Chương 118: The Marsh’s Embrace

As Squad Leader Zhang spoke, he pointed to a young "ox" working in the field. The man was hunched over, his hands caked with mud, his face gaunt and weary.

"City God, look at that one. He used to be a workshop supervisor. As a leader, he openly violated the principle of harmony with nature by allowing the female workers in his workshop to work overtime at night. We can't tolerate that. I've already told Zhuangniu to make an example of him. He needs to be punished severely."

"Hmm... it was just overtime. Isn't that a bit harsh?" Fang Cheng asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, City God. It wasn't just overtime." Squad Leader Zhang lowered his voice, glancing around as if to make sure no one else was listening.

"He abused his position to engage in all kinds of shady dealings with the female workers. The situation got so bad that Lord Qin Hao personally ordered me to deal with him harshly."

"Uh... what kind of shady dealings are we talking about exactly?" Fang Cheng asked, his curiosity piqued. Squad Leader Zhang scratched his chin, thinking.

"Too many to list. Everything mentioned in The Abai Detective Files, except for murder. He's done it all." Fang Cheng inhaled sharply.

"You're serious? That's impossible. No way, no way..."

"I'm absolutely certain." Squad Leader Zhang nodded firmly.

"He smuggled textiles out of the workshop by hiding them inside a cow's cunt. He fooled the workshop's security guards and sold the goods to merchants on the side, making a fortune. To be fair, no normal person would think to check a cow's cunt for contraband." Fang Cheng fell silent, his brow furrowed in thought. After a long moment, he muttered, "Are you telling me that a cow's cunt can actually hold textiles?"

"It's true," Squad Leader Zhang said with a straight face.

"Small items like handkerchiefs can fit quite a few. Wrap them in oil paper, stuff them inside, and they come out smelling like fresh milk. Some customers with... particular tastes loved those handkerchiefs. They sold like hotcakes. Our business partners even approached Lord Qin Hao directly to order more. He had no idea what they were talking about, said we'd never made any 'milk-scented handkerchiefs.' That's when he launched an investigation and discovered the supervisor had been running the whole operation."

Fang Cheng was speechless. The absurdity of it all made his head spin. For a moment, he felt like the world had gone mad and his own sanity was hanging by a thread.

"The Abai Detective Files. It's all because of that cursed book." His voice hardened.

"I was right to ban it. Not only should we ban it, but we also need to completely eradicate it! Squad Leader Zhang, I'm giving you a new assignment. Search every corner of White Flower City. Find every copy of The Abai Detective Files and burn them all!" Squad Leader Zhang blinked, utterly baffled. Why did the City God hate this book so much? But he didn't dare question the order. He simply nodded and set to work. In the days that followed, a wave of book burnings swept through White Flower City.

But as with all things forbidden, the ban only made The Abai Detective Files more desirable. Before long, bootleg sequels began appearing on the black market, selling for exorbitant prices. Fang Cheng managed to get his hands on one of these so-called "sequels." He read through it carefully and confirmed it was a fake. The writing style was completely different from the original author's, and the plot twists lacked the same mind-bending absurdity. It was a pale imitation.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Li Shuyan approached Fang Cheng and suggested they call off the ban.

"Brother Fang, we've seen what happens when we try to suppress something. It only makes people want it more. As an official body, we should simply classify it as lowbrow literature and discourage people from reading it. Any further crackdown will only cause more unrest." After much deliberation, Fang Cheng agreed. The truth was, he hadn't wanted to ban the book so harshly in the first place. But he couldn't shake the nagging unease it stirred in him.

Beyond the anxiety, there was something else, a deeper, more elusive feeling that he couldn't quite name. The combination of these emotions made it impossible for him to focus on his cultivation. His mind kept drifting back to his childhood, to days when he had been naive and gullible, prone to making foolish mistakes. Those memories only made him more irritable. He sought advice from Li Shuyan, Zhao Lian'er, and Qin Hao, but none of them could help.

To them, Fang Cheng was a great cultivator, a figure of immense power. What could they, mere mortals in comparison, possibly offer? Frustrated, Fang Cheng sent a flying sword message to Pei Tang, explaining his state of mind and asking for guidance. Pei Tang's reply was simple. His restlessness was the result of advancing too quickly. His cultivation had outpaced his mental discipline. He needed to slow down, to let his mind catch up to his body.

Pei Tang advised him to spend some time exploring the outskirts of White Flower City, to walk and clear his head. But he warned him not to wander too far and to avoid any unnecessary fights or acts of righteousness. Fang Cheng took his advice to heart. He walked the perimeter of the city, letting his feet carry him wherever they pleased. It was then that he discovered something strange. Whenever he ventured into the marshes west of the city, his restlessness would begin to fade.

And when he stood beside the stone tablet that sealed the ancient beast Xuan Ming, the feeling vanished completely. He couldn't explain why. But the relief was undeniable. With the noise in his mind silenced, he could finally focus on his cultivation. So he built a simple hut beside the tablet and made it his home. The marshes were a strange and haunting place. Thick, gray mist clung to the ground like a blanket, shifting and curling with the slightest breeze.

The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying vegetation, a pungent, earthy smell that filled the lungs and made the head feel light. The ground was soft and spongy underfoot, giving way with each step, and the only sounds were the distant cry of waterbirds and the constant, quiet hum of insects. At night, the mist seemed to glow with a faint, phosphorescent light, as if the marsh itself were alive, breathing in the darkness.

It was peaceful in a way that felt ancient, untouched by the worries of the outside world. Now that he had reached the Sixth Realm, Fang Cheng could craft his own flying swords. He asked Qin Hao to gather the necessary materials. Once everything was ready, he threw himself into the work, forging sword after sword, talisman after talisman. By the time he had completed over a dozen, he found that his heart had grown calm. Even after he left the marshes, the peace remained.

The anxiety that had plagued him was gone, replaced by a newfound stillness. It seemed that his mind had finally caught up with his cultivation. And with that clarity came a realization. He understood now what that hidden feeling had been, the one he couldn't name. It was the gaze of a wolf eyeing a rabbit. Someone was watching him. Fang Cheng's eyes snapped open. He rose and activated his Heavenly Eye, scanning every corner of White Flower City from above.

But no matter how hard he searched, he found nothing unusual. Then a thought struck him. Perhaps the recent string of Heavenly Demon slayings had drawn the attention of powerful forces, whether from the Hall of Eternal Life or some other hidden faction. That would explain why his anxiety vanished when he stood near Xuan Ming's tablet. Old Xu had once said that Xuan Ming radiated malevolence, and the stronger a being's cultivation, the more susceptible they were to its influence.

Anyone spying on him would be reluctant to project their divine sense into such a place. With that settled, Fang Cheng gathered Zhao Lian'er, Li Shuyan, and Qin Hao. He distributed the newly forged flying swords and sword talismans to each of them.

"Be on your guard," he warned them.

"Don't stray too far from White Flower City. If you sense any danger, use the flying sword to send me a message immediately." After giving his instructions, Fang Cheng returned to his humble hut in the marshes, where the mist swirled around him like a silent guardian, and resumed his cultivation. Only by reaching the higher three realms could he face those who sought to do him harm. And so he sat, alone in the quiet dampness, with only the whisper of the marsh for company.