Chapter 38: Sun Xuan (Cultivation)

The corpses bled little; most had been pierced through the temple, dying in precisely the same manner as the Black Wind Stronghold’s third chief’s bodyguard in the Spring Pavilion the night before.

At last, Hongde’s body was found not far from the meditation chambers. His robust corpse had turned a mottled black and blue, covered in wounds inflicted by sharp weapons, the main tendon of his left leg severed completely.

“This is a demonic body. Who would have thought Master Hongde was a practitioner of forbidden arts?” an experienced investigator from the Peacekeeping Bureau remarked.

“That bald fraud always acted so dignified and virtuous. Who knew he was such a beast? Good riddance—he deserved it,” another spat.

After a thorough search, the remains of children were retrieved from a secret chamber beneath the Great Buddha Hall, and another hideout was discovered below the Hall of Heavenly Kings.

Everyone present was left deeply shaken. None had witnessed such a scene of carnage. Dozens of children had perished here in silence, their lives sacrificed for the cultivation of sinister techniques.

Further reports came in: twelve more bodies were found in the crypt under the Hall of Heavenly Kings, all killed in the same manner as the monks. On inspection, one was identified as Li Chun, a minor leader among the Lianshan Brigands.

The Peacekeeping Bureau’s men were appalled and didn’t dare delay reporting the incident to their commandant, who, equally uneasy, promptly escalated the matter to Jin Man, the Silver Seal Captain of Hezhou.

Jin Man flew into a rage. Many subordinate offices of the Bureau were newly established, so he could not be overly harsh. Instead, he joined forces with Magistrate Jiang Xianhe of Hezhou to pressure the lower ranks, demanding the case be solved quickly and Hongde’s accomplices be brought to light.

Once the news spread, a wave of panic swept not only Feng County but all of Hezhou. The people’s outrage surged; everywhere, cries rang out to hunt down practitioners of forbidden arts.

Some even hindered officials from arresting the true culprit. Many outlaws from the forests and hills, eager to protect the real heroes or boost their own renown, turned themselves in, claiming responsibility for the crime.

Meanwhile, word arrived from Guan County: the notorious Lianshan Brigands—over three hundred strong, one of the twelve great outlaw bands—had been wiped out by a mysterious individual. The chief himself was executed, suffering hundreds of cuts before he finally perished.

This news sent chills down the spines of those living outside the law, but the common folk cheered. The Lianshan Brigands had been a blade hanging over their heads, threatening to massacre villages and destroy settlements without warning. Their presence was a source of terror, and few dared cross them, knowing their military backing.

But now, someone mysterious had taken action, removing this scourge for them.

For a time, the martial world was in an uproar, every shadow a threat, every whisper a warning.

Some rejoiced, others despaired.

At that moment, on the road from Crane County to An County, the seat of Yingzhou, Zhao Qing was racing his horse at full speed. Early that morning, he’d been handed a bundle by a subordinate. A single glance left him shocked beyond words; he hadn’t even paused for breakfast, setting out at once to report to Cao Hubao.

Cao Hubao, hearing Zhao Qing’s early arrival, knew something major had occurred. Coupling this with the recent wave of alarming reports, a sense of foreboding gnawed at him.

Upon meeting in the reception hall, they perused the correspondence between the Lianshan Brigands and Li Changyuan. Cao Hubao’s hands went numb with anxiety. The two departed immediately, heading northwest to personally report to Sun Xuan, the Gold Seal Captain of the region.

“What? Li Changyuan colluding with outlaws?”

Sun Xuan’s brow furrowed, his aura unsettling the air.

Zhao Qing recoiled, fear tightening his chest.

“Captain, here are the letters between Li Changyuan and the Lianshan Brigands. You can judge their authenticity yourself—Crane County’s Commandant Zhao brought them first thing this morning,” Cao Hubao reported, bowing.

Sun Xuan’s expression remained grave as he leafed through the documents. “Was the messenger apprehended?”

“Replying to your excellency, the bundle must have been delivered to the county offices last night. It was found by a subordinate early this morning. I dared not delay and brought it straight to Lord Cao,” Zhao Qing replied uneasily, wondering how he had become entangled in such a mess.

“Recently, major cases have occurred in both Feng and Guan counties. Over three hundred victims in total, all killed in similar fashion—likely the work of a single perpetrator,” Cao Hubao offered his assessment.

Sun Xuan set the letters aside, lifting a cup of tea and gently stirring the leaves. “I’ve reviewed those cases. It’s indeed one person’s doing. The scene on Mount Qingyuan was reduced to ashes by fire, little evidence left. But the case at Goodwill Temple, plus the two in Feng County that same day, all point to a single mysterious figure targeting the Lianshan Brigands.”

“The Lianshan Brigands were kept around by design, doing dirty work for others. They’d made too many enemies—no need to investigate further. As for Li Changyuan, these letters alone don’t prove him a traitor.”

“The Yingzhou Deputy Commander is a military officer; such matters are for their own system to resolve. We of the Peacekeeping Bureau must not overstep. If we act rashly, it may provoke backlash from local military officials, which would harm regional stability.”

“You two are not to interfere further. Keep this matter to yourselves—say nothing outside. I will handle it personally,” Sun Xuan declared, putting the matter to rest.

Days later, thunder rolled through Crouching Ox Valley. The townsfolk knew their warden was cultivating thunder arts. The valley had been silent for days, and without the sound of thunder, the people’s sense of security had waned.

On Crouching Ox Mountain, within a thatched hut, Ling Chi finished his cultivation, exhaling a long breath of stale air.

His great black horse was off somewhere, amusing itself.

Ling Chi whistled once, bright and sharp. Soon, the steady drum of hooves approached. The big black horse emerged from the woods, halting before Ling Chi and nuzzling its massive head against his chest.

He rubbed the horse’s head, swung onto its back, and lightly tugged the reins, preparing to return to Crane County.

Passing through Willow Town, he stopped by his home, gathering up a fair amount of money, taking all his silver notes with him.

He intended to buy materials to forge new blades. His war saber had served him well—he could not bear to abandon it.

If Crane County didn’t have what he needed, he would head to Fuzhou. There, he could call in Cao Bianjiao’s promise; the Eight Extremities Fist remained untaught.

Wearing his bamboo hat, a wooden stick between his teeth, he let the horse set the pace—fast or slow as it pleased. He was in no hurry.

By now, Ling Chi enjoyed a modest reputation in Crane County, despite his efforts to remain hidden. Otherwise, his name would already have spread far and wide—something he preferred to avoid.

Upon entering the county town, people greeted him frequently. Ling Chi responded to each with a sunny smile, the picture of a cheerful youth.

First, he returned to Ginkgo Lane. After tidying up, he went straight to the Peacekeeping Bureau’s office.

Zhao Qing was still away in Fuzhou. As soon as Ling Chi stepped through the gate, a little girl of two or three came running toward him, tumbled headlong, and sprawled on the ground, motionless.

“Little Rui, what sort of grand salute is this?” Ling Chi laughed, reaching down to grab her by the scruff of the neck, hoisting her onto his shoulder as he headed into the courtyard.

The little one clung to his head, not quite understanding what had happened.

“Brother Six!” she called out in her childish voice.

“Why are you back?” Zhao Rui lisped.

Ling Chi steadied her with one hand. “Willow Town’s been quiet lately, so I came home to visit. Let’s have hotpot in a bit.”

“Rui wants fish balls!” she cried, pressing her face to Ling Chi’s head and drooling all over him.

He scooped her into his arms. “Come on, let’s go home and make fish balls.”

Ling Chi bought a fish, removed the bones, and pounded the flesh into balls for her hotpot. He bought a rack of lamb, picked the bones clean, and simmered them with the fish bones to make a rich soup, then used the broth for the meat—a flavor beyond compare.

Seated around the pot with his master and mistress, the whole family ate and drank to their hearts’ content. Ling Chi’s fellow disciples all had hearty appetites; the rack of lamb was gone in no time at all.