Chapter 50: The Hidden Map and a Shocking Discovery

Yan Wusheng rose slowly, her azure robes tracing an elegant arc through the dim study.

She approached a row of dusty old bookshelves, her gaze sweeping past unremarkable volumes like *Records of Qingzhou Customs* and *Gazetteer of Southern Domain Rarities*. Eventually, her eyes settled on a book with a slightly yellowed cover: *Strange Tales of Northern Mountains and Rivers*.

This book, she had prepared for a long time.

Her fingertips brushed the spine, raising a faint layer of dust as she gently retrieved the book, handling it as if it were a rare treasure.

As she opened the pages, an ancient scent of ink wafted forth.

Yan Wusheng walked to the desk, taking out a slender wolf-hair brush. From an exquisite jade bottle, she poured a small amount of ink, which shimmered with a faint silver glow.

This was no ordinary ink. It was ‘Stellar Guiding Ink,’ refined using ancient beast essence blood mixed with stardust, combined with the secret techniques of the Heavenly Derivation Pavilion.

Text and diagrams drawn with this ink could not only evade most detection spells but also resonate faintly with specific bloodlines.

She smoothed a piece of ancient beast-skin paper between the book’s pages, dipped her brush in ink, and held her wrist poised.

In that instant, her entire demeanor transformed.

If, just moments before, she had been a reclusive study owner amidst the misty rains of Jiangnan, now she was a Celestial Maiden, orchestrating the grand chess game of the heavens and manipulating the destinies of all beings.

The brush tip glided across the beast-skin paper, like dragons and serpents dancing wildly, or like stars moving through the cosmos, imbued with an enigmatic rhythm.

One by one, twisted, ancient demonic characters gradually took shape under her hand.

It was a map.

A map pointing to the Northern Region’s most perilous and mysterious forbidden zone—the Ten Thousand Beast Spirit Mountain.

The map’s lines were incredibly precise, even clearly marking which ferocious beasts lurked in which mountain ranges and what kind of miasma permeated which valleys.

At the very core of the map, within the area shrouded by layers of mist and ancient restrictions, she drew a blood-red mark with the darkest ink.

Beside the mark, a line of small characters stood out, as if weeping blood:

“At the heart of Ten Thousand Beast Spirit Mountain, above the Earthfire Molten Cavern, lies a fragment of the demon race’s Three-Lives Stone. However, the restriction there was left behind by an ancient Golden Crow, and it cannot be approached without the bloodline of a Demon Emperor. To break this restriction, the heart’s blood of one with a ‘body of purest vitality’ must be used as a guide, poured onto the array core of the restriction to open a passage that lasts for the time it takes a single incense stick to burn.”

Having penned the final character, Yan Wusheng slowly retracted her brush.

She blew gently on the still-wet ink on the beast-skin paper, gazing at the small characters that read ‘heart’s blood as a guide.’ There was not a shred of pity in her star-river-like eyes.

‘Growth always demands a price, doesn’t it? Just a little blood; it won’t kill anyone.’

She carefully tucked the map into a page of *Strange Tales of Northern Mountains and Rivers*, then casually cast a small illusion, making it appear seamlessly integrated with the book’s pages, as if it had been engraved there all along.

After completing all of this, she placed the book back in a corner of the desk, blending it in with a pile of old books awaiting disposal, making it utterly inconspicuous.

Then, she returned to her seat by the window, refilling her teacup and resuming her leisurely sips, as if nothing had ever transpired.

The study once again settled into a stillness so profound it seemed to freeze time itself.

****

Approximately half an hour later.

“*Creak*—”

The old wooden door of the study was pushed open from the outside.

A thin, shifty-eyed middle-aged man poked his head in and then entered. He wore an ill-fitting brocade robe, several glittering gold rings adorned his fingers, and he exuded a peculiar scent, a mix of nouveau riche ostentation and a foxy musk.

“Shopkeeper, is the shopkeeper here?” the man called out in a pinched voice, his shifty eyes greedily scanning every furnishing within the study.

Hu San was a well-known fur merchant in Qingzhou City, specializing in smuggling between humans and demons.

“Customer, what can I get for you?” Yan Wusheng asked, without even lifting her eyelids, her voice as faint and clear as the rain outside the window.

The moment Hu San saw Yan Wusheng, his eyes immediately fixated on her.

*My goodness, this dilapidated bookstore in a remote backwater actually hides such a peerless beauty!*

He had long frequented pleasure houses and considered himself experienced with countless women, yet he had never encountered a woman with such a cold and otherworldly temperament.

For a moment, the lecherous thoughts in his heart were utterly dispelled by her indifferent, starlike eyes, leaving only an awkward sense of self-abasement.

“*Cough, cough*,” Hu San cleared his throat, trying to project a worldly and composed demeanor. “Shopkeeper, I’m here to find a few rare editions. I hear you have quite a few good things that have circulated down from the north?”

This was the secret signal for him to connect with his contact.

Yan Wusheng finally raised her head, her gaze lingering on him for a moment before she calmly said, “No rare editions, just a pile of old books. If the customer is interested, feel free to browse over there.”

She gestured toward the desk laden with miscellaneous books.

Hu San found her cold demeanor reassuring.

The more aloof she was, the more it indicated that this ‘contact’ was cautious and experienced.

He rubbed his hands, chuckled, and then walked to the desk, pretending to examine the books.

His task was to regularly collect intelligence from here regarding the internal movements of the Great Yan Dynasty. In the past, the intelligence had always been hidden within a specific book, *Collection of Southern Plants*.

He skillfully searched through the books, muttering continuously, “Oh, these books are too old… the paper is brittle… Shopkeeper, your business is quite informal…”

Yan Wusheng remained silent, simply sipping her tea.

Hu San soon located *Collection of Southern Plants*. Without a change in expression, he pulled the book halfway out and felt inside the binding with his finger.

Empty?

*Could something have gone wrong?*

Hu San’s face remained impassive, but his hands quickened, rustling through the pile of old books.

“Be careful, don’t damage them,” Yan Wusheng’s clear, cold voice drifted over.

“Heh heh, I know, I know,” Hu San replied, his anxiety growing inwardly.

Just then, his hand touched a book with a hardcover.

*Strange Tales of Northern Mountains and Rivers*.

His heart stirred.

*The Northern Region? This is a rare find.* Qingzhou was in Jiangnan, so books about the Northern Region were already scarce, let alone one with ‘Strange Tales’ in its title.

Hu San casually picked up the book and flipped through a few pages. The paper was yellowed, the script ancient; it certainly looked like an old artifact. Habitually, he felt inside the binding, but his fingertips suddenly brushed against a page that felt slightly different from the others.

Hu San instinctively paused, squinting in the dim light to examine it closely.

Upon seeing it, his blood felt as if it had instantly frozen!

A map!

An incredibly detailed map drawn with ancient demonic script!

And on that map, the words “Ten Thousand Beast Spirit Mountain,” “Three-Lives Stone,” and “Demon Emperor bloodline” seared into his eyes like red-hot brands.

Hu San’s breathing instantly grew heavy.

The Three-Lives Stone!

That was a legendary innate spiritual treasure, said to reflect the past and future, and reverse karma.

Their Myriad Demon Kingdom itself treasured one fragment, revered as a national treasure. And now, the whereabouts of another demonic fragment had just… appeared before his eyes?!

This was an immense merit. If he offered this to the Grand Prince, not to mention a mere Qingzhou steward position, he could easily become a Demon General.

Hu San forcibly suppressed the wild joy in his heart, his pulse pounding. He cautiously glanced up at Yan Wusheng.

The beautiful female shopkeeper was still leisurely sipping her tea, seemingly completely oblivious to the commotion on his side.

Hu San’s mind settled.

He clutched *Strange Tales of Northern Mountains and Rivers* along with a few other tattered books in his arms and approached the counter. “Shopkeeper, just these few. Name your price.”

Yan Wusheng set down her teacup, casting a lazy glance at the books, and extended three slender, fair fingers.

“Three hundred silver taels.”

“What?!” Hu San nearly jumped. “Three hundred silver taels!”