Returning Home to Investigate Microscopic Details, Caiwei Relieves Worries

The rain was still falling.

As Ye Qingxuan pushed open the courtyard gate, his movements were so light they made no sound, as if he weren't a person but a wisp of night mist swept along by the wind and rain.

The lamp in the inner room was still lit, a dim yellow glow that, through the paper window, offered a hint of warmth.

He stopped outside the threshold, rainwater silently dripping from his hair and clothes, pooling around his feet. He didn't go in immediately but stood in the shadows under the eaves, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. The breath carried the chill of the rainy night and the surging murderous intent within his chest, dispersing into the darkness.

He took off his soaked shoes and stepped barefoot into the courtyard.

"Brother?"

His sister's soft, sleepy voice drifted from the inner room, tinged with grogginess.

Ye Qingxuan froze. He turned his head and saw Ye Caiwei, clad in a thin garment, standing by the doorway, rubbing her eyes.

"Why aren't you asleep yet?" he walked over, lowering his voice.

Ye Caiwei didn't answer. Her gaze, past Ye Qingxuan, fell on the spot outside the threshold where he had just stood. There, mixed in the water stains he'd left, was a faint, almost imperceptible dark red.

Her gaze shifted back, landing on his bare ankles. There too, spread by the water, was a red, line-like stain.

"Brother, your feet..." her small hand pointed there.

Ye Qingxuan looked down, his heart sinking.

It was the mud splattered while he was cleaning by the river, mixed with blood. He thought the rain had washed it all away, never expecting any trace to remain.

Casually, he rubbed it with his other foot, smearing the mark away. "I stepped in a puddle on the road, probably some red mud. It's late, go back to bed."

He bent down and picked up his sister, her small body warm against his touch. This warmth dispelled the lingering chill he carried from the corpses.

After putting Ye Caiwei back in bed and tucking her in, Ye Qingxuan turned and walked to the outer room to change out of his soaked clothes.

As soon as he unfastened his collar, a smell wafted from the damp garment.

It wasn't the freshness of rain or the earthy scent of mud.

It was a unique, sweetish, putrid smell, a mixture of rust and decaying animal innards.

The smell of blood.

A chill shot from the soles of his feet straight to the crown of his head.

He thought he had been flawless. The heavy rain, the burning bodies, the destruction of evidence. He had even remembered to bury the murder weapon and the money far away. But he had overlooked this one thing.

The coroners of the Fengtian Division, those old officials known as "smellers," could discern the last meal of a deceased person from a single strand of hair. How could the scent of blood on him, even diluted by the rain, escape their noses?

Cold sweat beaded on his back, not from killing, but from this fatal oversight.

He suddenly thought of Zhang Lingxiao, of Constable Tan. If he had clashed with them a few days ago, relying on his courage, even if he were in the right, those old foxes from the Fengtian Division would have found countless flaws in him, digging them out from his very bones. His petty calculations, in the face of the true machinations of officialdom, were as fragile as a sheet of window paper.

Fortunately, he had been patient then.

And fortunately, tonight, there was this heavy rain.

He quickly took off the wet clothes, not daring to linger indoors. He took them to the courtyard and, using the rainwater collected under the eaves, scrubbed them repeatedly. The icy water stung his knuckles.

Only when the smell of blood was completely covered by the scent of rain and soap did he wring out the clothes and hang them by the stove to dry.

After finishing, he returned to the inner room.

Ye Caiwei hadn't fallen asleep. She lay with her eyes wide open, watching him in the darkness.

"Brother," she suddenly spoke, "you smell like rust."

Ye Qingxuan's heart tightened again.

He walked to the bedside and sat down. He didn't speak, but reached out and gently stroked his sister's head.

"Nannan," he said after a long pause, "from now on, no one will dare come to our house to smash our table or spill our food again."

His voice was calm, as if stating the most ordinary of facts.

Ye Caiwei looked at him. In the darkness, she couldn't see his expression, but she could hear the weight in his words. She didn't ask where the ruffians had gone, nor what her brother had done. She simply extended her small hand and grasped Ye Qingxuan's large one.

"Mm," she nodded forcefully, "I believe you, Brother."

These three words were more comforting to Ye Qingxuan's tense heart, still reeling from the near miss, than any other words could have been. He squeezed her hand back. Her hand was small and warm.

He suddenly remembered something and let go.

"Nannan, tomorrow, people from the Fierce Tiger Hall or officers from the Fengtian Division might come to ask questions."

Ye Caiwei flinched.

"Don't be afraid," Ye Qingxuan pulled her blanket higher, covering half her face. "Whatever they ask, just say you don't know."

He thought for a moment, then added, "If they ask about Hu Jiudao and those people, just say they came this afternoon, were very fierce, and pushed you down. Then I came back and scolded them away. After that, you fell asleep and didn't know anything, didn't hear anything. Understand?"

This explanation was nine parts truth and one part lie. A little girl, frightened, crying herself to sleep afterward, was perfectly plausible.

"I understand," Ye Caiwei replied softly. "They came, they were very fierce. Brother came back and scolded them away. Then, I fell asleep."

Ye Qingxuan hummed and tucked her in again.

He lay on his hard plank bed, but sleep wouldn't come.

The sound of the rain pattered against the windowpane. He lay with his eyes open, in the darkness, replaying everything that had happened tonight in his mind.

From the moment he stepped out of his courtyard gate until he stealthily reached Hu Jiudao's residence.

He acted, killed, burned the bodies, and buried the money.

He meticulously reviewed every detail, every movement.

That fatal punch shattered the first ruffian's chest bone. Good, it gave him no chance to raise an alarm.

The kick that broke the other's leg was a bit too heavy, causing the man to cry out in agony. Next time, he could go straight for the throat.

Using a locust stone to shatter Hu Jiudao's kneecap was precise and effective, but the splashing blood left a trace on his own ankle. When using hidden weapons, he needed to consider the direction of blood splatter.

The final throat-slitting stab was clean and swift.

He was like the harshest craftsman, scrutinizing his own work, searching for every flaw. This wasn't cold-bloodedness, but a necessary skill to survive in this turbulent world.

He rolled over and faced the wall.

Hu Jiudao was dead, but the matter was far from over.

The Fierce Tiger Hall would not let this go. A leader at Body Tempering first level dying on his own turf was not just a loss; it was a blatant insult to the Fierce Tiger Hall's reputation.

Duan Tianbao...

The image of that seemingly fair but inwardly sinister hall master appeared in Ye Qingxuan's mind.

Hu Jiudao was merely a dog. When you beat a dog, you had to consider its master. Now that he had killed the dog, the master would soon come looking for him.

He needed to become stronger, faster.

At Body Tempering third level, with strength reaching a thousand jin, he could barely protect himself in Linyuan Prefecture city.

He opened the scroll of the Heavenly Machine Codex.

[Locust Throwing Technique (Minor Accomplishment, Merit: 0/50)]

[Indestructible Vajra Body (Perfection, Scale: Six inches, Merit: 0/500)]

His Merit points had been reset to zero once again.

The next breakthrough would require fifty Merit points. And for the Indestructible Vajra Body to advance further, it would take a massive five hundred points.

Money, and Merit.

These two things were the foundation for his survival and stability in this world.

The deaths of Hu Jiudao and his men would undoubtedly stir up quite a storm in the Southern District tomorrow. The Fengtian Division and the Fierce Tiger Hall would both make their moves.

And he, Ye Qingxuan, a trivial, unregistered temporary constable, needed to do was hide beneath the waves of turmoil and continue to accumulate his strength.

He listened to his sister's steady breathing beside him, and the restlessness that arose from the killing gradually subsided.

He closed his eyes, exhaustion from a night of fighting and rushing washing over him like a tide.

When dawn broke, it would be a new day.

And he was no longer the Ye Qingxuan of yesterday.