Chapter 1282: No one better than Bu Zhou (2)

Yang Qing’s eyes immediately lit up at the good news—though with him, it was hard to say whether he was more excited about not having to share his tea, or about the help with his spell.

Phantom Sleeve Water Beetle.

He formed a seal, and two translucent, almost crystalline water beetles materialized. They buzzed to life with startling energy, immediately making a break for the osmanthus cakes before Yang Qing pinned them both in place with a finger.

“Your spells have become even more uncanny,” the turtle remarked, eyeing the pair as they flailed their tiny limbs and buzzed insistently, pointing between themselves and the cakes.

Yang Qing could only smile bitterly at the comment. What could he say? It was his spell, and even he was now finding it to be too strange. The two water beetles had taken to buzzing when their limbs failed them. He didn’t speak water beetle, but since they were a manifestation of his spell, he could understand what they were “saying.”

Despite them being manifestations of his spell, the beetles were shamelessly pleading their case to him claiming that they had a nest of a thousand starving larvae on the brink of collapse, and that the osmanthus cakes were their only salvation.

Luckily, their chatter could only be understood by him—otherwise, he wasn’t sure where he’d put his face if others found out. Isn’t this getting a bit… out of hand? He thought uneasily. He hadn’t minded the liveliness of his spells at first, but now, seeing this level of behavior, he was starting to feel concerned. Seems a bit much, even for a purple-grade art, doesn’t it?

Unwilling to witness the spectacle any longer, Yang Qing relented. He broke off a few crumbs of the cake and handed them to the two scoundrels, earning a quiet chuckle from the turtle. Bu Zhou exhaled another puff of mist, just like before, enveloping the beetles in a shroud that vanished as quickly as it appeared.

Yang Qing offered his thanks and without wasting a moment, sent the two water beetles out the window with their instructions already imprinted on them. For all their odd behavior, they were still spells that followed his will.

Once outside, they descended unseen, each heading for its mark. One—a handsome, scholarly young man in a blue overcoat—received his visitor at the collar of his robe, where the beetle settled like an ornamental clasp, an invisible one that is. The other was a young maiden in a soft rose-pink hanfu who had a yet again invisible water beetle resting delicately on the flower stalk that she had tied her hair with.

Yang Qing smiled in satisfaction once he saw them both settle on their intended targets. “Now we wait,” he said with barely contained excitement before turning to offer his thanks again. “Thank you once again, Senior Bu Zhou,” he added, cupping his fists.

“Mmh,” the turtle replied with a curt nod, then promptly tipped back its bowl and swallowed the soup in a single breath.

That turtle—Senior Bu Zhou—was no ordinary creature. He was a peak domain-level spirit beast and the bonded companion of Dean Chu Zhen, dean of the Survival and Adaptability Department. Bu Zhou also served as assistant dean of that very department. The form before Yang Qing wasn’t its true body, but rather a small projection of its will, transmitted through the octagon plate Yang Qing used. That plate was from the turtle’s own shell.

Yang Qing had summoned him for one reason: his unparalleled abilities. Bu Zhou was a shrouding water jade turtle. This was a spirit beast renowned for its mastery in concealment. It could hide from almost anything, earning it a saying known across the lands—if you want to hide secrets from the heavens themselves, seek out the shrouding water jade turtle.

Whether it could truly hide from the heavens was unknown, but its obscuring abilities were second to none. Its skill at isolating itself was so extreme it could even fool certain foundational principles—such as those governing formations.

Formations, especially those designed for protection or intrusion prevention, worked through detection. The shrouding water jade turtle was their natural bane. Its concealment was so refined that the laws and principles governing those formation arrays could neither sense nor affect it. To such a creature, even the most intricate formation array might as well be an illusion—it could pass through as if it weren’t active at all.

Senior Bu Zhou, for instance, could bypass any middle-tier gold-grade formation and below simply by walking through it.

The same held true for spiritual senses. At his level, the number of experts below the Soul Formation Realm who could detect him could be counted on one hand.

His presence was traceless.

With such skills, it was no wonder assassins dreamed of forming a contract with a shrouding water jade turtle.

But alas, Senior Bu Zhou here had bonded himself to the most paranoid individual in the entire Order—a man so paranoid that even someone as gifted as Yang Qing in that regard, paled in comparison.

Yang Qing wasn’t sure if it was the influence of the contract and the bond it created, or if Senior Bu Zhou had simply been born that way—but the turtle before him was both highly paranoid and highly cowardly. It was, in truth, one of the reasons they got along so well. Birds of a feather, as the saying went.

When Yang Qing summoned him, he had half-expected Senior Bu Zhou to reject the summons outright. He probably used some divining tool to calculate the risk beforehand… or used some saint-grade treasure and a dozen formations to safeguard his true body in case anything happened to this manifestation, Yang Qing mused.

Other than Dean Chu Zhen, Yang Qing was the only one the turtle had ever entrusted with a fragment of its shell—a trust earned through years of the bond they had formed during his time at the Institute. The Order trained its members to be deeply paranoid, but that was one subject Yang Qing had never needed lessons in. His clan had already given him a thorough education on that front.

Paranoia? He had it in abundance.A desperate will to preserve his life? Thanks to his clan, he was equally well-supplied in that too.

Having all these qualities, it came as no surprise that Yang Qing thrived in the Faculty of Survival and Adaptability. There, he was like a fish in water, and it wasn’t long before he drew the attention and praise of Assistant Dean Bu Zhou. The two would spend hours discussing just how dangerous the world was, spiraling down endless rabbit holes of paranoia. It was during one of these meandering talks that the idea of becoming a judge first took root in Yang Qing’s mind, when they were discussing jobs with the least risk.

Of course, risk wasn’t the only thing he weighed—pay mattered too. That’s why safe posts like working in the Administration Hall or tending the Order’s herbal fields, while perfectly fine, were never serious contenders for him.

In the end, only two positions checked all his boxes: judge or instructor. The latter, however, required at least palace realm cultivation before he could qualify. While Yang Qing did relish the idea of passing on the pain and torment he had suffered as a student—thus keeping the grand tradition of the Institute alive—being an instructor came with one fatal drawback: his demon teachers were still there.

Given how thoroughly they had tormented him, he had no desire to face them again… At least not until he could confidently beat them soundly and finally settle all the heart demons they had left him with.

So a judge he became, imagining it would be his safe haven—blissfully unaware it was home to several monstrous fiends… and one even bigger than the rest. Still, on the bright side, as long as he kept climbing the ranks, his dreams would come true. Becoming a judge also gave him the perfect excuse to shamelessly grovel and beg Bu Zhou for a plate from his shell, as he cited all the dangers they had once discussed with fervor as justification for his asking for it.

And here he was now, reaping the harvest of that shamelessness.

The Bu Zhou before him was merely a manifested will—not the true body—and thus didn’t possess its full strength. But even so, what power it could channel was more than enough for Yang Qing’s needs, namely, shielding his actions from prying eyes.

Yes, the teahouse’s formation arrays were active, but they belonged to the teahouse. Who was to say they wouldn’t snoop on him? Especially when he was about to spy on one of their own staff members and a patron?

No—he needed a shield of his own. And there was no one better than Senior Bu Zhou. Even limited to a mere portion of his strength, the turtle’s obscuring power meant anyone at the sixth stage of the Domain Realm and below could forget about spying on him—or on the spell he had just cast.

The Phantom Sleeve Water Beetle was a scrying art that recorded every interaction of its two chosen targets. What they did, who they spoke to, what they spoke about… every word, every gesture, every little thing was faithfully captured by the beetles. When Yang Qing decided they’d gathered enough, he could recall them, replay everything they had seen and heard, all the while the targets remaining blissfully unaware of it.

Without Bu Zhou’s mist, though, he wouldn’t have dared to use it. While neither that scholarly-looking man nor the attendant would notice the beetle—nor would anyone below his own cultivation base—it was still too risky. Those two might not be strong, but the same couldn’t be said for the people in their circles. That young man, in particular, had the look of someone tied to a sect or some other organization.

No—if he wanted to ensure he wasn’t caught, he needed to guard against even Domain experts. And for that, there was no one better than Bu Zhou.

“Hopefully two days should be enough,” Yang Qing muttered, reaching for his tea. With his other hand, he slid all the remaining pots of bamboo broth toward the turtle, sighing in reluctant acceptance that he wasn’t fated to taste a single drop today. The turtle had sharpened his paranoia; he, in turn, had introduced it to the fine art of shameless mooching. Never leave a free meal, and never hold back, he’d told it before. Food that’s there to be eaten should be eaten without restraint. Now, he was reaping the bitter fruits of those thoughtless words.