After leaving the alley where the scarred man had been, Li Chong hesitated, about to say something, when Xiao Su, the constable, chuckled and said, “Constable Li, do you know any authentic Yangxia cuisine nearby? Let’s grab a drink and discuss the case.”
This suggestion perfectly suited Li Chong’s mood. A smile broke across his already wrinkled face. “Constable Xiao Su, you’ve asked the right person. No one in the yamen knows Yangxia cuisine better than me. The fish-and-lamb stew at ‘Fish and Lamb Delicacy’ on Lan Street is absolutely superb—roasted lamb legs, blanched fish slices, all fragrant enough to travel ten miles.”
As they spoke, they turned onto Lan Street and found “Fish and Lamb Delicacy.” It was a shabby little shop, yet its business was surprisingly brisk. Even though it wasn’t mealtime, nearly every seat was occupied.
In comparison, the luxurious “Drunk in Yangxia” restaurant across the street, with its elaborate courtyards and occasional strains of music drifting out, clearly catered to a high-class clientele—but at this moment, it was nearly empty, and the waiters looked listless.
“Constable Xiao Su, don’t underestimate ‘Fish and Lamb Delicacy.’ Many wealthy patrons who spend extravagantly at ‘Drunk in Yangxia’ secretly send servants here to take food to go. They won’t give up their airs, yet they refuse to let their taste buds suffer,” Li Chong, a local insider, explained proudly. He was clearly well-acquainted with the owner of the shop, and without much ado, they were seated at the only available table, with drinks and dishes arriving swiftly.
Meng Qi took a sip of the fish-and-lamb stew. The deliciousness seemed to spread from his mouth all the way to his stomach, his mind, and even his soul. It was indescribably delicious.
“Truly fresh! I wonder how it compares to the cook at the foodie’s house…” Meng Qi, moved to tears by the delicacy, began devouring the food voraciously.
After a few strong drinks, Li Chong gradually loosened up. “Constable Xiao Su, what’s your plan from here on?”
“Not sure yet. What do you suggest, Constable Li?” Meng Qi replied with a question.
Encouraged by the alcohol, Li Chong waved his hand. “Constable Xiao Su, it’s great that you’re respectful to elders, but there’s no need for such formality between us. Just call me Old Li.”
Meng Qi nodded and raised his cup. “Then I won’t stand on ceremony.”
Li Chong downed the cup in one go, smacking his lips in satisfaction. Then he lowered his voice. “Old Zhong is no simple character.”
He slapped his thigh with a loud smack. “I’ve always felt something was off about this case. Oh, how could I have overlooked Old Zhong!”
“Is he a suspicious person?” Meng Qi asked, not showing any sign of drunkenness.
Li Chong lowered his voice again. “Old Zhong’s background is unknown. Twenty or thirty years ago, he arrived in Yangxia and settled near the charity morgue outside the city. He’s always kept a low profile. Just imagine, how eerie that morgue must be at night—some even claim to have heard ghostly wails. Yet he’s lived there for over twenty years, aging from a scholarly middle-aged man into a gaunt, sinister old man. Doesn’t that seem strange?”
“A few years ago, a notorious bandit passed through Yangxia and broke into Old Zhong’s house. Guess what happened? He went completely insane! An expert with the Eight Orifices, yet he wet his pants, cried like his parents had died, and insisted on turning himself in. No one could stop him.”
“And then this bandit died?” Meng Qi felt a chill. This sounded like a complete mental breakdown.
“Exactly! Before he could even be interrogated in prison, he strangled himself!” Li Chong took another sip of wine to calm his nerves. “When I first noticed Constable Cai’s organs rotting, looking as if he’d been dead for half a year, yet his body remained fresh and mobile, I should have thought of Old Zhong!”
“He lives near the morgue. Could he be skilled in necromantic or ghostly martial arts?”
“Sounds plausible,” Meng Qi agreed.
Sighing, Li Chong put down his cup seriously. “Therefore, Constable Xiao Su, if we’re to investigate Old Zhong, we must plan carefully.”
Preferably without going ourselves!
“Old Li, we’re thinking the same,” Meng Qi smiled. “Consider ‘Scar’ Yan Xiaow—who dominates Yangxia with his Nine Orifices strength. Even he feared Old Zhong, so how could Old Zhong not be terrifying? He might have already opened the Mysterious Gate of Life and Death, bridged the heavens and earth, or even achieved internal and external unification—definitely not someone we should recklessly provoke.”
Li Chong teared up. “Exactly!”
Constable Xiao Su was indeed a smart guy—neither arrogant nor careless with his subordinates’ lives!
“If it were just us investigating alone, we’d have to stop here. But who are we? We’re officers of justice! We should report to the magistrate, invite local sages and hidden experts, and all go together to investigate Old Zhong. Why should we go ourselves?”
Meng Qi wasn’t foolish. With the Six Doors’ authority behind him, why risk his own neck?
Back in Yicheng, Constable Huang Zhiqing had gathered several clan experts to attack an evil deity.
As for whether Old Zhong would cooperate, Meng Qi didn’t particularly care. If they could uncover the truth and gain some rare insight, that would be great. Otherwise, he could simply claim the lead had gone cold and head straight to Maoling to meet the heroes of Jiangdong and witness the elegance of the Invisible Sword and the Mastermind Who Calculates All Under Heaven.
That’s just how responsible I am!
Li Chong was stunned for a moment, then gave a thumbs-up. “That’s the right path! Let’s go report to Magistrate Zheng immediately!”
Let the tall guys handle it!
“No rush. Let’s think about the Qiu family. Why would Constable Cai come out of their ship late at night, when no one else was around?” Meng Qi wasn’t in a hurry at all.
Li Chong was even less so. The sooner Old Zhong heard about this and fled, the better. “Could the Qiu family and Old Zhong be working together? Maybe they were plotting something related to the undercurrents in Maoling, and Constable Cai discovered it. He sneaked aboard the ship to investigate, got killed, and then they used Old Zhong’s abilities to manipulate his corpse off the ship, planning to secretly bury him in the graveyard. But then a sailor caught them stealing in the middle of the night.”
An experienced constable, Li Chong’s deduction sounded plausible. Of course, he intentionally made a few mistakes, waiting for Constable Xiao Su to correct him—a good way to flatter his superior.
Meng Qi shook his head. “They weren’t working together.”
“Huh?” Li Chong had suspected this but hadn’t expected Xiao Su to be so certain.
“If they were allies, why go through all this trouble to dispose of the body? At night, they could have just tied a stone to him and thrown him into the river. Who would ever find him? Also, even if the sailor had seen them, they could have simply killed him on the spot. Why escalate things and go through ‘Scar’?” Meng Qi explained logically.
Li Chong’s respect for his superior grew. Xiao Su, as an assistant constable, wasn’t just skilled in martial arts—he also had a sharp mind for cases. He couldn’t be easily fooled.
Meng Qi licked his spoon. “If they weren’t allies, the contradictions make sense.”
“That night, Constable Cai sneaked onto the Qiu family’s ship under cover of darkness, investigating something. Perhaps Old Zhong manipulated him to go there—after all, a ‘corpse’ has no heartbeat or breath, making it less likely to be detected. Therefore, there was no need to destroy the body.”
Li Chong twirled his wine cup and continued, “When the sailor discovered Constable Cai’s death, he must have made a lot of noise. Even though it was late, the dock wouldn’t have many experts around, but if the Qiu ship had secrets, there must have been guards. Therefore, Old Zhong dared not act rashly to silence the sailor and instead worked indirectly through ‘Scar.'”
After Meng Qi’s explanation, Li Chong could roughly picture what had happened.
“Now the key question is: Did Constable Cai come from Jiangdong’s Maoling to investigate the Qiu family’s ship or Old Zhong?” Meng Qi mused.
Li Chong wiped the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. “Even if he had been dead for over half a month, even using the Zombie Fist to transport a corpse, it’s impossible for him to travel from Maoling to Yangxia in two weeks.”
“But if he had been alive and willing to travel, why wouldn’t he have reported to the Six Doors in Maoling? It wouldn’t have taken much time. Why did he vanish so mysteriously?” Meng Qi tapped the edge of his wine cup. “Unless Old Zhong abducted him, or even carried his corpse all the way from Maoling to Yangxia. But then, if Old Zhong just needed a corpse to sneak aboard the ship, there are plenty of corpses in the graveyard outside the city. Why go through the trouble of carrying Cai all the way back?”
Li Chong took a sip and shook his head. “Can’t figure it out.”
“Neither can I. We should first investigate the ship and confirm its origin,” Meng Qi said contentedly after finishing his meal. “Old Li, let’s return to the yamen and report to Magistrate Zheng, then proceed to the dock.”
“Sounds good!” Li Chong’s nose was already red from drinking.
Just as he finished speaking, he suddenly pointed outside. “Talk about coincidence! Isn’t that Magistrate Zheng!”
Following his finger, Meng Qi saw Zheng Jushan, the magistrate of Yangxia, entering the opposite “Drunk in Yangxia” with a group of people.
Among them were two young men in their late teens, dressed as Taoist priests—one wearing a Taoist bun and a Seven-Star crown, the other simply holding a headscarf.
The one holding the headscarf looked oddly familiar to Meng Qi.
He was short, with delicate features, a slightly upturned chin, and an unmistakable air of arrogance. His youth had not yet fully faded, and he carried a long and a short sword on his back.
Yao… Yao Family’s little brat… wasn’t this the young man who had secretly loved his senior sister, Zhenwu Yao Xingliu? Meng Qi inhaled deeply, recognizing the arrogant youth. More than a year had passed, and he was at least at the Sixth Gate now—probably traveling the world after descending the mountain.
Recognizing Yao Xingliu, Meng Qi had a rough idea of the other young Taoist’s identity.
He was of average height, with a round face and a naturally pleasant expression. A green sharkskin-sheathed sword hung at his waist. His movements seemed ordinary, yet each step contained hidden depth. Meng Qi could only vaguely estimate his level—Sixth or Seventh Gate.
“Magistrate Zheng and the others are mostly focused on the young Taoist. If they value him more than Yao Xingliu, among Zhenwu’s younger generation, there are very few candidates…”
“Although Yao Xingliu walks ahead, seemingly superior to the young Taoist, he’s a martial arts fanatic—he’s not particularly polite, so that doesn’t count…”
“Could this be Yang He?”
Yang He, the once-in-a-century prodigy of the Zhenwu Sect, who had mastered a Dharma Body technique upon opening his first Gate, was often compared by the elders to Jiang Zhiwei of the Immortal Sword Pavilion.
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