Chapter 90

"The Sun family?!"

Jiang Ye’s hand paused slightly as he lifted his tea cup, his expression unchanged, only a faint raise of his brow betraying just the right amount of surprise.

He lifted his eyelids, gazing at the steward, his eyes carrying a hint of inquiry.

The steward nodded, his voice sinking even lower:

"Yes, the Sun family... word is the scene was horrific—everyone who should’ve died, died, save for the servants and maids."

"The City Guard has sealed off the site; the news hasn’t spread yet."

"But it won’t be long before panic sweeps through the city again."

Jiang Ye shook his head slightly, sighing with a touch of compassionate sorrow: "This Head-Cutting Demon is indeed ruthless."

"Who can deny it?" The steward sighed and shook his head. "The Sun family wasn’t virtuous, but to be wiped out overnight... ah, the world is truly unstable."

He spoke a few more words, then bowed and withdrew, leaving Jiang Ye alone in the hall.

Jiang Ye held his teacup, watching the steward’s retreating figure, his aged eyes flickering with thought.

He hadn’t expected that merely eliminating a minor Sun family would cause such an uproar—even the Chen family, one of the Three Great Clans, had convened an emergency meeting before dawn.

He sipped his tea, his gaze drifting to the window, lost in contemplation.

At that moment:

"Huh? So early, and already a guest arrives?!"

A young woman in a pale moon-white brocade gown, her figure graceful, entered the reception hall with a languid step, her voice clear and bright.

Jiang Ye, who had been sipping tea, looked up.

At that glance, his pupils contracted slightly, a flicker of hidden shock passing through his eyes.

"Chen Lili?!"

The name flashed unconsciously through his mind, but the next instant he shook his head, dismissing the thought.

No, not her.

The woman entering bore a seven- or eight-tenths resemblance to Chen Lili—the same oval face, the same facial contours, even the same age, appearing to be in her early twenties.

But upon closer inspection, the differences were clear.

Chen Lili’s brow carried a gentle softness; when she smiled, her eyes curved into crescent moons, warming one like spring breeze.

This woman, however, carried a touch of capriciousness in her brow, her chin slightly lifted, her gaze radiating an innate arrogance.

For caution’s sake, Jiang Ye silently activated his true qi, triggering his Fire Eyes.

Hmm. Verified.

Confirmed—this woman was not the same as Chen Lili.

Jiang Ye shook his head slightly. Though this woman’s figure was graceful, compared to Chen Lili, she was merely a child.

That natural, full-bodied plumpness—no pampered noble daughter could match it.

He lifted his teacup and continued sipping, as if nothing had happened.

In truth, he mused inwardly: Chen Lili must be from the Chen family. No wonder her reaction when Lu Ming mentioned them was odd. But what grudge does she hold against this family?

"Hey, why won’t this old man respond to me?"

Chen Weiwei stood in the hall, waiting a moment, but the old man continued lowering his head to sip tea, not even lifting his eyes. She blinked in surprise.

She furrowed her brow slightly, a flicker of displeasure crossing her lovely face. In the City, who dared ignore Lady Chen?

But he was a guest; she couldn’t lash out. She was about to say something to break the awkward silence.

A steady footstep echoed from outside the hall.

A figure stepped quickly inside.

The man was around fifty, dressed in black brocade robes embroidered with subtle cloud-and-sea patterns, a jade belt cinched at his waist, his bearing elegant yet decisive.

His face was dignified, his brow open and broad—clearly a man long accustomed to high position.

This man was Chen Yanzhou, head of the Chen family.

"Father, weren’t you in a meeting with the clan elders? How’d you finish so soon?"

Chen Weiwei’s eyes lit up; she rushed forward, clinging affectionately to her father’s arm.

Chen Yanzhou glanced at his daughter, a hint of fondness in his eyes, but said nothing.

He gently patted her hand, then released it, stepping quickly before Jiang Ye and bowing formally:

"I am Chen Yanzhou. I honor you, Elder Jiang of Tianqing Sect. My apologies for the tardy welcome—I beg your forbearance."

He gestured to Chen Weiwei beside him: "This is my daughter, Chen Weiwei. She’s been indulged since childhood—if she’s been impolite, I beg you not to hold it against her."

"Wait—this old man is a Tianqing Sect elder?"

Chen Weiwei’s heart jolted; the faint arrogance on her face vanished instantly, replaced by surprise and unease.

She quickly shed her casual demeanor, bowing properly to Jiang Ye, her tone now respectful:

"I... I greet Elder Jiang."

Jiang Ye set down his teacup, rising slowly, and nodded slightly to both: "Jiang Mou came uninvited. I hope I haven’t disturbed you, Master Chen."

"Hahaha! Elder Jiang’s visit is an honor to our Chen family!"

Chen Yanzhou laughed warmly, his tone sincere and cordial.

He gave his daughter a glance, signaling her to withdraw.

Chen Weiwei understood—adults were about to discuss serious matters.

She stuck out her pink tongue playfully, then turned and walked toward the door, glancing back at Jiang Ye one last time.

Once her figure vanished beyond the door, Chen Yanzhou personally refilled Jiang Ye’s teacup and spoke:

"I’ve long heard of your solo campaign against the Black Wind Bandits, Elder Jiang. I meant to visit Tianqing Sect to express my admiration in person—never expected you’d come to us first."

Jiang Ye smiled faintly, waving a hand: "Just empty reputation—nothing worth mentioning. Actually, I’ve come seeking some medicinal herbs."

"For other goods, I can’t guarantee, but for herbs..."

Chen Yanzhou’s brow lifted with quiet confidence: "Elder Jiang, name your price!"

Jiang Ye chuckled and didn’t refuse: "I’d like to purchase as much Snow Yang Grass and Green Water Silk as possible."

"Snow Yang Grass and Green Water Silk..."

Chen Yanzhou paused, then nodded slowly: "Both are rare herbs, scarce on the market. But..."

He paused, raising his gaze to Jiang Ye, his eyes probing: "Elder Jiang, how much do you need?"

Jiang Ye lifted his teacup, sipped, his aged face still wearing that faint smile: "The more, the better."

Meanwhile, the Sun family estate.

The vast mansion seemed shrouded in an invisible veil of gloom.

The courtyard was filled with City Guard members, their faces grim; some whispered in low tones, then fell silent again.

On the ground lay neatly arranged headless corpses, hastily covered with white cloth, yet the vivid bloodstains and eerie silhouettes still bled through.

A night had passed, yet the stench of blood had grown stronger, choking the air.

Captain Wei Cheng stood before the row of corpses, his face deathly pale.

His gaze fixed on the familiar neck stumps—the smooth, mirror-like cuts, the clean, precise blade work—identical to the Ding family massacre.

Cold sweat dripped from his palms; his back was soaked through.

Lin Tao, a famed blade expert of the city, crouched on the ground, carefully examining each corpse.

After a long while, he slowly rose.

He brushed dust from his knees, his brow tightly furrowed, his expression heavier than ever before.

"How is it, Lin Brother? Is this the work of the Head-Cutting Demon again?"

Wei Cheng hurried forward, voice hushed.

His tone carried urgency, hope, and a fear he himself hadn’t noticed.

Lin Tao nodded slightly, voice low: "Both massacres were committed by the same man. The blade technique is similar—nearly identical."

He drew a deep breath: "But I can confirm—the Head-Cutting Demon is not Huang Laoliu."

"How can you be sure?" Wei Cheng frowned. "Besides Huang Laoliu, who else in the city has a blade this cruel?"

Lin Tao shook his head, his gaze fixed on the corpses:

"The killer isn’t necessarily a Hua Jing cultivator. No true qi traces remain—he deliberately withheld his cultivation to conceal it."

He looked up at Wei Cheng, each word deliberate:

"No Hua Jing cultivator could silently slaughter eight Hua Jing retainers in one breath."

"Moreover, based on my observation, this time his blade technique has improved beyond the Ding family massacre."

A flicker of wariness crossed his eyes:

"If Huang Laoliu had this skill, he wouldn’t be called Huang Laoliu—he’d be Huang Master!"

Wei Cheng nodded thoughtfully, about to speak.

Then Lin Tao suddenly remembered something, lifting his eyes to Wei Cheng with a warning look:

"The Ding family, wiped out last time by the Head-Cutting Demon—they had disputes with the Su family, didn’t they?"

"And I heard the Sun family’s second young master had tensions with the Su family too..."

"Frankly, it’s too coincidental, Wei Brother. Shouldn’t you investigate the Su family?"

At these words, Wei Cheng’s body stiffened, every hair standing on end.

A chill surged from his soles to the crown of his head, numbing his scalp.

Investigate the Su family?

If... if the Head-Cutting Demon truly has ties to the Su family... then what of the man sent to investigate?

So tomorrow, it won’t be him getting beheaded, will it?

“Gulps.”

Wei Cheng’s heart suddenly lurched; he swallowed hard.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, and said in a low voice:

“Brother Lin, ever since the Ding family massacre, I’ve investigated the Su family’s background—I can swear with certainty that the Su family is clean!”

He paused, his voice growing even more certain, as if convincing Lin Tao—and himself:

“Not long ago, the Su family’s cargo was raided by the Black Wind Bandits; they barely saved the people. If not for the Elder of Tianqing Sect happening to intervene, the Su family might have been...”

He shook his head, his gaze resolute:

“So I believe the Su family has nothing to do with the ‘Beheading Demon.’”

Lin Tao looked at him, fell silent for a moment, and said nothing more.

At that moment,

“Let me in! Let me in! Let me in!”

A sharp, wailing female voice suddenly pierced the courtyard’s eerie silence.

Everyone turned to look and saw a slender, beautiful young woman, ignoring the guards’ attempts to stop her, forcing her way inside.

She wore a light green brocade long dress, its hem embroidered with delicate silver cloud patterns that shimmered softly in the morning light.

Over it she draped a matching sheer outer robe, as thin as a cicada’s wing, revealing the faint outline of her slender waist and rounded curves.

Her lovely face still carried a touch of youthful innocence, yet her eyes and brows exuded a fully ripened allure—on first glance, she seemed barely in her early twenties.

But now, that once-bright face was pale and filled with despair.

This woman was Sun Yu, the eldest daughter of the Sun family, who had married into the Feng family.

“How could this happen?! How could this happen...”

Though she’d heard the terrible news on the road, stepping into this mansion where she’d lived for over a decade and seeing the rows of headless corpses before her, Sun Yu’s vision darkened; her body went limp, collapsing to the ground as if her bones had been pulled out.

Her knees struck the blue stone slabs with a dull thud, yet she felt no pain—only stared fixedly at the faint shapes beneath the white cloths, her whole body trembling violently.

“Father… Mother… Second Brother...”

She murmured, her voice hoarse and barely audible. Tears spilled from her eyes, blurring her vision, but she made no move to wipe them—only struggled to crawl forward, only to be firmly held back by the guards.

Fucheng, Su Mansion.

“The Beheading Demon has returned... and wiped out the Sun family?!”

When Su Yan and her father Su Chen heard the news, both froze in place, stunned for a long moment. Su Yan’s teacup hung suspended in midair, forgotten.

Su Chen’s hand, holding a ledger, also halted mid-turn, the pages unmoved.

How long had passed, no one knew.

Su Yan bit her plump, moist red lips, her bright face filled with disbelief.

Her beautiful eyes widened, trembling as she whispered, “Father, don’t you feel that since we came to Fucheng, some unseen fortune has been protecting us...”