Daishan Turns The Wind Chapter 15

The moment Feng Yuluo walked out, his expression shifted a thousand times, even more bewildered than when he left Kang Xiaole’s house last night, his mouth twitching uncontrollably.

Could this case even be solved?

If he wasn’t mistaken, the situation just now confirmed that Gan Youyou was deaf.

A mute musician? Turns out he was also a deaf musician.

What kind of peerless genius was this!

Shan Wuzhou wasn’t much better off, but seeing his grandmaster so lost and unsure of what to do, he calmed down and was even secretly a little pleased.

The usually shameless, playful, wise, and interesting grandmaster also had this clumsy side.

People often said that discovering an admired and respected person was not as perfect as imagined would lead to great disappointment and aversion.

Shan Wuzhou leaned closer and watched the eight-hundred-year-old man walk forward with hesitant, trembling steps, a weathered face beneath his messy hair…

He seemed rather cute.

Shan Wuzhou turned his head and smiled.

Grandmaster, just keep pretending to have amnesia.

The two arrived at the tree outside the city. The body had been removed, but the murder case was still unsolved, and the area was cordoned off.

The pool of blood remained on the ground, and the surrounding dirt was covered in footprints—seven or eight sets belonging to Gan Daqiang, his attendants, and others. The murder weapon was later found in the grass a few yards away: a discarded knife and axe. They hadn’t yet determined who owned it.

Feng Yuluo stared blankly at the tree branch.

Before his eyes was the swaying phantom of Gan Daqiang hanging there.

He had a sudden thought: “Do you think… maybe I was the killer?”

Shan Wuzhou showed no surprise, waiting for him to continue.

Feng Yuluo counted on his fingers: “I knew Gan Daqiang was bullying people, and I even said I was going to teach him a lesson. Maybe it was me, while I was sleeping—no, while my soul was out of my body—who ran over and sliced him up.”

Shan Wuzhou grew nervous. He felt Feng Yuluo’s forehead with the back of his hand—it was warm. He took his pulse and asked, “Have you ever experienced your soul leaving your body before?”

Feng Yuluo shook his head.

Shan Wuzhou relaxed: “Then it shouldn’t be you. The killer must be between Kang Xiaole and Gan Youyou.”

Feng Yuluo snapped back to attention: “Alright. Let’s wait until tomorrow. We’ve investigated almost everything. Tomorrow, we’ll seize the opportunity to get inside.”

When the murder occurred, Gan Youyou was performing and Kang Xiaole was working as a runner. Tomorrow, they would find out who the killer was, how they did it, and who Yuanbao was possessing.

The two made some preparations.

The following afternoon, on Gan Youyou’s final day of performance, Feng Yuluo and Shan Wuzhou squeezed in with the crowd.

They heard that due to the accident, this would be the last performance of the year. People were even climbing the railings of the Illusion Moon Pavilion stairs.

Waiters stepped on people’s shoes to serve tea to the guests.

Everyone looked forward eagerly, their faces full of excitement, drinking their own tea and eating others’ pastries.

To make up for yesterday’s absence, Gan Youyou was scheduled to play four pieces today.

Look, this was the genius musician Zishu City had chased for three years—how worthy he was.

Feng Yuluo and Shan Wuzhou stood near the edge of the third floor, observing closely, looking for those who were easily agitated or prone to arguments.

Kang Xiaole was busy, squeezing over to hand them some pastries and tea. He smiled, then squeezed away to attend to other guests.

They didn’t have a chance to speak, but seeing Kang Xiaole, their hearts remained… unsettled.

Last night, Gan Youyou’s attendant had come to invite Shan Wuzhou, saying the piece composed for him was ready and seeking permission to play it at the Illusion Moon Pavilion today.

Gan Youyou said that if Shan Wuzhou could discern which piece was written for him, the composition would be given to him free of charge, a heartfelt gift.

Shan Wuzhou could also choose to refuse.

Shan Wuzhou agreed.

This meant that one of the four pieces played today was composed for Shan Wuzhou.

Feng Yuluo was quite surprised that he agreed, thinking Shan Wuzhou valued his privacy and wouldn’t want his inner thoughts to be scrutinized by the public.

However, he didn’t ask, afraid of eliciting some embarrassing response. He was terrified of this little rascal now.

Shan Wuzhou naturally had his own considerations.

First, Gan Youyou specifically came to ask, which surely had a purpose.

Whether it was Kang Xiaole or Gan Youyou, both carried pain and obsession. A cultivator had his path of practice, and if he could help them let go of some of that burden, Shan Wuzhou was very willing.

Allowing them to act on their wishes was a form of release afterward.

Second, the expression was through playing the zither, not singing. Others wouldn’t know the secret within, so he felt it wasn’t important.

Finally, he was in a state of confusion and really wanted to know how others felt when they heard the music, and also wanted to see his grandmaster’s reaction.

The grandmaster was working so hard to feign amnesia. Whenever such things happened, he couldn’t voice his distress and could only silently endure, laugh it off, or pretend not to understand.

Shan Wuzhou was becoming increasingly bold due to this indulgence. He constantly wanted to provoke him, just to see the grandmaster’s face flush and tremble with anger, unable to erupt lest he expose his lack of amnesia, and unwilling to kill him, leaving him utterly helpless and frantic.

He, meanwhile, experienced the pleasure of drinking poison to quench his thirst.

When he realized Feng Yuluo wanted to ask but knew he couldn’t, his mind was soaring with mischief. He barely managed to suppress his smile, cleared his throat, and spoke words his grandmaster couldn’t hear.

“Actually, I just want to know if everyone feels this way—that seeing the person they love happy makes them even happier.”

He squeezed out an intense look, fixing his gaze on Feng Yuluo.

Feng Yuluo’s heart trembled with shock. He turned back in disbelief and met that direct gaze. His lips moved, wanting to curse, but seeing the unconscious despair and madness in Shan Wuzhou’s eyes, he almost wanted to just throw himself off the railing.

Faking death during the Heavenly Tribulation was a terrible idea.

Faking amnesia was even worse.

He vowed never to have a sudden inspiration again.

Why did that damned Heavenly Oracle even exist?

Feng Yuluo was utterly distraught.

Shan Wuzhou didn’t get the reaction he expected and was a little disappointed, but seeing his grandmaster endure in silence made him want to laugh. However, that feeling was quickly replaced by loneliness and regret.

He hid his smile, painfully flexing his knuckles, and observed the people in the hall.

As usual, the Illusion Moon Pavilion owner went up first to quiet the crowd and welcome Gan Youyou to the stage.

Drums rolled, and red silk curtains fluttered.

The crowd gasped.

Gan Youyou ascended, holding his zither. His red robe, embroidered with gold thread patterns, reflected a sheen under the lamplight and daylight. A half-black mask contrasted with his rosy lips and white teeth. His light steps seemed to extinguish the summer heat, bringing instead the passionate coolness of love.

“Ah!”

“Ah!!”

“Ah!!!”

An unprecedented entrance!

Frenzied screams rose and fell.

Young women gripped their friends’ clothes, silently shouting.

Regardless of the time, besides the admiration and respect for a genius, people also loved that rare, otherworldly feeling.

The Illusion Moon Pavilion owner had to step out again to quell the commotion.

In this brief moment, Feng Yuluo focused on six people.

Gan Youyou pursed his lips, smiled, and struck a single note.

It was a gentle comfort to the crowd.

It was completely different from what Feng Yuluo and Shan Wuzhou had overheard yesterday.

The crowd instantly quieted, but their eyes continued to shoot out countless admiring messages, surrounding Gan Youyou from all directions.

There was no standing room. One young man used his feet to grip the stairs, supporting two friends on either side, precariously yet solidly leaning, his eyes unblinking, his ears perked up.

This time, there were no introductory, plain pieces. Because of the one-day absence, the story would continue directly today.

The two hadn’t attended on the fifth day but had heard people talk about that segment.

—

In truth, the young man never gave up. Under the guise of picking fruit, he collected vines and tied them into a long rope. Finally, the rope was long enough, and he descended the cliff. The demon urgently pursued him. The young man panicked and accidentally stumbled. The demon closed in step by step.

At this crucial point, the Illusion Moon Pavilion stopped the performance, breaking the narrative for a day. Everyone was anxious about what would happen next.

The scholar took the stage and narrated: The demon pressed closer, step by step. Crack! The demon fell into a pit. It turned out the young man had already used the vines to descend and set a trap on the mountainside. He then pretended to flee, luring the demon into the chase. The demon fell into the trap and was tangled in vines. Its massive, two-zhang-wide palm was severed. The pit below was full of dry branches. The young man threw a spark, finally defeating the demon.

In the music, there was the young man’s fear and resilience in the face of evil, and finally, the heroic triumph of defeating the demon.

The crowd cheered.

Feng Yuluo rested his chin on the railing and laughed: “People really love stories about fighting demons.”

Shan Wuzhou lowered his eyes, staring absently at a splinter on the handrail: “Justice triumphing over evil—it’s what people desire.”

“…” Feng Yuluo straightened up, belatedly feeling a headache: “So this piece isn’t that simple, is it? Last time was writing a story based on a picture; this time is identifying the sound based on the music?”

He sighed repeatedly: “I’m eight hundred years old and still have to be a flower interpreter. Give this old man a break.”

Shan Wuzhou smiled, his voice soft as cotton: “Alright, alright, I’ll figure it out.”

Once the hall quieted, Gan Youyou began the second piece. The ancient zither gently narrated the young man’s happy life after returning home from his studies. It was tender and pure, like a feather sweeping the heart, filling it with anticipation and emotion.

Shan Wuzhou recalled the story from the beginning.

The young man was living peacefully until he was captured by a demon. The demon had strange giant hands and threatened him to clean the cave or be thrown off the cliff. The young man sang, attracting birds, and asked them to help find dry branches. He wove vines himself to make a trap. When the time was right, he feigned obedience, then pretended to escape, leading the demon into the trap, severing its hand, and finally burning the demon to death.

The young man might represent Kang Xiaole and his brother, or Gan Youyou. The demon was Gan Daqiang.

Singing refers to playing the zither, vines refer to zither strings, feigning obedience means constantly giving money, and leading him to the trap… Was Gan Daqiang guided to the suburbs for his summer retreat?

What about the one arm, the giant hand? Gan Daqiang had two arms, and his hands were normal.

Also, the birds bringing dry branches for help must be specific, indicating the killer had an accomplice.

What were the dry branches?

Shan Wuzhou thought of the dead leaves at the disappearance site.

Was it possible that Gan Daqiang’s case and the twenty-six missing people were connected?

Or perhaps the killer was related to Yuanbao’s host.

A bold guess: Yuanbao and the host were the killer’s accomplices.

Feng Yuluo and Shan Wuzhou basically believed that Gan Daqiang was killed by either Kang Xiaole or Gan Youyou, without hiring a killer; they did it themselves. The question was how they managed it.

Now they knew the killer had an accomplice.

They needed to determine who was who.

And how could the two of them disappear for an hour to exact revenge in plain sight, then return to their positions without arousing suspicion?

Yuanbao was also a strange demon. It possessed hosts to commit evil, capturing so many people, yet it was somehow exploited to help the killer. How embarrassing was that?

…

While his mind was wandering, the third piece began.

The zither music was like jade dropping into water, the force of the droplets building into continuous, endless waves crashing against the shore.

Thousands of listeners sank into the sea, like flying fish whose wings were tangled in threads, unable to break free. Suffocated by hallucinations, they were suddenly freed by a clanging sound, allowing them to surface. Before they could marvel at their luck, they were swept away by an undertow again.

Should they fight the darkness and fear for a life-or-death struggle, or choose to face the sun and pursue hope? As they hesitated, a streak of light dispersed the whirlpool, rising and falling on the sea surface, with thousands of flying fish following suit.

Rising and falling, a heart-stopping experience.

Shan Wuzhou looked as if he had been pulled out of the sea, his expression dazed, a deep joy welling up in his heart, like rushing toward mountains and seas.

A moment later, the fourth piece began.

It felt like a sudden drop from high altitude. Amidst wisps of cooking smoke, a breeze opened the small courtyard gate. A little turtle slowly crawled over the stone steps and flipped onto its back.

A nimble morning glory sprouted on the fence. A bee came to steal the fragrance, its eyes blurred by dew.

The person returning late put down the ancient book and lit a candle.

Dinner was ready, hot soup steaming from the pot.

A stray cat, smelling the aroma, ran in, squatting at their feet and meowing up at them.

In this small courtyard, there was thin mist in the morning and colorful clouds in the evening. How simple, how comfortable.

All anxious emotions drifted away.

In the main hall, Kang Xiaole paused in the corner, listening quietly. He suddenly looked up, his gaze seeming to ask if Shan Wuzhou had made his choice.

Gan Youyou showed no distress; it was merely a choice between two. Shan Wuzhou’s eyes held a hint of sadness; he had understood.

Amidst the applause, Gan Youyou retreated.

People began talking and socializing. Sure enough, some started arguing and noisily crowded toward the exit.

Next, something was about to happen.

Feng Yuluo and Shan Wuzhou spoke simultaneously: “Quickly, insult me.”

“…”

The common denominator was arguing and insulting others. The two needed to blend in during this final opportunity.

They hadn’t decided exactly how to insult each other, so last night they hired four people to act: after the performance ended, two would insult the other two, using slightly different levels of severity.

In addition, they quickly sought out other people who were arguing and applied connecting talismans.

Finally, Feng Yuluo and Shan Wuzhou would insult each other.

Three eggs in three baskets, ensuring they would enter the Illusory Thought Realm today.

Shan Wuzhou took a deep breath, pushing aside his feelings from the music, and insisted that his grandmaster insult him, because a disciple insulting his grandmaster was utterly rebellious and against human ethics.

That single sentence infuriated Feng Yuluo: You little brat, you know that’s utterly rebellious and against human ethics? If you hadn’t insisted on being utterly rebellious and against human ethics, would I have been forced to leave and end up in this state?

So Feng Yuluo rolled up his sleeves, his face fierce: “You scoundrel!”

Shan Wuzhou lowered his head: “Yes.”

He waited for a moment. Was that it?

Feng Yuluo nodded impatiently. That was it.

Could this get them captured?

Feng Yuluo urged Shan Wuzhou to quickly insult him back.

Shan Wuzhou remembered how his grandmaster had insulted him, a smile playing on his lips. He grabbed a person who was arguing and called him a bastard.

The person looked confused: “?”

But when they left the Illusion Moon Pavilion, they were still in the mortal world. Perhaps the insult wasn’t harsh enough, and they were filtered out. Fortunately, the connecting talismans showed movement. Shan Wuzhou wrapped an arm around his grandmaster and used a spell to follow.

They fell into darkness, into an empty space, where clanging sounds, like needles, pierced their ears.