Chapter 68: Night Journey to the Wood Residence (Second Update)

"Long hair, short sense. Now we need to use the authorities to keep them quiet for a while, or real disaster will strike." Zhao Zhentang glanced at Mu Shulan but did not continue.

Zhao Jin understood, however. His father meant that they were already entangled because of Mu Shulan; if they did not take the initiative to act, disaster would truly come.

"Watch the house well, and when I return I'll reward you with a tael of silver!" Zhao Zhentang added to Zhao San.

Zhao San and his wife were famine refugees who had sold themselves into the Zhao household just to fill their bellies. Hearing they could earn a tael of silver, their faces flushed red with excitement as they promised over and over.

Zhao Zhentang nodded to He Cuihua and led Zhao Jin out of the courtyard.

Zhao Jin had a short blade at his waist and a spear in his hand. Despite being fully armed, standing in the nighttime street made him somewhat nervous. Only now did he realize that, despite all he had been through, this was his first time facing a real blades-and-blood situation.

Compared to Zhao Jin's excitement and nerves, Zhao Zhentang was exceptionally steady. He stood there, looked left and right, and said, "You go left, I'll go right. Circle around this area. If you see anyone, shout, but don't go up and fight. Understand?"

Zhao Jin nodded. Father and son split up. Once Zhao Jin tightened his grip on the spear, he felt his nervousness lessen considerably.

The street was very quiet. The dogs that had been startled into a frenzy earlier had all fallen silent. He circled around and saw no one. Returning to the doorway, he met Zhao Zhentang; it seemed that direction was also empty.

"To the Wang house," Zhao Zhentang said in a low voice.

Zhao Jin was taken aback. There was only one Wang family nearby—Wang Zhaojing's family. What did the murder of Mu Shulan's father have to do with the Wangs?

"Right now, going to the yamen won't bring anyone out. The Wangs are a major household with plenty of household guards and servants. Besides, Wang Youshan does things by the rules; if you ask for help, he'll give it," Zhao Zhentang explained briefly.

So the idea was to gather more people to go check the Mu residence. The Wangs were the only ones nearby they could turn to. As Zhao Jin kept pace, he inwardly marveled at how steady and thorough his father was at critical moments. He had always thought his second uncle was more capable than his father, but now it seemed his father was a cut above.

The Zhao house was not far from the Wang house. Father and son walked in silence for a dozen or so paces before Zhao Zhentang spoke in a grave tone: "Xiao Jin, the Mu family are the congregation heads of the Smelling Incense Sect."

"Smelling Incense Sect?" Zhao Jin asked, puzzled. His father had spoken with such gravity and had always been unwilling to let him know about it—it must be taboo or a source of major trouble. He hadn't expected he'd never even heard of it.

"The Smelling Incense Sect is a branch of the White Lotus Sect; they also worship Maitreya." Zhao Jin had heard of the White Lotus Sect—it was often mentioned in the novels he used to read. That being the case, the Smelling Incense Sect was probably some kind of heretical cult.

Hearing Zhao Jin respond with a simple "Oh," as if he didn't find it all that serious, Zhao Zhentang couldn't help shaking his head with a wry smile. "No wonder you're clueless; I usually won't even mention it to you. Remember this well: whether it's the Smelling Incense Sect or the White Lotus Sect, they're all harmful things—you mustn't get involved. And these groups plot rebellion and treason; if caught by the authorities, it's a capital crime. Do you understand?"

Seeing Zhao Zhentang speak with such gravity, Zhao Jin hurriedly agreed. But inwardly he thought, if you knew the Smelling Incense Sect was such big trouble, why did you let me play with Xiao Lan, and why did you associate with Teacher Mu yourselves? Where was your fear of the law then?

By the time these words were finished, they had arrived at the Wangs' front gate. Unlike the other wealthy households in the area, even late at night, two large lanterns hung above the gate, illuminating the entrance brightly.

Zhao Zhentang strode up to the door, grabbed the knocker, and rapped it repeatedly. Unlike the Zhao household, where you had to knock until someone woke up to open the door, here, after just three knocks, someone inside asked in a hushed voice, "Who is it at this late hour?"

"I am Zhao Zhentang, a constable from the prefectural yamen, living on the next street over. I have urgent business and wish to request Lord Wang's help." Zhao Zhentang spoke with great formality.

"Zhao Zhentang?"

"Zhao Jin's father—the father of that elder brother of the young master's. He lives just up ahead."

There was more than one person inside. Zhao Zhentang turned back with a smile and glanced at Zhao Jin. Zhao Jin scratched his head; he understood his father's amused look. Outside, people always said Zhao Jin was Zhao Zhentang's son—they knew Zhao Zhentang only through knowing Zhao Jin. He hadn't expected it to be the other way around at the Wangs' gate.

The main gate did not open. A side door opened, and two men dressed as household guards first peered outside before clasping their fists in salute to Zhao Zhentang. Zhao Jin saw clearly that both men wore slightly disgruntled expressions—anyone would react that way to a late-night visitor.

"A murder has occurred over at Sweet Water Well in the east of the city. Someone came to report it to me. At this late hour, no one is on duty at the yamen, so I have come specifically to ask Lord Wang for help, to assign a few hands to go with me and take a look," Zhao Zhentang stated his reason.

Hearing it was a murder case, the guards' displeasure faded somewhat. They had never dealt with Zhao Zhentang before, but they recognized Zhao Jin. Every day they saw their young master call him "Brother Zhao" with great familiarity. Seeing Zhao Jin also standing there holding a spear, they dared not be negligent.

"Our master has already retired. I will first go inform the second steward, who is on night duty." The guard spoke politely, then turned and entered the compound. The sound of his footsteps could be heard fading away.

The other guard stayed outside, making idle chat with the Zhao father and son. Zhao Zhentang would say a few words, then glance around. Zhao Jin knew his father was staying alert, still watching to see if anyone had followed them.

After about the time it takes an incense stick to burn, the sound of footsteps arose from within the Wang compound. Five sturdy, able-bodied men bearing weapons strode out briskly, with the guard who had gone to report following behind. He said, "Our master has instructed that we six brothers accompany Constable Zhao and follow his arrangements in all matters."

A look of gratitude appeared on Zhao Zhentang's face. He clasped his fists toward the main gate and said, "Lord Wang's noble righteousness—I bow in thanks. I will come to pay my respects at your residence tomorrow."

Having said this, Zhao Zhentang nodded to the six men and said, "Everyone, follow me. It's not far."

Zhao Jin hurried to keep up, inwardly full of admiration. His father was usually so rough around the edges, often even cursing; he hadn't expected him to handle formal occasions with such propriety. No wonder he had been able to stay in the constables' office so long and was held in such respect.

Sweet Water Well in the east of the city was considered a good part of Xuzhou. Outside merchants of some means all lodged there, though it had fallen into serious decline these past few years.

As a constable, Zhao Zhentang knew every street and alley of Xuzhou like the back of his hand. He walked swiftly at the front while the others followed in silence. They were fortunate for the moonlight; otherwise, with the ground so full of potholes, they would have stumbled and fallen several times already.

After hurrying along for nearly half a shichen, they arrived before a residence. Zhao Zhentang was somewhat out of breath, and the six Wang household guards were also breathing unsteadily. Zhao Jin, however, showed no sign of exertion. Zhao Zhentang glanced back with a smile, then cursed, "No one's living properly anymore. We ran all the way here and didn't see a single night watchman."

By custom, there should be watchmen sounding the night watches and calling the hour, also serving as city patrols, often accompanied by yamen runners and militia. But with Xuzhou in decline, many such duties had fallen by the wayside.

Zhao Jin studied the residence before him carefully. He had known Mu Shulan for so long, yet this was the first time he had come to where she lived.

Zhao Zhentang, walking ahead, had no time for such sentimentality. He reached out and pushed the door. At this late hour, the courtyard gate, which should have been tightly shut and barred, swung open directly at his push.

"Creak—" At the sound, everyone present instinctively stepped back. Entering someone else's residence late at night, with everything so deathly still, they all felt a sense of eeriness.

Zhao Zhentang felt around on the ground, picked up a stone, and tossed it inside. The courtyard remained silent. Only then did he draw his blade and slowly walk in.

Rounding the spirit screen, there was no one in the courtyard. Candlelight could still be seen shining through the window paper, but not a sound could be heard inside or out. The door to the house was half-open.

In such freezing weather, the door was still ajar. Zhao Zhentang spat on the ground, abandoned his caution, and strode forward, pushing the door open and walking in. The men behind hurried to follow.

The interior was furnished in the style of a wealthy household. The main hall held a portrait of a large-bellied Maitreya. There were no signs of ransacking; everything was very neat. Candlelight flickered from the study. Zhao Zhentang used his blade to push open the study door.

Teacher Mu sat in a chair, dressed in a black robe, his hair disheveled. A dagger was plunged into his chest. His eyes were wide open, his features twisted in fury, making his expression utterly ferocious and terrifying.