After Han Xuan had already left, a patrol of Blueleaf Market guards arrived at the roadside. Their lanterns cast warm circles of light as they inspected the area.
A few nearby cultivators had also wandered over, drawn by faint traces of spiritual fluctuations.
"What's going on?"
"Looks like someone fought here."
"But the disturbance isn't too large… maybe just a small clash."
There were no deep craters or scorched earth—only light footprints, shallow cuts on the ground, and faint remnants of spiritual energy, barely noticeable unless one looked closely.
Among the onlookers stood Chen Wuye's servant, quietly observing from a distance. His eyes narrowed at the lingering cold aura in the air, but nothing else remained.
No bodies.
No blood.
No clear sign of who fought.
He stayed for a short while, then slipped away unnoticed and hurried back toward Blueleaf Market.
Chen Wuye was enjoying tea when the servant entered and knelt.
"Young Master… I inspected the location."
Chen Wuye looked up lazily, "And?"
"There was evidence of a brief battle, but… no corpse."
Chen Wuye's brows furrowed, "No corpse?"
The servant shook his head, "Only traces of movement and spiritual energy. Nothing else."
"Tch. Useless trash. I paid those brothers well, and this is the result?" Chen Wuye clicked his tongue in irritation. He waved his fan, annoyance rising, "Send someone to Five Paths Mountain. I want to know whether Han Xuan is alive."
"Yes, Young Master."
The servant bowed and left quickly.
Chen Wuye leaned back, eyes narrowing.
"So… you survived?"
A cold smile formed.
"Let's see how long that lasts."
✽ ✽ ✽
By the time Han Xuan reached Five Paths Mountain, night had settled. Instead of heading straight into the cave abode, he made his way toward the back garden—a quiet patch of land shielded by thick, leafy trees.
He glanced around, making sure no one was nearby.
"Here is fine."
He crouched down and dug a shallow pit with practiced motions.
A moment later, a soft croak sounded behind him.
Baobao hopped forward, its normally goofy expression replaced with surprising seriousness. Its throat bulged, and then—
Hurk.
It spat out three small lumps wrapped in sticky spiritual mucus—the shriveled bodies of the Blackscale Brothers. Because of Baobao's peculiar ability, the bodies were compressed and preserved with no trace of blood.
"Good work," Han Xuan murmured.
He nudged the three corpses into the hole, covered them with soil, then patted the mound down until it looked indistinguishable from the rest of the garden.
Clap clap.
"It's done."
He dusted his hands, satisfied.
Baobao puffed out its chest proudly, then hopped back toward the house.
"Come on, let's go home."
When Han Xuan finally stepped inside, the warm glow of the lamps greeted him. Shui Lanyue was arranging bowls on the table, Shui Huoyan poured freshly brewed tea, and Han Qixing chatted with Qingfeng perched on his shoulder.
"You're back, husband," Shui Lanyue said with a smile.
"Husband, you're a bit late today," Shui Huoyan added.
Han Xuan chuckled and took his seat, "There are some delays today."
They began dinner, talking casually as any normal family would. Han Xuan recounted his day—meeting Wen Yuelan, settling business with the Hundred Treasures Pavilion, and arranging bulk wine sales.
He spoke calmly and openly, but he left out one detail entirely: the ambush.
There was no need to let his family worry over something already resolved.
Instead, he poured tea for his wives, asking about Shui Huoyan's days, complimenting Shui Lanyue's cooking, and asking Han Qixing about his training progress.
The house was filled with comfortable chatter, warmth, and the sounds of ordinary life.
No one suspected that danger had brushed past them mere hours earlier.
And Han Xuan preferred it that way.
After dinner, when the house had quieted, and his family retired to their rooms, Han Xuan slipped into his meditation chamber.
The incense burner faintly glowed, filling the room with a calming scent.
"Baobao," Han Xan called softly.
The round little toad hopped in with a wobble, blinking innocently.
Han Xuan pointed at it, "Take out the Blackscale Brothers' belongings."
Baobao froze.
Then, very slowly, it turned its head away, pretending it hadn't heard.
Han Xuan raised a brow, "Baobao."
The toad puffed its cheeks, swelling its body in protest. It let out a low croak, as if trying to negotiate. Only when Han Xuan tapped his foot did Baobao's expression collapse into reluctant obedience.
Finally, with a dramatic groan, Baobao opened its mouth—
Hurk… plop… plop… plop…
Three storage bags, slimy and covered in spiritual mucus, fell onto the floor.
Baobao gave a proud little hop, clearly demanding praise for its "hard work."
"Good," Han Xuan nodded in approval, "That saves me the trouble of teaching you another lesson."
Baobao immediately perked up and puffed its throat smugly.
Han Xuan ignored the toad's theatrics and picked up the first storage bag, wiping it clean with a talisman. He muttered, "These three have been robbing and killing for years. They should be wealthy… right?"
He infused a bit of spiritual energy and began opening the first bag, a faint ripple of spiritual energy flickering as the imprint dissolved.
Inside, dim light shimmered.
"Three hundred twelve spirit coins…" Han Xuan muttered as he sifted through the pile, "That's a bit too few for a robber."
He picked up the next item.
"A bottle of Spirit Gathering Pills… two low-grade Rank 1 flying knives…" Han Xuan's fingers brushed a crimson talisman. He paused, "Hm? Blood Mist Talisman? This is a good thing."
The thin sheet shimmered faintly with spiritual light.
Blood Mist Talisman is a life-saving talisman that grants the user explosive speed for a short moment. Its side effects were severe: the user would suffer weakness for several days afterward.
But in a critical life-and-death situation, this talisman could mean survival.
Unfortunately for its former owner, he met Han Xuan instead.
Not even a talisman could save him.
Han Xuan pushed aside a few scraps, and something cool and smooth touched his fingertips—a thin jade slip.
"Hm? What's this…?"
He wiped off Baobao's slime and examined it.
"Insect Controlling Technique?" Han Xuan muttered, raising a brow, "So this storage bag belonged to the short guy who controlled those Spirit Devouring Insects."
He pressed his spiritual sense lightly into the jade slip, skimming its contents.
Insect Controlling Technique is a low-level cultivation technique used by evil cultivators to raise insects through blood offerings.
Its effects were mediocre, its growth slow, and the insects often turned feral if not maintained properly.
Han Xuan shook his head, "Dangerous, messy, and impractical. No wonder Baobao could easily devour those insects."
Han Xuan tossed the jade slip aside.
He had no intention of learning an evil arts method like Insect Controlling Technique, but discarding a complete cultivation manual was also wasteful.
"Who knows," Han Xuan murmured, "It might fetch a decent price later. Or be useful for… future investments."
Baobao croaked approvingly, as if agreeing with his frugal mentality.
Han Xuan continued rummaging through the first storage bag. His fingers brushed against something hard and round.
He lifted the item up.
Small, black, glossy eggs—about the size of longan fruits.
Han Xuan muttered, "These must be Spirit Devouring Insect eggs."
Unfortunately, he had no intention of raising them.
Unlike Baobao, who happily ate anything and still grew like a weed, raising strange insects required a fortune in resources and endless time.
He couldn't afford any of them.
Still, he didn't throw them away.
Coincidentally, Han Xuan knew a certain eccentric cultivator in Blueleaf Market—someone utterly obsessed with bizarre insects. The man collected strange larvae and parasites like other people collected spirit coins.
Han Xuan smirked, "He'll pay a good price for these."
The rest of the items from the first bag were mundane: worn-out clothes, travel journals, crude tools, spare boots, and a few low-grade spiritual herbs, none of which caught Han Xuan's attention.
"Alright," Han Xuan said, brushing the debris aside, "Next!"
He picked up the second storage bag, wiped away the remaining slime with a cleansing talisman, and broke the imprint with a gentle pulse of spiritual energy.
A soft ripple shimmered across the surface—click—unlocking it.
Han Xuan exhaled slowly and tipped the bag over. He murmured, "587 spirit coins?"
Compared to the first storage bag, this one was noticeably richer. The pile of coins was thicker, glinting faintly in the dim lamp light.
Aside from the coins, he found several small porcelain bottles.
"Spirit Gathering Pills, Rejuvenation Pills, Spirit Recovery Pills... not bad!"
They are all top-grade Rank 1 pills. Although they were likely stolen, they are useful.
Han Xuan will use them for investment.
There was also a mid-grade Rank 1 longsword, the blade sturdy but clumsily refined. A weapon for someone who relied more on brute strength than skill.
Then Han Xuan's fingers brushed something else—a thin, green jade slip.
He picked it up and infused a wisp of spiritual sense.
Words appeared in his mind.
"Serpent-Scale Body Refinement Art…"