Chapter 42: The Mysterious and Confusing

An hour later, the county government office.

County Magistrate Zhang Yuanying stood respectfully to the side of the main hall, clad in a light green official robe, eyes lowered, gaze fixed on his nose.

Zhou He, calm and composed, Yang Ting, cigarette always in hand, and even the irreverent Yang Dabiao—all now seemed like different men, hands hanging straight, backs bowed, their postures radiating clear restraint.

Behind the long desk normally reserved for the magistrate sat a middle-aged man in a python robe, leaning back in his chair, slowly scraping floating tea leaves from a white porcelain teacup, while Zhu Wenyuan stood beside him holding a folding fan.

In the main hall, Li Jing, the Deputy Director of the Imperial Academy, and the imperial patrons Huangfu Qi and Ji Shiqing surrounded Li Zixian, meticulously examining bones, skin, flesh, meridians, and acupoints—even producing a Bagua Mirror capable of detecting blood curses and malevolent spirits.

Faced with this extravagant assembly—second only to the Emperor’s own presence—Li Zixian had lost all trace of his aristocratic bearing; he knelt on the floor, frozen in place:

“Your Highness, I am truly innocent. I have no connection whatsoever to the demon bandits…”

Though the Dan Wang was a doting father, his demeanor was refined yet imposing, his brow radiating an overwhelming aura of authority:

“Were these three corpses buried by your orders in the farmland?”

“Yes, but not alive. These three owed gambling debts and worked off their liabilities at the estate…”

“Li Zixian.”

Zhu Wenyuan picked up the land lease contract from the table and tossed it onto the floor:

“You may deceive ordinary government office runners, but do you dare lie to His Highness? We’ve already verified with the estate’s laborers, tenants, and the gambling den’s managers and patrons—all confirm these three vanished after their debts became unpayable, and no one has seen them since. Do you think forging a few IOUs can fool everyone?”

Li Zixian knew he couldn’t withstand scrutiny, but he dared not admit to the crime of live burial.

Since the Dan Wang had come in person to investigate, a fair and strict verdict was mandatory.

Even if he truly had no ties to the demon bandits, the mere act of burying three commoners alive was enough to warrant immediate beheading.

With so many witnesses present, if the Dan Wang knew the truth yet showed favoritism, what would the people of Danzhou think? What would the imperial censors in the capital think?

You, a Prince, stand in the Emperor’s stead to govern Danzhou—do you really open such wide doors for wealthy heirs, licking the boots of power brokers in the capital?

Li Zixian knew confessing now would most likely land him on the tiger’s head guillotine; his only option was to clench his teeth, stall for time, and wait for the capital to intervene. In response to the accusations, he said:

“These three have been dead for half a year. The IOUs are lost. I panicked and forged a few new ones to explain it away. They truly died of illness…”

Zhu Wenyuan pointed to the three skeletons laid outside the main hall:

“You mean the Dan Wang, the Academy scholars—all of them misread the evidence?”

Li Zixian spoke earnestly: “I don’t know why, but these three definitely did not die by demonic arts.”

“Then how did they die?”

“Illness… illness…”

“What illness?”

“I don’t know. When they looked like they were dying, I didn’t treat them—just let them wait for death…”

Li Zixian spun lies wildly, sweat pouring down his face.

Ji Shiqing, a Daoist and longtime traveler of the southern frontier, serving as the princely mansion’s “demon expert,” had completed his inspection and now stood up to speak:

“Li Zixian’s physique is normal; he has never touched demonic cultivation methods. But these three corpses were undoubtedly killed by a soul-stealing demonic art.”

Huangfu Qi stroked his goatee, studying the skeletons, and nodded:

“Indeed. The ‘mummified corpses’ case in the capital was nearly identical—perhaps the same bandits are responsible…”

Seeing the high-ranking experts so certain, Li Zixian crawled forward two steps:

“Your Highness, these corpses must have been tampered with. I swear by heaven…”

“Spouting nonsense—whose oath would you expect anyone to believe?”

Huangfu Qi’s expression darkened, his voice low and sharp:

“Did the demon bandits threaten your family to make you keep silent?”

“The demon bandits never threatened me…”

“Oh?”

Huangfu Qi frowned, pressing further: “You mean the demon bandits never uttered a threat? Then why did you know and still conceal their whereabouts?”

“I… eh?!”

Li Zixian realized Huangfu Qi was setting a trap; his face turned pale:

“No demon bandit threatened me. I’ve never had contact with any demon bandit…”

The Dan Wang had already seen Li Zixian was counting on the Li family to save him; he would admit nothing now. He set down his teacup and gestured to Tie Fengzhang.

Tie Fengzhang, ever direct, didn’t even order his men to act—he took the finger clamp himself and secured Li Zixian’s ten fingers.

Seeing the Dan Wang prepare to apply torture, Li Zixian turned ashen:

“Your Highness, the Li family has been framed by those demon bandits—just like the Sanhe Pavilion! Your Highness! Your… ah—!”

A scream rang out from within the main hall.

Xie Jinhuan had stood outside the main hall all along, watching the interrogation in silence, yet a quiet doubt stirred in his mind.

He knew nothing of demonic cultivation methods; at first, he hadn’t noticed the anomaly inside the skulls—until his ghost bride told him the victims had been killed by soul-stealing arts, and the method matched the demon cultivators in the Corpse-Hiding Cave!

Thus, the killer who buried these corpses must be the mastermind or accomplice of the “Mad Corpse Flower.”

From Li Zixian’s responses, it was clear the Li family buried them—so the mastermind was surely the Li family.

But Li Zixian’s protest of innocence didn’t seem feigned, and the Sanhe Pavilion incident still defied explanation; if the demon bandits had secretly framed him by tampering with the corpses, their methods were too advanced…

Xie Jinhuan was silently pondering, still unclear on the truth, when suddenly a voice came from beside him:

“You’re Xie Jinhuan?”

“Hm?”

Xie Jinhuan snapped back to attention and turned—there stood the gentle, courteous Dan Wang, unable to bear the sight of suffering, having stepped out of the main hall.

Though Xie Jinhuan had lived in the capital for sixteen years, he’d never mingled with the highest nobility; the Dan Wang was the most powerful official he’d ever met. He bowed respectfully:

“Your Highness.”

The Dan Wang studied Xie Jinhuan’s appearance and bearing, his eyes revealing quiet admiration:

“Young as you are, your abilities are impressive. Had you not scoured the countryside these past days, the government office would never have uncovered so many leads. You’ve worked hard.”

Hard? If I hadn’t chased after them, you’d be chasing after me… Xie Jinhuan thought, but outwardly remained humble:

“Your Highness overpraises me. I merely wished to resolve this chaos quickly so I could return to the capital to visit family. I’ve done little. The recent progress is thanks entirely to Captain Yang and Miss Linghu.”

Yang Dabiao flinched at this, his eyes saying: Wow! This brother’s a real keeper!

Linghu Qingmo, who had been holding back Meiqiu as she tried to devour the dragon on the Dan Wang’s robe, now looked slightly ashamed.

“You’re modest.”

The Dan Wang had seen Xie Jinhuan’s name repeatedly in the case files—his father died in service, his abilities were exceptional, his character upright, his humility unassuming—his impression was certainly favorable. He smiled:

“Your father died in the line of duty; his heir should be cared for by the court. You’ve grown into a man, devoted to hunting bandits and pleading for the people—how could the court not offer you an opportunity?”

“Keep pushing forward. When this case concludes, I’ll write to my elder brother, the Emperor, and secure you a fine post.”

?!

All those behind him turned with envy at these words.

After all, the Dan Wang and the Emperor were blood brothers who had shared hardship; the Dan Wang himself was a powerful regional governor.

A personal recommendation from the Dan Wang to the Emperor would likely grant a starting rank of sixth or seventh grade.

Xie Jinhuan was young, capable, upright, and socially astute; with ten or twenty years, he might even stand among the top three rows in the Taiji Hall.

Then, when he returned to Danyang, only the Dan Wang would dare speak with his back straight.

The unwritten rules? Even the most powerful would dare not speak up…

Xie Jinhuan knew the Dan Wang meant well, but if the “Purple Banner Mountain demonic aura” case was truly solved, he and his ghost bride would be buried too—he couldn’t accept such overwhelming fortune. He replied only with polite formality:

“Thank you, Your Highness, for your kindness. I shall continue to strive.”

The Dan Wang said no more, waiting quietly for Li Zixian’s confession.

All eyes turned to Xie Jinhuan—admiration, envy, all focused on him.

Meanwhile, Zhou He, the Company Commander of the Red Lin Guard inside the hall, feigned watching Li Zixian’s torture, but his eyes betrayed a faint glimmer of malice…

—

Nightfall. By the riverside villa.

On the Linjiang terrace stood a painting table, empty save for one figure: Taishu Dan, dressed in scholarly robes, sat cross-legged on the floor before a puppet.

The puppet was draped in a gray cloak, its hands and face skin a bronze hue, like cast metal, covered in intricate runes—utterly lifeless, yet speaking:

“Li Zixian is stubborn. He insists the gamblers died of illness and denies any link to the demon bandits. The Dan Wang is now searching every Li family residence and shop. Unless something goes wrong, we can delay this until after the Mid-Autumn Festival. Do not leak a word.”

The puppet had no consciousness; Taishu Dan didn’t know why it could speak—but he nodded in acknowledgment:

“Brother, rest assured. The Mad Corpse Flower is complete. We’ll act at the Mid-Autumn Lantern Festival. But the Peony Pool is only twenty li from Danyang—if any high-level cultivators sense the blood curses, they’ll arrive in under half a minute, especially Mu Yunling…”

The puppet showed no expression, its voice flat, emotionless:

“Do your work. I will arrange to distract them. When you succeed, flee immediately and deliver the Blood Demon Pill to the capital.”

Taishu Dan thought it too difficult to distract all the high-level cultivators—he wanted to discuss details further—but outside the terrace came the sound of rushing wind:

Hss~

The puppet instantly froze, motionless.

Taishu Dan turned—his disciple He Can had landed on the terrace, panting, face alight with triumph. He bowed immediately:

“Master, your planning is flawless—the government office is all focused on the Li family… Hey? Master, what are you doing?”

Caught off guard, Taishu Dan hadn’t risen yet. He pulled out a handkerchief and began wiping the puppet’s shoes:

“Weapons require regular maintenance. So do puppets.”

“Is that so?”

He Can had never heard this before, but didn’t press further, continuing:

“According to my sources, the princely mansion’s experts stared at the skeletons for a long time and found nothing amiss—even Xie Jinhuan had nothing to say.”

Taishu Dan sat cross-legged on the cushion: “Those three were killed by demonic arts, but they weren’t the gamblers buried alive by the Li family—they were corpses brought from elsewhere, and that senior brother in the city switched them using a secret technique.”

“The bodies are genuine, and even the timing matches. The Li family wouldn’t remember the bone structure of gamblers, and the ground had only just been turned—how could Xie Jinhuan spot the problem?”

He Can had been pondering all along how the deception had been carried out; hearing this, his eyes betrayed astonishment:

“What exactly is the identity of that senior uncle in the city? The traces were concealed flawlessly—this level of skill is too extraordinary.”

Taishu Dan frowned, his expression displeased:

“Don’t you understand my way of doing things?”

This meant to tell He Can—his master plans carefully, keeps his lips sealed, and even his own disciples are never casually let in on key information!

But as a disciple, He Can knew his master better than anyone; he nodded thoughtfully:

“That’s true. Given my master’s character, if you knew the exact identity, you’d go to the Wang Fu tomorrow and sell it for a fortune. No wonder that senior uncle didn’t tell you.”

“?”

……

(End of Chapter)