Duan Shaohong sat in the Lu family mansion, weeping and wailing at the top of her lungs. "Little sister, have some pity on your older sister! Let me take Huaiyi away, or I won't have a way left to live!"
Lu Maoxian had brought down an iron fist upon the Zhang family. Zhang Huaiyi's nominal father, Zhang Bochu, had been beaten half to death.
Duan Shaohong had put up a fierce front, telling Lu Maoxian's men to beat him however they pleased, insisting her household would never bend the knee.
What she had never expected was that Lu Maoxian's men would beat her as well.
Beating Zhang Bochu was fine; she felt no heartbreak over that.
Getting beaten herself, however, hurt for real—and it hurt terribly.
Not only had the couple suffered a beating, but their house had been burned down, all their family property seized, and even her father, Old Master Duan, had been dragged into the mess.
Her eyes blinded by greed for the Lu family estate, Duan Shaohong had never imagined just how ruthless the Lu family could be.
Lu Maoxian sent men ordering their family of three to get out of town that very day. Duan Shaohong dared not disobey, so she rushed to the Lu mansion to beg Duan Shaoxia.
Delivering someone was easy; getting them back was another story. The current "Zhang Huaiyi" was no longer Zhang Huaiyi.
Duan Shaoxia comforted her, "Sister, the harder it gets, the less we can bow our heads. We must show the backbone of our Duan family!"
"I have no backbone left to show—several of my actual bones have been broken!" Duan Shaohong shook her head. "Little sister, have mercy on me. Let's just pretend I never brought this up, let it pass—what do you say?"
Duan Shaoxia slammed her hand on the table. "I cannot swallow this insult! Come the first of the month, we are still hosting the banquet. This matter must be settled!"
"You can't host it, you really can't..." Duan Shaohong lunged forward and threw her arms around Duan Shaoxia. "If you actually hold that banquet, you might as well prepare to collect the corpses of my entire family!"
Duan Shaoxia frowned. "That won't do. What's been decided cannot be changed. Xiao Qiu, how are preparations for the banquet coming along?"
Qiu Zhiheng wore a troubled look. "The old master gathered the entire clan, young and old, and made the matter public. Now, no one in the clan is even willing to accept an invitation."
Duan Shaoxia fell silent, somewhat displeased with Qiu Zhiheng.
Duan Shaohong chimed in hastily, "Sister, you have to listen to Steward Qiu. We can't push against the entire Lu family like this. If none of the Lus acknowledge it, hosting the banquet won't do any good! Sister, just let me take Huaiyi away, please? Your sister is begging you!"
Duan Shaoxia sighed. "We can wait on the banquet, but Huaiyi is already my son. From now on, he must live in the Lu mansion."
"Then... then what about me?"
"Why don't you head home first?"
Duan Shaohong bristled. "Go home to where? My house was burned to the ground! Little sister, are you truly leaving me no way to live? At least let me stay here with you!"
With great reluctance, Duan Shaoxia allowed Duan Shaohong to stay in the Lu mansion for the time being.
That night, Duan Shaohong wanted to see her son.
Zhang Huaiyi claimed he was feeling unwell and refused to see her.
***
Inside his reception hall, Lu Maoxian smashed several teacups in a rage.
The theater incident had spiraled completely out of control.
Once those ten or so minutes of film were screened, everyone in town knew that Lu Maoxian was hale and hearty despite his old age, with plenty of vigor left in reserve.
That was only the half of it.
The real issue was that many people now knew of Lu Maoxian's peculiar fetish: he liked to film the entire act.
Lu Maoxian was an elder of the Pure Observance Society. He studied the doctrines of the sages and conducted himself as a paragon of virtue, yet he actually liked to film such things—and share the footage with the public when he was done.
Could this be the profound secret of the Sage's teachings?
This was no wild speculation; it was printed right in the newspapers.
The Ling family's papers claimed that the Sage's ultimate teaching lay in candor.
*Night Fragrance*, the rising newcomer of the press, echoed the sentiment, asserting that the Sage's deepest mystery lay in blunt honesty.
Had Lu Maoxian really made that film?
Of course not.
Lu Maoxian liked young women, but he had no interest in motion pictures. The deeds shown on film had indeed taken place, but he had never filmed them.
Ling Miaoying had seen it using his scrying techniques and transferred it onto the film with a magical artifact.
In a furious rage, Lu Maoxian summoned over twenty trusted confidants that night, ordering them to keep close tabs on Ling Miaoying's movements and strike to kill the moment an opportunity presented itself.
Beyond that, Ling Miaoying's motion picture company would not be spared either. From the actors to the stagehands, every single one of them was to be dealt with until no one dared work under Ling Miaoying again.
He would crack down on the movie theaters as well. Whoever dared screen *Bloodblade Detective* again would have their venue torched.
He had wanted to do this all along. These were the Sage's instructions from the start, and whatever went wrong, the Sage would back him.
Now that relations with the Ling family had completely broken down, rather than waste time maneuvering back and forth, he might as well strike first and settle things for good before the Lings could make their own ruthless move.
Around ten that night, Lu Maoxian received word that Ling Miaoying and the popular silver screen star Tu Yinghong were at the company studying a script.
Lu Maoxian immediately led his men to the motion picture company. Knowing Ling Miaoying was a high-tier Scrying Cultivator who would be on guard against a brazen assault, he first had Xu Huairong, a seventh-tier Poison Cultivator, release poison around the building.
Xu Huairong had killed many Scrying Cultivators and knew their techniques and habits well. Stopping several dozen meters from the building, he set a bamboo basket on the ground and sat by the roadside, smoking a dry pipe.
To any passerby, he looked like an ordinary old man resting his feet. Dealing with a Scrying Cultivator could not rely purely on a sneak attack; the slightest disturbance would give away one's position. One had to appear openly while striking from the shadows.
Inside his bamboo basket, a colorless, formless snake spirit crept soundlessly toward the building.
The snake spirit opened its mouth and exhaled venomous mist. The guards stationed around the building suddenly went blank in the eyes.
They had been poisoned, yet their actions showed no obvious change as they continued patrolling back and forth around the perimeter.
The snake spirit entered the building and continued dispersing its poison. Xu Huairong sat on the ground, cold sweat drenching his brow. It took him over ten minutes to exhaust the snake spirit's poisonous mist, and in doing so, he spent all of his own strength.
Inside the motion picture company, everyone's eyes turned dull and glazed, yet the work in their hands never ceased.
The accountant was still keeping books, his fingers flicking haphazardly across the abacus beads.
The screenwriter was still revising the script, scribbling wildly across the notebook.
A stagehand was repairing a set, his hammer banging aimlessly about.
Ling Miaoying was still discussing the plot with the leading lady. The variation in the storyline had grown somewhat limited, but the depth remained quite impressive.
Xu Huairong, the Poison Cultivator, gave Lu Maoxian a subtle nod, signaling that the deed was done.
Lu Maoxian pressed his hand downward, motioning for him to recall the venomous mist.
Xu Huairong tapped out the bowl of his pipe, sat quietly for a moment, then hoisted the bamboo basket onto his back and walked away from the building.
He recalled both the snake spirit and the poison.
To be safe, Lu Maoxian waited several more minutes before sending his men upstairs.
He would not enter the building himself; there was no telling what traps might be laid inside, and Lu Maoxian took no needless risks.
Lin Zhixiao, a sixth-tier Martial Cultivator, led a dozen men into the motion picture company. Paying no heed to the bystanders, they headed straight for the top floor.
Kicking open Ling Miaoying's bedroom door, they found the star Tu Yinghong in front and Ling Miaoying behind her. Both wore vacant expressions, yet their communication remained intense and rhythmic.
Lin Zhixiao drew a short blade, surged forward in a flash, and cleaved Ling Miaoying's head clean off.
Ling Miaoying's body froze. Blood gushed like a spring from the severed neck, showering Tu Yinghong from head to toe.
Seemingly oblivious, Tu Yinghong continued rocking back and forth without pause.
Lin Zhixiao gave a low chuckle. "Old Xu's poison really is something!"
With that, Lin Zhixiao swung his blade and cut down Tu Yinghong, then ordered his men, "Leave no one alive in this building. Kill them all!"
Brandishing their weapons, the men went from top to bottom, slaughtering everyone in sight.
Lin Zhixiao killed the accountant doing the books and discovered a hidden door in the room.
Pushing it open, he saw several more people inside, eyes glazed, counting money.
It turned out to be the vault.
After killing the money counters, Lin Zhixiao noticed yet another hidden door within the vault.
This motion picture building certainly had plenty of rooms.
***
Down below, Lu Maoxian waited quietly for news from inside.
"Old Master, there seems to be a commotion," a guard said, catching faint sounds of slaughter.
Lu Maoxian paused. He heard it too.
Lin Zhixiao was an assassin of considerable renown; by all rights, he should not have caused such a racket.
Lu Maoxian looked around. Though the hour was late and the street was virtually deserted, any attention could still ruin their plans.
A rickshaw puller passed by, seemingly hearing nothing.
A beggar rummaged through a pile of trash for food, equally oblivious to any noise.
Lu Maoxian frowned, wishing Lin Zhixiao would finish up quickly.
How many people could there possibly be in the entire building?
They were all poisoned. As a sixth-tier Martial Cultivator with so many men at his back, did he really need to drag things out this long?
"What is that boy doing?" Lu Maoxian murmured, glancing around.
A guard said, "He's on the third floor. I see him."
*He sees him?*
Lu Maoxian looked toward the motion picture building and saw Lin Zhixiao as well.
He was on the third floor, finishing off a few set builders.
The entire motion picture building had turned transparent!
The building was an illusion?
*Not good, it's a trap!*
Lu Maoxian moved to flee when Ling Miaoying's voice spoke right beside his ear: "Where to, Old Master? The film isn't over yet, and you're already leaving?"
Ling Miaoying's figure materialized abruptly right before Lu Maoxian, with the star Tu Yinghong standing at his side.
Lu Maoxian nodded, remarking with admiration, "Boss Ling, quite impressive. To fabricate an illusion of a building this large!"
Ling Miaoying shook his head. "This is no illusion. It's real. Your men are inside killing people right now, and there's an endless supply of them. Why don't you ask Lin Zhixiao whether the people in that building are real?
"They can speak, they can walk, the blade cuts their flesh and draws real blood, and they even showed symptoms after being poisoned. Do you dare claim they aren't real people?"
Lu Maoxian was left speechless.
In all his long years, he had never seen such a method.
Ling Miaoying patted Tu Yinghong's backside and pointed toward the "Ling Miaoying" and "Tu Yinghong" inside the building. "Look, they're alive again. The severed head grew back, and they've gone right back to it. They're so deep in character—doesn't that look real enough to you?"
Tu Yinghong shook her head. "I don't think it looks real. They're not deep enough in character. In a moment, I'll show you what it really means to get into role."
Ling Miaoying pinched Tu Yinghong's cheek. Seizing the opening, Lu Maoxian opened his mouth to activate a technique, but a feathered arrow shot straight through his left cheek and out the right.
Lu Maoxian spat a mouthful of blood and reached into his robes for a brush to write, but a short blade descended from above, severing his forearm at the elbow.
Enduring the agonizing pain, Lu Maoxian stumbled back several steps. Of the guards around him, some shielded Lu Maoxian while others rushed forward to fight Ling Miaoying to the death.
Yet when they charged to Ling Miaoying's side, they could touch neither him nor Tu Yinghong—the two were nothing more than phantom projections.
Ling Miaoying looked at Lu Maoxian with a calm expression and said slowly, "Ever since the company caught fire and burned my film reels, I've spent a fortune putting every precaution in place. Old Master Lu, let me ask you: were you the one who set that fire back then?"
Lu Maoxian shook his head.
"Refusing to admit it, are you?" Ling Miaoying sneered. "I'm about to shoot a new film, but I doubt you'll live to see it."
PS: He Jiaqing had told Ling Miaoying to spare Lu Maoxian's life, but Ling Miaoying had no intention of sparing him.
Chapter 289