Chapter 15.

At dawn, before the first light fully broke, Yin Chengyu left the guesthouse in a carriage, heading toward Fushou Temple (Temple of Longevity and Blessings) through a small, less-traveled alleyway. Officially, he claimed he was going to offer the first incense of the day—a reasonable excuse, given the temple's renown in Tianjin. His visit wouldn’t raise suspicion from Wan Youliang or his men.

Xue Shu accompanied him but remained discreet. To avoid drawing attention, he didn’t join the main entourage and instead shared the carriage with Yin Chengyu.

The guesthouse carriage was far less comfortable than the spacious ones from the Eastern Palace. Already fatigued from rising early, Yin Chengyu found the bumpy ride over uneven roads outside the city unsettling. Glancing at Xue Shu, who appeared perfectly composed, he gestured to the empty space beside him and ordered, “Sit here.”

Xue Shu obediently moved closer but barely opened his mouth before being cut off by a sharp glance.

“Sit still. No fidgeting, and don’t talk,” Yin Chengyu snapped.

With that, he leaned back, resting his head on Xue Shu’s lap. Compared to the rigid cushions, this makeshift pillow was far more comfortable.

“Massage my head,” he commanded casually, closing his eyes with the ease of someone used to being served.

Xue Shu, feeling the weight on his lap, lowered his gaze. His eyes landed on Yin Chengyu’s serene face, framed by delicate, trembling lashes and soft lips pressed in a light, inviting pout. Memories of dreams he dared not voice flashed in his mind—dreams where those lips were bitten, blood beading on their surface, radiating a dangerously alluring charm.

It was a beauty both untouchable and tempting, like a cold moon fallen from the heavens, now stained with mortal desires.

The cold moon from the nine heavens crashed into the mortal world, tainted by filth, turning dangerously seductive and stunning.

Xue Shu unconsciously licked his lips, a primal urge stirring within, whispering its forbidden promises: Get closer. Take him. Corrupt him.

Pull this rare, noble man into the dirt—make him reek of it, mark him with it, and drag him down into the filth. Let him sink so deep there's no way out.

But he pushed it down, exhaling deeply to steady himself. His fingers, steady but restrained, began kneading Yin Chengyu’s head, carefully avoiding his hairpin and applying just enough pressure.

Seated and reclining in close quarters, Xue Shu’s gaze inevitably drifted over Yin Chengyu’s face. His attention lingered, unashamedly taking in every detail.

“If you keep staring at me, I’ll throw you out,” Yin Chengyu’s annoyed voice broke the silence. He opened his eyes, glaring at Xue Shu. He’d intended to nap, but Xue Shu’s intense gaze was impossible to ignore, prickling like a physical presence.

Though the tone carried little real anger, it emboldened Xue Shu. “Your Highness is beautiful,” he said, meeting the glare with unexpected boldness.

Yin Chengyu almost laughed in disbelief. Was this insolence or just unchecked audacity?

He sat up, pointed to the door, and sneered. “Then get out. Right now.”

Xue Shu didn’t move but lowered his gaze, avoiding further defiance. “We’re not at Fushou Temple yet.”

And until they arrived, discretion was still required.

Yin Chengyu pressed his fingers to his temple, letting out a frustrated sigh. He jabbed a finger at Xue Shu, voice biting. “Fine. Once we’re at Fushou Temple, you’re getting out. And you’re not riding a horse, either!”

Xue Shu nodded meekly. “Yes, Your Highness. Shall I continue the massage?”

“Shut your mouth, and maybe I’ll stop getting headaches,” Yin Chengyu retorted, throwing him a withering glare before turning to look out the window, dismissing him entirely.

The carriage rolled on for forty-five minutes before finally arriving at the Fushou Temple.

Yin Chengyu stepped inside, offered the first incense, and had a simple vegetarian meal before departing. But instead of heading back to Tianjin City, he took a detour down a hidden path, leading to his true destination: a secluded Taoist temple nestled halfway up Baxian Mountain.

The temple had clearly seen better days. Its front pillars were peeling, and the characters on the plaque above the entrance had faded so much that only the words "White Crane (Baihe) Temple" could barely be discerned from afar.

Yin Chengyu didn’t approach. Instead, he signaled silently, ordering his men to surround the temple.

Standing beside him, Xue Shu immediately understood his intention and whispered, “Who are we catching, Your Highness?”

“A slippery old Taoist.”

Yin Chengyu then explained the backstory.

White Crane Temple had long fallen into ruin, with no incense offerings for years. The Taoists once residing there had either left or scattered. In the end, only two remained to guard its dilapidated halls: one was the late Taoist Wangchen; the other was today’s target—the elusive old Taoist.

These two were once master and apprentice. When the temple’s upkeep became impossible, they descended the mountain to make a living, swindling people with pseudo-mystical tricks. The old Taoist orchestrated scare tactics in the shadows, while Wangchen posed as an aloof and otherworldly sage, reeling in clients and selling talismans at extortionate prices.

Eventually, Wangchen gained some notoriety through his schemes, catching the attention of Wan Youliang and later Yin Chengjing, who sent him to Wangjing City.

Neither Wan Youliang nor Yin Chengjing knew, however, that Wangchen’s talents—like forging handwriting and seals—were entirely taught by his master.

The old Taoist was far craftier than his apprentice, choosing to stay in the shadows and avoid exposure. If not for Yin Chengyu’s thorough investigation of Wangchen’s past, which revealed these clues and led them here, his existence might have remained hidden.

A veteran of the streets, the old Taoist was not only highly alert but also surprisingly skilled. Yin Chengyu had once sent men to apprehend him, but the wily man slipped away.

They thought he wouldn’t return, but to their surprise, he had disguised himself and sneaked back into the temple.

As soon as Yin Chengyu got word, he personally led his team to the scene.

Wangchen’s premature death had left many leads cold, but the old Taoist likely knew as much, if not more, than his former apprentice. To ensure nothing went awry, Yin Chengyu brought Xue Shu along.

“Go. Don’t let him escape.”

After a pause, Yin Chengyu added, “Those who’ve faced him say he’s got some uncanny tricks and is devilishly hard to pin down. Be careful.”

Xue Shu nodded and approached the temple.

He deliberately made his footsteps loud, pausing at the tightly shut door to glance around hesitantly. Then, with a seemingly unsure demeanor, he knocked on the door.

“Is anyone there? Hello?”

When no one responded, he raised his voice. “If no one answers, I’m coming in! Apologies in advance to the heavenly deities for any disrespect.”

Muttering nervously, he bowed toward each direction like a lost traveler, uneasy and polite, before cautiously pushing the temple door open.

The decrepit temple had no functioning latch, so the door creaked open without resistance. Peeking inside with exaggerated caution, Xue Shu slowly stepped in.

Just as he took his first step, a raspy voice rang out from the shadows: “Who are you?”

Xue Shu flinched as if startled, turning toward the source with an anxious expression. Even his voice trembled slightly as he replied, “I got separated from my friend and lost my way. It’s getting late, and I was hoping to stay here for the night. Are you the master of this temple? Could you grant me shelter?”

The old Taoist squinted as he scrutinized Xue Shu from head to toe. After a long pause, he stepped forward to shut the temple door. "Come in. You can stay in the rear chamber for the night. Don't wander around."

Xue Shu gave a grateful smile and, without suspicion, walked ahead, curiously glancing around. "I didn’t know there was a temple on Baxian Mountain. Is it just you living here, Daozhang?"

"Yes," the old Taoist followed, his gaze briefly flicking to Xue Shu’s wrist. "The temple’s remote, not many visitors..."

Even as he spoke, a dagger slid silently from his sleeve, and he lunged to stab Xue Shu in the back.

But Xue Shu had anticipated the attack. He sidestepped, seized the old man's wrist, and swept his leg in a counterattack. Yet, the Taoist twisted his arm like a slippery fish, escaping the hold and retreating to the rear hall.

Xue Shu’s eyes narrowed in disdain as he glanced at the slick residue on his hand. It was clear the old man had smeared himself with something like frog eggs—colorless, slippery, and perfect for escape tricks. Street performers often used such sleights for deception.

Smirking, Xue Shu drew a meteor hammer he had prepared and gave chase.

The Taoist, slower than Xue Shu, tried his old trick again but found himself outmatched. This time, Xue Shu kept his distance and hurled the meteor hammer.

The spiked head smashed into the Taoist's waist, and the chain wrapped around him in two tight loops, binding him securely.

The old man stumbled and fell hard, unable to rise.

Xue Shu approached to capture him, but the seemingly incapacitated Taoist suddenly flashed a sinister grin, opening his mouth to reveal a hidden weapon.

Unfazed, Xue Shu struck faster. Before the man could release the concealed dart, Xue Shu dislocated his jaw with a decisive snap. A small bamboo tube clattered to the ground, its secret now harmless.

Xue Shu bound the Taoist’s hands with the meteor hammer’s chain and severed a tendon in one foot to prevent escape. He then dragged the man outside without a second thought.

The Taoist could only watch helplessly as Xue Shu crushed the bamboo tube underfoot, flashing him a cold smile. The pretense of innocence and meekness was gone.

Outside, Yin Chengyu had been waiting for barely two quarters of an hour when Xue Shu appeared, dragging the Taoist behind him.

He shoved the man before Yin Chengyu with a smirk. "Caught him."

Though Yin Chengyu said nothing, his approving gaze made it clear he was pleased.

He studied the Taoist, who looked utterly disheveled after the fight. Yet the man still managed to muster some defiance, standing tall despite his injuries. "Who are you? Robbing and killing in broad daylight! Aren’t you afraid of the authorities?"

The Taoist’s bluster painted him as an indignant victim, though the act fell flat.

Yin Chengyu didn’t respond, but Xue Shu’s expression darkened.

With a sharp kick to the man’s knees, Xue Shu sent him collapsing to the ground.

The Taoist gasped as his kneecaps slammed into the dirt.

Not satisfied, Xue Shu grabbed a guard’s sheathed sword and brought it down hard on the Taoist’s back, forcing him to the ground entirely. With his face pressed into the dust, the Taoist heard Xue Shu’s icy voice above him.

"Who do you think you are? Speak on your knees."

———Author’s Note: Puppy: Only I can argue with His Highness. His Highness: ? No, you can’t. :)