Lesser Morality Temple

Old Liu was in a hurry to find Xiang Yuan because a murder had taken place. Someone had found a corpse in a dilapidated temple in the mountains beside the River of Wrath, outside the city.

Xiang Yuan put away his saber and quickly caught up with Old Liu. "Who was killed? Does the local Bao Yi Lang have any leads?"

Yesterday, when Old Liu had been telling him about the area, he'd said that all the major villages outside the city had a Bao Yi Lang. Surely they'd uncovered some clues by now. If not, given Dezhou's simple and honest ways, then they ought to look into the Bao Yi Lang.

Of course, that theory only held if the victim was a local villager. If the victim was a martial artist, it would be perfectly understandable for the Bao Yi Lang to have no idea what had happened.

"Lin Bao Yi didn't say anything, because he's the one who was killed!"

"..."

Well, that was Dezhou for you.

The two men took fast horses from the County Yamen and headed straight for the west gate.

It wasn't market day, but the streets were still bustling with people. White steam billowed from bamboo steamers, and the fragrant smells made passersby stop in their tracks.

Unlike the East Street, where money paved the way, this was what an ordinary county town should look like.

Xiang Yuan was still a little clumsy when he first mounted his horse, but muscle memory soon took over, and he rode with ease. Lu Ming had been right: once you learned, you never forgot. It was already etched into his bones.

The city gates had just opened. Many scholars dressed as students walked along the main road, and wealthy families' carriages passed by from time to time.

After about five li, Xiang Yuan spotted an academy.

Its stone steps and pillars were quite imposing, and the trees swayed in the breeze around this quiet retreat. Looking up the steps, he got a clear view of the entrance.

Yulin Academy.

Couplets flanked the gate:

Ritual cultivates the self; music teaches and nurtures talent.

Martial strength secures the realm; literature enriches the nation and benefits all.

Xiang Yuan turned his head to look, and the horse beneath him slowed. Old Liu glanced back. "This is Instructor Wang's academy. Don't keep staring; we're in a hurry."

Xiang Yuan nodded and caught up. They covered the twenty-li journey in the time it took to drink a cup of tea.

The dilapidated temple was called Lesser Morality Temple. It stood halfway up a mountain and had been abandoned for many years.

The "Morality" in its name had nothing to do with True Lord Qingxu Daode, worshipped by the first-rate Qingxu Sect of Western Chu. Its namesake was even more exalted: Venerable Lord of Morality, one of the Three Pure Ones of Daoism.

Once again, Xiang Yuan had encountered a deity from his own world in this otherworld. He was no longer surprised. If Shaolin Temple could be found throughout the myriad worlds, it was hardly strange for Venerable Lord of Morality to appear here.

The two men tethered their horses. Old Liu strode into the temple, while Xiang Yuan lagged a step behind and noticed the couplet on either side of the entrance.

The gold paint had flaked away, leaving the words barely legible.

If your heart is wicked, burning incense will do you no good.

If you uphold what is right, why bow even when you see me?

This moralizing couplet, paired with the murder inside the temple, had a rather ironic, theatrical quality.

Inside the temple's main hall, a dozen or so burly men dressed like martial artists stood in silence. Some clenched their teeth; others glared menacingly. Only two of them whispered together in a corner.

When the two constables arrived, the men who'd been talking separated. One left the temple alone, while the other walked over to Old Liu.

From the corner of his eye, Xiang Yuan caught sight of the one who'd left. He was tall, with arms that hung past his knees, and a conspicuous scar on his left cheek.

"Constable Liu, you got here so quickly. I'm sorry I wasn't there to welcome you."

Lin Jianzhe of Lin Family Village clasped his hands before Old Liu. His eyes were red, as though he'd just had a good cry. He looked at Xiang Yuan. "I don't recognize this constable. May I ask your name?"

"Brother Lin, please accept my condolences. This is Xiang Yuan, our county's newly appointed constable. He's here with me to investigate the case." Old Liu glanced at the body covered by a white cloth.

"Please, this way..."

Old Liu lifted the cloth and examined the corpse. The victim's eyes were wide with rage. He'd been stabbed in the back, his tendons severed and bones broken. He'd died on the spot.

Xiang Yuan said nothing, watching and learning. The dead man was Lin Jianfeng, Bao Yi Lang of Lin Family Village. He'd been found dead in the temple that morning. When the people of Lin Family Village heard the news, they'd come to help secure the scene.

Old Liu examined the corpse carefully, then stood. "He died last night. The killer struck with a single blow—not an amateur. I've only done a cursory examination. We'll need the coroner to perform an autopsy to determine the details."

"And my elder brother's body..."

"It can be taken to the public mortuary."

"Thank you, Constable Liu."

"It's my duty."

Old Liu called Lin Jianzhe "Brother Lin," but his questions were strictly business, with no hint of personal sympathy. "What exactly happened? Do you know who killed your elder brother?"

As he spoke, he sent the bystanders away and searched the temple for any clues that might have been left behind.

"Constable Liu, you know my elder brother. As the Bao Yi Lang of this area, he was always fair in his dealings. Even if he offended someone, it would have been over some trivial matter that could've been settled with a few banquets. It couldn't have been enough to get him killed."

Lin Jianzhe's eyes reddened further, and his fists clenched with a crackle. "If I had to name someone suspicious, there is one person."

"Who?"

"The fake Daoist fortune-teller on West Street."

"Oh?"

"Yes. My elder brother told me that three days ago, he was invited to drink in the county town and ran into that fake Daoist. The man insisted he was fated to suffer a Disaster of Bloodlight, and said he could avert it by paying money. My elder brother ignored him, and then... he was left dead in the wilderness." Lin Jianzhe choked up and wiped away his tears, unable to continue.

The fortune-teller had been pretty accurate.

Xiang Yuan grumbled inwardly. He more or less understood what the victim's family was implying. The fake Daoist had no talent for fortune-telling, but he did know how to use it to extort money. The victim had refused to pay, so the fake Daoist had killed him.

That would prove he was a miraculous seer with the power to predict the future, while also opening up a new source of income.

It wasn't impossible.

But a few things didn't add up.

To start with, Lin Jianfeng had died at Lesser Morality Temple, far from any village or shop. The people of Lin Family Village had only learned of his death when the news reached them. It looked as if he'd arranged to meet someone there.

Who in their right mind went to a ruined temple in the mountains in the middle of the night? They could run into a ghost.

Xiang Yuan had a vague feeling that something was amiss. Either Lin Jianzhe didn't know the truth and had wrongly accused the fortune-telling Daoist, or he was doing it deliberately, trying to frame him.

In short, there was something wrong with both brothers!

Old Liu pondered for a moment, then spoke quietly. "Brother Lin, let me ask you plainly. Your Lin Family Village and Zhao Family Village have never gotten along. You've quarreled over the fish market on the River of Wrath several times, and your people often come to blows. Could Lin Bao Yi have blocked someone's path to profit and been killed in an ambush?"

"Those cowards from Zhao Family Village can barely throw a few punches. They wouldn't dare hurt my brother, even if they had ten times the courage." Lin Jianzhe shook his head repeatedly.

"True enough."

After questioning him, Old Liu circled the temple and searched every inch of it. Then he bid Lin Jianzhe farewell and called Xiang Yuan over to leave with him on horseback. They were going to West Street to question the Iron-Mouth Diviner.

On the way, the two men slowed their horses, each lost in thought.

Old Liu broke the silence. "Xiang Yuan, what do you think?"

"I can't tell much yet. I just feel that the victim's family—I mean, the dead man's younger brother—is hiding something. He's set on blaming the fortune-teller, as if he's trying to mislead us." Xiang Yuan honestly shared his suspicions.

"I feel the same way, but either way, we should go take a look on West Street."

Old Liu narrowed his eyes. "I've heard about the Iron-Mouth Diviner's abilities. They say his readings are uncannily accurate, and that he often helps people avert disasters. He's practically an immortal..."