Tangshed Town lay north of Maple City, one of seven towns under Wei Lin's governance and the smallest, most remote of them all. It backed against the Qichang Mountains stretching for several li, and its people lived off the land — mostly hunters.
Walking through Tangshed Town, Jiang Chen saw old houses and sparse crowds. The occasional passerby moved quickly, brows knitted with worry. Compared to Maple City, or even his birthplace of Phoenix Creek Town, this place was desperately poor.
"The villages near Tangshed Town scatter along the Qichang Mountains. The people hunt for a living. They only gather in town on the first and fifteenth of each month. It's not market day, so few people are about."
Jiang Chen had done his homework and could explain this much to Zhang Yuan.
Even though this was a senior-looking-after-junior assignment from the Dean, Jiang Chen knew better than to rely on others for everything. He did not dare slack.
Zhang Yuan had maintained his faint smile the entire journey — neither distant nor familiar, betraying little emotion.
He only nodded and walked toward the house where the massacre had occurred.
They represented the Academy's independent will, but they could not ignore the local authorities entirely. The town constable, Tang Dun, waited for them at the gate.
"Tang Daniu and his wife were both locals. We fought plenty as kids..." The dark-skinned, blunt-faced rough man was clearly grieving. His bull-like eyes were bloodshot, and he kept repeating: "Those dog-bastard heretics! Damn them! Damn them!"
Zhang Yuan glanced at his constable's uniform. "Why are you the only one here? Where's your chief?"
"Our chief's busy with other matters." Tang Dun noticed nothing of Zhang Yuan's displeasure. "You gentlemen will all be great officials someday. You must do right by us!"
"Interesting. In a tiny town like this, what matters more than a family massacre?" Zhang Yuan smiled contemptuously but did not press further. He waved to cut Tang Dun off. "Get to the point. What did your investigation find? What did the Punishment Bureau say?"
Dean Dong sending his own people made his distrust of Wei Lin obvious. Correspondingly, the Punishment Bureau avoided them, and the local government sent only a bottom-rung constable to receive them. All predictable.
Tang Dun scratched his head. "We... found nothing. The Punishment Bureau folks didn't tell us anything..."
Zhang Yuan nearly laughed in exasperation. No clues at all, and you babbled this long?
But his composure held. He suppressed his annoyance. "Fine. Let's go inside."
Tang Dun moved briskly to tear off the door seal and produce a key, opening the heavy padlock. Then he pushed the wooden gate open.
Jiang Chen noticed the seal was no simple thing — it bore suppression talismans. The Punishment Bureau cultivators had clearly preserved the scene with care.
As the seal came off and the gate swung wide, a blended stench of rot, filth, and corruption poured out.
Jiang Chen fought back nausea and surveyed the small courtyard. Hunter's tools lay scattered everywhere — knives, traps, bows. Pelts and smoked meat sat in disordered piles.
A hunting dog lay as bare bones by the main entrance. From its posture, it had detected the intruder first but been dispatched in an instant.
Jiang Chen turned. Zhang Yuan already pressed an embroidered handkerchief to his nose, his brow furrowed.
At Jiang Chen's inquiring look, Zhang Yuan lifted his chin slightly and spoke through the cloth. "No matter. Let's go in."
Tang Dun stood aside at the gate, hesitating. "I... I'll stay out here. This place... it's cursed..."
He was only a mortal. Jiang Chen would not force him. He nodded. "Very well."
Then he strode into the courtyard first.
Dense, overwhelming corpse energy surged around him, flooding his senses. This level of corpse energy did not come from simply killing a few people and raising some walking corpses. It felt more like communication with some evil entity.
Zhang Yuan glanced behind him at Jiang Chen's sword hand — those long, pale fingers looked clean and strong.
"Junior Brother Jiang is skilled with the sword?" he asked.
Jiang Chen surveyed the surroundings without turning. "You flatter me, Senior Brother. My Dao vortex is unformed, so I cannot study Dao arts yet. I rely on swordsmanship for self-defense."
"I heard you were among those attacked at the outer Academy and managed to escape calmly. That speaks to uncommon ability."
"It was actually quite perilous. The heretic far outmatched me. I only escaped because I alerted my fellow disciples."
A doghouse built of planks stood by the courtyard. It was empty now. Jiang Chen's gaze swept past. No bloodstains anywhere in the courtyard.
"The situation here is worse than expected. Be careful, Junior Brother."
"I understand."
The courtyard held three rooms. The main hall faced the gate, its door open. A skeleton lay sprawled across the threshold, flesh completely gone. From the clothing, this was the master of the house — the hunter Tang Daniu.
Jiang Chen stepped carefully over the bones and entered the hall.
The walls were bare, undecorated. In the center stood a square table with four benches. Leftover food sat on the table, covered by a woven bamboo hood.
Beneath the left bench lay the mistress of the house — her rough cloth skirt proved that much.
But the food had not spoiled. The bodies were already bare bone.
An inexplicable chill ran down Jiang Chen's spine. A faint fear stirred, and he nearly drew his sword. But he had survived enough life-or-death battles to suppress the instinct and avoid humiliating himself before Zhang Yuan.
"The flesh was not eaten. Some heretic art caused this." Zhang Yuan held his handkerchief to his face, observing with distaste but no fear. "They did not die long ago, but the complete loss of flesh destroys many clues. You fought the heretic who attacked the outer Academy. Any familiarities?"
Jiang Chen shook his head. "I only see two skeletons now. I cannot judge. But this corpse energy filling the air..."
"What of it?"
"I was attacked by manipulated corpses then. I took corpse poison, and Dean Dong cured me."
Zhang Yuan nodded, never lowering his handkerchief, and walked toward the room on the hall's right. "We'll split up. Notify me immediately if you find anything."
"Understood."
Zhang Yuan was an established cultivator. His Celestial Palace rotated with Dao vortices, generating Dao essence spontaneously. Jiang Chen had no worries for him. Sword in hand, he turned toward the left room.
* * *
This room...
It was small.
The moment he entered, he saw a wooden horse standing silently on the floor. It was remarkably fine and smooth — clearly crafted with great care.
Near the horse stood a low table scattered with small toys: a slingshot, a rattle-drum.
And on the wall beside the table, Jiang Chen saw the room's only decoration.
A small canvas. On it, in clumsy childish strokes, three tiny figures ran through a sea of flowers.
Two larger ones, holding a smaller one's hands.
Behind them, a little dog wagging its head.
This had been a whole family. A whole spring had once bloomed here.
Jiang Chen forced himself to walk deeper, until before the small bed, he saw scraps of floral cloth.
He looked up.
And of course he saw the last skeleton in this family.
Small. Delicate. Fragile. Alone and helpless.
It had been a little girl, treasured by her parents, now the only thing left of her in this world.
He felt anger.
Uncontrollable, savage anger.