Mysteries of Immortal Puppet Master

Chapter 1560: Chapter 644: Intelligence

The shadows of the bamboo swayed delicately across the snowy white window paper, like faint ink washed by clear water, exuding a sense of tranquility with every stroke.

Sun Lingtong was temporarily staying here to rest.

He sat cross-legged on a low couch, with a few ancient jade slips spread out before him, two well-sealed soul bottles, and an old wooden box picked up from a second-hand stall.

The lacquer on the box’s surface had peeled off, and its edges were smoothly worn, resembling an aged object played with by time and countless hands.

Inside the box was empty.

Sun Lingtong extended two slender fingers, gently tapping the bottom of the box with his knuckles.

Thud.

Thud thud.

On the third tap, a hidden compartment at the box’s base silently slid open, revealing a sheet of black talisman paper as thin as a cicada’s wing.

The talisman paper was so thin it was nearly transparent, shimmering with a deep glow under the lamplight, like a black butterfly awakened from its dream.

Sun Lingtong’s brow slightly arched, and a smile curled at the corner of his lips.

"Oh, how cleverly devised."

He pinched the talisman paper between his fingers, holding it up against the lamp flame. The surface bore no characters, only dark, moist patterns slowly slithered like water snakes.

Sun Lingtong snapped his fingers lightly.

A thread of blue light fell like a needle tip, piercing directly through the center of the slithering patterns.

The patterns stiffened abruptly.

He examined it closely, the smile on his lips deepening: "A Chasing Breath Talisman. Hidden quite painstakingly."

This wooden box had come from an unremarkable second-hand stall in the outer city’s black market.

Lately, he had been assisting Ning Zhuo in gathering old, secret tales about Tan Zhu, the Heaven-reaching Hook, and the Three Brave of Xiang Sect. Some demanded sky-high prices, while others peddled fakes as genuine.

While seeking intelligence, Sun Lingtong also noticed many eyes had fallen on him.

Sun Lingtong wasn’t in a hurry to destroy the Chasing Breath Talisman.

He took out a slender bamboo needle, gently touching the edge of the talisman paper, and slowly teased out a nearly invisible wisp of gray smoke from deep within the talisman patterns.

Sun Lingtong closed his eyes, his Divine Sense unfurling like tendrils, gently touching that wisp of gray smoke.

Moments later, he cast a spell to trace the source.

"So it comes from here."

He reattached the Chasing Breath Talisman back to the hidden compartment of the wooden box, placing the box back in its original position as if it had never been moved.

As he rose, he casually grabbed the Sugar Frost Spirit Fruit from the table, taking a bite that burst with sour-sweet juice on his tongue; he then slipped out through the window.

The night wind outside was slightly cool.

In the distance, the peaks of the Myriad Images Sect were shrouded in mist, their summits’ formation lights flickering like the eyelids of a slumbering giant beast occasionally shifting.

He traveled swiftly, landing at a mountain midsection.

Here lay a marketplace.

Even at night, it was bustling with voices. Some discussed the results of the Xingyun Trial, others deliberated over the gains and losses of the Five Battles Martial Arts, some gossiped gruesomely about the Red Robe Guest’s soul being hooked away, while others whispered the fearsome reputation of the Three Brave of Xiang Sect.

As Sun Lingtong passed by, listening to snippets, his lips curled downward.

"Alas, Little Zhuo is truly under the spotlight this time."

His steps quickened as he merged into the night market crowd like a swimming fish.

As he passed a stall under dim lamplight, his appearance had already subtly changed.

The handsome youth had transformed into a sallow-faced, timid-eyed servant boy, with dusty clothes, a half-worn cloth bag hanging from his waist, and even his walking posture had altered—shoulders hunched, back bent, apologizing profusely at the slightest bump.

Heading south, the street gradually became deserted.

The lamps were sparse, pedestrians rare, and houses on both sides shifted from bustling shops to abandoned courtyards, their walls overrun with withered vines rustling in the night wind.

Sun Lingtong paused beside a deserted magic platform.

The platform appeared decayed from the outside, with thick moss accumulating in the stone stair gaps, the offering table missing a corner, incense burner fragments scattered in the corners, and cobwebs hanging from the eaves. Yet in his eyes, a faint glimmer of an array light shone from beneath the platform, flowing like rippling water between the stone bricks.

He formed a finger technique, scouting for a while.

Soon, he circled to the platform’s back, squatting down and groping in the moss for a while; his fingertips found a gray stone button. The button was cold, yet bore a faint mana fluctuation, like a sleeping eyeball.

With a gentle twist.

The pavement under his feet silently cracked open.

A chilly dampness surged upwards, mingled with the decay of rotten wood and the acrid bitterness of poor-quality spirit incense.

Sun Lingtong wrinkled his nose before plunging down.

Below was a hidden talisman-making chamber.

Sun Lingtong continuously moved his fingers in intricate techniques, opening secret compartments and discovering numerous treasures, spotting many jade slips.

The jade slips were filled with intelligence materials.

Clearly, this place was an underground base for some faction.

Moments later, Sun Lingtong chuckled sneakily, satisfied, laden with his finds as he returned.

Three Lights Heavenly Dao Cave Mansion.

Deep in the cave, Ning Zhuo sat alone in the quiet room.

Outside, Cloud Qi flowed slowly around the peaks like a sea, the Three Days Light Refining Array running silently, with the colors of sunlight, starlight, and cloud radiance alternating, casting shifting shadows on the cold stone walls.

Jade slips were neatly arranged on the desk.

Mostly gathered from Chen San and Sun Lingtong’s findings.

A spirit lamp sat on the corner of the table, the flame small yet peaceful, illuminating the jade slips’ smooth surfaces to a gentle luster.

Ning Zhuo imparted mana and explored with Divine Sense sequentially, meticulously reviewing them all.

Tan Zhu!

The intelligence hadn’t conclusively proved Tan Zhu’s origins.

There were mainly three accounts.

Firstly, he was a youth from a remote village in the Northern Land, captured by a wandering Demon Cultivator on the day the village was destroyed, leading him onto the Demon Path.

Secondly, he was a corpse child crawling out of the forsaken swamp, adopted by a reclusive Soul Path Loose Cultivator from deep within, where he mastered a mysterious Corpse Poison Technique.

Thirdly, he was a minor, illegitimate member of a righteous path family, whose family was annihilated over a feud for inheritance, burdening him with blood vengeance as he fell into the Demon Path.

The three records contradicted one another, like differing illusions reflected in three mirrors.

Seeing this, Ning Zhuo realized these pieces of intelligence were likely deliberately fabricated by Tan Zhu to create layered tales and a mist of ambiguity around his origins to conceal his true roots.