Chapter 18: Where Is It Hidden?
Two days slipped by like a fleeting shadow.
During this time, Chen Yan remained within his residence, not once stepping beyond its threshold. Hunger was an issue easily resolved—if not by summoning meals through the ethereal pathways of food delivery, then by his own hand, conjuring up a few simple dishes in the kitchen. The Blue Stone Slabs he had ordered had yet to arrive, and without them, the grand formation he had in mind could not begin.
Half his days were devoted to meditative cultivation, practicing the art of Vital Energy Circulation, drawing the essence of the world into his meridians. The sensation of energy coursing through his body was intoxicating—yet he dared not overindulge, for at his current level, his mortal vessel could only endure so much.
Ever since he had cast Lu Si Si into the water, his Qi Merit had once again surged. Emboldened, Chen Yan took this chance to delve into a new mystical art from the treasured manual in his possession.
The Decree.
In truth, this was no mere technique but an entire compendium of arts, each manifesting as a unique sigil of power: Defense, Attack, Control, Concealment—the list went on, an arsenal of boundless potential. Some sigils were easy to grasp, others as elusive as mist. Yet each could be studied separately, allowing for focused mastery.
Chen Yan had chosen this particular art with the same careful deliberation he had applied to his Spirit-Gathering Formation—low entry, high ceiling, and all-encompassing utility. The Defense Sigil could forge a barrier of Vital Energy, shielding him from peril. The Attack Sigil, the Control Sigil, those attuned to water and fire—all were as their names suggested, their applications as numerous as the stars in the sky.
But Chen Yan was nothing if not prudent.
His Qi Cultivation was shallow, and thus his first choice of study was none other than…
The Evasion Sigil—a technique designed solely for escape.
The Evasion Sigil was among the simplest to train, and after two days of relentless effort, Chen Yan had already reached its threshold of mastery. The rest would be dictated by his cultivation—those of greater strength could traverse greater distances in an instant, while those weaker, like himself, could only move so far.
Once the sigil was within his grasp, he sealed himself within his courtyard and devoted himself to practice, darting back and forth with abandon. From the eastern wall to the western edge of the yard, a distance of a hundred paces at least—yet with three light, flowing steps, he could now cross it as if soaring on the wind.
His movements were akin to a swallow skimming the water’s surface, rising and falling in rhythmic harmony.
The exhilaration was immeasurable!
The first time he succeeded, he was no different from a child with a new toy, bounding about the courtyard for an entire afternoon. Were it not for his concern of prying eyes, he might have dashed onto the main roads and put his newfound skill to the ultimate test.
“Damn it, this courtyard is still too small. Once I master the Concealment Sigil, I’ll be free to roam as I please!”
The night arrived for the long-anticipated ritual.
Shortly past ten, Assistant Yan arrived on schedule, accompanied by his entourage.
To accept a task was to see it through—Chen Yan held this principle in high regard. He fastened his three most trusted treasures onto his person, greeted Assistant Yan with a polite nod, and departed with a contented smile.
As for Luo Qing, the man did not spare him so much as a glance.
Three vehicles rolled into the Villa’s Garage—two sleek black vans and a luxury sedan. From one van, several figures emerged, presumably the subordinates of President Fang or Luo Qing. The second, however, was no passenger vehicle. Through the darkened windows, Chen Yan discerned that its seats had been removed, replaced with a series of objects, all hidden beneath yellow cloth.
Yet, he was a man of his word.
He had promised to stay away and would not betray his own decree.
However, once the garage doors shut, and both the courtyard gate and villa entrance were secured, Chen Yan casually strolled down the road, making a leisurely detour.
He wound his way to the right side of his own villa, where he settled himself along the edge of the neighborhood’s internal path. Behind him was a decorative flowerbed and a row of neatly trimmed shrubbery. Beyond that, the courtyard wall of his own home.
He had sworn not to step inside, but there had been no mention of loitering nearby.
Time drifted by.
For over half an hour, Chen Yan idly scrolled through his phone, estimating the timing within the villa. The ritual was to commence at the hour of the Rat—by his calculations, that meant eleven o’clock sharp.
He had left the villa around ten-thirty. Now, at nearly eleven-fifteen, the ceremony should have long since begun.
Taking a deep breath, he focused his Vital Energy, channeling it into his eyes.
The Heavenly Eye Qi-Observing Technique was activated, his gaze penetrating the veil of night as he silently employed the calculations of Fate Circulation.
His breathing slowed. He became as still as the statues that lined ancient temple halls, his entire being attuned to the ebb and flow of Vital Energy within his villa’s walls.
One minute.
Five minutes.
Ten minutes.
Twenty minutes passed.
Winter’s chill gnawed at the air, and by now, close to midnight, the frost-laced wind had turned his nose crimson.
Yet his ears, sharpened by cultivation, caught something.
Beyond the courtyard wall, from the depths of his own yard, he heard the voice of Luo Qing—muttering, chanting, his cadence peculiar.
The melody of his recitation bore an uncanny resemblance to the incantations Chen Yan’s grandmother had once used in her own shamanic rites.
And yet…
No Vital Energy fluctuation.
Not even a whisper.
“Impossible. A genuine ritual would stir the flow of energy—how could there be none?”
A thought struck him, and he chuckled under his breath.
“Hah! A charlatan!”
So much for the so-called expert. President Fang had clearly fallen victim to an elaborate con.
Now that the matter was settled in his mind, Chen Yan saw no reason to linger.
Rising, he stretched his limbs, dusted off his coat, and set off toward the neighborhood’s main gate. With a quick tap on his phone, he hailed a ride and directed it toward the Eastern University City.
There, in a certain familiar internet café, a long and carefree night awaited.
In the shadow of the bustling Market Street, hidden within a narrow alleyway, stood an old two-story business building. Its faded sign bore four bold, colorful characters: Extreme Net Cafe.
Chen Yan, well-versed in the ways of this place, pushed open the door. At once, he was embraced by a wave of warmth, the Extreme Net Cafe’s heating working tirelessly against the winter chill. Yet, the familiar scent of a summer boys’ dormitory greeted him just as swiftly.
Smoke curled lazily in the air, mingling with the unmistakable aroma of instant noodles. The clatter of keyboards formed a constant backdrop, punctuated by the occasional burst of curses. His gaze swept across the first-floor hall—at least a hundred computers, most occupied by students who had likely slipped away from their schools to indulge in a night-long battle of games.
Chen Yan strode to the counter and grinned. “Boss Lady, open a machine for me. Overnight session.”
Behind the counter, a woman lounged in her chair, her eyes fixed on a period drama playing on her computer. At his words, she lifted her gaze, her eyes flashing with a playful glint as she shot him a sultry glare.
“Well, well, Little Yan,” she teased. “It’s been a while since I last saw you.”
“I graduated,” Chen Yan replied easily. “Didn’t bring my ID. Can you swipe me in?”
Without hesitation, the Boss Lady plucked an ID card from the pile at hand—whose it was, who knew?—and leaned forward, scanning it against the verification machine.
Beep.
Chen Yan inhaled quietly.
Ah, truly, the Extreme Net Cafe’s one and only flower.
Despite looking no older than thirty, the Boss Lady possessed large, expressive eyes set in a delicate face, her naturally exquisite features further enhanced by the mature allure of a woman in her prime. And then, there was her figure—curves in all the right places, exuding the grace of a seasoned beauty.
Most fatal of all—
The way her slender waist accentuated her full hips.
Even the slightest lean forward, the barest tilt of her upper body, and at least eight out of ten men would find themselves momentarily dazed.
Back when he was still in university, he and his friends would often joke about it.
[Why rent a machine for the night? If you have the money, rent the Boss Lady for the night instead!]
She was well aware of the stares she drew but paid them no mind. Running a Market Street business, she was long accustomed to the eyes of young men.
But to truly cross the line?
None dared.
After all, behind this alluring proprietress stood three brothers—notoriously difficult men, each one built like a human fortress, their brawny arms thicker than some men’s thighs, bodies adorned with inked dragons and savage tigers.
One of them bore a crescent-shaped scar on his scalp, a rumored souvenir from a blade duel in his youth.
With these three looming like guardian deities over the Boss Lady, her business remained an unshakable stronghold.
“Machine 46. Go on.”
She tapped at her computer and tossed a numbered card his way.
Chen Yan caught it and added, “Get me some supper—instant noodles, add a sausage and an egg.”
The Boss Lady beamed. “Look at you, spending like a man with a salary now.”
She turned and called out, “Xiao Gu! Machine 46—instant noodles, sausage, egg!”
A crisp voice answered from behind the rows of computers.
“Got it.”
Chen Yan turned his head, catching sight of a girl’s back.
She wore a black, slightly outdated winter coat—wait, why did that coat seem familiar?
Her long, thick braid rested against her back, swaying slightly as she bent down, sweeping cigarette butts from the floor.
Chen Yan’s gaze lingered only a moment before he looked away and casually asked, “Hired someone?”
“Nah, can’t afford to,” the Boss Lady replied, tearing open a bag of potato chips. “She’s a stray. Yesterday, I saw her wandering up and down Market Street for hours, looking like she was about to keel over from hunger. Took pity on her and got her a bowl of noodles.
“Turns out she came to Jin Ling Prefecture looking for someone. Got her phone and wallet stolen. Can’t find the person, doesn’t even have a coin to her name.”
Chen Yan chuckled. “Should’ve reported it. Let the Imperial Authority handle it.”
“She won’t go,” the Boss Lady murmured, lowering her voice. “That’s why I think… maybe she ran away from home. Doesn’t dare see the law.
“I couldn’t just leave her starving, so I let her stay here for a few days. She searches during the day, comes back before six, and helps out at night—sweeping, taking orders, whatever needs doing.
“Past midnight, when it’s quiet, she sleeps on the steel cot in the storeroom.
“No wages, but I cover her meals.”
Hearing this, Chen Yan wasn’t quite sure what to think.
Half-believed it, half didn’t.
The Boss Lady had her reasons for avoiding the Imperial Authority too. A Market Street establishment like this had its fair share of gray areas—fire codes, curfews, and, well, three brothers who looked anything but law-abiding. She’d hardly go inviting trouble.
Still, her kindness was undeniable.
In these times, a single free meal was already rare enough. Who else would take a lost girl in, feeding and sheltering her?
Shrugging off the thought, Chen Yan went to his station, slipped on his headphones, and dove into the world of games.
He lost himself in battle, unaware of the approaching footsteps.
A hand stretched into his vision, placing a steaming bowl of noodles on the desk.
Chen Yan clicked his mouse, his arm lifting a bit too forcefully.
The girl behind him dodged instinctively, but the sudden movement jostled the bowl, and a few droplets of broth splashed onto his hand.
Before he could react, a clear, quick voice rang out.
“Sorry!”
The girl spun away before he could even turn his head.
Chen Yan blinked.
That voice… it was rather pleasant.
And oddly familiar.
Just as he was about to turn and steal a glance, a shout erupted through his headset.
“Shit! Top lane! Where’s my backup?! Move it!!”
There was no time to think.
Shaking off his curiosity, Chen Yan adjusted his headset and refocused.
In the storeroom behind the Extreme Net Cafe, Miss Gu slipped inside and pressed herself against the door, peeking through the crack at the gaming hall beyond.
She had recognized him.
Chen Yan.
Two days ago—the one she stole the chicken bucket from.
Fortunately, he didn’t seem to recognize her.
Sighing in relief, she slumped onto the steel cot.
Yet, her thoughts refused to settle.
So many days…
And still, the vile Chen Family had not surfaced.
Where were they hiding?!
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation