Chapter 59: The Threaded Soul Method

Yan Lao’s face turned grim as he hurried to Xu Yuan’s side: “How are you? Are you hurt?”

“Just a minor wound, nothing serious.”

Yan Lao checked Xu Yuan from head to toe, then exhaled in relief: “Good, you’re unharmed.”

Then Yan Lao went to examine the two corpses, his expression changing again: “Did you kill them?”

The one with half his body blown away—his level is hard to tell at a glance—but the other, riddled with holes and exploded into blood, was a Seventh-Flow Wu Xiu!

Xu Yuan quickly waved his hands: “Definitely not me—I couldn’t possibly have that kind of power. My family’s elder came and handled them.”

This explanation was far more “reasonable,” and all three of Yan Lao’s group accepted it.

“Take the bodies—we’re returning to the county yamen first, in case the villains have more tricks.”

No one would let Song Lu, a girl, carry a corpse; Xu Yuan and Fu Jingyu each took one, ignoring the filth, slinging them over their shoulders and following Yan Lao at a quick pace.

Xu Yuan didn’t notice that Yan Lao’s left hand had been subtly calculating all along.

After a moment, Yan Lao suddenly turned back and stared deeply at Xu Yuan.

Xu Yuan felt uneasy: “What’s wrong, Elder?”

Yan Lao shook his head: “Nothing, let’s hurry.”

The southern Changjie led straight to the county yamen; halfway, the four encountered a group of yamen runners and constables.

Led by Constable Pang of the yamen, they had rushed here after receiving a civilian report.

Yan Lao briefly explained the situation and pointed behind him: “Seal off the scene—be careful!”

“Yes.” Constable Pang nodded and led his men away—though their pace noticeably slowed.

They’d originally assumed it was just a common thug brawl gone fatal; now they knew it was a Quesui Si investigation, with an ambush on their agents—who dared attack the Quesui Si? To them, a bunch of lowly constables meant nothing; if the killers still had allies nearby, they’d die for nothing.

Yan Lao ignored the constables’ thoughts and returned to the yamen at top speed.

Ma Tianshou had come secretly, but still brought some capable men with him.

Yan Lao arranged for bodies to be examined, sent the three youths to clean up, and immediately went to meet Ma Tianshou.

Ma Tianshou had already heard the news; when Yan Lao arrived, he saw his old superior visibly tense, and quickly said: “All three are unharmed, rest easy.”

Two were Ma Tianshou’s students; one was a young man he favored.

Ma Tianshou nodded, his posture relaxing.

“Was it Chen Liangxuan’s men?”

“No evidence yet—we need the autopsy results to confirm the killers’ identities,” Yan Lao replied. “But aside from him, no one else could be behind this.”

Ma Tianshou snorted coldly: “Retired and still unruly—daring to attack our Quesui Si agents in broad daylight? He doesn’t want a peaceful old age!”

Yan Lao hesitated, then spoke first: “That Xu Yuan...”

“What about him?”

Yan Lao said: “One of the two killers is still unknown in level, but the other was a Seventh-Flow Wu Xiu. Xu Yuan claims his family elder saved him and killed both. But I calculated on the spot—both were killed by him.”

Ma Tianshou instinctively wanted to ask if he’d miscalculated, but bit back the words.

Though Yan Xiu was famously a kind old man of the Southern Office, no one dared say his calculations were wrong—he’d spit blood to prove you exactly when you’d die.

“To the morgue,” Ma Tianshou decided instantly.

The county yamen’s morgue had long been requisitioned by the Quesui Si; in fact, the entire yamen—except the main hall and the small courtyard where the County Magistrate lived—was now under Quesui Si control.

After the Quesui Si’s founding, the Imperial Court added a new post called “County Liaison,” nominally the Deputy County Commander, but in reality the Quesui Si’s local head.

As strange phenomena deepened, the County Liaison’s power grew, his authority over supernatural incidents expanded, and his prestige rose; in many places, his actual status had long surpassed the County Commander’s.

In some areas, the County Magistrate’s orders carried less weight than a single word from the County Liaison.

The County Liaison of Shanhe County stood guard outside the morgue with his men: Official investigation site—no uninvited personnel from the yamen allowed near!

“Uninvited personnel from the yamen,” of course, included... the County Magistrate himself.

The County Magistrate had sensed something was off these past two days; since yesterday, he’d locked himself in his small courtyard, claiming illness.

He even felt a bit relieved: Thank heaven the last time he visited Elder Chen, the old man had looked down on him as a petty official and refused to see him.

When Ma Tianshou and Yan Lao arrived at the morgue, the County Liaison hurried after them, desperate to stay at their heels, eager to show his loyalty.

Inside the morgue, the coroners brought from the Southern Office had stripped the corpses of their clothing and laid all items aside; Ma Tianshou glanced once and knew something was missing.

The coroner stepped forward, bowing: “My lord, both corpses had ‘Qian Si Fa’ embedded in their souls—the moment they died, the threads pulled their souls away.”

The Quesui Si’s “autopsy” wasn’t merely physical—it included “soul inspection.”

But when “Qian Si Fa” was planted in the soul, the moment of death triggered immediate soul extraction.

And this kind of “Qian Si Fa,” pre-placed in the soul, held the advantage of initiative—even if the coroner was present, he couldn’t stop it.

In the entire Imperial Ming, only a handful of divine cultivators could break “Qian Si Fa.”

Ma Tianshou wasn’t surprised; he walked to the two corpses, scanned them briefly, then examined the items laid beside them.

“It’s Xing Guolong, one of Elder Chen’s men—a Seventh-Flow Golden Core cultivator.”

Ma Tianshou had access to classified documents and recognized Xing Guolong.

But publicly, no direct link could be proven between Xing Guolong and Chen Liangxuan.

Anyone whose soul bore “Qian Si Fa” was a death servant.

There was an even more vicious technique—“Rong Hun Fa”—where the soul instantly dissolved upon death, leaving no trace in this world.

Elder Chen naturally preferred “Rong Hun Fa,” but Xing Guolong and the others wouldn’t agree.

And under normal circumstances, “Qian Si Fa” was sufficient.

Yan Lao couldn’t help exclaiming: “Two Seventh-Flows?!”

He now doubted whether he’d miscalculated.

Ma Tianshou said nothing, and as they walked out, he asked: “Did you calculate it? How did that boy kill two Seventh-Flows?”

Yan Lao’s face flushed slightly as he whispered: “I calculated—I couldn’t figure it out.”

Ma Tianshou said no more, but Yan Lao brought up something else: “Xu Yuan turned over some items belonging to Qiao Ziaang—I found something odd.”

His earlier hesitation had been over which matter to mention first.

Instinctively, he’d thought Xu Yuan killing two Seventh-Flows was more important.

Ma Tianshou had planned to meet Xu Yuan, but now he needed to examine these items first.

The two turned into Ma Tianshou’s temporary study, and Yan Lao laid out the items.

“That brush,” Yan Lao reminded.

Ma Tianshou picked up the brush and examined it closely.

Both inkstone and brush were treasures of literary cultivators—the characters written with them gained twenty percent more power.

With his experience, Ma Tianshou quickly spotted the anomaly; he twisted off the ivory tip of the brush—inside the hollow shaft lay a rolled scroll!

Yan Lao had also noticed the hidden object, but deliberately left it in Xu Yuan’s home.

Ma Tianshou emptied the shaft’s contents: a long, thin paper scroll, unrolled into a contract.

Requesting Monthly Tickets

Good night!





(End of Chapter)