Chapter 86: Informant

Jiang Xiaomu stared at the map, his finger tracing a circle along the city wall, finally stopping at the western slum.

"Sir Li, this city is a mix of dragons and snakes; to find an informant is indeed like searching for a needle in the sea."

He paused, his tone carrying a hint of chill.

"However, I do have a method."

Li Wenqing's spirits lifted, and he hurriedly asked:

"Master Jiang, what clever plan do you have?"

Jiang Xiaomu curled the corner of his mouth into a cold arc and said:

"The followers of the Blood Moon Sect have long sacrificed living people; they are already accustomed to the smell of blood."

"We can use this to set a 'trap in a jar'."

He walked to the table, picked up his pen, and drew a heavy circle on the map at the slum's location.

"Tomorrow morning, we will distribute porridge here, but the porridge..."

He lowered his voice, a fierce glint flashing in his eyes.

"Add some things."

Li Wenqing froze for a moment, then realized, his expression slightly changing:

"Master Jiang means..."

"Exactly," Jiang Xiaomu said in an icy tone:

"Pig entrails, the more the better, must be the freshest, the stronger the bloody smell the better."

"Ordinary people, upon smelling this, would avoid it at all costs, but for the Blood Moon Sect's people..."

Li Wenqing drew a deep breath, his respect for Jiang Xiaomu's ruthlessness growing a bit more.

This scheme is vicious and immoral, but one must admit, it is indeed effective.

"All right," Li Wenqing gritted his teeth.

"Let's do it! I'll go make the arrangements right away."

The next morning, outside the slum, large pots steamed, the rich aroma of porridge mingling with the bloody smell of pig entrails spreading out.

The constables assigned to distribute the porridge turned pale one by one, suppressing their nausea as they handed out bowl after bowl of "special" porridge to the long line of refugees and beggars.

Most people who received the porridge first stared, then their faces changed drastically; they covered their noses and stepped back, cursing as they dumped the porridge.

Some, starving, pinched their noses and forced it down, but after a few mouthfuls they vomited, their faces turning deathly pale.

Jiang Xiaomu and Li Wenqing stood to the side, coldly observing the crowd's reaction.

What they sought were those who showed no reaction to the bloody smell, even displaying an expression of enjoyment.

Time passed second by second, the line grew shorter, yet they still found no suspicious person.

Li Wenqing grew somewhat anxious and couldn't help asking:

"Master Jiang, could it be... that we've misjudged?"

Jiang Xiaomu gave no reply, fixing his gaze tightly on the crowd.

At that moment, a ragged old beggar caught his attention.

That old beggar took the porridge, without the slightest hesitation, gulping it down in large mouthfuls, even showing a satisfied expression on his face.

"It's him!" Jiang Xiaomu's eyes flashed with sharp light, and he immediately whispered to Pei Dongyong beside him:

"Constable Captain Pei, keep an eye on him, don't let him escape!"

"Understood, you few, come with me!"

Pei Dongyong received the order, leading a few constables to stealthily approach the old beggar.

The old beggar seemed to sense something, suddenly threw down his bowl and turned to run.

"Chase!" Jiang Xiaomu gave the order, and Pei Dongyong and the others immediately pursued.

Although the old beggar was elderly, he ran with unusual agility, weaving through the narrow alleys with ease.

Despite their efforts, the constables couldn't even grab the old beggar's clothing.

But eventually they drove him into a dead-end alley, his back against the wall, despair flashing in his eyes.

"Don't come over!" the old beggar shouted in a hoarse voice:

"You... what exactly do you intend to do?"

Jiang Xiaomu slowly stepped forward, a cold light flickering in his eyes as he said:

"Old coot, you're pretending pretty well; speak, what are you in the Blood Moon Sect?"

The old beggar's face changed, a flash of panic in his eyes, but he quickly regained composure, giving a hehe laugh and saying:

"I don't know what you're talking about; I'm just a beggar, only wanting to beg for a meal."

"Beg for a meal?" Jiang Xiaomu snorted coldly.

"You ate that bowl of porridge mixed with pig entrails with relish."

"Who among ordinary beggars could stomach that bloody stench?"

The old beggar's face grew even uglier, yet he stubbornly insisted:

"I... I'm starving, I'll eat anything..."

Jiang Xiaomu stopped wasting words and kicked hard at the old beggar's belly.

A miserable cry rang out as he collapsed to the ground, clutching his stomach and groaning in pain.

"Will you speak or not?" Jiang Xiaomu looked down at him, his tone icy as he said:

"If you won't talk, I'll slowly keep you company!"

The old beggar was dragged by two constables into the county office, like a dying dog.

Upon reaching the interrogation room, he was roughly thrown to the ground.

He ripped open the old beggar's tattered clothes, and a strange pattern suddenly appeared on his chest.

It was a blood-red crescent moon, surrounded by twisting runes, like some kind of evil totem.

"Speak! What is this? Who exactly are you?"

Li Wenqing shouted angrily.

The old beggar merely groaned in pain, his cloudy eyes full of fear, yet he clenched his teeth and refused to utter a word.

"You're being stubborn, huh?" Li Wenqing gave a cold laugh.

"Someone, bring the torture!"

Various torture instruments were brought out one after another, the sound of whips striking flesh.

The branding iron seared the skin, giving off a burnt smell.

The Tiger Bench stretched the old beggar's joints to their limit, emitting a grating "creak" that made one's teeth ache.

The old beggar's anguished screams echoed throughout the Xian Ya, making the yamen runners outside tremble with fear.

A day passed, and the old beggar was on the brink of death, like someone fished out of a pool of blood, yet he still gritted his teeth and refused to say a word.

Li Wenqing rubbed his temples in frustration; this old guy's bones were harder than he had imagined.

Jiang Xiaomu stood to the side, his face grim.

He walked up to the old beggar, crouched down, and said in an icy tone:

"You think that if you don't speak, I have no way? I have ten thousand ways to make you talk."

The old beggar weakly opened his eyes; a flicker of mockery crossed his cloudy gaze. Summoning his last strength, he spat a mouthful of bloody spittle, which landed squarely on Jiang Xiaomu's face.

Jiang Xiaomu's eyes flashed, he sprang to his feet, and kicked the old beggar flying away.

"Cough… cough…" the old beggar collapsed to the ground, coughing violently, on the verge of breathing his last.

Seeing this, Li Wenqing hurried forward to dissuade him, saying:

"Mr. Jiang, stay calm! If he dies, the clue will be cut off."

Jiang Xiaomu took a deep breath, struggling to quell the anger in his heart.

He knew Li Wenqing was right; now was not the time to kill him.

"Lock him up and keep him under strict guard." Jiang Xiaomu ordered coldly.

"No one may approach without my order."

Watching the near‑dead old beggar being dragged away, Jiang Xiaomu fell into contemplation.

"This old guy's mouth is too tough; ordinary torture won't pry it open. He must think of another way."

Suddenly, he thought of Ye Ying—that woman—perhaps she could make him talk.

After a few hours, Huang Quan appeared in the Xian Ya.

The previously lifeless atmosphere in the Xian Ya instantly ignited, and the yamen runners stared wide‑eyed.