I Accidentally Triggered the Restricted Punishment Protocol - Chapter 19

Half an hour ago.

The Lord of Wuxiang had feasted his guests the previous night, drinking until he was dead drunk, and slept well into the late morning. He had found several “cauldrons” to accompany his debauchery for half the night. Now, he lay with one in each arm, his snoring like rolling thunder.

Little did he know that within his golden rooms and silver screens, a silent slaughter was underway.

Qin Wuzhou’s wooden clogs stepped into warm pools of blood. The corpses of the Linlang Mansion’s night watchmen lay scattered across the floor in every direction. He strode to the bedside and gripped the Lord of Wuxiang by the throat with one hand.

The Lord of Wuxiang snapped his eyes open. Within his blood red vision, he recognized the man who had come to kill him. His eyes bulged, the corners of his lids nearly tearing. “Ye, Mi,” he managed.

Qin Wuzhou scratched his ear. Hearing that name after so long, especially coming from a stranger, felt a bit unfamiliar. “I let you handle my chores while I was away this past century, but I never gave you permission to use my name to collude with the immortal sects, did I?”

He glanced at the two cauldrons on the bed. They were bruised, battered, and hovering between life and death. A look of disgust flickered across his face again.

His voice turned cold. “You even let someone knock off your mask. Who would ever fear or stay alert around a piece of trash like you?”

Given the meticulous mind of his dear junior brother, now that a probe had succeeded, he was likely already preparing for an uprising in earnest.

The Lord of Wuxiang wheezed with a ragged breath, shaking like a leaf. Before long, a pungent stench rose into the air. He had quite literally been scared senseless.

With a sharp crack, Qin Wuzhou cleanly snapped the neck of the disobedient waste. He did not care for words.

“Tch,” he muttered. He plucked the imitation silver earring from the corpse’s ear and crushed it into dust, shaking his head in displeasure. “What an ugly thing, trying to mimic someone else’s style.”

He left one survivor among the guards, using his Illusion Flower Pupil Technique to force the man to clean the bloody remains from the floor. He then summoned a new batch of guards to replace those who had vanished.

As for himself, he changed into white robes, donned the mask, and assumed the role of the Lord of Wuxiang once more.

A subordinate approached tremblingly to report that a group of Yuxu Mountain cultivators had seemingly broken into the Wuxiang Ghost Market. They were attempting to disrupt the Myriad Treasures Assembly and rescue several cultivators locked beneath Linlang Mansion. Their secret guards had discovered that the group intended to strike tonight.

Qin Wuzhou let out an impatient click of his tongue. He was the one who had to clean up the mess left by the counterfeit.

“Someone come here,” he beckoned a subordinate, speaking lazily. “Which is the most famous restaurant in this Ghost Market? I am looking for a bit of fun.”

Inside the Red Dust Restaurant

A red painted, white feathered arrow tore through the air, reflecting in Yi Hanxing’s widening pupils. It thudded into the floor, mere inches from her foot.

Lin Wujiu looked up, stunned for a moment before speaking. “The Lord of Wuxiang.”

Yi Hanxing gazed at the man on the upper floor. He rose slowly, walked to the corridor, and leaned both arms against the railing. He peered down, his single earring swaying slightly. “Yo. Are you two also here looking for fun?”

Near his feet sat a blue and white porcelain vase, positioned perfectly in the line of sight between the two floors. It seemed he had been playing a game of pitch pot.

Yi Hanxing composed herself before speaking. “We did not know the Lord of Wuxiang was here. We just came in for a couple of drinks. Sorry for the intrusion. We will leave right away.”

She reached out to pull Lin Wujiu’s sleeve, but he remained motionless. She could not budge him.

The Lord of Wuxiang’s gaze drifted lazily to her hand clutching Lin Wujiu’s sleeve, then drifted away just as lightly. “Meeting is fate. Why do you two not come up and share a drink with me?”

Before Yi Hanxing could refuse, Lin Wujiu beat her to it. “Very well.”

He seemed somewhat preoccupied. He took a moment to smile at Yi Hanxing to reassure her, then began walking toward the second floor. Yi Hanxing had no choice but to lift her skirts and follow.

The second floor had been cleared of other guests. The two walked into the elegant pavilion where the Lord of Wuxiang sat. Songstresses were playing and singing, and dancers performed in a scene of pure decadence. The Lord of Wuxiang sat back on a wide seat covered in snow white fur, gesturing with his chin for them to make themselves comfortable.

Yi Hanxing was extremely uncomfortable in this setting. As soon as she sat down, a smiling dancer twirled in front of her, offering a cup of wine with both arms. It would have been rude to refuse, so she took a shallow sip. She thought to herself that since the Lord of Wuxiang had already poisoned Lin Wujiu once, he surely would not use the same trick twice.

Lin Wujiu was also handed a cup, but he did not drink. He stared intently at the Lord of Wuxiang, who was fiddling with a feathered arrow. “You remind me very much of an old acquaintance today,” he said suddenly.

The Lord of Wuxiang held the arrow before his eyes, squinting one eye as if aiming directly at Lin Wujiu. “Is that so?”

Lin Wujiu remained unmoved and smiled. “Is the Lord of Wuxiang not curious who that old acquaintance is?”

The Lord of Wuxiang turned and tossed the arrow into the porcelain vase. He clapped his hands before answering. “I know. Ye Mitian, right?”

Almost the instant the words left his mouth, the air in the pavilion froze like ice. Yi Hanxing clearly saw Lin Wujiu’s back stiffen like a bow ready to fire. The perpetrator seemed oblivious, reaching out to a nearby attendant for another arrow.

So his name is Ye Mitian, she thought.

Beside the Lord of Wuxiang, an attendant turned deathly pale. After a moment, the man suddenly dropped to his knees, grabbed a feathered arrow, and drove it straight into his own ear.

“Stop!” Yi Hanxing and Lin Wujiu stood up simultaneously.

But they were a step too late. Blood flowed from both of the man’s ears as he collapsed. Judging by the look of it, he would likely be deaf for the rest of his life.

She sat back down, trembling. What kind of terrifying existence could make someone destroy their own hearing just at the mention of a name?

“Oh my, I almost forgot. You people from the immortal sects do not like mentioning that name,” the Lord of Wuxiang laughed heartily, clapping his hands. “I have heard this demonic cultivator named Ye was so skilled at bewitching hearts that even ordinary families risked falling into demonhood just by hearing his name.”

Yi Hanxing could not help but steal another glance at him. The pavilion was brightly lit, but in the warm glow, she could not tell if his pupils were flickering with golden light.

“That is true,” Lin Wujiu said flatly. “That is why the immortal sects placed a spell forbidding any member from mentioning those three words.”

“Even Immortal Lin cannot say it?”

Lin Wujiu nodded. “Correct.”

The Lord of Wuxiang let out an exaggerated sigh. “My mistake. I shall penalize myself with a drink.”

After he finished the wine, Lin Wujiu spoke again. “However, that name has been gone for a century. How did you come to know it?”

The Lord of Wuxiang grinned. “To make a living in a place like the Ghost Market, one must have eyes and ears everywhere.”

Lin Wujiu looked at him for a moment, then nodded slightly. “I see.”

While the two men chatted calmly, Yi Hanxing’s throat had gone dry, and she had downed three cups of wine in a row. If she had not seen the face under the mask with her own eyes, she would have suspected this was Qin Wuzhou himself. The act was far too convincing. He even knew the real name.

Ye Mitian. She repeated the name in her mind several times but could not find any relevant plot points from her memory of the original book. It was not surprising because the original story was full of holes. The second law of transmigrating into a book is that you will always run into the plot holes that need filling.

She only hoped that when the protagonist and the villain clashed, she would not be caught in the crossfire.

“Miss Yi?”

As if reading her thoughts, the Lord of Wuxiang spoke. Yi Hanxing stiffened slightly, then looked up with a neutral expression. “What is it?”

“I noticed you have been keeping your head down,” he said with a smile in his voice. “Are you unhappy? Is my hospitality lacking?”

“Ah,” Yi Hanxing patted her chest, speaking vaguely. “No, some pastry crumbs just fell on my clothes.”

She patted her dress harder, praying he would just leave her alone.

However, the Lord of Wuxiang stood up and walked toward her. “Have you ever played pitch pot, Miss Yi?”

He was inviting her. Yi Hanxing wanted no part of it. Even if this man was not Qin Wuzhou, she had developed PTSD regarding anyone similar to him.

Yet the Lord of Wuxiang did not hear her inner plea. He walked straight to her and gripped her wrist, grinning. “Come on, I will show you how to play.”

“No, really, it is fine.” Yi Hanxing tried to politely decline, but the man’s strength was immense.

“Lord of Wuxiang, Miss Yi already said she does not want to.” Lin Wujiu could not stand it any longer and stood up to intervene.

The Lord of Wuxiang did not even turn his head. He just stared at Yi Hanxing. “And you? Do you want to?”

Meeting those eyes, a sharp pain like a needle pricked the back of her head. “I want to,” she said.

“I told you so,” the Lord of Wuxiang laughed.

Yi Hanxing was pulled up, looking utterly incredulous. What had she just said? A thought flashed through her mind, but it was too fast to catch. Then, her arm was held. The Lord of Wuxiang stood behind her. He was more than a head taller than she was. When he spoke, he had to lean down, his breath brushing against the tip of her ear.

“Aim. Three, two, one.”

The arrow landed in the vase, the vibration echoing around the rim. The man behind her chuckled and let her go. Yi Hanxing rubbed her ear. The vibration of his voice seemed to linger there.

Lin Wujiu watched with a frown and stepped forward again. “Apologies. I just remembered I have urgent business to attend to. Miss Yi, let us head back.”

“City Lord! Urgent news!” An attendant burst in. “Cultivators have discovered the slave whippings at Linlang Mansion and are trying to stop them. They have even broken in to rescue people and are fighting our men. One of them even claims,” the attendant saw Lin Wujiu and Yi Hanxing in the pavilion, and the words died in his throat.

The Lord of Wuxiang remained remarkably calm, as if it were not his own property being raided. “Claims to be what?”

“That person claims to be Wei Ruyi, one of Lin Wujiu’s companions!”

It was happening. In the original book, Wei Ruyi was cold on the outside but warm on the inside, with a hatred for evil. The climax of the Ghost Market arc was when her assassination of the Lord of Wuxiang failed, leading her to drop her disguise and throw the market into chaos. More importantly, it forced the protagonist and heroine to fight side by side. During the fight, Wei Ruyi would be injured by the Lord’s men, and the protagonist would set aside their differences to care for her, leading to romantic developments.

But why did it have to happen early, while she was in the same room as the boss?

“Is that so?” The Lord of Wuxiang’s voice gave away nothing. His gaze slid slowly toward the two guests. “Were you aware of this?”

The attendant who had burst in said indignantly, “That woman named Wei is this man Lin’s lover. The three of them are together every day. They must be accomplices in the attack on Linlang Mansion!”

At that moment, another guard rushed up the stairs. “Report! While our men were searching for Wei Ruyi’s accomplices at the Myriad Treasures Assembly in Tianxiang Restaurant, they discovered a group of Yuxu Mountain disciples. The leader appears to be the Passionate Sword, Jiang Yinghui. They seem to be planning to storm the assembly and have already begun fighting our men!”

Yi Hanxing felt her scalp go numb. It was far too coincidental. Everything was unraveling at once. Lin Wujiu’s group had planned to strike at midnight, but Wei Ruyi’s early outburst had thrown the entire plan into disarray.

What should she do? Her eyes darted around, hoping to find a weapon for when she inevitably had to run.

The Lord of Wuxiang stared quietly at Lin Wujiu and said suddenly, “We have met twice, yet I have not had the chance to ask your name?”

Lin Wujiu went silent for a moment, then sighed with a bitter smile. “Why ask what you already know?”

In the next instant, the Shura Sword was unsheathed, filling the room with a brilliant, snowy light.