Chapter 398: Chapter 362: Senior Brother

The jester, with a comical appearance, hopped and sang on the battlement of the city wall, his exaggerated movements suggesting he might fall at any moment, yet each time he managed to regain his balance at the brink of danger, capturing everyone’s attention.

Sang Que, using the Xun Trigram to become invisible, silently appeared at the foot of the city wall.

Her gaze sharpened as she instantly drew the bow in her hand to its full extent, the bowstring emitting a slight tremor.

With a ’whoosh’, the sharp arrow flew out like lightning, shooting straight towards the jester. The arrow’s speed was extremely fast, and its tip was made from the finest Ten Victory Stone. In the instant of nearing the stage, an invisible barrier struck a fiery line with the arrowhead.

The arrowhead shattered, but the fine steel arrow shaft continued its rapid flight, precisely piercing into the jester’s laughing mouth.

The jester suddenly toppled from the battlement, with the fine steel arrow sticking out of his mouth, and looked in horror at the firecracker tied to the center of the arrow with red string, which was hissing and smoking.

Bang!

With a loud explosion, red smoke spread over the stage, the music of the opera came to an abrupt halt, and chaos immediately ensued.

“What a shot!”

Qiu Wanjun, clearly seeing this from the other end of the plain, couldn’t help but loudly praise, glancing back to inquire with his eyes who had sent out the person, and decided to reward them handsomely afterward.

The people behind him were also dumbfounded, having not expected this at all.

Qiu Wanjun immediately squinted his eyes, scanning the base of the city wall, but saw nothing.

Meanwhile, the jester’s performance was abruptly interrupted, the Blood Lake at the center of the plain trembled, and the Yellow Robe Taoist cut his fingertip to draw and swipe a copper coin sword.

The copper coin sword flew off, bursting upon reaching above the Blood Lake, dozens of copper coins imbued with Daoist Lord’s power shooting into the Blood Lake like rain striking banana leaves.

After a moment of calm, the blood water quaked and exploded with a boom, transforming into a reddish dust cloud, swept away by the raging wind.

Da Xuan turned the tide, with the massive army of ghosts controlled by the Yellow Robe Taoist surging forward like a black torrent, fiercely charging towards Jianshui City’s walls.

Sang Que watched this scene from the shadows, a slight curve to her lips, instantly teleporting to the city wall’s less-defended side, using the remaining two minutes of the Xun Trigram, unhooking the claw hook from her waist and throwing it upwards, hooking the city wall, climbing up by pulling the rope.

The city wall’s bricks were special, the power of teleportation couldn’t penetrate them, the wall had to be climbed over to cross.

Sang Que silently infiltrated the city, as the Ghost Opera Troupe once again dispatched two performers to continue confronting the Yellow Robe Taoist’s assaulting army.

This battle had a long way to go; unless all the Yin Walkers were exhausted, regular soldiers wouldn’t take the field.

It was precisely because of this that Sang Que had time to infiltrate and plan arrangements; she expected some obstacles, feeling anxious herself, as the Class Leader might be somewhere within the city.

However, unexpectedly, Sang Que managed to observe everyone on the stage from the city wall before the Xun Trigram time was up, easily passing through the garrisoned Weng City outside and entering the inner city.

The place hadn’t turned into a Death Domain, the streets were devoid of people, the storefronts on the roadside were shut tight, with only a few teams patrolling the streets.

Sang Que patted the white porcelain doll with already opened eyes hidden in her bosom. The doll was spotless with no particular reaction, indicating she wasn’t under attack.

Finding a secluded, safe spot, Sang Que first went home, relaying the information she’d gathered with Ghost Eye from observing the opera troupe performers to Sang Wan.

For this trip, aside from the logistics personnel, the Ghost Opera Troupe was all here, with all fourth-layer Yin Walkers present. The female Yin Walker from the Music Department Chu Mo Wei mentioned before had made it to the fifth layer and was currently on the city wall, leading the musicians in accompanying this grand show.

This was also why these fourth-layer Yin Walkers of the Ghost Opera Troupe could compete with the Yellow Robe Taoist outside, as music was an essential part of the opera that augmented their abilities.

The characters are part of the storytelling element, as for the Class Leader, Sang Que couldn’t probe too much.

Sang Wan needed to think and deliberate, and Sang Que also had to make some arrangements. After the two agreed on the time for action, Sang Que, carrying the gasoline accumulated bit by bit at home and all the firecrackers Jiang Zao made for her, returned to Jianshui City.

Leaving the Puppet Master Chu Mo Wei with the pile of items, Sang Que issued a series of commands to him.

At this point, Chu Mo Wei, resuming his usual all-black attire, head wrapped in a black cloth, concealed his expression from everyone.

Beside him were two blood puppets he meticulously crafted in the painting, incorporating Jiang Zao’s apparatus blueprints.

Within Jianshui City, unless there was a special barrier, Sang Que could always sense his location; it felt like a radar map in her mind, with Chu Mo Wei being a red dot in it.

After completing the preliminary preparations, Sang Que checked her belongings, took a deep breath, gripped her long knife tightly, and headed straight for the teahouse where the storyteller was.

…

In the antique-styled quiet room of the teahouse, Mo Yan Shu wore a plain white robe, his face pale as paper, his frame so thin it seemed a gust of wind could blow him over.

He occasionally coughed, fingers poised over yellowed paper with a pen, yet it hadn’t touched the page for a long time, inspiration elusive.

The light in the lamp flickered slightly, and a shadow appeared in the dark corner of the tea room, stepping out slowly, revealing a face full of youthful vigor.

Mo Yan Shu’s eyes widened with surprise, showing no fear, instead like meeting a long-lost relative, his gaze softened.

“When the lamp flower explodes, happiness arrives; it’s truly so, cough cough, to think I’d encounter little junior sister here, cough cough cough!”

Mo Yan Shu scrutinized Sang Que. Compared to the last time, just over half a year had passed, and Sang Que seemed much more mature, exuding a cold, deadly aura, no longer appearing weak and easy to bully.

Seeing Sang Que not refute or question his words, Mo Yan Shu understood.

“You know it all, don’t you? I am your mother’s disciple; you should call me senior brother.”

Sang Que sat down across from Mo Yan Shu without fear, silently sighing that he had clearly known her identity for some time, likely since the Ming Mansion incident.

Why hadn’t he sought her out all this time?

Didn’t he want to seize the Nine Songs? If not for personal ambition, what did he desire from supporting the Ghost Opera Troupe? Simply enjoying the chaos of the world? Or was he just insane?

Sang Que noticed the paper, ink, brush, and inkstone before Mo Yan Shu. The paper was still blank, indicating he hadn’t started writing a story yet.

“My mother left me a letter saying you were her disciple. She also said that if I encounter any trouble, I can seek you out.”

Sang Que noticed Mo Yan Shu tremble slightly, a strange light suddenly bursting from his eyes. He leaned forward in excitement, staring intently at Sang Que to confirm.

“Truly, did Master really say that?”

In the letter Wuyou gave Sang Que, she only mentioned having a disciple named Mo Yan Shu, nothing else.

And Mo Yan Shu’s reaction showed he cared a lot about Wuyou.

Sang Que nodded without changing her expression, giving off a sense of slight wariness mixed with naive innocence.

“Yes.”

“Where is the letter? Could you lend it to me for a look?” Mo Yan Shu extended his hand.

“After I read it, the letter turned to ash. My mother also mentioned in the letter that my father is…”

Sang Que intentionally paused, her performance seamless as she donned a look of disbelief and reluctance to accept.

“Said my father is the current Prime Minister, Zuo Jinye. He ordered the abolition of the entire Da Xuan’s Witch Temple, destroying the foundation of the Nine Songs. Senior Brother, is this really true?”

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