The two auras on the rooftop across the alley vanished.

“They’re gone,” Su Ming said in his heart.

“Mm, gone,” Lin Yu’s voice carried a trace of gravity. “Disciple, your counter-surveillance skills are really becoming more and more beyond this teacher’s expectations.”

Su Ming did not respond.

He could feel that although those two probing gazes had disappeared, a deeper, intangible sense of being locked onto remained. That feeling was like prey being watched by a pack of wolves; even if the wolves temporarily retreated, that chilling, murderous intent had already seeped into the marrow.

“What did they confirm?” Su Ming asked.

“They confirmed you are a ‘law-abiding’ bookworm,” Lin Yu analyzed. “Every day, you either copy books or go home to sleep, not even visiting a brothel. You’re practically the moral paragon of the Great Xing Dynasty. Since they can’t find any direct connection between you and Xu Qing, they won’t move against you for now.”

Su Ming slowly let out a long breath. He broke the silence. “Master, this can’t go on.”

“Hmm?” Lin Yu inquired.

“Passively waiting means forever being the bait,” Su Ming’s eyes shone startlingly bright in the darkness. “I want to know what fish they’re trying to lure out using me. I want to know even more how many vicious crocodiles and giant sharks are lurking in this pond.”

Lin Yu fell silent.

He knew that his disciple’s “cautiousness” wasn’t genuine cowardice. It was a form of building momentum, preparing to deliver the most fatal blow at the most critical moment.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

“Go to the Liu residence again,” Su Ming’s voice was very calm. “Last time was testing the waters. This time, I want to go and beg for a real key.”

“Beg that old fox?” Lin Yu’s soul body trembled. “He almost saw through our underwear last time. Going again is too risky.”

“The greater the risk, the more genuine it appears,” Su Ming stood up, patting the dust off his clothes. “A panicked young man, having discovered a secret he can’t afford to mess with, loses all composure and goes to seek advice from the only elder he can trust. That’s very reasonable.”

Lin Yu smacked his lips.

Alright then, the Oscar-winning actor’s script has been updated again.

“And the excuse this time?”

“The Lantai Secret Garden.”

The next day was still a Day Off.

Su Ming once again picked up the Gift of Respect he had prepared long ago and walked alone to the quiet alley in the western part of the city. Just like last time, it was the same mottled black lacquered wooden door, the same old servant with muddled eyes.

When the old servant saw Su Ming, that wrinkled face showed a trace of human emotion for the first time—clear impatience.

“Why is it you again?”

“This student Su Ming has an urgent matter and seeks an audience with Lord Liu,” Su Ming bowed and presented his Name Card.

The old servant couldn’t even be bothered to take the Name Card, turning to close the door. “His Lordship is not receiving guests.”

“This student, while organizing archives from the previous dynasty at the Hanlin Academy, inadvertently came across records mentioning the ‘Lantai Secret Garden.’ It filled me with dread, fearing it might involve forbidden matters, and I couldn’t sleep at night. This matter may concern court secrets. This student dares not act on his own. After much thought, I could only seek guidance from Lord Liu. I beg you, Old Uncle, to make an exception!”

Su Ming said all this in one breath. His voice wasn’t loud, but each word was clear, his tone filled with just the right amount of panic and anxiety.

The four words “Lantai Secret Garden” acted like a key, inserted into the old servant’s rusty mind.

His door-closing motion stopped.

His murky eyes stared fixedly at Su Ming for a long time before he coldly spat out two words.

“Wait.”

The door closed again.

This time, Su Ming stood outside the door for the time it takes two incense sticks to burn.

When the door opened again, the old servant’s expression was even more unpleasant than before.

He offered no extra words, only saying, “Come in.”

It was the same side hall smelling of mildew, still without a cup of tea.

Su Ming stood quietly, waiting.

This time, he didn’t have to wait long.

Director Liu’s gaunt figure appeared at the doorway.

He wasn’t wearing his official robes, just an ordinary gray gown, but his eyes were even sharper than last time, like two freshly sharpened awls.

He didn’t enter, just stood under the doorframe. “Speak, what’s going on?” He didn’t invite Su Ming to the study, staying right in this side hall, getting straight to the point.

Su Ming immediately bowed and repeated the prepared story, his tone even more panicked and uneasy.

“…This student is dull-witted, I don’t know about this ‘Lantai Secret…'”

Before Su Ming could finish, “Who told you to investigate this!”

Director Liu’s roar exploded like a thunderclap in the small side hall.

He took a sudden step forward, those hawk-like eyes boring into Su Ming as if he wanted to devour him whole.

“Is it Guo Huan? Or Li Wen? What tricks are they playing now? Sending you to probe this old man?”

A powerful aura, mixed with the authority of long-standing high position, washed over Su Ming.

Su Ming, startled by this sudden thunderous rage, paled and retreated two steps in succession, his back hitting the cold wall directly. That chill instantly sobered him a little.

“N-no… it’s not… this student… this student really just saw it by chance…” he stammered, looking on the verge of tears from fright.

“By chance?” Director Liu sneered, advancing until he was almost face-to-face with Su Ming, his voice like shards of ice. “The Hanlin Academy’s archives are as vast as the sea. Would you so ‘accidentally’ flip to these four words?”

Su Ming’s body trembled slightly against the wall.

“This student… this student was consulting… consulting records of previous dynasty palace rituals… in a corner of a miscellaneous notebook… saw… saw a line saying ‘The Secret Garden is hidden north of the palace city, governed by ghosts and gods’… This student thought it was supernatural folklore and didn’t pay it mind. But… but yesterday, while organizing battle records from the Black Rong campaign, I saw the two words ‘Lantai’ on a damaged scroll… Putting the two together, this student became afraid, and so… so I dared to come and seek Your Excellency’s guidance.”

His words were somewhat jumbled, yet he perfectly connected the two clues. It fit his job of organizing archives and explained the accidental nature of the discovery.

Director Liu’s gaze remained locked on him.

The side hall fell into suffocating silence.

A long time passed.

Only then did Director Liu slowly straighten up, creating distance.

The thunderous rage in his eyes gradually receded, turning back into a bottomless pool of ice.

“Too much curiosity is the path to death.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, turned, and paced to the window, looking at the withered locust tree in the courtyard. His tone was icy and resolute. “The Lantai Secret Garden is not something you should know about.” His voice held not a shred of warmth. “Forget it, act as if you never saw it. Otherwise, not even a deity could save you.”

Su Ming leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, his face still wearing an expression of lingering fear.

“Yes… yes, this student… this student understands. Thank you, Your Excellency… thank you for your guidance.”

He bowed, preparing to take his leave.

Just as he turned and his hand was about to touch the door curtain, Director Liu’s drifting voice came from behind him. The voice wasn’t loud, but each word was like a nail.

“Matters of the Hanlin Academy, this old man does not interfere.”

“The key to Lantai is in the hands of the Head of the Academy.”

“However, the Head of the Academy has been ill for three years. Apart from Imperial Physician Li, the Vice Director of the Imperial Medical Bureau who diagnoses his pulse, he sees no one.”

“He is now nothing but a living ghost.”

Su Ming’s footsteps paused for a moment.

He did not turn around, only said softly, “This student takes his leave,” then quickly lifted the door curtain and left as if fleeing.

Once outside the Liu residence, the cold wind hit him, and Su Ming realized his back was already soaked with cold sweat. It wasn’t an act; he was genuinely shaken.

“Holy…” Lin Yu’s voice was trembling. “Scared me to death, scared me to death! That old fellow, is he a firecracker? Explodes at the slightest touch! That roar just now, I felt my soul body was about to be blasted apart by him.”

Su Ming ignored Lin Yu’s grumbling. His mind was spinning rapidly.

Head of the Academy.

Ill for three years.

Imperial Medical Bureau, Vice Director Li.

Living ghost.

These few words connected to form a brand new clue.

The only possible clue leading to the “Lantai Secret Garden.”

One month later, Yongchang Marquis Manor.

Inside the study, the heating stove was blazing, creating a world apart from the severe cold outside.

The Yongchang Marquis, wearing a black sable cloak, was leisurely polishing a curved blade captured from the northern frontier.

The blade was like an autumn pool, reflecting his resolute and stern profile.

His advisor, Wence, stood respectfully to the side, holding an urgent secret report just delivered from Qingshi Town.

“Marquis, the matter from Qingshi Town has been clarified.”

“Speak,” the Yongchang Marquis didn’t even look up, just using a piece of deerskin to repeatedly polish the cold gleam of the blade.

“The paper-making workshop in Su Family Village indeed uses a previously unseen new method. The emergence and initial application of this technology occurred long before Zhou Wenhai took Su Ming as his disciple.”

The Yongchang Marquis’s polishing motion paused. The deerskin stopped at a point one-third along the blade.

“Oh?”

“According to statements from village elders we bribed, this method seems more like… more like Su Ming himself, a few years ago, figured it out on his own through self-study and independent experimentation,” Wence’s voice held a trace of disbelief.

“Even more interesting,” he continued, “the workshop’s ‘officially supervised, privately operated’ model, as well as its subsequent rapid expansion, all precisely occurred after Su Ming became Zhou Wenhai’s disciple and entered the County School. The timing is seamless.”

Wence took a deep breath and voiced his judgment.

“This official believes that Zhou Wenhai, in this matter, was more like a tiger skin borrowed for prestige. The true planner, from beginning to end, was that youth, Su Ming, who was not even fifteen at the time.”

The study fell silent.

Only the charcoal in the stove occasionally emitted a soft cracking sound.

The Yongchang Marquis’s fingers lightly tapped the desk. “A fifteen-year-old youth, with such cunning?” The Yongchang Marquis finally put down the curved blade, raised his eyes, his gaze carrying a hint of amusement.

“This official also found it hard to believe. Therefore, I managed to obtain copies of the essay he wrote when he placed first as a Child Scholar, as well as some practice writings from his time at the County School.”

Wence took several transcribed papers from his sleeve and presented them.

“Marquis, please look. These are his early essays. The writing is somewhat immature, but between the lines, his edge is sharp. The novelty of his arguments and the rigor of his logic far surpass his peers.”

“Now look at this one. This official had someone copy it from the Hanlin Academy; it’s a damaged page of the *Da Xing Compendium* he transcribed for Reader Guo. The handwriting is neat, steady and balanced, but it’s like a stagnant pond, utterly lifeless.”

The Yongchang Marquis took the papers, his gaze slowly sweeping over them.

The transition from that unrestrained, flamboyant sharpness to this rigid, wooden craftsmanship was too deliberate, too drastic.

“The report also mentions,” Wence added, “that before the Provincial Examination, both Zhou Wenhai and the entire Qingshi County School believed he had the talent to take first place. Yet the result was he only ranked seventy-third. That ranking seemed deliberately suppressed.”

The Yongchang Marquis listened in silence.

He gently placed the papers on the desk.

He was not a bloodthirsty person, but from his high position, he deeply understood the importance of “nipping problems in the bud.”

A talented youth from a humble background with no roots or backing could be controlled or suppressed.

But a potential enemy who was “skilled at biding his time, highly capable, and might harbor old grievances” must not be left for the future.

“Heh…” The Yongchang Marquis suddenly chuckled softly.

The laughter was light, but it sent an inexplicable chill down Wence’s spine.

“Zhou Wenhai… certainly took on a good disciple.”

“A little fox who knows how to keep his tail tucked.”

“This boy has a deep, scheming mind and aims high. Since he cannot be used by us, he must not be allowed to become a future problem.”

“Wence.”

“This official is here.”

“Find a way to eliminate him.”

Wence replied, “Yes, Marquis.”

When Su Ming returned to his small courtyard, it was almost dark.

He closed the courtyard gate, didn’t light a lamp, just quietly digested everything he had gained today in the darkness.

Head of the Academy, Vice Director Li, a living ghost ill for three years.

Yongchang Marquis, Qingshi Town, those unseen eyes.

Two strands of clues intertwined and tangled in his mind, forming a complex and dangerous web.

And he was right in the center of this web.

“Master, I think… I’ve made things even more complicated.”

“The Yongchang Marquis…” Lin Yu’s tone grew heavy. “Since he’s already become suspicious, he won’t let it go. We must get more cards in our hand before he makes a move.”

Su Ming nodded.

Cards.

His biggest card right now was himself.

A seemingly harmless, utterly ordinary Hanlin Academy Compiler.

And the other card he needed was hidden within that royal forbidden ground called the “Lantai Secret Garden.”

If the “Lantai Secret Garden” contained the information he wanted, the location of a cultivation sect, he wouldn’t need to tiptoe around with them at all.

He opened his eyes, walked into the courtyard, and began practicing his fist forms.

The sound of fists cutting through the air broke the courtyard’s tranquility.

He didn’t practice quickly. Each move and stance was steady and powerful. His blood and qi surged through his meridians, gradually dispelling the cold and fear accumulated during the day. The spiritual energy within his body flowed through his meridians like a rushing river.

The hunter was no longer satisfied with just observing.

They were starting to set traps. Then he, the prey, couldn’t just think about how to hide.

He stopped his movements, his gaze turning in the direction of the Yongchang Marquis Manor, his eyes profound.

Everything had only just begun.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep