The Strange Case of the Wang Mansion

The continuous overcast and rain lasted for three full days, leaving a slippery film of water on the bluestone flagstones of the County Yamen. Ye Yun was organizing case files in the office when the sound of rain outside was suddenly interrupted by hurried footsteps.

Something big has happened! Zhang Fatty stumbled in, his official hat askew. Another death at Wealthy Wang's mansion! This is the second one!

The wolf-hair brush in Ye Yun's hand paused slightly, ink blooming on the Xuan paper like a dark cloud. Wealthy Wang was Chun'an County's richest man, controlling thirty percent of the county's silk trade, and even the county magistrate gave him some face. With consecutive murder cases in the mansion of such a prominent figure, it was no wonder the yamen was on high alert.

Chen Qingzhou walked out from the inner hall with a grim expression, the scar on his left shoulder throbbing with a purplish-blue hue on this rainy day. He unconsciously rubbed the Yanling Saber at his waist with his right hand and said in a deep voice, "Yan Xiao Liu! Take Ye Yun, the coroner Old Zhou, and two sharp officers. Head to Wang Mansion immediately for investigation."

"Subordinates obey!" Yan Xiao Liu cupped his fist in response, the brand-new constable's waist token glinting coldly in the dim office. Ever since breaking through to Ninth Rank, the newly appointed constable carried an air of sharpness in his every move.

At the vermilion gates of Wang Mansion, the eyeballs of the two white marble stone lions were made of the finest obsidian, gleaming eerily in the rain. The butler, Wang Fu, had already been waiting under the eaves, and as soon as he saw the officials, he hurried forward, holding an oiled paper umbrella. "My lords, you've finally arrived! The household is in a panic, and the master has fallen ill in bed..."

Ye Yun stepped into Wang Mansion behind Yan Xiao Liu, and the sight before them made everyone gasp. After passing through the three-tiered entrance hall, the view opened up dramatically—pavilions and towers were nestled among exotic flowers and trees, gilded lamp posts stood on either side of the white jade pathways, and even the railings of the corridors were carved with lifelike depictions of a hundred beasts. Most astonishing was the lotus pond in the center; despite it being late autumn, a large expanse of blood-red lotuses bloomed within.

This Wang family... they're too extravagant. The young constable Zhao Hu's eyes widened, and he unconsciously touched the iron ruler at his waist, as if to confirm he wasn't dreaming.

Ye Yun, however, suddenly stopped. The keen senses of his 8th Rank martial artist cultivation had detected something unusual—a faint, almost imperceptible scent of putridity wafted in the air. It wasn't the ordinary smell of blood, but rather like a mixture of decaying herbs and old iron. Yet, looking around, everything seemed normal, and even Yan Xiao Liu and the others continued forward with composed expressions.

"Brother Ye?" Yan Xiao Liu called back, the newly acquired waist knife clinking softly in its sheath. "What are you spacing out for?"

"Nothing," Ye Yun shook his head, but his right hand unconsciously moved to his storage pouch. Ever since entering Wang Mansion, the Nine Nether Spirit Ginseng in the pouch had begun to tremble slightly, as if sensing something.

The crime scene was in the servants' quarters in the back courtyard. Two bodies lay side-by-side on door panels, covered with plain white linen. The moment Coroner Old Zhou lifted the cloth, everyone instinctively took half a step back.

The faces of the deceased were contorted to an almost inhuman degree—their eyes bulged as if about to pop out of their sockets, the whites bloodshot, their pupils dilated into strange ovals. Their mouths were agape, tongues a purplish-black, as if a section had been forcibly ripped out. Most horrifyingly, both had a peculiar smile frozen on their lips, a smile seemingly carved into their flesh, impossible to erase even with forceful pressing.

"Strange..." Old Zhou put on his deerskin gloves, his withered fingers meticulously examining the bodies. "No external injuries, no signs of poisoning, internal organs intact..." He pried open a deceased's mouth and suddenly exclaimed, "There are slight burn marks at the base of the tongue."

Ye Yun squatted down, pretending to adjust his boots, but secretly circulating his internal energy to sense. As his energy brushed past the crown of a corpse's head, he suddenly detected a trace of cold, residual energy—it was definitely not the internal energy of an ordinary martial artist, but rather... the aura of some living creature!

"Were there any unusual occurrences at the time of the incident?" Ye Yun suddenly asked, his voice remarkably clear in the silent morgue.

Butler Wang Fu wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. "Both happened around midnight. The first to die was the Groom. Those who shared a room with him that night said they heard him laughing in his sleep, the laughter growing louder and sharper until suddenly... he just went silent. The second was the Cook. The night watchman saw her dancing by the well in the middle of the night, and the next day..."

Before he could finish, a gust of cold wind suddenly swept through the hall. The Hundred-Year-Old Locust Tree in the courtyard swayed as if in a breeze, its leaves rustling like thousands of insects whispering. Even more bizarrely, the weeds beneath the tree all bent in the same direction, as if crushed by something unseen.

Ye Yun looked up sharply. In a trance, he seemed to see a humanoid dark shadow flit past the treetop. But upon closer inspection, only a few crows took flight, their eyes glowing with an unnatural red light in the twilight.

"Putting on a show!" Yan Xiao Liu shouted sternly, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him. "We'll stand guard in the mansion tonight and see what's causing this trouble!"

Wang Fu's eyes lit up at this, and he quickly instructed his servants to prepare guest rooms. Ye Yun, using the excuse of surveying the environment, wandered alone through Wang Mansion. As he passed a secluded small courtyard in the west wing, he suddenly felt a strange sensation.

A faded seal was pasted on the courtyard gate, the cinnabar-inscribed runes blurred and indistinct. Peering through the gaps in the door, he saw overgrown weeds inside, and a moss-covered ancient well stood silently in the center of the courtyard. On the well's edge, several fresh scratch marks gleamed a strange dark red in the setting sun, as if left by someone desperately trying to climb out of the well...

Just as Ye Yun was about to look closer, he heard faint footsteps behind him. He spun around sharply and saw a little girl, about six or seven years old, standing at the corner of the corridor, holding a tattered cloth doll. The girl's pale face lacked any color, and her dark eyes stared fixedly in the direction of the ancient well.

"Little girl..." Ye Yun had just begun to speak when the girl suddenly grinned—her smile was exactly the same as the deceased's! In the blink of an eye, the girl's figure dissipated like mist into the deepening twilight, leaving only the dirty cloth doll on the ground as proof of her existence.

Ye Yun stood frozen, his blood seeming to freeze instantly. The chill of late autumn climbed his spine, erupting into a fine layer of goosebumps on his neck. He stared intently at the corner of the corridor where the girl had disappeared, his pupils involuntarily contracting—in broad daylight, a living child had vanished into thin air like mist!

This is impossible...

He muttered to himself, his voice dry and unfamiliar. His experiences from two lifetimes felt so pale at this moment, the scientific understanding of modern society clashing violently with the supernatural phenomena before him. Ye Yun unconsciously pinched the tiger's mouth on his hand, the sharp pain reminding him he was not dreaming.