Chapter 4

Night fell, and the county commandant’s prison.

Dampness and stench filled the dim cell; the faint glow of distant torches cast striped shadows through the bars, while a reeking chamber pot sat beside blackened straw, and cracks in the wall had become havens for lice and cockroaches.

Seeing such a familiar scene, Xie Jinhuan felt as if he had come home.

But previously he had stood outside the bars; now he was crouching inside.

“Two brothers, this is all a misunderstanding...”

“Shut up! Move and you’re dead!”

Two jailers, as if facing a dire threat, held broken-qi crossbows aimed at the cell; their arms ached from holding them for so long, yet they dared not lower their guard for a moment.

Xie Jinhuan’s hands were bound behind his back; he sat quietly against the wall, staring at lice fighting.

Though he could snap these restraints with ease, he had already injured an official; if he resisted arrest or escaped now, he’d truly become a bandit—so he cooperated fully from start to finish.

Meiqiu wasn’t bound, but since childhood she had been well-behaved, and now sat quietly in the opposite corner; perhaps hunger had set in after half a day, and she opened her mouth as if to eat anything within reach.

“Don’t eat!”

“Gurgle...”

“Don’t speak!”

“Alright.”

After such a standoff lasted who knew how long, movement finally came from outside the cell.

The two jailers turned to see Yang Dabiao striding over; they immediately lowered their broken-qi crossbows, relieved.

“Commandant Yang, this man keeps saying he knows you...”

“Keep your weapons up!”

Yang Dabiao had been stunned when he saw the scene in the alley at noon.

Even now, he dared not let his guard down; he ordered the jailers to maintain their threat and approached cautiously to inspect.

Xie Jinhuan feared a crossbow bolt might fly if he turned his head, so he spoke calmly:

“Brother Yang, it’s me—Xie Jinhuan. Two years ago, when my father was transferred to the southern frontier and passed through Danyang, you saw him off for seven or eight li...”

Yang Dabiao had once served in the capital under Xie Wen, the Wanan County Commandant, and knew Xie Jinhuan well.

He hadn’t thrown Xie Jinhuan straight into the dungeon because he thought he resembled the son of an old friend—but men change drastically after eighteen years, and he couldn’t risk the consequences if the injured woman turned out to be a bodhisattva; he simply hadn’t had time to verify during the day.

“Turn your face toward me. Let me see.”

Xie Jinhuan turned his head, offering a harmless smile:

“It’s been years, Brother Yang—you’ve gotten much stronger. Those pecs look mighty impressive.”

Yang Dabiao instinctively puffed out his chest, studied him closely, confirmed he was indeed the son of an old friend, felt a touch of joy—but also lingering doubt:

“Jinhuan, where have you been these past few years?”

Xie Jinhuan didn’t know where he’d been—he’d inexplicably gained martial skills and had no verifiable history, so he smiled and made up a story:

“I went to study martial arts. Three years ago, when my father headed south, he met a reclusive master on the road who said I had extraordinary talent and took me up the mountain to train. I just returned recently.”

Yang Dabiao scrutinized him through the bars, half-skeptical:

“Your skills—no ordinary master could have taught you. Which sect or school did you learn from?”

Xie Jinhuan made up a name on the spot: “Fengling Valley—a hidden immortal lineage. You’ve probably never heard of it.”

Yang Dabiao had never heard of it, but didn’t press further; instead he asked:

“So you don’t know what happened to your father?”

Xie Jinhuan had come here specifically to find out his father’s fate; seeing Yang Dabiao’s expression, his smile faded:

“What happened to my father?”

Yang Dabiao fell silent for a moment, then sighed softly:

“Three years ago, Master Xie was traveling to the southern frontier when he encountered a demon near Weizhou. All twenty-plus escorts died. I thought you had perished too—glad you escaped.”

Hearing this, Xie Jinhuan’s heart sank.

But he remembered encountering the demon.

The details: the convoy reached San Cha Gang in Weizhou; the escort guards panicked, shouting about a demon. He saw a black shadow darting through the trees from the carriage window.

He sensed danger, mounted his horse, and tried to break through with his father; the demon pursued them from behind.

What happened after that was hazy.

According to his guess, the guards had indeed suffered casualties—but he had escaped alive; his father couldn’t have died at San Cha Gang.

After all, he had been the one riding, carrying his father, who was past fifty.

He couldn’t possibly have thought his father a burden and kicked him off the horse to flee alone.

He could admit he was a lecher—but he’d never do something like that.

Xie Jinhuan turned around, ignoring the jailers’ tense postures, and asked at the bars:

“Are you certain? Were any remains found?”

Yang Dabiao sighed: “Master Xie once saved me. I asked the lead investigator at the time. Only half-eaten body parts were found—too charred to identify. After seven days of searching with no results, the case was closed as martyrdom.”

“Who investigated this case?”

“Since the victim was an imperial official, the case was personally handled by Battalion Commander Duan Gang of the Red Lin Guard. There should be no doubts.”

The Red Lin Guard were the Great Gan Emperor’s private guard, structurally equivalent to the Eastern Depot or Embroidered Uniform Guard; Duan Gang, as Battalion Commander, oversaw ten Company Commands and commanded over eleven hundred troops—no minor figure even in the capital.

For such a man to personally intervene, it was unlikely any oversight remained.

But Xie Jinhuan had been with his father at the time—and now he was alive, yet the Red Lin Guard found nothing. Wasn’t that a glaring anomaly?

This case closure was far too hasty...

Xie Jinhuan refused to believe his father had died; he strained his wrists—the ropes snapped instantly:

“I need to return to the capital and investigate this properly.”

The jailers, having lowered their guard, flinched in shock and immediately raised their broken-qi crossbows again.

Yang Dabiao also jumped back half a step:

“Don’t move! You can’t leave!”

“Brother Yang, you’ve recognized me—why keep me locked up? This is truly a misunderstanding...”

As he spoke, Xie Jinhuan tensed his frame and whispered:

“That brother I injured—did he not survive?! I just lightly brushed him...”

You knocked a man in full armor unconscious—you call that a light brush?!

Yang Dabiao wanted to retort, but now wasn’t the time; his expression turned grave:

“He’s unharmed. You can’t leave—it has nothing to do with that.”

Xie Jinhuan, relieved it wasn’t about injuring the officer, frowned:

“Then why?”

Yang Dabiao glanced around, leaned close, and whispered:

“Recently, demon bandits have been active in Danyang, committing several murders. The government office is investigating, and today we found large quantities of herbs, ledgers, and one of the killers—confirmed as hired thugs of the demon bandits. But by the time we arrived, you’d already silenced them all...”

“Hey hey hey?!”

Xie Jinhuan froze, then raised his hands:

“Brother Yang, I didn’t silence them! I went to Dongcang Fang to find you, happened upon the bandits—they tried to kill me, I was defending myself. Didn’t I leave you one alive? Didn’t you interrogate him?”

Yang Dabiao had been rushing to save Linghu’s life—he had no time to care about a few bandits. By the time he returned from taking Linghu Qingmo to the clinic, Chen Yuan was probably already drinking Meng Po’s soup.

This was clearly negligence; Yang Dabiao looked slightly embarrassed:

“The situation was chaotic—I couldn’t save him. I believe you, but the higher-ups...”

Xie Jinhuan was speechless, spreading his hands: “This has nothing to do with me. I just arrived at noon—the old boatman at the wharf and the county commandant’s gatekeeper can testify...”

Yang Dabiao raised a hand: “I’ve already heard from the gatekeeper—I know you’re innocent. But last night, heavy rain suddenly fell deep within Zihui Mountain. Elders from Zihui Mountain, Danwang Pavilion, and Danyang Academy all sensed a massive surge of blood-spirit energy...”

“...”

This clearly involved Xie Jinhuan—and deeply.

Xie Jinhuan even knew the source of that blood-spirit energy: the demon-sealing tomb where he had awakened—possibly a red-robed female demon had escaped!

He didn’t know why he’d gone into Zihui Mountain and dared not tell the truth; instead, he assumed a solemn expression:

“There’s more to this?”

“Yes.”

Yang Dabiao gripped the bars, his thick brows and large eyes filled with concern for the realm:

“This blood-spirit energy must be tied to demons. Since the Witch Cult rebellion, no demon has ever breached the First Rank in Great Gan—but this blood-spirit energy, according to sages, may stem from a ‘Supreme Rank Demon.’”

“Supreme Rank?!”

“Yes. The Prince has issued a strict order: seal all entry and exit routes into Danzhou. Until the matter is resolved, no one may leave the province. All counties must intensify checks—any suspicious person is to be killed rather than risk letting them go, to prevent demons from rising again and bringing disaster upon the people...”

“...”

Xie Jinhuan hadn’t expected the situation to be this severe.

If it were an ordinary minor demon, the court might not have mobilized much force—but a Supreme Rank demon posed a threat equal to a foreign invasion.

If the court discovered he had emerged from the demon-sealing tomb and couldn’t explain his past...

This is a complete mess.

“Brother Yang, you don’t think I’m a demon, do you? If I were, why would I come here and get myself locked up?”

Yang Dabiao patted his shoulder through the bars:

“I didn’t say you’re a demon—but you’re involved today. Who knows if the Dongcang Fang bandits are connected to the demonic energy behind Zihui Mountain?”

This is a critical moment, and Dongcang Fang left no survivors—what if superiors summon you to investigate?

Until this case is resolved, you must cooperate with the investigation and cannot leave without permission. I may trust you, but the higher-ups may not.

Xie Jinhuan, relieved to hear it was only about cooperation, turned and scanned the cell:

So I’m stuck here for a while?

Yang Dabiao once served in the capital and received much kindness from Xie Jinhuan’s father; otherwise, he wouldn’t have been escorted seven or eight li when transferred.

Locking up the orphan of an old friend is clearly unrighteous.

Master Xie treated me well, and I know you came today looking for me, just happened to run into bandits. I’ll vouch for you—let you go for now—but you must promise to appear whenever summoned. Don’t vanish. If the higher-ups ask for you and I can’t find you…

Though Xie Jinhuan felt guilty, he knew he had nothing to do with demons or monsters—why would he flee? He bowed his hands:

Thank you, Brother Yang. I swear I’ll come whenever called.

…

Click-clack~

Moments later, Yang Dabiao opened the cell door and ordered the jailers to bring weapons for Xie Jinhuan. But when he received the Zhenglun Sword, he examined it closely:

This sword… it looks exactly like the demon-subduing talisman sword used by the Ziwei Mountain Daoists. Have you studied Daoist arts these past few years?

Xie Jinhuan’s heart tightened, but he kept his expression calm:

Brother Yang knows me—I learned everything at home since childhood: astronomy, geography, music, chess, calligraphy, painting. These past few years, I’ve dabbled a bit in Daoist arts.

Really?

Yang Dabiao knew how high the Daoist threshold was, and asked curiously:

Show me a spell.

…

Xie Jinhuan took a quiet breath, gritted his teeth, and raised his right hand, gathering all his qi.

Whoosh-whoosh~

A faint breeze appeared inside the prison, stirring the straw on the ground.

Yang Dabiao felt the qi swirling like a stormy tide, as if Xie Jinhuan were about to unleash some divine Zhuxian technique—his face changed, and he instinctively stepped back half a pace.

But after straining for a long while, only two soft “tap-tap” sounds came—several thin, pale-blue electric sparks flickered from Xie Jinhuan’s palm and vanished instantly. Then nothing.

…

The two jailers peeking from behind fell silent.

Yang Dabiao waited a long while, saw no further action, and scratched his head:

Uh… that’s it?

Yeah.

Xie Jinhuan was a true martial cultivator; producing tiny sparks in his palm was thanks to years of miscellaneous learning. Now he replied with solemn gravity:

This is called “Palms of Thunder.” When perfected, its power can shatter mountains and boil seas. My current cultivation is too shallow.

Oh… this thing’s perfect for lighting my old man’s pipe. Keep practicing—you’ll definitely find a big use for it someday.

Yang Dabiao patted his shoulder to encourage him, then changed the subject:

The government office’s got too much work—I can’t stay. Let’s catch up properly when we’re free. By the way, do you have a place to stay? My wife and kids are too noisy—if not…

No need. I’ll find my own lodging. Where’s your house? I’ll stay nearby—it’ll be easier to summon me.

Qingquan Alley, right nearby. Xiao Wang, show him the way…

After speaking, Xie Jinhuan was about to leave when he suddenly realized something was missing. He turned back toward the cell:

Meiqiu?

Goo?

Meiqiu had been asleep. At the sound, she hopped out, landing on his shoulder.

Huh~ Haven’t seen you in years, and this little bird’s gotten even fatter.

Gukji!

…

—

New book, new author—thank you, great masters, for your support or2!

(End of Chapter)