ALL THE APPLICATIONS that had raised concerns were stacked up in the basement. There were no lights down there, but it wasn’t dark. The silvery glow of all the applications together was as bright as a row of incandescent bulbs.
Wang Zheng and Sangzan worked overtime throughout the day, and when Zhao Yunlan and the others came down the stairs, they had just finished separating the applications by different tribes and regions.
The application’s design was a work of art. They’d been handed out in white envelopes secured with little seals, which had also been made by Shen Wei. The application belonged to whomever could open the seal. Even if someone else later managed to get their hands on it, that person’s information wouldn’t be recorded. It was a way of doing preliminary screening since it wasn’t realistic to organize a written test. To start with, potential applicants were masters of different things and came from different backgrounds, so it wasn’t fair to have them sit through a standardized theory exam. What was more, many who cultivated way out in the middle of nowhere couldn’t read simplified Chinese.
Sangzan said, “Bureau Chief Zhao, taking the sum of the parts into consideration, we sent out 729 applications, and we have received more than 1,560 back.”
“That big a difference?” Zhao Yunlan asked.
“Yes, what a splendid sight,” Sangzan sighed.
In his years at the Special Investigations Bureau, Sangzan had been diligent and keen. Through industrious work and dedication, he now spoke Mandarin fluently, successfully getting rid of his “slutterer” moniker. But then he’d set an even higher goal for himself: he’d started learning chengyu,25 and was constantly trying to incorporate them into his everyday speech—and testing his colleagues’ patience in a whole new way.
Zhao Yunlan was used to it by now. He automatically ignored all the proverbs and idioms in Sangzan’s speech and gave him a wave. “Thanks for your hard work.”
“How dare you say that; it was no trouble at all,” Sangzan responded, smiling. “All I have is the coat on my back, so if I can help, this much is like a drop in the bucket.”
For fuck’s sake, Wang Zheng didn’t even stop him! All she did was stand next to him and smile indulgently!
“Okay, as long as you’re happy,” said Zhao Yunlan, giving up. “Hurry up and clock out, you two.”
The average person wouldn’t be able to produce a knockoff of Shen Wei’s anti-fraud watermark—especially not one so similar to the real thing. While Zhao Yunlan had been speaking with the couple, Shen Wei had already gone through all the applications in the pile.
“Shen-laoshi, what do you think?” Chu Shuzhi asked. “To be honest, I really can’t figure out the difference.”
Shen Wei didn’t say anything. After some consideration, he suddenly waved his hand and rearranged them from the categories Wang Zheng and Sangzan had sorted them into. The glowing applications fluttered upward like butterflies. In a dazzling show of light, they fell neatly into two piles with a whoosh. One pile was noticeably higher.
Zhao Yunlan hiked up his pants and knelt, picking out a few from each pile to look at. He pointed at the taller pile. “These ones are all the same?”
Shen Wei nodded.
“Huh? Aren’t they all the same?” Chu Shuzhi asked, completely mystified. “Isn’t that why we can’t tell if they’re real or not?”
“No,” said Shen Wei. “He’s talking about the seal on each application.”
It turned out that the seals on every application looked the same, but the methods of opening them varied. That meant they could get applicants with a variety of qualifications, and it would prevent applicants from sharing answers.
When the applications had been sent out, different seals were sent to different tribes. For instance, the Snake tribe was familiar with water, so it wouldn’t make sense to force them to use the True Flames of Samadhi to open the seal.
While all the seals on the submitted applications had been opened, the tiny bit of aura lingering on them was enough for an examiner to see the problem: all the seals on the applications in the taller pile were identical. They had clearly all been copied from one original.
“When we sent out the applications, I made a record of where each one was sent,” said Shen Wei. “We can see which tribe received the original of this one.”
Chu Shuzhi’s eyes bulged. “Hang on…! Each one of over 700 applications is different? And you kept a record of them all?”
“Yes.” Shen Wei adjusted his glasses. “And…?”
The thought left Chu Shuzhi speechless. No wonder there’d been no mention of paying this consultant. With this kind of output, they would’ve had to auction off Kunlun-jun to cover the fee!
Now that they had a starting point, things were much easier. A check of Shen Wei’s records revealed that the application in question had been sent to a yao tribe—specifically, the Water tribe of the South Sea.
Zhao Yunlan got up. “Tell Zhu Hong to call her fourth uncle.”
Overall, there were four types of yao: those who flew, those who walked, those who swam, and those who’d cultivated from inanimate natural objects. From there, they further divided into individual tribes, each living in different areas.
Since Zhu Hong was from the Snake tribe, and their chief, Fourth Uncle, was both good at getting things done and fair in his dealings, the Snake tribe was said to be both privileged and capable. As a result, they were particularly respected. In just a few short years, they’d come out on top among all the yao. Whenever something came up, the yao turned to Fourth Uncle.
Fourth Uncle arrived at 9 University Road less than five minutes after receiving his niece’s call, despite the scorching sun. After being given an overview of the situation, he first apologized to Kunlun-jun. He had too much shame to ask for more applications, so he turned, rolled up his sleeves, and personally set off to the South Sea to capture the barnacle responsible for the whole mess.