Harboring ulterior motives

[Shā]: “Fifty-eight, is the affair at Kaoshan City over? Are you all right?”

Back in his small room, Chu Liang sent his consciousness into the Soul Detention Token and saw this message.

Heh.

I can’t even be bothered to call you out on it—are you truly worried about my safety? Clearly, it’s the Underworld Golden Lotus you care about.

He saw through Shā’s intentions at a glance.

The matter in Kaoshan City had been settled for several days already, but Chu Liang hadn’t communicated this through to his “fellow disciples” in the Soul Domain. Now, this Shā had probably seen the news in the Seven Stars Dispatch, and knew the demon envoy in Kaoshan City had been killed.

The Underworld Golden Lotus, which Fifty-eight had previously mentioned, would also have found a new owner by now.

He’s growing anxious.

[Fifty-nine]: “I saw it too in the Seven Stars Dispatch—the demon envoy was killed by two righteous cultivators. Senior, you haven’t spoken for days—could something have happened to you?”

Fifty-nine, that streetwise rogue, was late but present nonetheless.

Chu Liang had not reported back to them immediately for a reason.

First, as himself—a disciple of the righteous Shushan Sect—he indeed obtained the Underworld Golden Lotus, but there was no way he would hand such a peerless treasure over to Shā.

His infiltration into the Soul Domain was to find a way to probe the whereabouts of Marquis Zijin. Since he had no leads yet, how could he possibly arm his enemies by giving up the lotus?

He’d even considered using the lotus as bait to lure Shā out and eliminate him—but that would risk exposing his own identity.

One of the Twenty-four Dreads of the Underworld Sect, a fifth-realm demonic cultivator—utterly terrifying in Chu Liang’s eyes. Yet in Princess Feng’s view, he was just a small fry; to expose himself, a precious undercover agent, merely for Shā’s sake would be utterly unwise.

So the Underworld Golden Lotus absolutely could not be handed over—not now, at least. He’d keep it for future use, should the need arise.

That was his first and clearest decision.

Next, considering things as “Fifty-eight,” a Soul Detainer of the Underworld Sect. If he were a demonic cultivator who’d risked life and limb for a superior’s treasure, would he truly turn it over if he succeeded?

Unlikely.

So whether from the “wolf’s” logic or the “good man’s,” Chu Liang would not surrender the Underworld Golden Lotus.

But if he wasn’t going to hand over the lotus, he needed a plausible reason. One that Shā would believe, or at least not doubt his loyalty.

Simply claiming he’d failed in the struggle would suffice, but it might erode Shā’s trust, making future intelligence harder to obtain.

So Chu Liang constructed a scenario for himself—not only had he failed, he’d also been grievously wounded and was now in hiding to heal.

This way, even if he wasn’t seen as loyal, at least he wouldn’t appear unreliable.

As a seasoned demonic cultivator, would he reach out to his fellow disciples after being wounded? Chu Liang doubted it. Even Marquis Zijin, gravely injured, dared not return to the Underworld Sect’s headquarters for fear of being ambushed by his own. Why would a small fry like him take such a risk?

So maintaining silence was reasonable.

Sure enough, after the Seven Stars Dispatch was released, Shā could no longer restrain himself.

After careful thought, Chu Liang replied.

[Fifty-eight]: “My apologies, Honored Shā. I have failed. I tried to seize the Underworld Golden Lotus in Kaoshan City but was defeated and badly wounded. I am now in hiding, recovering.”

[Shā]: “Wounded? Who hurt you? Is your injury severe?”

This line of questioning was within Chu Liang’s expectations, so he answered without hesitation.

[Fifty-eight]: “That disciple from Tiangang Gate is truly formidable—I suffered serious internal injuries, but after a few days’ rest, I am slowly recovering.”

The Seven Stars Dispatch had already stated that the demon envoy was killed by disciples from Tiangang Gate and Shushan—Yun Chaoxian and Chu Liang. Naturally, it was more convincing to mention these two.

There was no way Chu Liang would draw hatred to himself.

So he could only place the blame on Yun Chaoxian.

[Shā]: “Sigh, I can’t blame you.”

He was clearly prepared for Fifty-eight’s failure.

Seeing Shā’s calm response, Chu Liang felt he should have covered his tracks. Maintaining the status quo was ideal—he could still gather information from the Soul Domain without needing to offer anything in return.

But just then, another message popped up.

[Sixty]: “I’m near Kaoshan City now, and I happen to have precious medicine for healing Tiangang injuries. I’ll bring it to you.”

Hmm?

At this, Chu Liang’s brow furrowed.

Why did this message suddenly appear?

Among demonic cultivators, mutual suspicion was the norm—as evidenced by Fifty-nine and Sixty’s previous transaction, which they conducted through the Glutton Pavilion even at great expense, rather than meeting face-to-face.

So why wasn’t Sixty worried about arousing suspicion?

He’d just mentioned being severely wounded, and now Sixty suddenly offered to bring medicine—who would trust that? What if it was a ruse to kill him while delivering the medicine? In the Underworld Sect, such treachery would be nothing unusual.

How bold.

Yet Chu Liang dared not refuse outright.

If Sixty was so quick to propose this, perhaps—just perhaps—there was some unknown bond of deep trust between Fifty-eight and Sixty? Perhaps they really could rely on each other in times of peril.

A rash refusal might give them cause for suspicion and betray his true identity.

How to decline without raising doubts?

This was exactly the kind of sudden concern from one’s peers he dreaded most.

As he pondered, another message arrived.

[Shā]: “Excellent. Sixty, go give him the medicine and stand guard—watch over his safety. Fifty-eight was wounded for my sake, fighting for the Underworld Golden Lotus. Should anything further befall him, I would not be at ease.”

Hiss.

Reading Shā’s words, Chu Liang tensed further.

It sounded like a kind sentiment, but was in fact deeply sinister. As fellow demonic cultivators, Shā would surely know that, at such a time, solitude was the safest option.

Yet he was sending Sixty to see him—why?

Two possibilities.

First: Shā did not trust him!

He might suspect that Fifty-eight had taken the Underworld Golden Lotus and was hiding it, and thus wanted to force a meeting between Sixty and himself.

In that case, should Sixty attempt to kill him while he was wounded—whether Sixty killed Fifty-eight, or Fifty-eight counter-killed Sixty—Shā, as their superior, would have every reason to take action and “clean house,” thus securing the lotus for himself.

If sacrificing two subordinates could net him the lotus and a promotion, Shā wouldn’t bat an eye.

Chu Liang couldn’t be certain, but from Shā’s perspective, this was the most likely scenario.

Second: Sixty and Fifty-eight truly were close.

Shā believed that with Sixty’s protection, Fifty-eight would be safe.

But that would mean the Soul Domain was filled with close-knit, loyal friends from top to bottom.

Chu Liang found that hard to believe—these Underworld Sect folks having consciences? Laughable.

He leaned toward the first, more sinister motive.

No matter what, outright refusal was the safest course.

A meeting could mean instant death—literally. Even if he had powerful backing to ensure his safety, exposing his identity would be equally disastrous.

But how to refuse without arousing suspicion? He hesitated, considering his response, when another message appeared in the Soul Domain.

[Fifty-nine]: “Eh? You’re all meeting up? Can I come too? Let’s get together.”

This one wants to join in the fun too?

What’s he up to now—afraid of being left out of our clique?

Yet, this absurd interjection actually relieved Chu Liang. With this interruption, his refusal would seem completely natural.

[Fifty-eight]: “That won’t be necessary.”

[Fifty-nine]: “I’m quite safe now, and my wounds are nearly healed. There’s no need for such a fuss.”

…

Each of these people harbored their own schemes. Chu Liang could more or less deduce Shā’s intentions; Sixty’s motives he could guess only halfway; as for Fifty-nine, he couldn’t fathom them at all.

Truly exhausting.

Setting down the Soul Detention Token, he was still reviewing his replies for any possible flaws when a voice called out from outside.

“Senior Brother Chu?”

“Hm?”

It was already late—who would come looking for him at this hour?

Chu Liang opened the door to see a rather shy young disciple outside, fair-skinned and delicate, with an air of scholarly grace.

Wen Yulong.

Chu Liang remembered his name and his eyes immediately lit up. For an attendant of the Sword Transmission Hall to come, it could only mean one thing.

The goods had arrived!