Chapter Thirty: First Encounter with the Meme

That day, Song Mu’s mind was consumed almost constantly by thoughts of mental power. As usual, after handing in the essay and analysis he had written on the classics, he left the county academy. Yet, instead of returning home immediately, he was keen to find a quiet place to further explore the mysteries of this newfound ability.

Earlier at the academy, he had already conducted a few simple tests: he could now sense every object within a fifteen-meter radius, though the effect lasted no longer than a quarter of an hour. When his mental energy was depleted, a heavy dizziness would fill his head, only alleviated by meditative recitation of texts—after two hours, his strength would recover.

Today, he had managed to fluently recite three ancient books backward, and could barely manage a fourth. He was convinced that as the number of books he could recite grew, so too would his mental power, and only then would its true value reveal itself.

Restless with anticipation, Song Mu found himself wandering the busy streets instead. He turned into a bustling avenue known as Temple Rear Street—a gathering place for certain unique trades. The area was far from luxurious, yet crowds thronged the thoroughfare, and so taverns, tailor shops, jewelry stores, and cosmetics boutiques stood shoulder to shoulder.

Nervous but curious, Song Mu walked along the street, eager to test his abilities. Amidst the overwhelming scent of rouge and powder, he kept his gaze lowered and moved along the roadside. Every five seconds, he swept the area with his mental power, confirming his position and observing those nearby.

This ability, he realized, was somewhat terrifying. When he extended his senses broadly, he could tell precisely how many people were nearby and at what distance. If he focused his power on a particular direction or person, he could even hear their conversations, and know, for example, exactly how many silver shards lay in their coin purse.

With such power, there was nowhere for those around him to hide. No wonder, he thought, that scholars who possessed mental power were said to become formidable—such a gift for probing one’s surroundings could spare one from most dangers.

As he walked, Song Mu observed with his mind: a pickpocket deftly relieved a passerby of a purse; another man hurried into a pawnshop, clutching some treasure to his chest. Every detail around him poured into his consciousness, the strangeness of it all leaving him somewhat intoxicated.

“Young master, won’t you come inside?” A fragrant breeze swept before him, and, lost in the thrill of his power, Song Mu looked up to find a heavily made-up woman approaching with inviting eyes.

He started, shivering involuntarily, and quickly lowered his head to slip past her.

He had unwittingly wandered in front of a brothel.

The women standing outside noticed the scholar’s flustered retreat and burst into peals of laughter. Song Mu, who had lived his previous life in complete solitude, blushed furiously and hurried away as fast as he could.

Quickening his pace and withdrawing his mental power, Song Mu now only wished to escape the street. But as he walked with head bowed, a dark figure suddenly appeared before him. Unable to dodge in time, he collided with the stranger.

“Sorry,” Song Mu apologized hastily, looking up to see a gaunt, middle-aged man step back a couple of paces. The man said nothing, glancing anxiously toward a nearby alley before hurrying in that direction.

His gait was swift, his figure hunched, as though intent on some shady business. Song Mu called out to him, but the man only moved faster. Instinctively, Song Mu extended his mental power.

The moment his senses enveloped the man, Song Mu saw clearly what he held in his arms: a bundle of dried petals. They resembled rose petals, pure white, yet as his mental power touched them, a cloud of black energy became apparent.

A dense, eerie darkness clung to those petals. Coupled with the man’s furtive manner, Song Mu immediately sensed something was amiss.

Yet, Song Mu did not follow. He knew his own limitations—whatever the man was up to, it was not for him alone to investigate. Instead, he decided to report it to the authorities; after yesterday’s incident, the city was under strict vigilance, and they would surely know what to do.

He watched as the man slipped into the alley, then turned to leave. Just then, his still-active mental power detected another presence—not on the street, but on the rooftop above.

In broad daylight, someone was darting across the roofs.

Song Mu quickly realized who it was: Li Mo’er. She wore the dark uniform of the Celestial Guards, her figure gliding nimbly over the tiles. Their eyes met for an instant.

Her brows furrowed in surprise.

Song Mu, raising his own brows, realized she had discovered him, and perhaps sensed his mental power as well. Like a secret suddenly laid bare, he clicked his tongue, abandoning his earlier plan and deciding to follow.

Li Mo’er was a highly ranked scholar; in this small county town, there should be no one she could not handle, he reasoned.

With that thought, Song Mu turned and slipped into the alley.

He hurried after her, but Li Mo’er was even faster on the rooftops. Gritting his teeth, Song Mu struggled to keep her in sight.

Through twists and turns of the shantytown in the city’s north, Song Mu soon lost all sense of place. At last, he saw the gaunt man from before slip through a side street, glancing around furtively before knocking thrice at a door and entering.

Song Mu concealed himself, watching as the man entered the house. He scanned the area—Li Mo’er was nowhere to be seen. The surrounding quiet pressed in on him. After a brief hesitation, he crept forward.

Finding a good vantage point near the earthen wall, and planning his escape route, Song Mu sent his last reserves of mental power into the courtyard.

Inside stood two middle-aged figures, apparently preparing a meal. The gaunt man greeted them, and after exchanging meaningful glances, they all headed into a side room.

Song Mu focused on the room, seeing jars and pots filled with half-prepared food. As the thin man entered, the others looked up.

“Boss, this is all I could get. With the city on lockdown, I had to pull up everything I’d secretly planted,” the thin man said, handing over a tightly wrapped bundle.

The leader, a man with narrow, shifty eyes, carefully opened it, revealing the dried petals within. He nodded, satisfied, and passed them to another man, who produced a small mortar and ground the petals into powder.

Soon, a fine white powder was poured out, and the leader instructed his companions to sprinkle it onto the various half-prepared dishes.

At that moment, everything became clear to Song Mu.

These black-infused petals must be the source of the demonic influence!

The true culprits behind the recent unrest were these men, who had been mixing the tainted substance into food throughout the city!

Inside, they continued to blend the powder, while Song Mu withdrew his mental power, his heart burning with indignation. He turned to report to the authorities.

But as he turned, he found Li Mo’er standing before him. He let out a stifled grunt.

“So, Master Song, you really have cultivated mental power?”

“A mere scholar… can also develop such an ability?”

Before Song Mu could reply, Li Mo’er fired off her questions in rapid succession.