"Different regions use similar but not identical aromatic materials for incense making, with the main differences lying in the craft and fragrance profiles. However, due to regional variations in produce, there are often subtle distinctions, with some local materials added. If you know where it's from, I might be able to make a close guess," the old man said slowly.

Yuan Ming first nodded, but then shook his head.

"If that's the case, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do," the old man said with a look of regret, shaking his head.

"What if I were to break off a small piece, scrape off some powder, or perhaps light it, would you be able to help me identify the materials inside?" Yuan Ming suddenly had an idea and asked.

"You're overestimating my abilities. To be able to do that probably requires decades of experience as an incense maker, and only an old master craftsman might manage it. I certainly don't have the skill," the old man said with a shake of his head and a wry smile.

"Does the shop regularly deal in this incense and candles business? Do you know of such an incense maker?" Yuan Ming asked, spurred by a thought.

The old man furrowed his brows slightly, lost in thought, but not long after, a strange expression appeared on his face.

He seemed hesitant and unsure.

"Take your time, shopkeeper, no rush. I'll take a batch of each of these incenses on the table," Yuan Ming said, seeing the man's expression.

"That's right!" The old man's eyes lit up with joy upon hearing this, and he couldn't help but exclaim softly.

"Now that you mention it, I do recall someone. His family has been making incense for generations, and their ancestral incense workshop has been around for over a hundred years. If anyone has that ability, it's him," the old man said.

"May I ask where this person is now?" Yuan Ming, too, was invigorated and asked.

"His incense workshop is located in Iron Tiger Town, some dozens of miles from here. If you ask around there, you're sure to find it. However, it's been over half a year since I last went there to stock up, and I haven't seen him for a long time," the old man said as he efficiently packed the incense on the table.

By the time he finished speaking, the bundled incense was already laid out in front of Yuan Ming.

After paying, Yuan Ming inquired further about the incense workshop in Iron Tiger Town and then turned to leave.

Yuan Ming didn't rush to leave the town but instead found an inn to stay in.

Calling it an inn was a stretch; it was actually a row of rail-style wooden houses, unpretentious and simply furnished. Thankfully, they were seldom occupied, which made for a peaceful stay.

Yuan Ming chose the room farthest inside to settle in and began the tedious process of testing incense again.

For over half a month, he had lit incense over a hundred times. Almost every place he went, he would buy every kind of incense available to try.

But without exception, they all failed. The incense burner remained unresponsive from start to finish.

In the late night, the moonlight slanted to the west.

Watching the cloud-patterned stick of incense in the incense burner burn down completely, Yuan Ming didn't bother to extract it, letting the smoke fill the room.

After so many failures, he felt nothing anymore.

In fact, if it were to suddenly work now, he might even have a sense of surreal disbelief.

"It seems I can only try my luck in Iron Tiger Town. If that doesn't work, I'll have to return to the Sect," Yuan Ming was ready to give up.

He thought he might have made a fundamental mistake; the Black Incense was not a mundane object but perhaps a consumable magic artifact, a product of some special Sect?

Although there was nothing like it in Qingfu Hall, and he had never seen it mentioned in any of the wild histories and classics, it didn't mean Black Incense was definitely not a magic artifact—it only suggested it wasn't an artifact produced by a Sect of the Southern Border.

Or perhaps, during its refinement, some unknown spiritual materials were mixed in to give it such peculiar effects, causing possession?

"I wonder if the silver cat has followed me; it's been a long time since I've seen it. It mentioned that the incense burner was not a mundane artifact. Maybe it knows something? Come to think of it, that silver cat really is quite special," Yuan Ming gathered his scattered thoughts, stood up, and opened the window to let the moonlight in.

He then sat down cross-legged in the bright moonlight and began to meditate on the Moonlight Technique.

But not long after closing his eyes, Yuan Ming's eyes suddenly flew open, as he belatedly realized that the Iron Tiger Town mentioned by the old man today sounded oddly familiar.

Yet when he tried to recall where he had heard of it, he couldn't for the life of him remember.

This realization stirred Yuan Ming's mind, making it hard for him to calm down. He gave up meditating on the Moonlight Technique and instead sat in meditation to soothe his mind and practiced the Nine Elements Technique.

Early the next morning, Yuan Ming rode out of town on horseback, heading straight for Iron Tiger Town, following the directions given by the incense and candle shop's old man.

...

The two towns were only a few dozen miles apart, but there was a significant difference in both scale and terrain.

Iron Tiger Town was surrounded by flat and open land, with a large river to the north churning forcefully. The town's fortifications were substantial, even including defensive embankments by the river, which were impassable.

Yuan Ming took a detour over a wooden bridge upstream and, by evening, made his way to the town's southern side, finally coming upon an open city gate.

Compared to the villages and towns he had come across before, this place was far more bustling.

The city gate was bustling with people coming in and out, and there were even Southern Border Soldiers clad in heavy armor guarding the entrance.

Yuan Ming dismounted and led his horse, quickly approaching the city gate.

The Southern Border Soldiers only glanced at him casually before shifting their gaze away, not bothering to question him.

Once Yuan Ming entered the city, he immediately noticed several notices posted one over the other on the notice board beside him.

The latest notice clearly informed that a curfew was in effect within the town. After the beginning of the 7 p.m. to 9 p.m. period, unless one had a handwritten order from the lord or a token from the commander, anyone found loitering outside would be arrested and beaten with thirty military canes.

Yuan Ming looked up at the sky and realized that the beginning of the 7 p.m. to 9 p.m. period was not far off.

As he was about to move on, his eyes were drawn to a faded missing persons notice buried under the two layers of other notices. The content, which was barely legible, seemed to pertain to the disappearance of someone affiliated with a certain group from Da Jin, but the handwriting and portrait were no longer clear.

"Da Jin... missing person?" Yuan Ming murmured, puzzled by the ruined notice.

However, he was only briefly captivated by the mention of "Da Jin" and did not pay too much attention. He continued on with his horse deeper into the town.

It was not long after entering the town that the sky darkened.

Pedestrians on the streets hastened their pace, evidently afraid of the consequences of breaking curfew, all rushing towards their respective dwellings.

As a cultivator, Yuan Ming naturally did not fear these mundane worldly regulations, but he also did not wish to draw any unnecessary trouble, so he decided to find an inn to stay for the night and visit the incense workshop the next day.

Coincidentally, before he had walked much further, he noticed a shop with a string of large red lanterns hanging on the street-side, with a banner made of green cloth hanging outside, and the word "Inn" written in white paint on it.

Under that banner, by the threshold, sat an old man wearing a satin changpao and a four-cornered feathered hat. But judging by his attire, he looked like a rich landlord.

However, his skin was rough and dark, his face lined with deep creases, and he clutched an old pipe, puffing away with a "plop plop" sound. Under the cloud of white smoke, his aging face bore a hint of bitterness.

"Looking at that expression, he must be a nouveau riche landlord..." Yuan Ming concluded to himself.

As Yuan Ming noticed the old man, the old man saw him too.

The old man, who had a look of worry and suffering just a moment ago, immediately plastered a smile on his face and warmly greeted the newcomer.

"Honored guest, have you come from afar? It must have been a tiring journey with all the dust and wind," the old man said.

"Are you the shopkeeper of this inn?" Yuan Ming asked, suspicious.

"Indeed, indeed. You, guest, at first glance appear to be a young hero who travels far and wide. You must have just arrived in Iron Tiger Town and might not know about the curfew here. Do you have a place to stay? If you don't mind, why not rest at my modest establishment?" the old man said earnestly, full of hospitality.

Yuan Ming peeked into the inn's main hall, where the lights had already been lit. It looked bright and tidy, and most importantly, quiet and unoccupied.

"Do you have any rooms that are not facing the street and more secluded?" Yuan Ming asked.

"Yes, yes, yes, we have rooms in the back courtyard. Not only are they away from the street, but there's also a bamboo grove outside. I can assure you that these are the quietest rooms in town," the old man replied eagerly, patting his chest as he recommended them.

Yuan Ming glanced towards the end of the street, seeing no other inns, and nodded:

"Then please arrange it, Shopkeeper."

"Don't worry, you'll be satisfied."

The old man replied with a smile and then turned his head to shout into the inn: "Tu Lei, hurry up and come out to take the guest's horse."

Soon, a young man, whose skin was just as dark as the old man's and who bore a resemblance to him, trotted out from inside, grabbed the reins from Yuan Ming's hand without looking up, and led the horse down a side path next to the inn towards the back courtyard.

"Remember to wash the guest's horse and feed it the best fodder," the old man called out with a reminder.

The young man did not make any sign of acknowledgment, leaving it unclear whether he had heard or not.

"Heh heh, that's my son. He's been like a block of wood since he was a child. Please don't take offense, esteemed guest," the old man said, still smiling.

"It's no trouble," Yuan Ming waved his hand dismissively.

"Please, come inside," the old man gestured for Yuan Ming to enter the inn.

As Yuan Ming stepped over the threshold, he casually asked, "Shopkeeper, how long have you been running this inn?"

"Honored guest, please don't call me Shopkeeper. It's too formal. Just call me Old Smoke Bag if you will," the old man started to reply in a familiar tone, but once inside and under the bright light of the hall, upon seeing Yuan Ming's face clearly, he suddenly paused.

Yuan Ming, noticing that the old man had stopped speaking abruptly, felt puzzled and looked at him, only to find the old man staring back at him with a stunned expression.

"Shopkeeper, what's wrong?" he asked, instinctively touching his cheek.

As if suddenly coming to, the old man's face showed an awkward smile as he said, "Oh my, I didn't see clearly outside. Once I came in, it struck me. I haven't seen a young man with such fair skin in Iron Tiger Town for many years."

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