Chapter 87: A Method to Verify Identity

The role of steward was something Su Fan had some understanding of from his time in Luo City. It merely involved overseeing the mundane affairs of a city: the widow Liu’s cow from East City had vanished without a trace, and the wife of Shopkeeper Zhao from West Street had eloped with one of his assistants. Su Fan found such matters agreeable, preferring the leisure and ease they afforded to the endless intrigues and scheming—he was never one for competition or ambition.

Though Luoxian City served as the capital of its county, holding both authority and military power, its structure was surprisingly similar to Luo City’s, which allowed Su Fan to quickly locate his destination.

The gates of the county headquarters were grand, almost rivaling those of the Red Faction; compared to them, the Purple Faction’s looked like mere huts of thatch. Standing outside the gate were two guards clad in black armor, gripping black spears with an imposing air.

Su Fan estimated their cultivation—they both possessed the early stage of the Golden Core, yet for some inexplicable reason, their aura seemed much stronger than typical cultivators at this level.

Without paying them much mind, Su Fan strode boldly through the gates; the two guards offered no words or resistance, letting him pass freely.

Inside was another world entirely. In a small pavilion sat an elderly man dressed in yellow robes, presumably a senior elder of the Yellow Faction. The old man kept his eyes closed, his head tilted back as if deep in meditation.

Su Fan had no desire to mingle with these people, so he walked past the pavilion, heading deeper into the compound. Just as he was about to pass, the yellow-robed elder opened his eyes and lifted his head, asking, “Who are you?”

Su Fan smiled, turned, and clasped his hands in salute. “I am Su Fan, acting on orders from my sect to assume the position of steward.”

The elder scrutinized Su Fan from head to toe before speaking. “So little regard for propriety—which faction are you from?”

Su Fan’s expression darkened slightly. “The Purple Faction.”

The elder’s reaction made it clear he had anticipated this answer, yet he pressed further. “The Purple Faction hasn’t accepted disciples for many years. Are you pretending?”

Su Fan turned, his gaze cold as he stared at the elder. “Does Senior require proof from me?”

For reasons unknown, a sense of foreboding—almost panic—rose in the elder’s heart, a feeling that had not surfaced even during his encounters with Purple Cloud. It was the aura of one who had killed many, a chilling, bloody presence.

The elder’s body trembled ever so slightly. He barked, “Proof? Very well, I demand you prove it today.” His voice was loud, unnecessarily so given their proximity; perhaps he sought to mask his fear, for those gripped by terror often speak loudly.

Su Fan smiled and said, “Senior, please do not take offense. I meant no disrespect.”

The elder snorted. “If you cannot prove it, then leave. When you can prove your identity, return and seek me out.”

Su Fan asked, “How shall I prove it?”

The elder sneered, “If I say you are, then you are.”

Su Fan shook his head. “So Senior does not believe me even now?”

The elder ignored Su Fan’s words, resuming his seat and closing his eyes to rest. Su Fan cast him a cold glance, quickly making up his mind: if one always yields, others will think you are easy to bully. At times, one must assert themselves.

Since his name and affiliation as a disciple of the Purple Faction were insufficient, only one course remained—instill fear, threaten his very life.

Su Fan swept the elder with his spiritual sense, discerning that the man’s cultivation had reached the peak of late-stage Golden Core, just one opportunity away from advancing to Nascent Soul. He was more formidable than Hong Yan, not only in cultivation but in his experience, and surely possessed powerful treasures and techniques.

Su Fan made his decision and swiftly formed a seal with his hands. The elder failed to notice anything unusual, yet violet mist began to gather before Su Fan.

Sensing something amiss, the elder sprang to his feet, muttering, “It truly is the Qianzi Heavenly Phenomenon.”

Before he could counter, a severed finger emerged silently from the violet mist, aiming directly at him.

Instantly, the elder coughed up blood. His cultivation and insight allowed him to dodge the first strike, but the second came swiftly.

As he scrambled away, he shouted desperately, “You may enter!”

Su Fan laughed coldly. “Has Senior confirmed my identity?”

The elder, still somewhat enraged, saw the murderous finger linger before him and had no choice but to respond, “I have. You may enter.”

Su Fan mocked him, “Then I thank Senior.” With that, he waved his hand, dispersing the violet mist and causing the finger to vanish.

The elder glared coldly at the spot where Su Fan had disappeared, perhaps still stunned by that single attack, or reflecting on his own ignorance.

Some time later, a streak of red appeared outside the pavilion, accompanied by a graceful silhouette.

The elder seemed sluggish, only after a while lowering his head hurriedly to say, “County Chief, I was unable to detain him.”

The woman spoke with no discernible emotion, “It matters not. Since he has arrived, there will be plenty of opportunities.”

The elder bowed his head even lower. “Rest assured, County Chief. I will avenge the Young Lord.”

The woman paused in contemplation before continuing, “His cultivation and combat prowess are adequate; it is no surprise that Hong Yan perished by his hand.”

The elder was about to speak again, but the woman, seemingly impatient, interrupted, “Go and cultivate. I will handle the rest.”

With those words, she became a streak of red, drifting out of the pavilion and vanishing from the elder’s sight.

Su Fan continued down the sole pathway, lined with dense clusters of red flowers. Fortunately, there was no red mist, allowing him some ease.

Soon, a bamboo house appeared before him. Beside it stood a grove of bamboo, and beyond, a stream over which a bamboo bridge was built.

Su Fan stepped lightly onto the bridge, observing the fish’s reflections ripple across the water.

Suddenly, the sound of a zither filled the air, startling Su Fan. He looked toward its source—the elegant bamboo house.

Curious, he entered. The door stood wide open, and the interior was refined; bamboo leaves covered the roof, and atop the exquisite Eight Immortals table lay a freshly picked bouquet of violet flowers, still glistening with morning dew.

In the northeast corner by the window sat a figure in red, her back turned. The music emanated from her, the notes bold and impassioned, wholly at odds with the tranquil surroundings.

Yet Su Fan remained quietly, listening until the final note faded.

Sunlight filtered through red gauze, revealing a shapely form beneath the veil. Though her back faced Su Fan, he could easily imagine her beauty.

As the music ceased, she spoke coldly, “You are Su Fan, correct? This is the residence I have prepared for you. Are you satisfied?”

Su Fan clasped his hands respectfully and bowed. “I am very pleased. Thank you, County Chief.”

The woman paused, perhaps surprised or intrigued. “You truly are clever.”

Su Fan smiled faintly, saying nothing, for he could not think of anything else to say—at least, not to her.

And thus, a chapter is added for everyone, albeit a bit late.