Chapter 407: Murder at the City Gate!

The news of Shishen Sect members appearing near Wulong Fucheng struck like a massive stone thrown into a calm lake, instantly shattering the city's fragile "peace."

Though ordinary civilians mostly did not know what "Shishen Sect" truly meant, the sudden tension in the official atmosphere was palpable to everyone.

The Zhenwu Bureau, the Fucheng Constables, the City Defense Force, and even the rarely seen Fucheng Army all intensified patrols, appearing frequently in streets and alleys, interrogating suspicious individuals and searching for possible Mo Sect hideouts or hidden agents.

Checks at the city gates became several times stricter: not only were identity documents verified, but travelers also underwent detailed questioning and basic Qi detection.

Major merchant guilds, local martial families, and sect outposts all raised their vigilance and strengthened their defenses.

For a time, Wulong Fucheng became a place of phantom fears and widespread panic.

The once-bustling market streets suddenly emptied by more than half; many shops closed early and shut down, fearing they might be drawn into trouble.

The air was thick with a suffocating tension, like the stillness before a storm.

Chen Mu, immersed in it all, naturally sensed this change.

He heightened his alertness, for the name "Shishen Sect" was deeply repulsive to him.

Against the backdrop of the Orthodox-Mo War, any appearance of a Mo Sect force could signal a greater conspiracy or upheaval.

Yet Chen Mu was not overly alarmed.

With his current cultivation, as long as no Heaven Palace cultivator appeared in person, or he wasn't surrounded by a swarm of peers, he could easily protect himself.

He maintained his usual routine: each day he meditated in his rented courtyard, refining his Sword Armor and consolidating his foundation, then in the afternoon he subtly disguised himself as Qin Shuang and went to Hero Hall to gather intelligence.

But the atmosphere inside Hero Hall had grown far more solemn; people spoke in hushed tones, and the rumors exchanged now centered almost entirely on battles across the lands and Mo Sect activities, devoid of the former light gossip.

That day, at dusk, the setting sun dyed the western sky a fiery orange.

At Wulong Fucheng's Xicheng Gate, just as the guard shift changed, the area was slightly noisy.

Suddenly, from afar along the official road, a figure staggered toward them.

It was a burly man, dressed in coarse cotton tunic and trousers, drenched in blood.

His steps were unsteady, his breath chaotic—he bore grievous injuries, and as he ran, he kept glancing back in terror, as if a death-bringing demon chased him from behind.

"Who are you? Stop!"

The city guards immediately went on alert; over a dozen soldiers with long spears surged forward, their spear tips glinting coldly as they pointed at the man.

The squad leader barked a sharp command and signaled his men to prepare to intercept.

The man seemed half-delirious; seeing the gate and guards, a flicker of hope flashed in his eyes. He opened his mouth as if to shout, and pushed himself forward with renewed effort.

Yet, just as he was less than ten zhang from the city guards—

"Shhh—!"

A piercing whistle of air shot out without warning from the shadows of the trees beside the road.

It was no divine weapon, nor even an ordinary hidden projectile—it was merely an ordinary, almost withered branch.

Yet this branch now carried a cold, treacherous force, moving faster than lightning, striking with pinpoint accuracy at the man's lower back.

The city guards had no time to react further.

"Puch—!"

A dull sound of metal piercing flesh.

The branch pierced through the man's back, spewing a spray of blood as it exited his chest.

Its residual force carried it forward several chi more before "thud"—it embedded itself into the blue brick floor of the gate tunnel, its tip still trembling faintly.

The man's forward momentum halted instantly; the hope on his face froze, replaced by excruciating pain and disbelief.

He looked down at the gaping, gushing wound in his chest, his throat emitting two guttural, meaningless "huh-huh" sounds.

Then his massive body collapsed forward like a mountain toppling, crashing to the ground with a cloud of dust.

He twitched twice, then fell utterly still; blood rapidly spread beneath him.

"Ahh! Someone's been murdered!"

"There's an assassin!!"

"Quick! Alert! Close the gate!!"

"Someone! Send help!"

After a brief silence, the gate erupted into chaos.

The city guards, horrified, frantically raised their spears into defensive formations while screaming for help and reinforcements.

Nearby civilians and merchants preparing to enter or passing by were terrified beyond measure, shrieking as they scrambled into the gate or fled sideways; the scene descended into utter pandemonium.

Moments later, rapid footsteps and shouts rang out.

The Zhenwu Bureau's guards and the Fucheng Constables, led by their superiors, arrived swiftly at Xicheng Gate.

They swiftly secured the scene, dispersed uninvolved civilians, and set up cordons.

An experienced chief constable knelt beside the corpse and examined it closely.

When he saw the dead man's face, his expression turned to shock and sorrow.

"Is this Xie Antu?" the chief constable asked uncertainly, glancing at his colleague.

"Yes, it's Xie Antu! Old Xie!"

Another constable leaned closer, confirmed, "He used to hang around Hero Hall, always generous—he even bought me drinks. How… how did he get killed?"

"Look at the wound—clean, precise, one strike to kill. A branch pierced clean through, with cruel, chilling force. Only a Xiantian expert could've done this."

The experienced chief constable said grimly, "And choosing to strike at the city gate, before countless witnesses—it's a provocation, and an execution."

"Xie Antu… how could he have angered a Xiantian expert? Why be silenced?"

The Zhenwu Bureau squad leader frowned, "Old Xie may boast a lot, but as far as I know, he was decent, had no major enemies."

Everyone murmured, all sensing something strange about this.

"First, recover the body and take it to the government office for thorough examination. Increase patrols, search the nearby hills and roads—find any trace of the killer!" The Fucheng Chief Constable arrived upon hearing the news and issued his order, face dark.

"Yes!"

Xie Antu's corpse was collected and taken away, and the bloodstains at the scene were swiftly cleaned up.

But the tense atmosphere at the city gate had not eased; instead, it grew even more solemn.

The threat from the Shishen Sect had not been lifted, and now a violent murder had occurred in broad daylight—targeting a warrior of some reputation in the city—adding another heavy strain to nerves already stretched taut.

……

The next afternoon, Chen Mu, as usual, disguised himself as "Qin Shuang" and arrived at Hero Tower.

The atmosphere inside the tower was even more stifling and oppressive than the day before; people spoke in hushed tones, mostly about last night's murder at Xicheng Gate and the fear brought by the Shishen Sect.

Chen Mu had just sat down at his usual window-side table, before ordering tea, when a wandering cultivator beside him—around thirty, plain-faced, dressed in a gray short tunic—leaned over, lowered his voice, and said with a trace of regret.

"Brother Qin, you… you didn't go to pay respects to Brother Xie?"