Chapter Sixty-Four: The Crossing Pavilion

Cloud Dew City.

The city of demonic cultivators differed most visibly from the cities of the righteous path in the way its inhabitants dressed—vibrant, flamboyant, and altogether peculiar. Every conceivable style could be found, as if the city itself encouraged the uninhibited expression of one’s true nature, even as it laid bare the complexities of the human soul.

Qu Yiqiu entered the famed Crossing Pavilion, her crimson robe ablaze like fire, one fragrant shoulder exposed, her graceful figure drawing every gaze.

The Crossing Pavilion had stood for tens of thousands of years, its network of informants stretching across the continent’s coasts. It was an intelligence-gathering organization, shrouded in mystery; none had ever seen the true face of its successive masters.

No sooner had Qu Yiqiu stepped across the threshold than a maidservant approached, her expression wooden yet respectful.

“Why have you come, immortal one? To find someone, to kill, to rescue, to seek treasure, or to sell goods?”

Qu Yiqiu made no haste to answer. She glanced over the maid’s exposed skin—smooth as snow, exquisitely curved—so lifelike, yet unmistakably the work of a master puppet-maker.

“I am here to find someone.”

The maid lowered her gaze and turned to lead the way. “Please follow me, immortal one.”

Qu Yiqiu complied, following her through a back door, past a pond thick with lotus leaves, along winding corridors, until they stopped before a door intricately carved with the figures of guardian beasts.

“Protector of a Thousand Faces, this guest has come seeking someone.”

Qu Yiqiu stood behind her, peering into the room.

Beyond a cascading crystal bead curtain, the vague shadow of a semi-reclining cultivator could be seen.

“I understand. You may go.” The man’s voice was low and hoarse from behind the curtain.

The puppet maid bowed, her face still wooden, and withdrew.

“Please come in, immortal one. Sit, and let us speak at ease.” The man’s voice invited her further.

Qu Yiqiu crossed the threshold, noticing at once a round meditation cushion before an exquisite rosewood table. As she sat, the door behind her closed automatically.

She maintained her composure, seating herself upon the cushion.

“Protector of a Thousand Faces, I am here to learn the whereabouts of two people. How do you calculate the price for such a request?”

“There’s no need to rush. Tell me first—how long have they been missing? Where did they vanish? How old are they? Do they have any distinguishing features?”

“Once I have the details, I can assess their value and determine your cost.”

As he spoke, the man behind the curtain raised a hand.

Qu Yiqiu saw him toss out a palm-sized object, which rolled from behind the curtain and transformed into a boy of seven or eight.

The boy was not as lifelike as the maid who greeted her, but he moved with remarkable dexterity as he brewed a pot of spiritual tea.

“The ones missing are my parents. They’ve been gone for over a month. I don’t know where they disappeared. Both are around forty-two years old. Their most distinctive feature… they’re both rather good-looking, I suppose?”

Qu Yiqiu pondered, but could only come up with this single trait.

The man behind the curtain seemed momentarily speechless, offering no immediate reply.

Was that really all that set them apart?

“The information you have is too vague. Record their appearance and cultivation in a jade slip. Once I’ve reviewed it, I’ll give you the price.”

Qu Yiqiu nodded. “That’s no problem. But I’ve heard your organization can expedite the search for an additional fee. Is that true?”

“It is. If you can offer a price we cannot refuse, we will find the person you seek within the time you specify.”

He spoke with utter confidence.

To him, Qu Yiqiu was merely an ordinary female cultivator with weak spiritual power, searching for her own parents, whose cultivation would hardly be significant.

For tracking the whereabouts of low-level cultivators, the Crossing Pavilion could usually resolve such cases within ten days. The outcome hinged only on the price offered; the Pavilion would then choose an opportune moment to deliver the person.

As for whether the person was alive or dead, unless specified otherwise, they bore no responsibility.

Qu Yiqiu frowned slightly, her expression troubled.

The man behind the curtain immediately sensed her hesitation—was she wavering over the extra cost?

After all, for low-level cultivators, spirit stones were hard to come by. He found it understandable that someone with her cultivation would be reluctant to part with them.

Qu Yiqiu’s face grew complex, her brows tightly knit, her eyes uncertain—torn between reluctance and longing.

The man closed his eyes, breathing deeply, and did not rush her.

At length, Qu Yiqiu seemed to reach a decision.

“So long as the Crossing Pavilion can summon my parents back swiftly, I will pay whatever spirit stones are required!”

A mysterious smile played on the man’s lips as he opened his eyes. “Are you certain? If we find them and you cannot pay, do you know what will happen?”

A chill ran down Qu Yiqiu’s shoulders. She hugged herself involuntarily. “I know. If I cannot pay, I willingly submit myself to the Pavilion’s service.”

She bit her lip in fear, her lashes trembling, though she forced herself to appear resolute.

The man’s lips curled. “Leave the jade slip and go. In ten days, the Pavilion will deliver both the people and the price.”

“Um…” Qu Yiqiu looked up timidly at him.

The man’s brows drew together in displeasure. “What is it now?”

Qu Yiqiu hesitated, concern written on her face. “If the Pavilion cannot find my parents within ten days, what then?”

The man behind the curtain tipped his head back and laughed.

Qu Yiqiu continued to watch his shadow, undeterred.

“Rest assured, the Pavilion never promises what it cannot deliver! Should that day ever come, our longstanding rule is this: we will not take a single spirit stone, and will compensate your losses, agreeing unconditionally to do three things for you.”

His voice was hoarse but tinged with amusement, clearly unconcerned by her question.

“That’s reassuring. Could you provide a token of guarantee?” Qu Yiqiu breathed a sigh of relief, looking at him with trust.

The man drew a jade pendant from his sleeve and tossed it to her.

“This token signifies the Pavilion’s acceptance of your request. When the task is done, we will reclaim it.”

Qu Yiqiu examined the pendant. It was cool green jade, carved on one side with a blazing sun, on the other with a cold moon. When she traced the moon with her slender finger, the character for “Crossing” appeared faintly upon the surface.

“Thank you, Protector of a Thousand Faces. I’ll leave my parents’ information as soon as possible.” She tucked the pendant safely into her storage pouch.

As for her storage ring, endowed with invisibility, she would never reveal it lightly.

The man closed his eyes again, sinking into meditation, paying her no further mind.

Unnoticed by him, Qu Yiqiu’s gaze swept over the crystal bead curtain.

The so-called beads were not luminous jade, but rows of open, unblinking eyes.

They had noticed her the moment she approached the door. No wonder there were no guards; these eye-treasures alone could survey everything within.

As she pondered this, she withdrew a blank jade slip.

The boy puppet refreshed her tea.

Thank you all for your support and for reading.