Chapter Nine: Concealment

Liu Jing was a seasoned officer of the Embroidered Uniform Guard. Possessing sharp instincts and vast experience, he realized the monk he had dragged along was just as trapped as he was when he saw him circling the plum blossom grove in vain.

Liu Jing frowned, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. "Is this plum garden not part of your temple? Why would such a small garden be obscured by an illusion?"

Cold sweat beaded on the monk's forehead as he hurriedly explained, "Though the garden belongs to the temple, the Abbot believes beauty should be shared with the world. Thus, there are only two boundary walls; the other two sides were never enclosed, allowing anyone to enter and enjoy the view. We monks only perform tasks like pruning, fertilizing, and watering. Otherwise, we leave the trees to grow naturally and never interfere with the grove. I truly do not know when this illusion appeared, nor how it managed to trap even me."

Liu Jing snorted coldly.

After a moment of contemplation, the monk suggested, "All illusions rely on external objects. These plum trees cannot be moved, but there are many movable stones in the grove. Perhaps if we shift all the stones we see, the illusion might break."

Liu Jing felt a surge of frustration, but he suppressed his irritation and began kicking the stones within his line of sight. He knew this method was far from foolproof; he understood that in powerful illusions, the very objects used to construct them were often invisible to the naked eye.

After kicking aside several stones, he spotted a large rock standing at the base of a plum tree nearby that required manual effort to move. He approached it with a sour expression and pushed it aside. Upon straightening his back, he discovered that the plum tree he had just been looking at was now a great distance away, and where the rock had been, a wide gap had opened between the trees.

Liu Jing’s brow tightened. He scanned his surroundings, taking in the suddenly altered landscape, and walked forward with his hands pressed firmly against his sword hilt.

The view suddenly opened up. It was a clearing between two rows of plum trees, the ground flat and undisturbed. Naturally, there was not a single soul in sight.

How could there be a patch of land without a single footprint?

Liu Jing looked back at the path they had just walked, then scrutinized this spot. Everything about it felt bizarre. He ground the soil beneath his boot, then crouched down to examine it closely. It was strange—the earth showed signs of both old and new disturbance.

He pressed his face to the ground and sniffed the scent of the soil. His expression shifted, and he immediately stood up to survey his surroundings.

The monk trotted over, asking curiously, "Patron, what is wrong?"

Liu Jing asked with a dark face, "Who has visited this plum garden today?"

The monk looked at him, bewildered. "Patron, this garden is outside the temple, and our back gate is usually kept closed. We... no monks have come here today. I truly have no idea who might have visited."

Liu Jing searched the area, his gaze sharpening. He pushed the monk aside and walked over to a plum tree to inspect it closely.

The monk saw it too and cried out, "Oh my! Who could have done this? They’ve hacked such a large gouge into this tree."

The wound on the tree was jagged and messy, with bark and wood chips strewn about, but the color was fresh, indicating it had been done quite recently. Liu Jing examined the cut carefully. He could tell that the person who wielded the blade had used great force; the cut was deep and likely difficult to extract, which is why the assailant had rocked the blade up and down to pull it out, leaving the wound in such a ragged state.

It took Liu Jing a long time to find a small sliver of wood discarded on the other side of the tree root. He frowned, looking at the ground, finding it suspiciously clean.

The wound on the tree suggested that the person who pulled the blade out was not the same person who had struck it; the one who pulled it out lacked strength or perhaps height, which explained the need to rock the blade back and forth. Under such circumstances, there should have been far more wood chips scattered on the ground.

Liu Jing paced around, then dug into the soil near the wound. Before long, he unearthed several more wood chips and larger splinters. He held the items in his palm, his gaze drifting involuntarily back to the patch of ground he had sniffed earlier.

As he pondered, the monk asked cautiously, "Patron, is there something wrong with this tree?"

"No," Liu Jing replied, lowering his eyes to mask his thoughts. He stood up and said, "This tree has been hacked so badly it clearly won't survive. It’s useless now. Have someone chop it down and plant a new one."

The monk glanced at the large wound, wanting to say that plum trees were not so easily killed and that, despite the damage, it could still survive. But meeting Liu Jing’s gaze, he stammered and agreed.

Liu Jing stared into his eyes and said, enunciating each word, "It is best to chop it down immediately. This wound looks too ugly; it is ghastly."

The monk hurriedly complied, promising, "I will come to chop it down in a moment."

Liu Jing took one last look at his surroundings and said, "I will come back to check later," implying it had better be gone before he returned. The monk helplessly agreed.

Liu Jing re-entered the temple through the back gate. This time, he paid closer attention to the traces on the ground. However, once past the gate, the path was paved with bluestone, and with many people moving about the temple, he could discern nothing.

He went to find the temple’s guest monk to inquire about who had entered and exited the temple that day. "Has there been a little girl, around seven or eight years old, coming or going?"

The guest monk thought for a moment and shook his head. "There have been no young female guests today."

Liu Jing frowned, thinking he might have guessed wrong, and returned to the plum garden. The monk had already brought men to fell the tree. The branches were piled haphazardly on the ground, leaving the scene in total disarray.

The site, which was already difficult to find evidence in, was now completely inscrutable. Liu Jing stood to the side for a long time with an unreadable expression, until the monk asked tentatively, "Patron, this tree has been planted for a long time and its roots are deep. It cannot be dug out all at once. Perhaps tomorrow..."

"No need to dig it out," Liu Jing said. "I see the roots are still healthy; it should be able to sprout again. Leave it be."

The monk: ...You could have said that earlier! He had trimmed away so many branches, and now only two stumps remained.

However, the monk dared not argue with the Embroidered Uniform Guard and could only agree, promising to ensure it sprouted and grew again as soon as possible.

Liu Jing turned and returned to the Zhenfusi.

Wang Yong had not returned.

Three days passed without a sign of Wang Yong. The Zhenfusi finally sent men to the Wang household, only to learn that Wang Yong had not been home for three days either. Only then did the Zhenfusi realize something was wrong.

But Liu Jing said nothing.

He placed the few wood chips, the small splinters, and a paper bird together in a box, closed it, and put it in his drawer. After some thought, he picked up the paper bird and made a trip to the Pan household.

The Pan family was packing their luggage. The events of three days ago seemed to have terrified them, and they had decided to relocate the entire family back to their hometown rather than remain in the capital.

Seeing the Embroidered Uniform Guard return, Pan Tao’s expression turned grim, but he had to muster the spirit to handle the situation. Liu Jing walked around their house, his gaze sweeping over each of their faces in turn, before asking, "Who made this paper bird that was hanging under the eaves the other day?"

Seeing the paper bird in his hand, Pan Tao’s heart hammered. He laughed hollowly, "What paper bird, my Lord? It was so chaotic that day, and my family was terrified; I have no memory of any paper bird."

Liu Jing looked at him with a faint, enigmatic smile, tapping his fingers against his sword hilt. Beside him, Pan Bo hurriedly interjected, "My Lord, I hung that paper bird. I saw it at a street stall and thought it was interesting, so I bought it to hang up."

He rushed into the room, grabbed a pouch of silver, and stuffed it into Liu Jing’s hand, saying respectfully, "Is the bird an eyesore to you, my Lord? Perhaps the boy should buy it back..."

Liu Jing accepted the money and snorted at them. He did not return the paper bird, simply turned, and walked away. No one knew if he had merely found an excuse to extort them, or if he had truly discovered something from the paper bird and just happened to collect some money along the way.

Either way, the Pan family could not afford the risk.

As soon as he left, Pan Tao said, "We cannot stay any longer. We leave tomorrow."

"But the belongings..." Madam Wang began.

"Give what we cannot carry to the neighbors, or leave it for the next occupant. We depart at dawn tomorrow," Pan Tao interrupted her. "Our lives are what matter. The Embroidered Uniform Guard is clearly watching us."

Madam Wang was deeply worried. She lowered her voice and asked, "If we leave like this, what if she comes back and cannot find us?"

Pan Tao said, "Hush! Never mention it again. Be careful of walls having ears." Pan Tao felt a wave of sorrow; his heart felt as if it were being gnawed by ants. It had been three days—if she were going to come back, she would have done so already.

Pan Tao went into the room to tell his mother about the departure at dawn the next day. Old Madam Pan opened her mouth, wanting to ask, but not daring to. The Embroidered Uniform Guard was everywhere; no one knew where they might be lurking and watching at this very moment.

Pan Tao knelt halfway before her knees and whispered, "Mother, we are going back to our hometown. Once we reach home, everything will be fine."

Old Madam Pan’s tears fell in torrents. She choked out, "Changzhou Prefecture is a thousand miles away. Our family assets are meager, and we have the old and the young with us. How can we make the journey?"

When that child left, she had been so panic-stricken that she hadn't even prepared travel money for her. Their own family would struggle to return to their ancestral home, let alone a little girl like her.

Old Madam Pan could only ask repeatedly, "Have you prepared the silver? Have you prepared the travel permit?"

Pan Tao knew she wasn't asking about their family, but about Pan Jun. Tears fell from his eyes as well, but he could only nod and choke out, "Everything is prepared, Mother. Do not worry. Everything will be fine; everything will be safe."

Thinking of her eldest son’s family, who had been exiled to Datong, Old Madam Pan finally gathered her strength and joined in packing the luggage and preparing dry rations for the road.

The next day, the Pan family bid farewell to their neighbors and boarded a carriage rented from a transport agency, heading south. They had much luggage and elderly members, so the carriage moved slowly; they estimated it would take ten to fifteen days to reach Changzhou Prefecture.

In contrast, Pan Jun and her two companions, traveling on foot and occasionally hitching rides, moved much faster. In just three days, they had traveled from the capital to Daming Prefecture.

The three were currently sitting at a small stall by the river eating noodles. Pan Jun looked up at the bustling canal nearby and asked, "Why aren't we taking a boat?"

Tao Ji replied, "No money."

Pan Jun remarked, "True. A Taoist who has to lodge in a monk's temple—it’s obvious there’s no money."

Tao Ji immediately felt the noodles in his bowl lose their flavor. He set down his chopsticks and looked at her. "Are you going to eat or not? If not, we are leaving. We need to reach Kaifeng Prefecture by tomorrow."

Pan Jun, her legs aching from the walk, stared blankly into her bowl and continued to eat. Never in her life had she walked so much.

The black cat crouched to the side, finished the noodles picked out for it, and elegantly wiped its mouth with a paw. Then it meowed at Pan Jun and held out its paw.

Pan Jun, with an expressionless face, pulled out a handkerchief to wipe its paw. Seeing the corner of its mouth glistening with broth, she reached to wipe it, but the black cat jerked its head away, pushing her hand aside with a look of utter disgust.