The meditation room fell into a silence so thick it felt carved out of stone. Two people sat facing each other; the candle flame wavered between us, burning lower and lower, threatening to collapse into a thin thread of blue smoke. The room was so quiet I could hear my own heartbeat, loud and intrusive.

  My eldest brother sat straight on his cushion, brows drawn in a wintry stillness—as unyielding as a mountain that had never thawed. At last, he spoke in a low voice:

  “Your trip into the city. Did you retrieve the National Command Seal or not?”

  That tone… he could’ve been interrogating a criminal.

  I waved my hands frantically, wearing the most “I swear I’m innocent” expression I could muster. “I could have gotten it! I was this close! But then—things happened. Weird things. Complicated things.”

  I silently added:

  Things so chaotic they’d make a ghost story blush. Secret plots, strange rumors, and all that’s missing is a dog demon and pig spirit doing a ballroom duet.

  So I dumped everything out—every single absurd incident I’d been through.

  Blood Lotus Sect purging traitors in the West Altar.

  The demon-dog’s mysterious dinner invitation.

  The former prefect’s nightmare curse.

  And the scandalous affair between the former West Altar Master and what may or may not have been a legendary pig spirit.

  I even clarified whether the pig spirit was male or female, just in case my brother needed that for… evidence. His expression still darkened half a shade.

  He listened to it all without a twitch, like watching a tragicomic stage play. After a long silence, he finally asked:

  “If that’s the case, then why—when I entered the city—did I see you heading toward the western outskirts with several people? One of them… was the Blood Lotus Sect Leader. Which one?”

  His eyes were sharp, probing how much I was still hiding.

  My heart jolted.

  If I told him it was Lian…

  Given their personalities, they’d probably start fighting before they even said hello.

  I pretended to think deeply while my eyes darted around, then answered with absolute seriousness:

  “It was definitely that guy with the folding fan—the one who smiles like a fox wearing human skin.”

  Hua, my friend… Forgive me.

  I’ll buy you good wine later to make up for this.

  Assuming you live to enjoy it.

  My brother’s brows tightened, but he didn’t press further. He simply tapped the table twice—thunk, thunk—like knocking on my conscience.

  Just then, a familiar heavy breathing sounded.

  I looked down.

  Da Huang—the big yellow dog—had somehow returned again.

  I frowned. It wasn’t in the room earlier. Did it… slip in? Or… is it really a dog demon?

  But my brother suddenly murmured, “Look. A hole.”

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  The dog had dug a small tunnel under the bed—barely as big as a fist, loose dirt spilling out.

  My brother examined me. “You’re small. You can try.”

  I froze. “Try… what? You can’t mean—”

  He nodded with tragic resolve. “Exactly.”

  I stared at him. “What if I get stuck?”

  “I’ll help,” he said calmly. “With palm force.”

  I shook my head righteously. “There’s an old saying—‘A grown man should never suffer the humiliation of crawling through a dog hole.’ How could a man exit the world through a dog’s doorway?”

  My brother replied coldly, “Do you want to stay trapped in this demon’s den, then?”

  The dog, as if understanding everything, casually waddled over, stuffed its head into the hole, and scratched twice—scritch scritch—then turned to look at me with a very clear demonstration:

  Come. Do it like this.

  I exhaled deeply, bowed solemnly to the dark and ominous dog hole, and vowed to myself:

  One day, this humiliation will be repaid in full—

  to the dog.

  I copied Da Huang’s posture—knees down, hands forward, chin to the floor—and eased myself into the hole. The earth was damp and cold, reeking faintly of mold, like someone had shoved a rotten steamed bun beneath my nose.

  The hole was tight—barely enough for my shoulders. My ears brushed the rough dirt walls as I crawled, sending little zaps of numbness down my scalp.

  Head, shoulders, and chest passed through just fine. I felt hopeful.

  But the moment my torso reached the narrowest part, I stopped dead—like a chunk of pork belly shoved halfway into a tofu mold.

  Ah.

  Last night’s dinner had come back for revenge.

  I tried twice, holding my breath, but my stomach stayed wedged in place.

  Finally I yelled, “Brother! I’m stuck! Use your palm force!”

  Firm footsteps approached.

  “Very well.”

  Relief washed over me—finally, something reliable! I braced for the sound of the wall collapsing—

  SMACK!

  A burst of force struck my backside—clean, solid, merciless.

  It was like being hit by a hammer wrapped in silk, all power and no gentleness.

  “WHOOSH—!”

  I shot out of the dog hole like an arrow from a bow, skidded across the cold ground outside, rolled twice, and lay there stunned. My backside burned with a bizarre mix of numbness and heat.

  I turned back, furious. “I asked you to break the hole—not break me!”

  His voice drifted coolly from inside. “Isn’t the result the same?”

  I groaned, stood up, and finally looked around.

  I was in a narrow alley, walls slick with moss, only a thin strip of gray sky visible overhead. Rain dripped from cracked tiles above, landing in muddy puddles with dirty yellow ripples.

  At the alley’s end, a battered paper lantern swayed weakly in the wind. Far-off wagon wheels and donkey hooves echoed through the night, distant as if from another world.

  I had no idea where I was.

  With my brother still stuck inside, I had no choice but to scout. Cautiously, I edged toward the mouth of the alley.

  The moment I peeked out, I saw two figures in West Altar uniforms waiting. Moonlight glinted coldly on the blades at their waists.

  My stomach sank.

  Traitors? Assassins?

  But before I could flee, they lit up with relief and rushed toward me.

  “Great! The Sect Leader has been looking everywhere for you—come with us!”

  Their smiles came a little too quickly. I narrowed my eyes, pretending to ponder something.

  “Your Sect Leader only asked me to scout for news about the former West Altar Master. What’s the rush?”

  The two men froze—just half a beat—but it was enough. A flicker passed through their eyes before they forced themselves to reply.

  “Y-Yes, of course. The Sect Leader is just… waiting for your report.”

  Sure you are, I sneered inwardly.

  That hesitation of theirs practically spelled out We Are Not Good People across their foreheads.

  Outwardly, I let out a clueless-sounding “Oh,” then casually patted one of their sleeves.

  “Well then. But it’s getting late, and the night air is cold. Take the wrong road at this hour, and it’ll be quite a detour. Easy to catch a chill, isn’t it?”

  The moment the words left my mouth, the man on the left instinctively touched the hilt at his waist. Just a quick brush of his fingertips—but the tremor in them was unmistakable.

  I pretended not to notice. In fact, I even took half a step forward, as if I truly meant to follow them.

  At the same time, I sharpened my hearing, listening for footsteps at the far end of the street.

  If someone was tailing us, I needed to know.

  My mind spun rapidly.

  Do I slip away now… or follow them and figure out exactly who sent them?