Cloud of Suspicion Around the Fake Death, Qingwan Secretly Investigates the Trail

The night wind poured in from the alley, making the copper bells hanging from the eaves chime softly. I stood on the stone steps outside the mourning hall, the feeling of the paper flower shattering still lingering on my fingertips.

Ji Wuchen had left, and Yan Jiuxiao had withdrawn his men. All that remained were a group of clan elders, clad in sackcloth and mourning, wailing before the coffin. But I knew, there was no grief in their cries, only panic.

I wasn't far away when that mangled body was carried into the coffin. A faint medicinal scent grazed my nostrils—not the soul-soothing incense, nor the Cold Marrow Powder used for preserving corpses, but Reverse Meridian Powder. This medicine rarely appeared in the world; it required the vital blood of a living person as a catalyst for its refinement. It could suppress the flow of life, making the dying appear to be in a deep sleep. Without specialized medical knowledge, one would never discern its intricacies.

I stared at the pitch-black coffin until the last person retreated.

At a quarter past midnight, the mansion's guards changed shifts. I changed into a dark gray cloth tunic, wore my Black Cloak inside out, pulled the hood down to my brow, hid the jade Medicine Pestle in my sleeve, and silently scaled the back wall.

The ancestral graves were located at the foot of North Ridge Slope, a journey of half an incense stick's length from the main residence. Three layers of restrictions were set up along the path, all keyed to the Ji family bloodline. Years ago, when I was gathering herbs for an elder of the clan, I obtained a drop of her Heart Blood, which I had placed on my palm. This could fool the first layer of the sensing array. As for the second and third layers... I didn't rely on the arrays; I simply chose the overgrown paths where the guards were most lax to bypass them.

Deep within the burial grounds, the new soil had not yet settled. I crouched before Ji Hantian's tombstone, my fingertip tracing away a corner of the loose soil to reveal the sealing talisman beneath. The ink on the talisman was dry, but its edges were slightly curled, as if it had been hastily affixed.

I took out the Medicine Pestle and gently tapped the coffin lid.

Thud—

It was empty.

The sound was wrong. If a real corpse were interred, there should have been a dull echo. But this tap seemed to reverberate slightly, like striking an empty urn.

I bit my finger and drew a forbidden-breaking blood seal on the talisman. The talisman scorched and peeled away, revealing a gap in the coffin lid. I pried it open slightly and reached inside.

What I touched was not flesh or bone.

It was a few old, blood-stained clothes, piled haphazardly, with a severed arm draped over them—a prosthetic limb, a puppet part made of iron wire and leather. Reaching further in, I found only a pile of rags, soaked with reddish-brown stains, emitting a strong smell of rust.

It was indeed an empty coffin.

They had used these remnants to fake the scene of death, deceiving the eyes and ears of the City Lord's Manor. The real Ji Hantian had been transferred long ago, after the melee last night.

I withdrew my hand, about to close the coffin lid, when I felt a sticky sensation on my fingertip. Looking down, I saw that my sleeve had brushed against a dark mark on the inner wall—it was blood, not yet completely dry, with a faint, slightly putrid smell.

I collected the bloodstain into a jade bottle and sprinkled in a pinch of revealing powder. The powder glowed a faint blue upon contact with the blood, illuminating several drag marks that pointed southeast.

That was the direction of the Black Market.

I followed the bloodstains through the streets. At every corner, I left a small mark of medicinal powder at the base of the wall to avoid getting lost. The Black Market's terrain was complex; while officially under the City Lord's jurisdiction, it was secretly controlled by three major powers: the Blood Demon Sect, the Ghost Market Merchant Alliance, and those bounty hunters who walked the line between life and death.

As I neared the depths of the market district, a strange smell began to permeate the air—like old medicinal herbs gone moldy, mixed with the sour stench of some decaying animal. This was the mark of the "Dry Bone Workshop." This place was originally an abandoned apothecary. Ten years ago, a fire had killed seven alchemists. Since then, no one dared to live there, but it had become a hotbed for underground transactions.

The bloodstain ended at a cracked wall outside the market. I crouched in the shadows, holding my breath and concentrating.

I could hear people talking inside.

Their voices were low, but I recognized one of them—his voice, soft and tinged with suppressed gasps, was Ji Hantian's.

"...I must obtain the Pseudo-Primordial Body," he said. "Ancient texts record that it is not an ordinary physique, but the primal power left over from the chaos of creation. Whoever can control it can tear through the shackles of rules."

Another voice, hoarse and aged, replied, "Are you sure that thing is on him?"

"Three years ago, I destroyed his Dao Bone with my own hands, thinking it was foolproof. But in recent encounters, his aura has changed. That suppressed strength... it's not a pretense." Ji Hantian sneered. "Besides, Ye Qingwan is already starting to suspect."

My heart skipped a beat.

They knew I was investigating.

I slowly took half a step back and took a Crystal Butterfly from my sleeve. Its wings were as thin as cicada wings, and I had refined it with my own vital blood. It flew silently, perfect for investigating secrets.

I flicked my fingertip, and the Crystal Butterfly flapped its wings, slipped through the crack in the wall, and entered.

My vision blurred for a moment, then cleared.

I saw the scene inside.

Under the dim candlelight, Ji Hantian stood bare-chested, his back to the door. A blood-red crystal was embedded in his left arm, pulsing continuously like a living heart. Opposite him sat a red-haired old man, his pupils as red as molten lava, with several dark red chains wrapped around him.

Blood Butcher.

He had indeed come.

The Crystal Butterfly slowly approached a beam, hovering directly above the two of them.

"Once the Pseudo-Primordial Body awakens, it will cause a resonance between heaven and earth," the Blood Butcher said slowly. "If you cannot control it then, you will be devoured by it. Are you prepared to bear this price?"

"Price?" Ji Hantian chuckled. "I am no longer the obedient direct grandchild I once was. As long as I can kill Ji Wuchen and reclaim what should have been mine, I wouldn't hesitate to become a vengeful spirit."

"Good," the Blood Butcher nodded. "In three days, I will bring twelve Human Puppets to help you raid the Ji family's side courtyard. Make sure to act before he leaves."

The Crystal Butterfly continued to circle, trying to capture more details. Suddenly, a black shadow darted out from a corner, moving so fast that its actions were almost invisible.

That hand shot up, precisely pinching the Crystal Butterfly's wing.

Crack.

A crisp sound, and the butterfly's body instantly shattered, dissipating into specks of blood-red light.

My vision went black, my chest felt like it had been struck a heavy blow, and a bloody taste rose in my throat.

I was exposed.

I turned to leave, but as soon as I moved, I heard a light laugh from behind me.

"Miss Ye, what a coincidence."

I froze.

That voice, unhurried, carrying a familiar mockery, drifted out from within the market entrance.

I didn't look back.

My hand reached for the Treasure Pouch at my waist, three Poison Needles held between my fingers. But I knew fighting him head-on was a lost cause. Even though Ji Hantian was still recovering from his serious injuries, with Blood Butcher guarding him, my chances of even escaping alive were slim.

Footsteps slowly approached.

Leather boots crunched on the gravel, making soft sounds. One step, two steps... stopping three feet behind me.

"You think I didn't know you were investigating?" he said. "I knew from the moment you stood at the entrance of the mourning hall last night. You were sniffing the air, looking at the smoke trails on the coffin, waiting for an opening."

I remained silent.

"Clever," he sighed softly. "Unfortunately, people who are too clever often die faster."

A gust of wind swept past, lifting my hood. The streak of crimson at the ends of my hair swayed slightly in the night.

He suddenly laughed, "The Blood Phoenix Body has already begun to manifest? No wonder Ji Wuchen is willing to protect you. However... don't get too cocky. The thing inside that guy is far more dangerous than you can imagine."

I spun around abruptly, sweeping out with the Medicine Pestle from my sleeve.

He was already prepared, dodging to the side. He unfurled a folding fan in his hand, its ribs striking my wrist. A sharp pain shot through me, and the Poison Needles fell to the ground.

"Don't be in such a hurry to attack," he said, stepping back with the same smile. "We'll meet again. Next time we meet, I hope you can bring some more valuable information—for instance, just how many secrets Ji Wuchen is hiding."

As his voice faded, he retreated back into the workshop.

The door creaked shut, the candlelight flickered, and then extinguished completely.

I stood rooted to the spot, my palm slick with cold sweat.

The wind stirred the ashes on the ground, blowing them onto my face with a bitter, scorched scent.

I looked down and saw that my fingertips were still clutching half of an unburnt butterfly wing, its edges charred black, like feathers burned by fire.

The sound of a night watchman echoed from afar, the third watch, second bell.

I clenched the broken fragment and turned, walking into the deep alley.