Clever Words and Evasion, Between Truth and Falsehood

That aged scolding voice was like a basin of cold water, dousing the tense air between Ye Qingxuan and Zhang Lingxiao.

From behind the door at the end of the corridor, where the lights were not yet lit, the voice alone carried undeniable weight.

Zhang Lingxiao's hand, which had been gripping Ye Qingxuan's wrist, let go as if shocked by electricity. The arrogance on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a fawning smile. He bowed and scraped towards the gap in the door, "Chief Constable Hong, please calm your anger. It was my nephew who was being unreasonable, merely exchanging a few words with a colleague here and disturbing your rest."

There was a moment of silence from within the room, then the aged voice emerged again, "Let this not happen again."

"Yes, yes," Zhang Lingxiao replied repeatedly.

With a creak, the door closed again, and the corridor returned to silence.

Zhang Lingxiao turned around, his expression shifting between anger and uncertainty. He had just lost face in front of Chief Constable Hong, and this debt would naturally be settled with Ye Qingxuan. He lowered his voice, but his words were filled with mockery, "See? The chief constables have all retired. Ye Qingxuan, if you had really barged in tonight, it wouldn't be a question of whether you'd get the promotion, but whether you could keep your own skin."

He pointed towards the dark official rooms in the back hall, the sneer on his lips deepening, "I told you, if you have anything, tell me, and I'll pass it on for you. This is for your own good."

Ye Qingxuan glanced at him but said nothing. He had heard clearly; that voice belonged to the Chief Constable Hong he had met earlier that day. This old constable had a steady temperament, and Zhang Lingxiao's words were half true and half false. The truth was that the chief constables were indeed resting, but the falsehood was that Zhang Lingxiao would never kindly relay a message for him.

If he were to reveal the whole matter, by tomorrow morning, this immense credit would no longer have anything to do with Ye Qingxuan.

Ye Qingxuan remained silent, cupped his hands towards Zhang Lingxiao, and turned to leave.

Zhang Lingxiao was taken aback, then assumed Ye Qingxuan was backing down. A look of smugness spread across his face. He was certain Ye Qingxuan wouldn't dare to make a fuss, and the credit would eventually fall back into his hands. He leisurely ambled back to his grand tutor's chair and sat down again, waiting for Ye Qingxuan to come to his senses and beg for his help.

However, Ye Qingxuan's steps did not lead towards the main gate of the Fengtian Division. Instead, he turned in the courtyard and headed towards another brightly lit courtyard.

That was where the official constables rested and kept watch at night.

The chief constables couldn't be disturbed, but the ordinary official constables could surely be spoken to.

Passing through a lantern-lit passageway, he saw a light still on in one of the rooms, accompanied by a few coughs. Ye Qingxuan gathered his composure and stepped forward, gently knocking three times on the door.

"Who is it?" a gruff voice asked from inside.

"Constable Tan, it's me, temporary constable Ye Qingxuan. I have something important to report."

The door opened, and a burly man with a full beard poked his head out. He was bare-chested, with a thick patch of black hair on his chest. It was Tan Zhenglong, the official constable on night duty. He sized up Ye Qingxuan, whose clothes were disheveled and covered in mud, and frowned, "What is it, rushing around like this?"

Ye Qingxuan panted, looking as if he had just escaped a nightmare. He cupped his fists and said, "Constable Tan... I... I discovered the whereabouts of 'Mottled Fish'."

Tan Zhenglong's bell-like eyes suddenly lit up, "Where is he?"

"He... he's already dead," Ye Qingxuan's voice trembled slightly. "The body is in the abandoned tile field next to the mass grave on the west side of the city."

Tan Zhenglong's expression changed. He pulled Ye Qingxuan into the room, closed the door, and lowered his voice, "Explain clearly, what happened?"

As if just emerging from a nightmare, Ye Qingxuan leaned against the door, gasping for breath. He stammered out the story he had rehearsed a thousand times in his mind.

"Reporting to the constable, at the third watch tonight, I was fast asleep when I suddenly heard a commotion in my kitchen. My family is poor, and I feared a thief, so... I grabbed a short piece of firewood and went out quietly to look."

Tan Zhenglong listened without a word. The beginning seemed plausible enough.

"As soon as I reached the courtyard, I saw a shadowy figure rummaging in the kitchen. When he saw me, without a word, he turned and vaulted over the wall to escape. I... I was momentarily furious. The only valuable thing I had was half a cured meat, so I chased after him."

At this point, his face showed the appropriate expression of anger and indignation, vividly portraying a poor, hot-blooded youth who had just been robbed.

"I followed the shadow, winding through alleys, all the way to the abandoned tile field on the west side of the city. Relying on my youth and speed, I also climbed over the wall and followed him in."

"Who knew that the moment I landed, the thief lunged out from behind a pile of rotten wood! He was so fast. I was so scared my legs went weak, and I just sat down on the ground."

Ye Qingxuan patted the dirt off his pants, his face full of lingering fear.

"It's a miracle I survived. Perhaps he was too rushed, or perhaps it was too dark to see, but he missed and slammed headfirst into the broken wall next to me. With a yelp, he couldn't get up for a long time."

Tan Zhenglong's brow twitched.

"Seeing that, how could I dare to linger? I got up and tried to run. But he reacted quickly. Even though he was lying on the ground, he swept out a leg, hitting me squarely in the chest."

Ye Qingxuan said this and then abruptly pulled open his collar. On his slender chest, a large patch of dark purple bruising was clearly visible, the result of Mottled Fish's counterattack as he died.

"That kick hurt so much I almost passed out. But somehow, perhaps in desperation, I found a surge of strength from nowhere and didn't fall. Seeing that he couldn't knock me down with one kick, he struggled to get up and chase again, but he was limping, as if he was already injured. He hadn't taken two steps before his foot caught on something, and he fell heavily again."

Ye Qingxuan spoke rapidly, attributing everything to coincidence and luck.

"I... my mind went blank. All I could think was that he was going to kill me. Seeing him fall on the ground, and there was a brick nearby... I... I picked it up and smashed it repeatedly on his head and neck..."

He gestured with his hands, as if reliving the bloody scene, his eyes becoming a little unfocused.

"...Until he stopped moving, I came to my senses. Looking in the moonlight, that person... that person was actually 'Mottled Fish' from the wanted poster. In my panic, I ran to report it."

After his speech, Ye Qingxuan was covered in sweat, his body still trembling slightly. The fear and panic seemed genuine.

Tan Zhenglong fell silent.

He stared at the bruise on Ye Qingxuan's chest and scanned his body a few times. This story sounded flawless. An enraged youth, chasing a thief who was already injured, and under a series of coincidences, in a state of shock and fear, accidentally killed him. The story was logical and reasonable.

But Tan Zhenglong had served in the Fengtian Division for twenty years. He had seen more people and handled more cases than Ye Qingxuan had eaten salt.

He had two doubts in his mind.

First, it was too coincidental. Mottled Fish, a Body Tempering second-stage martial artist, even if severely injured, how could he be so incompetent as to fall down twice on his own?

Second, Ye Qingxuan's injuries were too light. Apart from the bruise on his chest, he had no other obvious wounds. To fight for one's life against a skilled Body Tempering second-stage expert and only suffer this much damage was nothing short of divine protection.

Tan Zhenglong extended a thick finger and gently pressed on the bruise on Ye Qingxuan's chest.

Ye Qingxuan gasped and trembled.

"Just this one injury?" Tan Zhenglong slowly opened his mouth, his voice low.

"Yes... yes, it's just this one spot," Ye Qingxuan replied.

"That Mottled Fish, it really fell twice?"

"Absolutely! The first time it hit the wall, the second time it tripped. I thought, perhaps it was already injured and in a hurry to escape, which is why it happened." Ye Qingxuan quickly explained, attributing everything to the Mottled Fish's own injuries.

Tan Zhenglong withdrew his hand, his tiger-like eyes staring intently into Ye Qingxuan's under the lamplight. He wanted to see something in those eyes.

But in those eyes, there was only residual terror, a young man's panic, and a hint of hopeful expectation for praise. They were clear to the bottom, without a single flaw to be found.

This accomplishment was too great, so great it could elevate a temporary Constable to the heavens in one step.

It was also great enough to sow countless doubts.

Tan Zhenglong paced a few steps in the room, finally stopping. This matter was not something he, a night-shift Constable, could decide on his own.

"Wait here, don't go anywhere," he said, leaving the instruction behind. He turned, put on his outer coat, and strode out of the room, heading straight for the courtyard where the head Constables rested.

In the room, only Ye Qingxuan remained.

He leaned against the wall and slowly slid to the floor. The tension he had felt moments before released, and a feeling of bone-weary weakness washed over his limbs.

He knew he had bet correctly on the first step.

What came next was the real test. He would have to face the seasoned old foxes of the Fengtian Division. Could his lies remain seamless before them?