Futile Devices Scans

The words “How did you know I had already found something?” circled once at Zhong Yi’s lips before he swallowed them back down. There was no need to ask—he already knew Wei Fu would respond with some perfunctory nonsense like, “Naturally, because I trust the methods of the Commander of the Egret Guards.”

When a clever person pretends to be foolish without putting in the effort, it instead comes off as frivolous. Wei Fu was precisely the sort who took such “frivolity” as a defining trait.

His matter-of-fact attitude infected Mu Heng, and the two of them looked at Zhong Yi together, waiting for him to continue. Zhong Yi had no fondness for playing coy, so he picked up where he left off:

“The day after the incident, the Song family’s secondary estate outside the city also caught fire. Fortunately, it was extinguished in time, and there were no casualties. However, when questioned, the servants at the estate spoke evasively, their expressions shifting, their behavior highly suspicious. The head constable sensed something amiss and ordered his men to conduct a search by force. In the Buddhist hall, they discovered a hidden door leading to an underground chamber.”

“I have inspected the scene myself. Calling it a secret chamber would be inaccurate—it is more properly described as a dungeon. There was no other furnishing inside, only several iron cages embedded into the walls. When the constable descended, three young women were still imprisoned there. The eldest was seventeen; the youngest had not yet reached the coming-of-age hairpin ceremony. Two were from Yongning City, and one from Nankou City. All three stated that their parents were alive; they had been drugged and forcibly abducted while out. They did not know Song Man or his advisor. Recalling their movements prior to being abducted, the only common point was that all three had visited the local Dongfu Cloth House .”

The room fell silent for a moment. Zhong Yi gave them space to steady their thoughts. Seeing that no one spoke, he continued:

“Because the case is complex and involves multiple cities, Xianglian City alone could not handle it. Thus, the local magistrate reported the matter to the Egret Guards and requested that we take over the investigation.”

As the emperor’s direct and trusted guard, whether in mobilizing case files or manpower, the Egret Guards moved far faster than the local authorities. And with this case even bringing Commander Zhong Yi himself to the scene, efficiency was naturally even higher.

Mu Heng asked, “What have you uncovered?”

Zhong Yi answered succinctly:

“According to testimony from Song Man’s household servants and personnel from the Dongfu Cloth House, Song Man’s outward identity was that of a silk merchant. In truth, he used trade as a cover, purchasing young women from various regions, using Xianglian City as a base, then secretly transferring them to places such as Dongyu, Yanyuan, and Qiyun. Under the guise of transporting textiles, he was in fact trafficking people.”

“There is also an unverified report: several years ago, a merchant named Song Ying established a trading firm in Weizhou City of Dongyu, dealing in goods from north and south. For unknown reasons, he vanished overnight. Half a year after his disappearance, Song Man appeared in Xianglian City, purchased property, and settled there. The Dongfu Cloth House expanded at remarkable speed—within less than three years, it opened six branches across Xianglian, Yongning, Chaolu, and Nankou.”

Mu Heng did not ask where the information came from. He simply concluded decisively:

“Even if ‘Song Ying’ and ‘Song Man’ are the same person, even with prior capital, it would be impossible to expand such a large enterprise in so short a time. There must be a greater power behind him.”

Wei Fu pondered for a long moment before suddenly asking:

“A Buddhist hall built in the secondary estate… did Song Man believe in Buddhism? Did his main residence also have a Buddhist hall?”

Commander Zhong Yi, who had weathered countless storms and was famed for his calm composure—so much so that rumors claimed he would not blink even if someone dropped dead in front of him—hesitated for some reason, casting a glance at Mu Heng.

Mu Heng paused. “What is it?”

“What Song Man believed in… was probably not Buddhism.”

Zhong Yi rose and excused himself. From a leather pouch at his side, he carefully drew out an item wrapped in oil paper. When unfolded, it revealed two thin, soft, grayish-white sheets—one large, one small—covered in intricate and delicate colored patterns:

“We found this in the Buddhist hall of the Song family’s secondary estate.”

An inexplicable chill seemed to sweep through the room. With a sharp crack, Zhong Yi and Mu Heng both turned toward Wei Fu, who had abruptly risen to his feet.

When seated, he appeared unassuming, though clearly tall and well-built. His pair of overly alluring peach blossom eyes and naturally upturned, smiling lips were highly deceptive. At a glance, one’s attention would be drawn first to his handsome, gentle appearance, taking him for nothing more than an elegant and refined young noble.

But once he stood, it was an entirely different matter.

His height seemed to surge upward, even half a head taller than the already tall Mu Heng and Zhong Yi. The Xianfang Hall was spacious and bright, yet at this moment Mu Heng felt as though half the light around him had been swallowed. Wei Fu’s presence loomed like dark clouds pressing down upon a city, his expression as dark as his shadow.

“My grip was too strong—my apologies.”

He set down the folding fan, now snapped cleanly into two pieces. Mu Heng, bewildered by his intense reaction, reached out to take the item for a closer look:

“What is this?”

“Such a filthy thing—Your Majesty would do well to observe it from a distance.” Zhong Yi deftly avoided his fingertips, cushioning the item with a handkerchief before thoughtfully placing it on a nearby tea table, slightly farther away. “This is a human-skin tattoo . If there is no mistake, it should have been flayed from the body of the deceased…”

His Imperial Majesty withdrew his hand as swiftly as lightning.

“The reason the constables in Xianglian City were able to quickly discover the concealed chamber within the Buddhist hall was precisely because, during the search of the secondary estate, they accidentally found this item in the hands of the Buddha statue. It was as though someone had deliberately placed it there to guide them,” Zhong Yi continued. “The only ones who could have done such a thing are the assassins who murdered Song Man and the other man.”

“Why still call them assassins? How disrespectful. I think they should be called righteous men instead.”

Wei Fu, who was standing a step away and blocking quite a bit of light, showed undisguised disgust and revulsion toward the human-skin tattoo. Yet his eyes shone with an intense brightness, as if he had unexpectedly grasped some fleeting illusion. His expression was a strange mixture of delight and hatred—peculiar to the extreme:

“The proper name for this kind of tattoo is ‘Mandala.’ No wonder he built a Buddhist hall… Song Man was a member of the Ten Aspects Sect.”

This time, Mu Heng was truly shaken. “Shu Chen!”

Wei Fu continued, “All followers of the Ten Aspects Sect bear a circular insignia tattooed onto their bodies using special pigments. ‘Mandala’ is originally a Buddhist concept, referring to a sacred altar used to enshrine deities and ritual implements. The Ten Aspects Sect appropriated the name for their own use, calling their circular tattoos ‘Mandala’ to present themselves as cultivators.”

“In the Ten Aspects Sect, the ‘Mandala’ serves as a marker of status. Ordinary believers of low rank have only a small ‘Mandala’ tattooed on their arm or the sole of their foot, with a simple design—a tea flower with eighteen petals. Those of higher rank, who have passed the ‘trial’, bear far more intricate and elaborate ‘Mandala’ tattoos, placed over the chest and the back of the heart, corresponding to vital meridian points.”

He gestured through the air toward the tattoo on the left.

“This one is the ‘Protector Mandala,’ bearing images of blades, golden bells, golden wheels, and vajras, symbolizing martial duty. This one is called the ‘Mantra Mandala,’ inscribed with the Brahmic script mantra ‘undying, deathless, eternal, imperishable,’ symbolizing those who operate within the secular world. There is an even higher tier called the ‘Dharma Form Mandala,’ depicting Buddhas and Bodhisattvas—only elders and the sect leader are qualified to bear such tattoos.”

“I would guess this Mantra Mandala belonged to Song Man, as he was responsible for amassing wealth for the Ten Aspects Sect. As for the Protector Mandala, it was most likely flayed from that advisor surnamed Lin. That being the case, the nature of their ‘business’ is clear—it was the Ten Aspects Sect’s most despicable practice: ‘True Spirit Guidance.’”

No one interrupted him, allowing his deductions to pour forth like an unending torrent. After finishing in one breath, Wei Fu lifted his eyes toward Mu Heng:

“Your Majesty…”

Mu Heng raised a hand to cut him off, signaling there was no need to continue. In a firm, decisive tone, he said:

“Continue the investigation. Anyone who has had dealings with Song Man or the Dongfu Cloth House is not to be spared. Mobilize the full strength of the Egret Guards—no matter what, this festering tumor must be uprooted entirely. Whoever dares entangle themselves with the Ten Aspects Sect will be shown no mercy.”

Zhong Yi straightened and rose. “This servant obeys Your Majesty’s sacred decree.”

Song Man’s crime of human trafficking was heinous beyond measure—wherever it was judged, death would have been too light a punishment. But if the force behind him was the Ten Aspects Sect, then even death was mercy—why had Zhong Yi not ground him to dust and scattered him to the wind?

The Ten Aspects Sect claimed to originate from the southern land, from the so-called Buddhist nation of Timo, as an offshoot of Buddhism. A hundred years ago, it was founded by Patriarch Luo Jian, and later flourished under the second sect leader, Helan Zhenjia. Yet this claim carried the strong scent of self-aggrandizement, for Luo Jian was no enlightened monk well-versed in scripture, but rather a degenerate monk expelled from his sect for committing acts of lewd misconduct.

Unable to survive in his homeland, he traveled north to the central lands in search of livelihood. In the Xiangzhou region of Yanyuan, he gathered followers through exorcism, healing, and ghostly arts, eventually earning the title “Patriarch of Formlessness.”

His signature skill was the technique of “Soul Seizure,” said to allow him to extract the living soul directly from the body, leaving behind a walking corpse—one that could still eat and move like a normal person, yet had lost all self-awareness.

In Buddhism, there is the doctrine of the “Nine Aspects,” referring to the nine stages a corpse undergoes as it decays into bone. Luo Jian, however, claimed mastery over a transcendent “Tenth Aspect”—the “Aspect of Non-Death” wherein the soul has been extinguished, yet the body remains alive in the world.

Using this as proof that the intangible “soul” truly exists within the human body, he led followers into cultivation, gradually forming a complete set of doctrines and rituals, and establishing the Ten Aspects Sect. His disciple, Helan Zhenjia, entered officialdom. During Emperor Tianbao’s campaign of Buddhist suppression, he seized the opportunity, accompanied the emperor on a northern expedition against the Yilin Kingdom, rendered great merit, and was appointed Imperial Preceptor, placing him in command of all religious sects under heaven. Thus, the Ten Aspects Sect rose to prominence.

In order to promote the sect, Helan Zhenjia catered to the aristocracy of Yanyuan, winning their favor. Drawing inspiration from various heterodox sects throughout history, he created the most infamous practice of the Ten Aspects Sect: “True Spirit Guidance.”

The sect’s core doctrine held that all people possess a “spirit,” and that cultivation exists to refine and illuminate this spirit. Beyond prayer and scripture recitation, cultivation could also be achieved by “guiding” from offerings—put plainly, the practice of dual cultivation between men and women.

Those suitable to serve as offerings—so-called “True Spirits”—must be in the bloom of youth, of exceptional beauty, and pure in both body and mind. Those born blind or mute were considered the highest-grade “Innate Spirits.” Individuals meeting these criteria would be selected and sent to the “Pure Land Lotus Thrones” of powerful figures devout to the Ten Aspects Sect.

Those “True Spirits”—those living, breathing human beings—were treated like oranges to be peeled. They were divided, consumed, drained of their “spirit,” until reduced to empty shells. Even then, they were dismembered—bones and human skin fashioned into various ritual implements. And those who consumed them would enshrine them in spirit shrines, hang them on walls, or carry them in their hands.

Cannibalism is abhorrent—but the Ten Aspects Sect called it sacred cultivation. Families who offered “True Spirits” were rewarded. Honor always sounds better than “trade”—with such grand justifications, people began to frantically seek out “True Spirits,” like starving men scouring mountains and fields for fruit. Once they had stripped their own groves bare, they turned to plundering others’.

In Yanyuan, they at least cloaked themselves in doctrine, spinning elaborate fantasies of transcendence. Elsewhere, they did not even bother to maintain that thin veneer, revealing their true, grotesque nature—bewitching, deceiving, trafficking, abducting… gnashing teeth and sucking blood, breaking bones and draining marrow.

During the reign of Emperor Tianbao, the power of the Ten Aspects Sect expanded rapidly, infiltrating neighboring nations at an alarming pace. By the time other states realized it had become a force to be reckoned with, Yanyuan, gripped by fervor, had already raised the banner of eastern conquest.

To the east of Yanyuan lay Longsha, bordering the Qionghai Sea and controlling Yanyuan’s access to maritime routes. For years, it had been a thorn in Yanyuan’s throat. After annexing the Yilin Kingdom, Emperor Tianbao turned his inevitable gaze toward Longsha, which had maintained strict vigilance against the Ten Aspects Sect.

In the eighteenth year of Tianbao, under the pretext of “expelling and avenging the killing of Ten Aspects Sect followers,” Yanyuan assembled an army of two hundred thousand and launched a campaign against Longsha.

The iron cavalry advanced relentlessly, unstoppable as a force of destruction. Wherever they passed, they were like locusts sweeping the land, even taking pleasure in slaughter and the razing of cities. As Longsha stood on the brink of falling into Yanyuan’s grasp, on the day the great army reached the capital, Bihan City, all eyes lifted—

—and beheld, hanging from the city walls and swaying in the wind, the severed head of Helan Zhenjia.

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