Chapter 776 Red Mountain Sanatorium

After walking for about five minutes, a detached small building appeared ahead. The two-story building had beige exterior walls, standing out rather abruptly against the surrounding white snow. A black SUV was parked outside. A thin layer of snow covered the vehicle, indicating it had been parked there for quite some time. The upstairs windows were lit, but the drawn curtains made it impossible to see inside.

Xu Wuyi walked up to the building, climbed the steps, and stood before the dark brown security door. He didn’t knock. Instead, he raised his right hand and gently pressed it against the door.

The Power of Order seeped through the door panel, instantly enveloping the entire building. Every aura and every subtle movement inside registered clearly in his perception. A person was sitting in the first-floor living room. Based on the aura, he was at the Martial Master Level—around level thirty—which meant he was likely Cheng Song.

The second floor was empty.

Xu Wuyi withdrew his hand and pushed the door. The security door swung inward silently. Under the influence of the Power of Order, the lock was practically useless. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

Beyond the door was a modest entryway that led into a living room. The decor was far more elegant than that of the main complex. It featured leather sofas, a solid wood coffee table, and several framed paintings and calligraphies on the walls that looked like authentic originals.

Cheng Song sat on the sofa, head bowed as he looked at something on his phone. At the sound of the door, he looked up, his gaze landing on Xu Wuyi. For a brief moment, he was visibly stunned.

But as a Martial Artist, his reaction time was far superior to that of an ordinary person. He shot to his feet, his Qi and Blood surging as his right hand clamped down on the short blade at his waist.

“Who are you? How did you get in?” His voice was low and wary. His eyes were locked on Xu Wuyi, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

Xu Wuyi looked at him without saying a word. He simply stood before Cheng Song, and the man’s eyes instantly lost focus.

The Qi and Blood he had just mobilized were abruptly cut off, instantly calming down. His right hand fell weakly from the hilt of his blade. He remained standing in place, staring blankly ahead.

Xu Wuyi walked over and sat on the sofa opposite him.

“Sit.”

Cheng Song walked over mechanically and sat down on the other sofa. He kept his back perfectly straight, his dull eyes fixed on the coffee table.

Xu Wuyi looked at him and began his interrogation. “Is your name Cheng Song?”

“Yes.”

“The director of this sanatorium?”

“Yes.”

“Who is the true owner of this place?”

Cheng Song answered without a hint of hesitation, “Lu Sheng. Mr. Lu.”

Xu Wuyi’s eyes flickered. It was just as he had suspected.

“Who is Lu Sheng?”

“An Innate Martial Artist. I don’t know his exact origins. I only know that he has a deep background and cannot be offended. He provided the funds to build this sanatorium; I just manage it for him.”

“Manage what, exactly?”

“Managing the accounts and handling the flow of funds,” Cheng Song replied. “Every so often, money is remitted here from various places. We pool the funds together and transfer them to designated accounts according to Mr. Lu’s instructions.”

“Where are these accounts located?”

“Most are secret accounts, though a few are within the Federation. I don’t know their exact locations. Mr. Lu personally provides the account numbers every time. I am only responsible for executing the transfers—I don’t ask where the money comes from or where it goes.”

Xu Wuyi fell into deep thought. This matched the financial supervisor’s confession. Although Cheng Song held a higher position, he was still just an executor. The one truly pulling the strings was Lu Sheng.

“How often does Lu Sheng visit?”

“About once every three months,” Cheng Song answered. “He stays for two or three days each time to check the books and initiate transfers. Sometimes, he just rests here.”

“When was his last visit?”

Cheng Song pondered for a moment before answering, “About two months ago. According to his usual pattern, his next visit should be at the end of this month.”

Xu Wuyi continued his questioning. “What does Lu Sheng do when he visits?”

“He checks the accounts and oversees transfers,” Cheng Song replied. “Sometimes, he also meets with certain people. I don’t know who they are. He always meets with them privately and never lets me be present. They’re very low-profile when they arrive—they never drive here; they just walk in, have their discussion, and leave immediately.”

“What do these people look like?”

Cheng Song shook his head. “It’s a different person every time. Men, women, old, young… But they all share one trait: they look incredibly ordinary. So ordinary that you can’t even remember their faces.”

Hearing this, Xu Wuyi had a pretty good idea of what was going on. Those people were likely Lu Sheng’s subordinates or partners. They came to see him either to report on their operations or to receive instructions. The fact that Cheng Song had no idea who they were proved how cautious Lu Sheng was—he never allowed Cheng Song anywhere near his core operations.

“Is there anyone else pulling the strings behind Lu Sheng?”

“I don’t know.”

Xu Wuyi looked at him and furrowed his brows slightly. If Zheng Mingchuan truly was the mastermind behind Lu Sheng, it meant that Zheng Mingchuan was exactly as the Song Family’s files described—cautious to the extreme, never leaving a single loose end. He delegated everything to Lu Sheng, effectively severing all direct ties to himself.

Cheng Song knew more than the financial supervisor, but not by much. He was merely Lu Sheng’s overt pawn, tasked with managing this financial transit station. Lu Sheng would never entrust him with truly vital information.

Xu Wuyi stood up, walked over to the window, pulled back a corner of the curtain, and peered outside. Night had completely fallen, leaving the sanatorium draped in silence. A few lights still glowed in the distant main complex, where shadows occasionally flickered past the windows.

He turned back to look at Cheng Song, who remained slumped blankly on the sofa. The Power of Order surged once more, silently blanketing Cheng Song’s consciousness.

By the time he regained his senses, he would forget everything that had happened tonight.