Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

A moment later, a young man in the crowd suddenly shouted something with red eyes.

"What about my father? He was dragged to the flower field the day before yesterday, and now we can't even find his bones. How are we going to settle this score?!"

The surroundings suddenly became quiet.

Several pairs of eyes immediately fell on him, as if they were afraid he would be dragged out on the spot at any moment.

But Siren just looked at him.

"What's your name?"

The young man's fists clenched white: "Harvey."

"What's your father's name?"

"Rek".

"Make a note of it."

Xilun tilted his head.

Rena had already picked up a pen at the long table spread out below and coldly wrote her name on it.

Xilun withdrew his gaze and continued, "The living want food, land, and houses; the dead want names, enemies, and someone to know who they are when they are buried."

"If you think a bowl of hot porridge is enough, that's your business."

"But it's not enough for me."

The young man stared at him blankly, his eyes growing redder and redder until he finally lowered his head and couldn't lift it up again.

The tension that had been building in the square seemed to ease slightly.

An elderly woman with a cane stepped forward, her voice trembling.

"My lord... will that flower still be available in the future?"

Xilun glanced in the direction of the south of the town.

"Scamay is gone."

"If they exist elsewhere, I will go and pull them out too."

The old lady was stunned for a long time, as if she couldn't believe it, and then, holding onto her cane, she slowly knelt down.

One person knelt, and several others followed suit.

Xilun didn't even raise an eyebrow, he just raised his hand.

"Get up, everyone, let's go eat."

"Kneeling won't fill your stomach."

……

After leaving the matters in the square to Rena, Xiren returned to the collapsed well.

The mother channel is completely dead.

The grayish roots looked like a pile of scorched straw ropes, breaking off piece by piece when stepped on, no longer possessing the chilling vitality of last night.

As Xilun approached, the echo chamber deep in his throat trembled slightly.

He heard something very, very faint.

It's not a sound.

It was more like some kind of residual vibration pattern, still attached between the collapsed rocks and rotting flesh, as fine as spider silk. If I hadn't recently acquired this property, I wouldn't have been able to detect it at all.

Following the subtle tremor, Xilun walked to a corner of the well wall.

There was a half-collapsed old stone slab lying there, and something seemed to be hidden under the slab.

"Move this piece aside."

Two musketeers stepped forward and, with a crowbar, pushed the stone away with a clatter, revealing a lead box half-soaked in mud and water.

The box wasn't big, but it was very heavy.

Reina rushed over upon hearing the commotion, frowning as she asked, "Why didn't we find it during the search last night?"

"It's well hidden."

Xilun took the box, and with a quick twist of his fingers, the lock clicked open.

There was no gold or silver inside.

There was only a thin booklet wrapped in layers of moisture-proof oil paper, a dark green copper plate, and three pages of tattered manuscript filled with secret writing.

The cover of the thin book is blackened and feels like dried human skin, with a nearly faded white bud mark pressed in the center.

As soon as Xilun took it out, the resonant chamber became slightly warm.

This is not an ordinary ledger.

It is something bearing traces of mysticism.

Reina also sensed something was wrong and lowered her voice, "The choir?"

"Most likely."

Xilun turned to the first page.

The paper was mixed with some kind of fiber, making it stiff and brittle, but the handwriting on it was fine and neat, as if it had been pierced stroke by stroke with an extremely fine silver needle.

In the center of the first page, there is a line written in old-style imperial language.

The Fragmentary Edition of "The Record of Prayer for Life by White Sprouts"

There is an even smaller line of text below.

"Blood nourishes its form, voice nurtures its spirit, and roots sustain its life."

Rena felt a chill run down her spine: "This doesn't sound like anything good."

Xilun didn't say anything, but simply closed the book and put it away along with the bronze piece and the tattered manuscript.

"Take it back."

"Continue searching here and see if there are any other Migs."

"Yes."

The wind blew down from the collapsed well opening, stirring up a wisp of cold air with a putrid, sweet smell.

Xilun glanced down at the black book in his palm, his gaze calm.

What he destroyed last night was mostly just a "mother plant" that had been artificially ripened.

But those who actually raise this thing clearly know more.

These things wouldn't have been buried in a border town cellar for no reason.

The further along this line goes, the less it resembles simple smuggling and human sacrifice.

It looks like they're looking for something.

……

By noon, order had finally been somewhat restored in Scamay.

A long line formed around the grain jar, and the cries of people identifying the bodies were intermittent, but no longer a chaotic cacophony of screams.

The person who had been released from prison sat by the wall drinking porridge, as if he couldn't even believe that the porridge in his hand was still warm.

Several minor officials who used to rely on Herman for their livelihood were now obediently holding the account books and checking them page by page.

Herman and several key criminals were tied to a stone pillar in the square, the sun shining down on them, sweat streaming down their faces, and none of them dared to utter a sound.

Xiren stood beside the carriage and listened to Rena's report.

"We've collected over 170 land deeds; let's seal them up first."

"Three granaries and two hidden cellars were found. A batch of banknotes and cash were also discovered, enough to cover the town's deficit."

"We also found records for seven missing persons. Some have been matched with the bodies, while others... we still need to search slowly by the flower field."

She paused at the end of her sentence.

Xilun looked at Kusso.

"Leave twelve men to guard the town entrance, the granary, and the square."

"The rest of you come back with me."

Kusso was taken aback: "Governor, why not sweep away the other three towns in one go?"

"sweep,"

Xilun looked at the dead flower field in the distance, his tone indifferent, "But not now."

"With the chaos Scamander caused last night, people elsewhere, if they weren't deaf, would have already started to back down."

"They can run, they can hide, and they can destroy things."

"Especially at times like these, you must not act recklessly."

Kusso grinned and nodded: "Understood, tie the net tight first."

Xilun hummed in agreement and then looked at Feiru.

"You stay."

Ferru tensed up.

"It's not that I believe you."

Xilun said calmly, "It's because you know this place well. You know which house faces which way, where to carry the body, and which people touch their noses before lying."

If you change your mind again—

Xilun didn't finish speaking.

Ferru lowered his head, his voice hoarse.

"I won't."

Xilun ignored him and turned to get into the car.

As the wheels rolled over the muddy ground, a little girl suddenly broke free from her mother's hand by the square, clutching a tattered rabbit, and timidly took two steps to chase after them.

She didn't dare get too close, just stood by the roadside, her eyes still red.

"Your Excellency!"

Xilun glanced sideways.

The little girl swallowed hard, as if summoning immense courage, and stammered, "Th-those flowers...really won't sing anymore?"

The carriage was silent for a moment.

Xilun looked at her and replied calmly, "No, not anymore."

The little girl stood there, nodding half-understandingly, hugging the cloth rabbit tightly, as if she had finally come to believe it.

The carriage slowly drove out of Scamay.

Along both sides of the road, a number of townspeople had gathered, seemingly out of nowhere.

Their clothes were tattered, and their faces still bore the blankness of someone still recovering from the disaster, but the way they looked at the black steam carriage was completely different from the night before.

It's no longer just fear.

They no longer just hide.

It was something they themselves couldn't quite explain—like seeing lightning strike down and kill the poisonous snake behind their house.

Still in awe, still trembling.

But finally, I dared to look up at the sky.

Inside the carriage, Xilun looked down at the book "White Sprout Prayer Record: Fragment" on his lap, and tapped the cover lightly with his fingers.

Deep within the throat, the resonant cavity trembled slightly.

He seemed to hear a very faint "life force" hidden within the pages of the book.

Like a bud that hasn't completely died yet, it's hiding in the darkness, waiting for someone to uncover it.

The events in Scamay cannot be suppressed.

In a place like the North District, death is not news, gang wipeout is not news, and even if a member of an extraordinary family turns against someone overnight or a few more corpses appear on a street, by noon the next day, it's just a few words of conversation in the tavern.

But the fact that an entire "singing flower field" was uprooted, and by the very hands of the newly appointed young governor of the Brotherhood, made things different.

In the afternoon, in the coal-smoked tavern, the coachman who ran the town route slammed his bowl down on the table, spitting as he spoke in a secretive voice.

"I saw it with my own eyes! All the flowers were dead, petal by petal, as if they had been strangled!"

"You're talking nonsense. Flowers can sing?"

"You're talking nonsense! Gunfire echoed through Scamander all night, and this morning everyone in town came out for porridge. The mayor and those knights are all tied up in the square and baking in the sun!"

"I've heard there are monsters underground, they look like a lump of flesh that can give birth..."

"Shut up, we're eating!"

On the other side, several female workers in the tailor shop stopped sewing and couldn't help but look at each other; the dockworker who carried bags didn't speak for a long time after hearing this, and when he came to his senses, the first thing he said was, "Will the people of Nascama no longer have to have their food stolen?"

Even the most indifferent newspapers rarely sent anyone to the northern district to inquire, but before actually putting pen to paper, they all tacitly deleted words like "human sacrifice," "hymn singing," and "mother's ditch," leaving only an ambiguous sentence—

"Brotherhood Governor Celan quelled a major evil case in Scamay last night, and the order of towns and villages in the North District may be about to be reshaped."

The word "shuffle" is enough to keep many people up at night.

……

Tusol Estate

The atmosphere inside the main hall was even cooler than the autumn wind outside.

Black Star placed the intelligence report in his hand on the table and glanced at the people present.

"The news is true. Herman's line has been cut off, and Scamay's flower field is completely ruined."

"Mountie is dead, Ino is dead, and the thread that the choir buried in the four towns has also been unearthed by Siron."

Oro sat to the side, his face somewhat somber.

"He moved way too fast."

"He was cultivating in the back mountains just three days ago, and now he dares to touch what the secret chanting choir has set up... Isn't he afraid of causing even bigger trouble?"

Oin sneered and tapped his knuckles on the table.

"Afraid?"

"If he were truly afraid, he wouldn't have pressured Losfa in front of so many people at the banquet, nor would he have talked with those armed insurgents until late that night."

"Now he's going after the choir—others see him as ruthless, but I see him as having the confidence to back it up."

Oro frowned: "Father, you mean...?"

"I didn't say he had already sided with the armed insurgents."

Aoin leaned back in his chair, his eyes dark and menacing. "But at least, the armed insurgents treat him differently."

"A North District governor from the Brotherhood, who just got our 'Mysterious Yin Breathing Technique,' then turned around and got close to Rainer and his group, and now dares to pick fights for the North District choir—do you really think he's just hot-blooded?"

Black Star did not respond immediately.

He understood better than Oro that among the six major parishes in the North District, everyone wanted to expand their influence and take over territory, but when it came to really going to strike hard at the Whisper Choir, most people would first weigh whether it was worth it.

Xilun, however, seemed not to have considered it at all.

Or perhaps he had already weighed the pros and cons, which is why he dared to make the move.

Austin remained silent in the main seat.

Beside him sat a cup of untouched hot tea, the steam rising gently and blurring half of his face.

After a moment, he spoke calmly.

"Having connections with armed insurgents is not necessarily a bad thing."

Oin narrowed his eyes immediately: "Chieftain, you still want to pull him in?"

"Why aren't you pooping?"

Austin looked at him, his tone unhurried, "A second-tier Ripper, young, tough, and smart. If he really manages to get involved with the armed insurgents, rather than pushing him away, we should keep the rope in our hands for now."

"not to mention--"

He paused, then pointed to the intelligence report.

"This Scamay incident is not as simple as just killing Jada."

"The secret choir was able to plant their own messages in four towns, but Tusol didn't get a single tip-off. What does that mean? It means that we don't have as many eyes as we think."

Oin's expression darkened further.

He certainly understood the barb in those words.

In recent years, many peripheral businesses and shady dealings in the northern townships have indeed been kept in the sights of people from his faction.

If the choir was indeed secretly raising something in that area without the family's knowledge, it meant either that the lower-ups were incompetent, or that someone in the lower-ups was turning a blind eye.

Neither of them is something to be proud of.

After a moment of silence, Oro suddenly asked, "If Ruoxilun really is using the power of the armed insurgents to first purify the choir in the North District and then interfere in the towns, will he also drag us into it?"

After this question was raised, the main hall fell silent.

Austin looked at the tea in his cup and said calmly, "That's why we need to see clearly what he really wants."

Oin scoffed, "All he wants are resources, status, and fame—aren't all people who climb up from the bottom like that?"

"Father."

Oro let out a soft cry, as if he felt that the words were a bit too confident.

Oin ignored him and simply clenched his fist slowly.

He didn't simply dislike Xilun.

More accurately, it was fear.

The family only has so much food that can be provided for a second-tier extraordinary individual: Yin Spirit Source Water, Profound Yin Supplementary Materials, old file permissions, and second-tier combat instructors...

With each portion distributed, Oro's path upwards narrows by an inch.

He can accept the presence of enemies outside.

But he couldn't accept that someone was using the family's connections to come in and gnaw on his son's bones.

Just then, footsteps suddenly came from outside the door.

A butler strode in and bowed slightly.

"Chief, Mr. Xilun has arrived."

Several people in the hall looked up at the same time.

Oin's gaze darkened, and a cold smile appeared on his lips.

"They came quickly."