The high-speed rail glided into Yanjing Station as a blanket of grey smog pressed down over the sky outside the window. I hunched my shoulders and pulled my cap lower, while inside my canvas bag, the Battling-Wave Blade emitted a faint resonance that only I could perceive.

"Rookie, the spiritual energy in Yanjing is ten times murkier than the Eastern Sea, and the Baizhen Pavilion's informants are thick as flies." The System Elder's voice rose in my mind, laced with warning. "Watch the man and woman in windbreakers stepping off Car Three — they've got White Tiger Hall cipher-jade pendants hanging from their belts."

I feigned adjusting my pack while sweeping the platform from the corner of my eye. Sure enough, the pair split apart after disembarking, standing to either side of the flow of passengers with studied casualness. Their jade pendants glimmered in and out of the smog, each etched with half a tiger-claw motif.

The veterans of the Monster-Demon Suppression Bureau that Hai Lao had arranged were already waiting at the exit. The contact was an old man pushing a fruit cart, a knife-scar carved at the corner of his eye. When I drew near, he dropped his voice and delivered the pass-phrase: "Third house in the western alley — fish in the vat."

I gave a small nod and slipped a lower-grade spirit stone in among the coins I handed over for the fruit. The old man took the money, and his fingers traced the character for conceal across my palm in a single swift stroke before he pushed his cart into the crowd and vanished. This was the Monster-Demon Suppression Bureau's signature contact method: the safe house was ready.

Following his directions, I turned into the old hutong of Xicheng District. The bluestone slabs underfoot were pitted and uneven, and faded Spring Festival couplets still hung above the gateways of the courtyard houses on either side. The third gate stood slightly ajar. I pushed it open to find a courtyard with a few pomegranate trees, and at the centre, a water vat that did indeed hold two live fish swimming lazily — the signal for all clear.

The room inside was sparsely furnished: a square Eight Immortals table, a handful of wooden chairs, a jumble of odds and ends stacked against the wall. But I knew that beneath this seemingly ordinary house, the Monster-Demon Suppression Bureau would have left a defensive formation. No sooner had I sat down than the System chimed:

Ding! Hidden Spirit-Gathering Array detected within the premises. Spiritual energy density is three times that of the outside world — suitable for short-term cultivation and concealment.

"Hai Lao thought of everything," I murmured to myself, drawing the sealed dossier Old Zhang had given me from my canvas bag. On the yellowed pages, written in vermilion cinnabar, were the words: Arthur Wen, Deputy Director of the Xuanmen Administrative Bureau, attends the 'antique auction' at the Baizhen Pavilion headquarters without fail on the fifteenth of every month. Ostensibly to hunt for curios; in truth, to trade in demonic-cultivator artefacts. Pay particular attention to the 'Blood-Jade Thumb Ring' worn on his left ring finger — it contains an aura of wicked baleful energy.

Tucked inside the dossier was a charcoal sketch of a man of about fifty: a grim, shadowed face, narrow triangular eyes, the corners of his mouth set in a habitual downward curl. Arthur Wen — the man I was here for.

The fifteenth. I glanced at the almanac hanging on the wall. Tomorrow was the fifteenth. Time was short. I had to find a way to get inside the Baizhen Pavilion's auction.

The Baizhen Pavilion headquarters occupied the central commercial boulevard of Yanjing. According to the dossier, its security exceeded that of its branch houses — entry required not only passing a spiritual energy scan, but also presenting a specially issued jade pass.

"System, is there any way to get hold of an auction jade pass?" I asked inwardly.

Ding! Host is currently in possession of the Azure Dragon Hall's Azure Bamboo Token. You may attempt to use the Transformation Art to forge a Baizhen Pavilion headquarters special jade pass. Cost: 500 merit points.

I steeled myself. "Transform."

The System Elder's projected form flickered into being. A fingertip traced across the Azure Bamboo Token, and streams of spirit-light poured into it. Moments later, the surface of the jade pass shimmered with the characters: Baizhen Pavilion — Specially Invited Guest. The spiritual energy fluctuation was nearly indistinguishable from the one described in the dossier.

"Remember — this pass works once only, and it will not survive a high-level cultivator's spirit-sense scan," the little elder cautioned. "In the cultivation world, strength is everything. Arthur Wen is at minimum early Core Formation as a deputy director — his cultivation should be above Everett Li's. You had best pray he drinks enough tomorrow night to skip a close inspection."

---

The following evening, I changed into a Zhongshan suit I had found at the second-hand market, tucked the jade pass against my skin, and set off for the Baizhen Pavilion. From a distance, the entrance was a river of carriages and cultivators dressed in finery, the air heavy with the mingled scents of spiritual objects and a faint, insidious undertow of baleful energy.

"Jade pass." The white-robed cultivator at the gate stretched out a hand, his gaze sharp as a hawk's.

I handed the pass over with forced composure, my heart hammering. The cultivator took it, pressed a thread of spiritual energy into it with his fingertip — the jade pass flared briefly with a faint glow — then returned it to me. "Go in. The auction is on the third floor."

I exhaled silently and strode through the entrance. The interior of the Baizhen Pavilion headquarters was a spectacle of extravagance: floors laid with black jade so lustrous they mirrored the nine glass palace lanterns suspended from the vaulted ceiling above. Those lanterns were no ordinary objects either — each was framed in millennium cold-jade, and as their flames danced, fine motes of spiritual light drifted from them like fireflies. The air held an extraordinary fragrance, a blend of ambergris and the pressed juices of spirit plants...

The auction was held in the domed circular hall on the third floor, and its oppressive weight hit me the moment I stepped inside — nothing like the branch-house auction. At the centre of a hall nearly thirty zhang in diameter, a Spirit-Gathering Array inlaid with ninety-nine superior spirit stones turned in slow revolutions, its blue-green runic light flowing across the floor like something alive. On the ring of zitan-wood seats, close to a hundred attendees were gathered, each one haloed in a faint shimmer of spiritual energy. To my left, an elder in a black cloak shifted in his seat and his sleeve slipped back, briefly revealing half a length of red-gold arm guard — its engraved Dragon-Lock Pattern rose and fell gently with each breath, unmistakably a defensive spirit weapon. To my right and ahead, a woman in crimson robes had a jade flute hanging at her hip; silver threads wound around the flute body and every few moments threw off small sparks, a sign of fire-attribute spiritual energy too dense to contain. The figures in the front row did not even bother to restrain their auras, and the pressure radiating from their late-Foundation-Building cultivation pressed down like invisible mountains, making my temples throb with every heartbeat at the threshold of this place I had never entered before.

End of Chapter 59: Into the Capital