Who Stole the Oil?

Li Banfeng drove the carriage to Xiaoyaowu, loaded with Song Zhigang, two Martial Cultivators, and several hired thugs who possessed cultivation. Ling Miaoying's tape really was effective. Applied to their wounds, it not only stopped the bleeding but also kept their injuries temporarily under control. Though none of them could move, they were all still clinging to life. At eight in the evening, Li Banfeng arrived at Xiaoyaowu with the carriage. At this hour, people were coming and going, Xiaoyaowu at its liveliest. Li Banfeng steered the carriage around to the warehouse in Xiaoyaowu's backyard. Taking advantage of the fact that no one was watching, he had the projector summon a helper to unload the carriage. The projector had learned its lesson from before and didn't dare summon a girl; the girls it summoned always took off their clothes before doing any work. The film reel Ling Miaoying had recorded earlier was still there. The projector projected Ling Miaoying's phantom image, which helped Li Banfeng haul the dozen or so men into the warehouse. Once the carriage was unloaded, Li Banfeng returned to his room, found the key under the bed, went back to the warehouse, recorded a clip with the projector, unlocked the door, and stepped into the Portable Abode. The gramophone barked furiously, "Aiya, you madman! Where have you run off making merry again? Do you even care about me anymore? Do you even care about this home? Do you... you... you must be exhausted, Husband!" Seeing Li Banfeng bring back over a dozen men, the wife's tone immediately softened. "Husband, hurry and sit over here. Husband, have a cup of hot tea first. Husband, why are your clothes caked with so much mud? Your humble servant will wash them for you. Oh, Husband, don't tickle my armpits! Your servant is really ticklish..." The gramophone shielded Li Banfeng with steam, afraid the dwelling would direct its fury at him. After waiting a long time without any stir from the dwelling, the gramophone wondered curiously, "Why is the dwelling so well-behaved today?" Li Banfeng sneered. "What if it wasn't? If it hadn't stirred up trouble, would I have drifted around outside for so many days?" The wife fell silent for a moment. Hearing what Li Banfeng just said, he seemed to know a thing or two about the dwelling now. Seeing that Li Banfeng's anger had not subsided, the wife asked with concern, "Aiya, Husband, what happened these past days?" Li Banfeng asked, "Do you know someone named Lian Buda?" Whoosh. "Lian Buda? Is that a person's name? Your servant has never heard of it." Li Banfeng turned his head and asked Hong Ying, "Have you heard of him?" "Never heard of him either," Hong Ying answered briskly, though a hint of tension edged her curt response. Li Banfeng stared at Hong Ying for a moment and asked, "Why are you wearing trousers?" "I'm a proper maiden—isn't it normal for me to wear trousers?" "Why do you have a red tassel on you, too?" "I'm a red-tasseled spear! Isn't a spear prettier with a red tassel?" Originally, Hong Ying had no red tassel on her. This tassel had just been draped on, meant to cover her bosom and arms. "Why are there black threads mixed in with your red tassel?" Those black threads were hair that Hong Ying had grown. "Well... if a red tassel were entirely red threads, wouldn't that be dreadfully boring?" Hong Ying was running out of excuses to make up. At her side, the wife came to Hong Ying's rescue. "Husband, pay no mind to that wench. The food is getting cold." "No rush, my wife. Let me ask them a few questions first." Li Banfeng looked over Song Zhigang first, then had the liquor gourd feed him a mouthful of liquor. With that sip of liquor, Song Zhigang regained some vigor and could barely manage to speak. Li Banfeng lit a candle and planted it before Song Zhigang. "Master Song, I invited you into my home for a chat, so you can't say I lack sincerity. Today, you lay everything out plain and clear: who on earth told you to go cause trouble in Lanyang Village?" Song Zhigang panted, "Seventh Master, Old Master Lu sent me. Everything I told you before is gospel truth." Was it really Lu Maoxian? Lu Maoxian had indeed caused Li Banfeng plenty of trouble. Li Banfeng was close to Monkey Qiu, so making trouble for Li Banfeng aligned with Lu Maoxian's interests. The question was, why stir up trouble in Lanyang Village? Lanyang Village held no special value for Lu Maoxian. If he had made trouble at Heishipo to ruin the business between Li Banfeng and Ma the Fifth, that would have made far more sense. There had to be something else behind this. Li Banfeng asked again, "Did you see Lu Maoxian with your own eyes?" Song Zhigang said, "With Old Master Lu's status, how could he meet with me personally? These two guards showed up at my door and told me to take back Lanyang Village!" Li Banfeng glanced at the two Martial Cultivators; they were the guards Song Zhigang had mentioned. The one with a severed throat certainly couldn't speak, but the one with a broken spine could still make a sound. Li Banfeng peeled the tape from his mouth, had the liquor gourd give him a sip as well, and asked, "Did Lu Maoxian order the two of you to seek out Song Zhigang?" "It wasn't the old master who gave the order directly. It was Chief Steward Xu Yangbo." Lu Maoxian's chief steward? Li Banfeng had little interaction with the man, having only heard Monkey Qiu mention that he enjoyed Lu Maoxian's deep trust. If this wasn't Lu Maoxian's own intention—if this chief steward harbored his own hidden agenda—then his objective was clearly to escalate the conflict between Li Banfeng and Lu Maoxian. What did he stand to gain from doing so? If he was also acting on someone else's instructions, who would that puppet master be? There was only so much information he could pry from these men, and Li Banfeng didn't want to waste his breath. "My wife, let us dine." "Thank you for your doting care, Husband!" The wife couldn't wait to start her meal. Nearby, the projector began quietly recording the scene. The wife barked in anger, "What do you think you're doing?" The projector shuddered and hastily swung its lens away. The wife snagged the projector with her stylus, yanked out the newly recorded film, and shredded it to ribbons. The projector quivered in agonizing heartbreak. Fortunately, it had recorded more than just one segment; everything seen and heard over these past days had been captured. "Each scene is only two minutes or so. If only I hadn't run low on film, I could have recorded so much more." Li Banfeng happened to want his wife to see what Lian Buda looked like. The projector showed the scene from the oil lake, but the image was a solid field of oily yellow, completely devoid of anything else. "How can that be!" the projector shrieked. "I recorded it properly!" Li Banfeng deduced the cause: "Lian Buda holds a very high divine mantle. He didn't want you capturing his true likeness. Lian Buda isn't his real name, either." In its chagrin, the projector queued up the second piece of footage: The local spirit Meng Yuchun, back turned to Li Banfeng, slipped off her long gown to display the scars across her body. The wife let out a soft cough. "Aiya, Husband, is this young lady your Lian Buda? I can't say whether her face is big or not, but those peaches of hers are truly quite large. Not only large, but pale too. Husband, you truly must have suffered so much these past seven days!" Li Banfeng kicked the projector. "Don't just play this! What about how I fought those strange monsters on the land? Play that for us to see!" The projector announced in a ringing voice, "None of that was recorded!" Li Banfeng kicked the projector away, preparing to give his wife a detailed account of everything he had experienced over these past few days. Just as he reached the part about the oil lake, a shout suddenly came from the glove in Room Three: "Master, you wronged me before! How could I have been the one who stole the oil? I don't know what creature stole this oil, but it's all right here!" Li Banfeng walked into Room Three to take a look. In Room Three, bottles, jars, urns, buckets, vats... every single vessel capable of holding liquid was filled to the brim with oil, identical to the oil Li Banfeng had seen at the oil lake. Li Banfeng looked at the glove. "Where did this oil come from?" The glove retorted indignantly, "I certainly didn't take it! How could I hold this much? No matter who took it, you shouldn't have blamed me!" Li Banfeng touched one of the bottles filled with oil when an aged voice suddenly reached his ear: "Careful now. Don't spill it." "Who's there?" Li Banfeng gasped, tensing for battle. The gramophone hastily called out, "Husband, don't lose your temper! That is our house speaking!" The room fell deathly silent in an instant. Previously, aside from the wife, Hong Ying, and Red Lotus, no one could hear the voice of the Portable Abode, as no one else possessed a high enough mantle. Yet today, everyone had heard it; the Portable Abode had changed its way of speaking. After ten-odd seconds of silence, Li Banfeng suddenly asked, "What did you steal the oil for?" "To burn," the Portable Abode replied with a single word. The gramophone could not hear this word clearly. Nor could Red Lotus, Hong Ying, or the various magical artifacts. Only Li Banfeng heard it with complete clarity. Worried that Li Banfeng was arguing with the dwelling, Hong Ying said to the gramophone, "Vicious woman, talk some sense into that madman! Tell him not to do anything reckless! He's no match for this dwelling—he won't last a single exchange!" Before the gramophone could urge him further, Li Banfeng asked again, "Why aren't you burning coal?" This question left the wife dumbfounded. Burn coal? Why would the dwelling need to burn coal? For heat? The aged voice echoed once more. "Running after you every day, that meager bit of coal burned up long ago." The gramophone still couldn't hear clearly. Not only could she not make out the dwelling's words, she couldn't even hear Li Banfeng's words clearly either; a low droning noise continually scrambled her hearing. "Husband, you'd better not..." Li Banfeng continued to ask the Portable Abode, "You took me to the oil lake just to steal oil?" "You were the one who wanted to go to the oil lake. I just took the oil along the way." "Before, you always followed the key. How did you learn to move on your own now?" "Because there are tracks, hehehe!" The Portable Abode chuckled. "Since when were there tracks?" The Portable Abode gave no further answer. Unable to make out their conversation, the gramophone lowered her voice and pleaded, "Oh, Husband, don't provoke it anymore. Your servant will let you grease me with machine oil, all right?" ... At Yuezhou Third Hospital, the button on He Jiaqing's chest vibrated continuously, but with He Haisheng sitting right beside him, He Jiaqing had no way to answer. After lunch, when He Haisheng stepped away to smoke, He Jiaqing clutched the button and heard Wan Jinxian's voice: "Jiaqing, Ling Miaoying is still alive!" "Alive?" A surge of joy washed over He Jiaqing, followed quickly by suspicion. "Didn't the Lu family put out word that they got Miaoying's head?" "Our spy at Xiaoyaowu saw him go to Xiaoyaowu's warehouse. It was just last night." "Xiaoyaowu..." What did Ling Miaoying go to Xiaoyaowu for? Could it be that Ling Miaoying only faked his death and was still secretly keeping watch on Ma the Fifth? He really was different from Ling Miaowen after all, able to conceal his calculations so deeply. He would have to be on guard against him in the future, but for now, it was good news. At the very least, he wouldn't need to waste any more energy on Ma the Fifth and could focus entirely on dealing with Lu Maoxian. Before He Jiaqing could reply to Wan Jinxian, a plume of smoke suddenly drifted before his face. The smoke lingered around He Jiaqing for a long while, and beads of sweat dripped down He Jiaqing's forehead. "Jiaqing?" He Haisheng's figure slowly emerged from the haze before He Jiaqing. "You're awake?" He Jiaqing fell silent for a moment before slowly opening his eyes. "Third Uncle, I'm awake." He Haisheng gazed silently at He Jiaqing. Unwilling as he was to believe it, this was reality. "Eldest Brother didn't believe you, and I even argued with him. I said his own flesh-and-blood son would never lie to him. Tell me, just how fucking stupid was I?" As he spoke these words, He Haisheng gritted his teeth continuously. He Jiaqing said with a calm expression, "Third Uncle, will you allow me to say a few words?" "Speak. I'm listening."