Zhen Zhidào, wrapped like a mummy, had managed to save his life.
The turtle shell on Zhen Zhidào's back was not an ordinary magic treasure, but a part of his body.
When Shí Jīng ripped off his turtle shell, it was akin to peeling off a layer of his skin. The pain was naturally indescribable. Zhen Zhidào's survival was a great fortune indeed.
Even though he had survived, his strength had been greatly diminished. Whether he could continue to remain among the Twenty-Eight Mansions was a question.
At this moment, Zhen Zhidào, placed on a wheelchair, was being pushed by a burly man who had saved him. The man said:
"The Boss wants to see you."
Zhen Zhidào weakly replied, "I want to see the Boss too."
It was obvious even to one's toes that the Boss wanted to see Zhen Zhidào to understand what had happened in the Ghost Market.
And Zhen Zhidào had been terribly tricked by Yán Shǒuyī this time. He was seething with resentment and couldn't wait to see the Boss, pour out the entire sequence of events, and wait for the Boss to avenge him.
The two passed through a narrow alley. Even in broad daylight, it was gloomy and damp. A cold wind swept through the alley, sending shivers down one's spine.
The burly man pushed Zhen Zhidào, who was in the wheelchair, into a paper figurine shop in the alley.
The shop was piled high with paper figures, paper horses, and paper sedan chairs. The small shop couldn't accommodate so many items, and some were even placed outside.
Inside the shop, an old man, looking to be in his fifties, was holding a cigarette butt and silently crafting paper figures.
He sat on a small stool, meticulously finishing a paper figure, and then used a brush to draw a face on the paper figure.
Whether it was an illusion or not, at the moment the old man finished drawing the eyes, Zhen Zhidào seemed to see the paper figure's eyes turn and stare at him.
It was not an illusion.
Zhen Zhidào came back to his senses.
The old man before him was their Boss, Jiǎo Mùjiāo, ranked first among the Twenty-Eight Mansions, and also a master paper figurine craftsman of a folk sect.
It was said that Jiǎo Mùjiāo was the most experienced and most powerful among the existing paper figurine craftsmen.
Zhen Zhidào naturally did not doubt the strength of his Boss, Jiǎo Mùjiāo.
He endured the pain and quietly waited for Jiǎo Mùjiāo to finish his work.
Finally, when the cigarette butt in Jiǎo Mùjiāo's mouth was about to burn his lips, he completed a paper figure.
Gently placing the paper figure on the ground, Jiǎo Mùjiāo removed the cigarette butt and crushed it under his foot.
He stood up, glanced at Zhen Zhidào, then beckoned, signaling the burly man to push Zhen Zhidào inside.
The wheelchair entered the shop, and Jiǎo Mùjiāo clapped his hands again.
The paper figures in the shop suddenly came to life. They hopped and skipped, their steps eerie, and began to tidy up the shop.
In less than a minute, the paper figures closed the shop door.
In the dark shop, Jiǎo Mùjiāo lit another cigarette and asked coldly, "Where are the others?"
"They all died in the Ghost Market," Zhen Zhidào said sadly.
"Tell me the whole story."
"Alright."
Zhen Zhidào gritted his teeth and recounted his experiences in the Ghost Market.
However, Zhen Zhidào did not actually understand the whole situation, only describing what he encountered from his own perspective.
In essence, Yán Shǒuyī had used a borrowed knife to kill, letting Ghost Kings like Shí Jīng take action.
And Zhen Zhidào and his companions, being unfamiliar with the place, not only failed to obtain the true Yangling Tiger Tally but also lost their lives.
It was a case of trying to steal a chicken only to end up losing the bait, losing both the wife and the soldiers.
No matter how tearfully Zhen Zhidào pleaded with Jiǎo Mùjiāo to avenge him, Jiǎo Mùjiāo listened impassively throughout. If it weren't for the burning cigarette butt, Zhen Zhidào might have thought time had stopped.
By the time Zhen Zhidào fell silent, Jiǎo Mùjiāo had also finished a cigarette. He habitually placed the cigarette butt under his foot to extinguish it. A paper figure beside him quickly handed over a new cigarette and a lighter.
"Boss," Zhen Zhidào pleaded, "that Yán Shǒuyī cannot be left alive!"
"You don't need to worry about Yán Shǒuyī," Jiǎo Mùjiāo finally spoke. "The day the Imperial Tomb reopens is when Lǐ Gēnmiáo will appear. He will naturally kill Yán Shǒuyī then."
Although Zhen Zhidào called Jiǎo Mùjiāo "Boss," Jiǎo Mùjiāo and Lǐ Gēnmiáo had no superior-subordinate relationship.
The situation was the same with Chǔ Liáng and the others before.
Strictly speaking, Lǐ Gēnmiáo was merely the spokesperson for the New Xuan Mountain Sect, not an absolute ruler.
Especially since Jiǎo Mùjiāo's seniority and status were far higher than Lǐ Gēnmiáo's, calling him by his full name was not inappropriate.
Jiǎo Mùjiāo then sighed:
"The Yangling Tiger Tally was a crucial part of my plan. Since you failed to obtain it, there is nothing that can be done. I can only summon all my disciples and grand-disciples to Chang'an to fill the gap."
The burly man had already grasped the key meaning in Jiǎo Mùjiāo's words and quietly turned to make arrangements.
Seeing this, Zhen Zhidào knew that Jiǎo Mùjiāo already had a plan in mind, so he wouldn't pay attention to anything else he said.
But he couldn't help but want to remind him: "Boss, Yán Shǒuyī is no minor figure. He foiled Lǐ Gēnmiáo's plan on Longhu Mountain and harmed me in the Ghost Market this time. If you let him go unchecked, it will lead to grave consequences!"
"But Lǐ Gēnmiáo said that Yán Shǒuyī is to be killed by him personally."
Jiǎo Mùjiāo smoked his cigarette and pondered for a moment before slowly saying:
"If Yán Shǒuyī cannot be killed, then let's kill Kàng Jīnlóng. He is also a descendant of Lu Ban and a traitor among us."
Zhen Zhidào had thought that revenge was hopeless, but upon hearing that Jiǎo Mùjiāo intended to kill Kàng Jīnlóng, a glimmer of hope finally appeared in his eyes.
He hated Yán Shǒuyī, and he also hated Wèi Chángqīng, who was by Yán Shǒuyī's side.
Especially since Wèi Chángqīng had betrayed them on Longhu Mountain and joined Yán Shǒuyī's side, Zhen Zhidào had long been displeased with him.
If he could get rid of Wèi Chángqīng, it would still be a good thing!
"What is your plan?" Zhen Zhidào couldn't help but ask.
Jiǎo Mùjiāo shook his head, unsure if he hadn't thought of it yet or was unwilling to tell Zhen Zhidào.
Several paper figures waited by Jiǎo Mùjiāo's side, their eyes fixed solely on him, filled with endless adoration.
Jiǎo Mùjiāo's cigarette was finished again. He reached out, only to find that the paper figure beside him had forgotten to hand him a cigarette.
So Jiǎo Mùjiāo smiled, picked up the lighter, and directly ignited the paper figure's body.
The paper figure snapped back to attention and rolled on the ground in silent agony, while the other paper figures quickly dodged in fear.
Before long, the poor paper figure was burned to ashes.
Jiǎo Mùjiāo watched with cold eyes, completely indifferent to the fact that the paper figure was his own creation.
After the paper figure was completely burned, Jiǎo Mùjiāo beckoned again, and a paper figure fearfully picked up the cigarette from the ground and respectfully handed it to Jiǎo Mùjiāo.
Jiǎo Mùjiāo lit the cigarette, patted Zhen Zhidào's shoulder, and whispered in his ear:
"In your current state, you probably can't achieve much. Why not go to the Pure Land sooner rather than later."
With that, Jiǎo Mùjiāo picked up a paper figure, placed it in Zhen Zhidào's arms, and silently set it alight.