Undercurrents Stirring
Midnight.
The Youming Platform lay in utter silence.
Li Fang sat in his cell, his gaze calm as he stared at the flickering oil lamp above his head.
Tonight at the hour of the Rat, representatives from the Left Division, Chengque, and the Dizang Division would gather here for a secret meeting.
Their purpose was simple: to divide the spoils left behind by the Laizhou Blood Disaster and bury the disgraceful truths that could never be made public.
And Li Fang? He was one of the loose ends they were eager to eliminate.
If all went according to plan, once the meeting concluded, he would be publicly charged with "collusion with blood forces" and "violating underworld laws" come dawn—ruined, shamed, and quietly disposed of.
Everything had been arranged perfectly.
But—
Li Fang's fingers brushed against the thin piece of paper hidden in his sleeve. A barely noticeable cold smirk tugged at his lips.
He had already made his own preparations.
—
The hour of the Ox. A still, oppressive darkness.
Several figures quietly slipped into the main hall of the Youming Platform.
No grand entrance. Just hushed whispers, barely louder than the buzz of mosquitoes.
One stone table. Two lone lamps. Three factions facing off.
Wei Huai from the Left Division. Liu Weizheng from Chengque. And a gray-robed emissary from the Dizang Division.
Two items lay on the table:
One: the official dossier on the Laizhou Blood Disaster.
Two: a torn remnant of the Forbidden Reversal Alchemy Manual—leaked from within the Youming Platform itself.
The air stank of blood and rot.
—
Wei Huai opened coldly:
"Chengque gets territory. Dizang Division gains three years of independence. The remnant and alchemy notes go to the Left Division. As agreed, no one opens their mouth."
Liu Weizheng smirked, voice dripping with sarcasm:
"Neatly divided. Well played, Lord Wei. But we all waded into the same filthy waters—how do you expect to walk out clean?"
The gray-robed emissary coughed, speaking slowly:
"We… only seek to preserve ourselves."
The air grew tense, the room stiffening like a coiled spring.
None of them noticed the faintest wisp of gray mist crawling silently through the carved patterns beneath the stone platform—creeping into the hall.
Li Fang's quiet intervention.
He had subtly manipulated the crumbling warding seals beneath the Youming Platform to stir up a shallow leak of "resentful energy"—just enough to agitate the minds of those present and cloud their judgment.
Not enough to alarm anyone. But enough to disrupt a secret negotiation.
—
After several rounds of haggling, the three sides grew restless.
The Left Division clung to the documents. Liu Weizheng dropped veiled threats. The Dizang emissary feigned ignorance.
And just then, one of Li Fang's agents made their move.
A nondescript servant stepped forward with tea and, in the momentary distraction, sprinkled a faint powder across the documents.
Colorless, odorless—once gently heated, it caused hidden ink to reappear faintly beneath the lamplight.
Revealing—
The true cause of the blood disaster:
Not meddling from the mortal realm, but a failed attempt by certain underworld factions to secretly perform Forbidden Reversal Alchemy—a violation of life and death that disrupted the balance between Yin and Yang and triggered a ghostly riot.
—
As the faded characters surfaced, Liu Weizheng's eyes gleamed.
He was the first to react, slamming the table and shouting:
"Wei Huai! The Left Division knew the truth all along—why hide it until now?!"
Wei Huai's face darkened, sneering coldly:
"The truth? Just rot best left buried."
"If the underworld handled this by the book, every faction involved—including you, me, and the Dizang Division—"
"—we'd all be dead men."
The gray-robed emissary paled.
Tension surged. The three factions locked eyes, distrust and murderous intent rising.
Outside, the guards began to stir, sensing the disturbance and moving toward the hall.
Li Fang triggered another subtle release of resentful energy, fogging their minds just enough to make them pause, hesitate.
He needed the chaos to spiral—needed them to turn on each other completely.
—
Inside the hall.
Wei Huai slammed his palm onto the table, splintering the stone edge.
"If no one swears silence tonight—then die here!"
Liu Weizheng and the Dizang emissary exchanged a glance, each hand dropping to the hilts of short blades at their waists.
The air was thick. Breathless. On the verge of bloodshed.
—
And at that moment, Li Fang slipped away—quiet as shadow—vanishing into a hidden passage.
Tucked inside his robe was a full copy of the revealed page, transcribed beforehand.
The real evidence had already been transferred.
While the "powerholders" above fought to the death over a scrap of obsolete paper, the truth had quietly left the stage.
Li Fang's smile was cold.
The old order would fall.
A new one would rise.
And he—he must survive.
Only then could he personally tear down the blood-soaked curtains hiding the rot within.