see what the person sitting by the window looked like?"
Wushanzi hurriedly questioned those nearby. Finding nothing, he grabbed the waiter and pressed him for answers, only to be told that no one had ever come to the teahouse.
A chill ran down his spine. He had no desire to remain any longer, stumbling out of the marketplace and returning to the inn where he was staying.
Ren Qing observed Wushanzi's behavior. His reaction perfectly confirmed the speculation in Ren Qing's heart.
He chose not to make further contact with Wushanzi. Instead, he closed his eyes and digested the soul of the human-insect that had only recently died. A trace of contemplation appeared in his eyes.
It seemed that all the major and minor factions within the cities truly consisted of cultivators from the past.
More accurately, their souls came from ancient cultivators, while their bodies had most likely been refined by the Taiyin Star Lord.
For reasons unknown, the ancient cultivators not only failed to understand what was happening, but also discovered that their cultivation techniques had suddenly become ineffective, as though the Age of Dharma Decline had arrived.
Over the past few days, Ren Qing had noticed that these ancient cultivators never slept. They constantly stimulated their minds with medicinal herbs while using meditation with closed eyes to keep themselves perpetually awake.
As for the Insect Nest, they had remained extremely cautious from beginning to end. Aside from sending human-insects to probe the cities, they had rarely shown themselves.
The reason the ancient cultivators knew about the limit on their lifespan was indeed because of the human-insects, and they had also used them to acquire a rudimentary Gu Refinement Art.
In truth, the Gu Refinement Art was simply a method of controlling Gu-transformed Weird Objects.
They spent nearly every day in secluded cultivation, trying to discover why their cultivation techniques had failed or to improve the Gu Refinement Art.
From the memories of the human-insect, Ren Qing learned that the Gu Refinement Art had been deliberately leaked by the Matriarchs. Even the matter of the lifespan limit had been intentionally revealed.
Following the Matriarchs' orders, the Heavenly Dao insect people had remained underground waiting. The deadline was one hundred days after the people of Jingzhou exhausted their lifespans.
The portions of the human-insect's memories concerning the Matriarchs had all been sealed by cultivation techniques, but fortunately Zhili Technique could bypass methods at the Heavenly Aberration realm.
Most of the human-insect's memories had clearly been deliberately handed over to the ancient cultivators.
From Ren Qing's perspective, it seemed the mastermind had somewhat lost the initiative to the Insect Nest.
The mastermind would never remain content with the current situation. Next would be a contest between the two sides, but regardless of the outcome, Ren Qing could still step in and upset the board.
Watching Wushanzi's retreating figure, Ren Qing turned to the waiter and said, "Waiter, I haven't asked your name yet."
The waiter froze for a moment, as though he had only just remembered Ren Qing. He hurriedly replied, "Honored guest, this humble one's lowly name is Huang Gou'er."
"Not a bad name."
"Is your shopkeeper here?"
"Yes."
Ren Qing narrowed his eyes. Like a spectator watching a game of chess from the sidelines, he set down his teacup as though placing a chess piece.
"Tell your shopkeeper that someone wants to buy his teahouse."
"Huh?"
Huang Gou'er hurried off. To his surprise, the shopkeeper, who treasured the teahouse more than his own life, immediately agreed without hesitation upon hearing Ren Qing's request.
In a game of chess, the one who can never lose is always the spectator.
'Approaching the end of lifespan: one hundred and three days remaining.'