Chapter 135: Justice Over Kin

The tavern owner was murdered, the lead was lost, and Fan Yucheng's face turned grim.

Fan Yuli wept like a mourner at a funeral, wailing: "What do we do? What do we do? Uncle, save me! I don't want to die!"

"Stop howling. Will your death benefit me? I'm already thinking of a solution—your screaming has shattered my train of thought."

Fan Yucheng glared in fury, his face long with regret. He had known this clan nephew was ambitious for fame and greedy for wealth and beauty—none of that mattered; officials sought promotion, riches, and concubines. But he never imagined the man would bring down such a catastrophe, dragging his entire family into ruin—and implicating him, his own clan uncle.

Fortunately, the Second Young Master had temporarily refrained from pressing charges, demanding only the truth—leaving room for maneuver.

He took a deep breath, beckoned Chen Guanlou to his side, and whispered: "What do you think we should do now? Can we just tell the Second Young Master the lead is gone?"

Chen Guanlou pondered for a moment, as if he had weighed every possibility before speaking: "Probably not. I've been wondering why the Second Young Master refuses to make this public, yet generously offers us a chance. Perhaps… he already knows who wants to harm him. But the mastermind's identity is likely so sensitive that even he, the victim, must tread carefully—and chose to let us uncover the truth, for future use."

Upon hearing this, Fan Yucheng's brow furrowed instantly, his face twisted with despair, as if it could trap a mosquito.

"If the Second Young Master already knows who's behind it, can't we just deceive him somehow?"

"How do you plan to deceive him?" Chen Guanlou stared at Fan Yucheng, eager to hear his superior's insight—if the plan worked, he could shed the burden himself.

Fan Yucheng gritted his teeth: "Do you remember what the Second Young Master said earlier? He suspected someone in the Tianlaomiao had been bribed. Why not fabricate evidence along those lines and give him something to report?"

Chen Guanlou's face remained expressionless; he stole a glance at Fan Yuli, who sat weeping in the corner, then ventured: "Will that work? Someone might die."

Fan Yucheng also glanced at Fan Yuli. "Someone must bear the consequences."

Chen Guanlou felt compelled to remind him: "My lord, the Second Young Master knows every detail of how this happened. We cannot easily deceive him."

"I know," Fan Yucheng gritted his teeth, as if making a final decision. "If sacrificing one man can save us all, I am willing to uphold justice by destroying kin. But I don't know if this plan will hold."

"But… Young Master Fan himself is clueless. How can he explain anything to the Second Young Master?"

Fan Yucheng's plan was to sacrifice Fan Yuli—silently close the case and secure peace. But the Second Young Master clearly wanted concrete evidence pointing to a specific person. Fan Yuli had unwittingly become the conduit and executor of the poisoning. If forced to name the culprit, who could he name? He couldn't randomly accuse high-ranking officials or imperial relatives—any misstep could cost every soul in the Tianlaomiao their heads.

The risks were unknown, the Second Young Master's true intentions still unclear. Chen Guanlou believed it was too soon to take this step.

Fan Yucheng was both distressed and furious: "Then what do you suggest? Even if we handed this to the Embroidered Uniform Guard, they'd find nothing."

"We must keep investigating. At least let the Second Young Master know we've done our utmost—no negligence."

Chen Guanlou's thought was simple: regardless of whether the case could be solved, first show the right attitude. Often, what the party seeks is merely proof of sincerity.

"How do we investigate?"

"I'll think of something. First, I'll observe the yamen's movements."

Fan Yucheng considered, then nodded: "Fine. Do it your way. If the Second Young Master insists on pressing, I may have no choice but to weep and sacrifice."

As he spoke, he forced out two tears.

Chen Guanlou watched, deeply impressed. The ability to summon tears on command was something he must study seriously.

Chen Guanlou had no idea how to investigate—he had no experience, and couldn't alert professionals like Qi Wuxiu, the Embroidered Uniform Guard's unofficial operative.

He acted purely on instinct.

At midnight, he disguised his face from head to toe and broke into a fighting guild to search for ledgers, hunting for clues.

After raiding three guilds, he finally found something suspicious.

He then broke into the manager's home, drugged him, bound him, and interrogated him with torture—just as he had done to Zhang Wantong: "Was the Zhangji Gu Hotel case your job? Who hired you?"

"Spare me! Spare me!"

He refused to speak.

Chen Guanlou immediately hanged the manager by a rope; the sensation of near-death caused him to urinate in terror.

"Spare… me…!"

"Will you talk?"

"I'll talk! I'll talk!"

Chen Guanlou lowered him—but only halfway. The manager could barely touch the ground with his toes. Every second tested his will and endurance.

"Speak. Tell me well, and you live."

"I don't know!" the manager wailed. "Please, don't rush—I swear, I never saw the employer. One morning, when I opened the door, there was a bag of silver and a note with the task written on it. I truly don't know who hired me."

"Hmph! You pretend to run a fighting guild, but secretly kill and burn. What crime did the Zhangji Gu Hotel commit? Just for a few taels, you slaughtered an entire household."

"No, no, no… you misunderstand! The employer only ordered the tavern owner killed—he never said to wipe out the whole family!"

"Everyone's dead, yet you call it a misunderstanding. Clearly, your guild has deep problems. Who did you send to carry out the job?"

"I know! Number Three—he's the Number Three blade!" The manager spoke urgently, terrified of being hanged again.

"How do we find Number Three?"

…

Deep in the night, the wind carried a chill against his skin.

Chen Guanlou crouched on the rooftop, blending into the darkness. He had waited two nights straight, just to catch the blade.

His patience bore fruit. Under cover of night, he left the roof.

"Who? Ugh—"

Chen Guanlou subdued the blade in one move, slung him over his shoulder, and carried him to a secluded dead-end alley before dropping him.

Dressed entirely in black, masked, voice altered—he looked every inch a bandit.

The blade stared in shock, eyes darting wildly, searching for escape, guessing his identity.

"Why did you slaughter the Zhangji Gu Hotel? Speak!"

"I, you—"

Chen Guanlou showed no mercy to the blade, unlike with the manager. Seeing him try to stall, he drove a dagger straight into him—the blade cried out in pain.

"Will you talk?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"Who ordered you to wipe out the Zhangji Gu Hotel? Say nothing, and you die!"

"Heh!" The blade stared at him, then let out a strange laugh.

Chen Guanlou realized something was wrong—he reached to dislocate the blade's jaw—but it was too late. The blade had already crushed the poison capsule in his mouth. The poison took hold.

"Who was it? Say now, while you still can!" Chen Guanlou clamped his hand around the blade's throat, making one final desperate plea.

The blade's throat gurgled, then fell silent—dead within moments.

Chen Guanlou: …