What do you mean by saying that the corpses I sew are all ominous creatures?

I immediately thought of Butterfly Valley.

That mysterious force, hidden deep within the Ten Thousand Mountains, skilled in witchcraft and sorcery, who once killed my grandfather and caused a serious internal strife ten years ago.

Could it be that the employer behind Yan Shouyi is also Wan Die Gu?

If that's the case, then things are becoming increasingly complicated.

The Shadow Sect, the Guardians of the Cauldron, and the Valley of Ten Thousand Butterflies—three forces that originally seemed to have nothing in common—actually came together in Jiangcheng.

I leaned back on the bench, watching the birds that occasionally flew by in the sky, thinking as I waited patiently.

About forty minutes passed.

The glass door of the office building was pushed open, and Zhang Xuanqing glanced around before quickly walking towards the bench where I was sitting.

His expression was more relaxed than before, but his eyes still held a serious look.

"Brother Chen, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."

Zhang Xuanqing walked up to me and nodded slightly.

I stood up, picked up my backpack, and smiled gently.

"It's alright, Taoist priest. Have all the formalities been completed?"

"Yes, everything has been handed over."

Zhang Xuanqing nodded, glanced around, and lowered his voice to speak.

"This is not the place to talk; there are too many people and too many eyes in the General Administration."

"Brother Chen, if you don't mind, shall we find a quiet teahouse, sit down, and have a leisurely chat?"

"Alright, I'll leave it to you to arrange, Taoist Master."

Without hesitation, I followed Zhang Xuanqing toward the side gate of the General Administration compound.

Zhang Xuanqing and I walked out of the side door of the Folklore Bureau side by side.

The midday sun in Beijing was quite dazzling, and the streets were bustling with traffic, creating a stark contrast to the solemn and quiet atmosphere inside the General Administration compound.

We didn't go far; in an old alley less than two streets from the side gate, we found a teahouse with a quaint facade.

This teahouse is a quiet oasis amidst the hustle and bustle, with the words "Jingxinzhai" carved on its wooden signboard, exuding a sense of the passage of time.

Zhang Xuanqing was clearly quite familiar with this kind of place. After entering, he asked the waiter for a private room on the second floor, the one furthest inside.

The private room wasn't large, but it was decorated very elegantly.

A root-carved tea table, several bamboo-woven chairs, and a rubbing of the Tao Te Ching with flowing calligraphy hanging on the wall.

Closing the wooden door to the private room instantly shut out the noise from outside.

Only a small bronze incense burner remained in the corner of the room, slowly releasing wisps of calming sandalwood incense.

Zhang Xuanqing did not ask the waiter to stay and help. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves and skillfully began to boil water, wash the tea, and brew it.

His movements carried a rhythm unique to Taoists, flowing smoothly and without haste.

I sat quietly opposite him, placed my backpack on the empty chair beside me, and watched the boiling water churn in the teapot and the tea leaves unfurl in the cup.

"Brother Chen, try this aged Pu'er tea."

Although it can't compare to the wild tea grown on Longhu Mountain, it's still considered a rare and excellent product in Beijing.

Zhang Xuanqing pushed a cup of clear, bright red tea in front of me and said in a gentle tone.

"Thank you, Master Zhang."

I nodded slightly in thanks, picked up the teacup, gently blew on the rising steam, and took a small sip.

The tea soup has a mellow taste with a subtle aged aroma, which can indeed calm the mind.

After putting down my teacup, I looked at Zhang Xuanqing and said, "Daoist Master, there are no outsiders here now."

What clues did you find in western Hunan?

Who exactly is the mysterious employer behind Yan Shouyi?

Zhang Xuanqing did not answer immediately.

He picked up the teacup in front of him, his gaze fixed on the gently rippling tea, as if he were organizing his thoughts.

After a moment, he looked up, met my eyes, and asked a question that puzzled me.

"Young friend Chen, since you are a descendant of the Corpse-Sewing lineage, have you ever heard of a family surnamed Sang in the Southern Frontier?"

"The Sang family?"

I frowned slightly, searched my memory carefully, and then shook my head.

"Master, although I grew up with my grandfather in the countryside of Guizhou Province, all I've ever been exposed to are funerals in the surrounding villages."

As for the forces in the southern border region, apart from Wan Die Valley and the Lan family, with whom I later had dealings, I really knew nothing about the others.

Does the Sang family have any special background?

Zhang Xuanqing sighed softly and placed the teacup back on the table.

"It's normal that you haven't heard of it, because this family completely disappeared from the world thirty years ago."

Zhang Xuanqing's voice became somewhat low, as if he were telling a secret buried by time.

Thirty years ago, the Sang family was a well-known family of cultivators in the outskirts of the Hundred Thousand Mountains in southern Xinjiang.

And their family's ancestral craftsmanship happens to follow the same path as your lineage of mortem stitching.

The descendants of the Sang family are not only skilled in handling corpses of those who died violently or harbor deep resentment, but also possess some extraordinary techniques that even orthodox Taoist sects find inconceivable.

Upon hearing the words "the lineage of corpse sewing," my eyes narrowed slightly.

But I maintained a calm demeanor on the surface and listened quietly.

"But the tallest tree in the forest will surely be felled by the wind."

Zhang Xuanqing continued.

"About thirty years ago, in the dead of night, the Sang family suffered a devastating disaster."

Several top powers in southern Xinjiang joined forces to launch a siege against the Sang family.

That battle was extremely fierce; the entire Sang family, numbering in the dozens, was slaughtered overnight, and even their ancestral home was burned to the ground.

"They were wiped out by a combined attack from several top-tier powers?"

I asked in surprise.

"What heinous crime did the Sang family commit to deserve such a devastating calamity?"

"However, the reasons given by those forces were quite plausible."

A cold, mocking smile curled at the corner of Zhang Xuanqing's lips.

"They claimed that the Sang family secretly practiced evil arts, using living people to sew up corpses and refine evil spirits, which violated the laws of heaven and human ethics."

Therefore, they are acting on behalf of Heaven to cleanse the house.

At this point, Zhang Xuanqing paused, his gaze becoming profound.

"However, some of our predecessors from Longhu Mountain also traveled to the southern border and secretly investigated this matter."

Anyone with eyes can see that this talk of acting on behalf of Heaven is nothing more than a pretext to cover up greed.

What that group really wanted was a secret manual passed down through the Sang family.

Zhang Xuanqing lowered his voice and said, word by word:

"That is a secret book that is said to contain several heaven-defying techniques, and its name is... 'The Heavenly Robe Strategy'."

boom!

The moment Zhang Xuanqing uttered the words "Tianyi Ce," I felt as if a thunderbolt had suddenly exploded in my mind.

Even my hands, which were resting on my knees, tightened unconsciously, my nails almost digging into my palms.

But my facial expression didn't change at all, and even my breathing remained steady.