CHAPTER 1281: NO ONE BETTER THAN BU ZHOU (1)

Time seemed to stand still as Yang Qing’s eyes and attention remained fixed on the same spot.

Her... him, he muttered, brows furrowing, a million thoughts swirling in his mind—yet none bringing him any closer to explaining what he had just seen.

Even as he indulged in the food and the eye-opening journals, he had never forgotten the reason he came here: to find clues that might lead to Bai Chen.

So while he munched on mungbean cakes, sipped plum osmanthus infusion tea, or immersed himself in the exploits of the wandering scholar Song Quan, a great portion of his attention had been set aside for devising plans to track Bai Chen. This was the beauty of being a cultivator. As a mortal, focusing on multiple demanding tasks at once would have been difficult. But cultivators not only grew stronger physically as they advanced through the realms, their minds sharpened alongside their bodies. After all, how else could they handle the vast transformations within them? And the higher one climbed, the more powerful those abilities became.

They could concentrate longer, delve deeper into things, and handle far more complex matters—especially cultivators at the Palace Realm and above, whose minds had been renewed and transformed through their grasp of the Grand Dao’s mysteries. To interact with such mysteries, one’s perception had to reach a certain threshold. This was why Yang Qing could eat, read, and think about Bai Chen’s matter with equal focus, as though hosting three independent minds within himself.

He had heard that Soul Formation experts could take it even further, creating clones capable of roaming the continent and acting independently while the main body cultivated in seclusion, reaping the benefits of the clones’ experiences.

Yang Qing was still far from that level, but thinking up a plan to move forward with Bai Chen’s matter while doing everything else at the same time was well within his ability.

One of the questions that had lingered in his mind was how to use the moonlit orchid. He could follow the instructions that had been left behind and hand it over to a staff member in the hopes it would open a door, yet another part of him resisted. If he handed it over, there was the risk that he would be outing himself.

If the kidnapper was working with the teahouse staff, then they had likely already interacted with Bai Chen—who had a three-week head start on him. Handing over the orchid would tip them off that he was after Bai Chen or their kidnapper, opening a can of variables Yang Qing wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with. That was why he had been leaning toward not using the orchid and instead searching for clues another way.

But now, he had just witnessed an exchange of moonlit orchid right before his eyes. He couldn’t ignore it.

Still filled with questions, Yang Qing quickly drew out a crystal-clear blue octagon, smooth like polished glass, with what seemed to be water swirling inside. Silently muttering an incantation, he rubbed its surface with his index finger, moving up and down as though inscribing something onto it. With each stroke, a silver-white glyph lit up, and soon the crystal was covered in them. When the last glyph was in place, it pulsed with a gentle blue light. Its shape shifted and flowed, becoming a palm-sized turtle of the same translucent, water-like crystal, its shell catching the light like ripples on a still pond.

Its entire shell was a clear aqua blue, with a flowing quality that made it seem as though real water swirled within. At first, the turtle was stiff upon forming, but a moment later its head slowly moved, and its eyes opened in a lazy half-lidded gaze. It yawned, then, with the same languid demeanor, tilted its head upward to look at Yang Qing before shifting its attention to the dishes on the table.

"Little Qing, why have you woken me up?" a deep, aged voice rumbled from the turtle as it ambled toward a bowl of bamboo shoot broth. It sniffed at it, gave a small nod of approval, and then opened its mouth—draining the entire bowl in one swift pull.

"Not bad," it said with clear satisfaction, lazily licking its lips. It moved away from the bowl, though not far—either because it couldn’t be bothered to take more steps or because it was quietly hoping Yang Qing might refill it.

Yang Qing gave a bitter smile as he reached for one of the clay earthen bowls and poured in a translucent golden broth filled with young pale jade bamboo shoots, along with a scattering of leaves and twigs from various herbs, giving off an earthy, refreshing scent like spring and morning dew.

The corners of the turtle’s mouth curved upward as it watched Yang Qing’s actions. "You must really want a huge favor if you’re sharing your food with me," it drawled teasingly. "So, what do you want?" it asked again with the same lazy sleepy tone.

"Nothing much, Senior Bu Zhou," Yang Qing replied with a sheepish grin. "Please, have some more," he added, bringing the soup bowl closer.

The turtle shook its head with a smile, then, with the same slow swallowing motion as before, drained the bowl in an instant.

"So, Senior Bu Zhou," Yang Qing began warmly, rubbing his nose in slight embarrassment, "there is something I need your help with," he admitted. The turtle said nothing, only fixing him with a look—Yang Qing took it as his cue to continue.

"I’m in a place where I need to do something without being spied on or caught. I need you to obscure my actions, Senior," he said, cupping his fists. "It’s important," he added as his tone and expression turned solemn.

"Okay," the turtle replied lazily. It breathed out a white mist that swirled around Yang Qing and the table they were on. It seemed to cover the exact range of influence the arrays of the table had covered. The haze seemed to ripple like water before fading into nothingness, leaving behind no trace that it had ever been there.

"Glad to see you haven’t forgotten the lessons, Little Qing... Chu Zhen would be proud," said the turtle in praise, its eyes drifting toward the earthen pot of bamboo shoot broth.

Yang Qing, reading its intention, sighed inwardly. Outwardly, he maintained a pleasant smile, thanking the turtle for both its help and its compliment, while obsequiously pouring more broth into the bowl—though inside, it felt like parting with a kidney.

Even though he had expected this, it didn’t make it hurt any less. He cast a concealed, mournful glance at the pot, resigning himself to the reality that he wouldn’t get a single sip. His attention returned to the turtle, which was already well on its way to emptying the bowl again.

"You need another favor, don’t you?" it said, watching Yang Qing from the corner of its eye with a knowing glint as it drank.

"Yes," Yang Qing admitted easily, moving to refill the bowl before the turtle even asked. "I’d like to borrow Senior’s power once more to cloak my spell."

"You want to spy on someone?" the turtle asked, licking its mouth to savor the broth that had stuck at the edges.

"Mmh," Yang Qing nodded.

"They belong to a Domain-level power?" the turtle continued, splitting its attention between Yang Qing and the soup bowl he was refilling, a faint smirk tugging at its mouth.

"I’m not too sure," said Yang Qing as he poured, "but we can’t be too careful. This is Hebei Kingdom, after all."

"Hebei, huh..." the turtle drawled, as its eyes narrowed playfully. "How’s their tea?" it asked lazily, a faint grin tugging at its mouth before it chuckled at the slight twitch in Yang Qing’s eye.

"Exquisite," Yang Qing replied with a strained smile. He wanted to lie and say it was horrid, like the saliva of a rotbelly badger, but the turtle knew him too well and would see through it easily, not to mention the alluring aroma of those teas already betrayed the truth.

"Don’t worry, I won’t take your tea," the turtle said, its tone carrying the kind of reassurance that made Yang Qing doubt every word. "Bring out the spell."