"Shut Money" served as both a bounty and a settlement fee; should someone "violate the taboo" and never return, this sum would support the departed's family and elderly dependents, removing any financial worries. If the mission concluded successfully, the "Shut Money" transformed into a mere bonus, with further rewards to follow.

Chen Xiazi, truly the supreme leader of all thieves, excelled at winning loyalty, and he dispensed the Shut Money generously. Once arrangements were finalized, he gave the order, and the host of bandits dispersed from the Guandi Temple, immediately beginning their preparations under the cover of night.

The Xie Ling tomb raiders needed time to drill and synchronize their various formations and specialized equipment before deployment. Every tool of the trade had to be meticulously checked and readied, alongside the necessary study of local Yunnan dialects and customs. To have everything perfectly aligned was no task achievable in a single day.

But Partridge Whistle traveled light, a solitary figure, ready to depart at a moment's notice. Within a few days, he had everything prepared and was set to leave. Chen Xiazi insisted on escorting him, bringing along a few trusted confidantes, accompanying Partridge Whistle all the way to the shores of Dongting Lake.

The eight hundred li of Dongting Lake spread out in vast, misty expanse, dotted with sails. Both Chen Xiazi and Partridge Whistle had spent their lives rushing, perpetually entangled by worldly affairs, never finding a moment of true leisure. Seeing the mountains and waters offered a sense of cleansing for the dust settled in their hearts. Looking up, they spotted a tavern perched on the hills by the lakeside. Chen Xiazi proposed they ascend to the top floor for a sweeping view, sharing a pot of rice wine to bid Partridge Whistle farewell.

Partridge Whistle readily agreed, eager to witness the famed scenery of Dongting. Chen Xiazi instructed his men to wait below. The two men ascended to the second floor, one following the other, selecting a window seat. After ordering wine and dishes, they drank several cups in companionable silence. Raising their eyes to the view outside, they saw the tavern’s location was superb; from this height, the sails seemed to drift beneath their feet, and the distant landscape unfolded entirely before them.

They had both been filled with anxiety, but seeing the distant water and mountains from this vantage point was like stumbling upon a cool spring in the height of summer—it moved them deeply. Chen Xiazi held his wine cup, gazing across the lake, his ambition swelling. He turned to Partridge Whistle and said, “My brother, look around you. From ancient times to the present, there have always been those heroes and great figures who fear no danger or hardship, all for the sake of this magnificent land. They employ marvelous strategies and grand designs to dominate the world, ensuring their renown echoes through the ages. You and I possess genuine, hard-won skills; we absolutely cannot afford to lag behind or become complacent.”

Partridge Whistle lacked Chen Xiazi's soaring ambition, having grown weary of facing death daily. Seeing Chen Xiazi resurrecting his old pleas to join him, he could only offer a perfunctory reply: “The fortunes of flourishing and decline are mostly decided by fate; how can man calculate them? I am not like Brother Chen; I possess no talent for grand schemes. Once I locate the Muchen Pearl, if Heaven takes pity and I manage to cling to life, I wish to emulate the ancients—to take a single boat and vanish into the Five Lakes, traversing the jianghu like a hermit, never engaging in this life-risking business again.”

Chen Xiazi saw that Partridge Whistle’s mind was set and knew he could not be persuaded to stay. He mused to himself: Perhaps that is for the best. After all, one mountain cannot house two tigers. Since he cannot be used by me, it is better to let him retreat into the jianghu, avoiding a final confrontation that would shatter our camaraderie. In any case, this fellow’s trip to the Black Water City in Xixia to dig in the sand is likely a futile endeavor. Wait until I have plundered the Xian King's tomb in Zhaolong Mountain, then I will show you the true capability of the Changsheng Mountain—something the Ban Shan Daoists can never match.

Chen Xiazi was also planning to use Miss Hong as leverage in the future, compelling Partridge Whistle to serve Changsheng Mountain a few more times. He thus continued to Partridge Whistle, “There is one more matter. Miss Hong from our mountain asked me to act as matchmaker for her and you. I have agreed, treating her as my own younger sister. When you return from Black Water City, her leg injury should surely be healed. Why not let her accompany you? Her family suffered a massacre; she is utterly alone. The Green Forest is no place for her to settle down.”

Partridge Whistle, not dwelling on the details, immediately agreed: “The journey to Black Water City in Xixia is fraught with uncertainty regarding success or failure. But as long as I return alive, I shall not betray Brother Chen’s good intentions; I will gladly take her and fly far away.”

Chen Xiazi cursed inwardly: Look at this hypocritical Daoist, who cultivates his mind but not his mouth, practices abstinence from lust but not from women. He agrees so readily, without a single word of refusal... But Miss Hong is a sworn member of Changsheng Mountain. If she ever wishes to withdraw her incense stick and retire, I doubt it will be so easy. We’ll see how I make things difficult for you then.

Deep divisions already lay between their hearts, yet neither betrayed the slightest hint of it. As the tavern filled rapidly until every seat was taken, the dealings of Chen Xiazi and Partridge Whistle were secretive matters that could not be discussed in public. They swiftly ceased all talk of tomb raiding, choosing instead to drink, admire the lake, and point out the sights of the grand landscape.

However, midway through their drinking, the hushed conversation at the neighboring table repeatedly mentioned words like "Feng Shui" and "Daodou" (tomb robbing), immediately capturing the attention of both Partridge Whistle and Chen Xiazi. The group was trying to keep their voices low, but how could they deceive the ears trained in listening for hidden secrets, ears belonging to these two grand masters of grave robbing?

Both Partridge Whistle and Chen Xiazi were seasoned travelers of the jianghu. How rich was their experience? They often said, "A man in the jianghu." What exactly was the jianghu? It wasn't just about fighting and killing; it was a code name for an underlying society, complete with its own established rules and secret jargon, parasitically existing within normal society. Those unfamiliar with this hidden society naturally wouldn't understand its nuances, but when they encountered experts, they were instantly exposed. Thus, the two men appeared to be casually drinking and chatting, yet they heard every single word spoken by the merchants at the next table. That table held six men dressed as traveling merchants; all were rough and weathered. They hunched their bodies when they drank and spoke, suggesting years spent digging in the earth. Furthermore, a faint, earthy stench emanated from them. This odor was the signature left by tomb robbers who spent years digging shafts, prying open coffins, and moving corpses—a smell that could not be scrubbed away even with effort. Most people, perhaps even the men themselves, couldn't detect it.

But these men could not hide from Chen Xiazi and Partridge Whistle. Chen Xiazi subtly observed their expressions and instantly realized these supposed merchants were fellow tomb raiders. He wondered what reckless, unguided band of independent robbers dared to operate on Xiangyin territory? He shot Partridge Whistle a significant glance, choosing to observe coldly to see what scheme they were plotting.

They overheard the disguised thieves conspiring. One pockmarked man said, “We’ve gathered the brothers this time to plan something major. I presume you’ve all heard about the large contingent of warlord troops recently raiding tombs in Nuqing County, Western Hunan?”

Another reckless fellow with a scarred face chimed in, “That business caused quite a stir. Local bandits and warlords are deeply involved, and even the newspapers are full of it. Rumor has it a unit of warlords was splitting open a coffin in an ancient tomb when a burst of white vapor shot out, so strong that mountain folk dozens of miles away saw it. Then, a corpse sat up in the coffin, spitting out a Corpse-Suppressing Golden Elixir, scaring the soldiers into a full rout! Damn, that story is truly terrifying…”

The pockmarked man spat, “Jia Laoliu, you don’t know shit about shit. That’s just sensational nonsense made up by the provincial minor newspaper reporters. If they didn't write things that way, no one would even use their rotten papers to wipe their backside.”

Another man, with a neck like an axle, asked, “Boss Wu, I have a cousin working for those warlord troops. He mentioned that the tomb raiding in the Laoxiong Ridge area of Western Hunan involves massive teams of people, hundreds strong. What can the few of us manage? Besides, picking through what others have discarded—that’s hardly satisfying.”

Jia Laoliu, the scarred man, agreed, “Er Bozi is right. Boss, the ancient tombs deep in the mountains of Nuqing County have nearly been exhausted by warlords and bandits. What significant difference can we make digging in a mere pit? Furthermore, we aren't familiar with that area. My suggestion is we head to Shaanxi instead. I hear there’s a massive mountain there where a female emperor is buried, along with the man she stole in life.”

The pockmarked man spat another stream of saliva onto Jia Laoliu’s face: “Agh, shut your stinking mouth! You think you’re so knowledgeable about Shaanxi? If you try to act smart with me again, I’ll choke the life out of you first… Now, let’s stick to the main topic. Although the news from Western Hunan is all over town, the choppiest times are often the most profitable. Based on my experience, Boss Wu judges that Laoxiong Ridge likely harbors a large cluster of tombs. Those warlords and bandits, a disorganized rabble—what do they know of tomb robbing? They just dig randomly. The truly grand tombs are buried deep underground; you won’t find them digging three feet down. I suspect those warlords only managed to disturb a few shallow, modern graves. The ancient tombs in those mountains, packed with gold and silver, have probably not even surfaced yet.”

Jia Laoliu and Er Bozi grew greedy, but still held significant reservations. Warlords and bandits could deploy thousands of men at a moment's notice; wouldn't the entire mountainside be torn apart? Any tomb they couldn't find must be extremely hidden—who knew where it lay? Even though their boss’s tomb-raiding skills were unmatched, finding such a deep subterranean mausoleum wouldn't be easy. Did they need to emulate Yu Gong moving mountains, digging for generations? At that rate, they’d be lucky if their great-grandchildren found anything.

Hearing this, Chen Xiazi and Partridge Whistle felt considerable disdain. These were just a group of ignorant, overreaching independent robbers. What value was there in listening to their nonsense? They could send two quick subordinates later to find a secluded spot and finish them off, dumping the bodies in the lake to avoid spoiling their mood.

Just as they were about to dismiss the conversation, they heard the pockmarked Boss Wu chuckle coldly and whisper to his brothers, “You village bumpkins only know that tomb raiding means digging soil and turning earth. The real experts in this field use their eyes to look—that is called reading Feng Shui. Ancient tombs in the mountains are always buried in auspicious sites. Once you discern where the dragon vein lies, one shovel thrust will yield results. It’s not about randomly churning up the whole mountainside. Do you understand this profound art of ‘seeking the dragon and pointing the hole’?”

The other thieves shook their heads in unison: “We’re like frogs in a well—we don’t understand. Could it be that Boss Wu actually understands how to seek the dragon and point the hole? Have you been hiding your true skills all this time?”

Boss Wu replied, “I assume you don't. But to be frank, I don’t either. It doesn’t matter if we don’t understand, but don’t let anyone else know. There’s a fortune teller named Mr. Hu in the city who runs a small fortune-telling stall on the street, reading faces and characters, predicting fortunes. His prophecies are always spot-on. But what’s more important is that this man is an expert at assessing land—masterful with both Yin and Yang residences. Once we finish eating and drinking, we’ll first scout the city, find out where Mr. Hu lives, and as soon as night falls, we’ll storm in without a word and kidnap him. We’ll hold his family hostage and force him to point out the auspicious Feng Shui locations in the mountains. How can we fail to find the largest ancient tomb in the deep forest then? Once we’ve filled our pockets, we’ll take care of his whole family. Damn it, nobody will ever know.”

Chen Xiazi and Partridge Whistle exchanged a look, both startled by the wickedness of the thieves' plot. Although Changsheng Mountain openly engaged in banditry and theft, they scorned such low-down dirty tricks. Was there really a Mr. Hu in the city who understood Feng Shui? They hadn't heard of him before; they couldn't be sure if it was true, but the world was vast, filled with many heroes obscured from ordinary sight. Since this opportunity had arisen, why not go into the city and meet this man? Whether he was living up to his reputation could be tested immediately.