The cloth doll lay crooked on the ground, its faded blue skirt smeared with mud. Its eyes, embroidered with black thread, were absurdly large, taking up almost half its face, while the corners of its mouth curled up eerily—the exact same expression as the two corpses in the morgue.
Ye Yun took a deep breath. The Essence Qi of an 8th Rank martial artist surged rapidly through his meridians. He walked forward slowly, then abruptly stopped when he was three steps from the doll.
A biting chill pierced his skin through his clothes. Even more horrifying, the doll's button eyes... seemed to have shifted.
Head Constable Ye!
A shout came from a distance. Ye Yun whipped around and saw Zhao Hu waving from the front courtyard.
In that instant of distraction, a faint sound came from behind him.
When he turned back, the cloth doll had vanished. Only a few withered leaves trembled faintly on the bluestone slabs.
What are you doing here? Zhao Hu jogged over, confusion written across his young face.
Constable Yan's called everyone to gather. He said he was assigning the night watch positions.
Ye Yun discreetly scanned the surroundings. Did you see a little girl just now? About six or seven years old, carrying a cloth doll.
A girl? Zhao Hu scratched his head. The young ladies of Wang Mansion all live in the eastern courtyard. This western wing has always been... He suddenly lowered his voice. I heard it's forbidden ground. Even the servants aren't allowed near it.
Ye Yun's gaze fell once more on the ancient well. The claw marks on its rim stood out more clearly in the dusk. Half a broken fingernail was embedded in one of them, gleaming a bluish gray in the setting sun.
Let's go. Ye Yun patted Zhao Hu's shoulder and took one last look at the tightly shut courtyard gate.
As he turned away, the corner of his eye caught a black shadow flickering past the crack in the gate—that was definitely no human silhouette.
Dusk settled over the Wang Mansion, and lanterns were lit early. Strangely, no matter how bright the candle flames were, they illuminated only a three-foot square of the courtyards, as if an invisible mist were swallowing the light.
In the main hall, Yan Xiao Liu was assigning tasks. Brother Ye and I will guard the mourning hall. Zhao Hu and Li Si will take...
I suggest we keep a close watch on the western wing. Ye Yun abruptly interrupted him. There's something wrong with that ancient well.
The hall fell silent. The teacup in steward Wang Fu's hand slipped to the floor with a clatter. Brown tea splashed across his brocade shoes, and wisps of white smoke rose from it.
The western wing? Wang Fu's voice suddenly turned shrill. That courtyard has been sealed for thirty years! No one can get in!
Ye Yun keenly noticed that when he said those two words, the maid pouring tea in the corner jolted, spilling scalding tea over the back of her own hand without seeming to notice.
Why was the courtyard sealed? Yan Xiao Liu asked with a frown.
Wang Fu's Adam's apple bobbed. O-our old residence had a termite problem... Yes, termites! The master said it would be renovated when spring came...
Ye Yun and Yan Xiao Liu exchanged a glance. Even Zhao Hu wouldn't fall for such a clumsy lie.
Then that's all the more reason to inspect it. Yan Xiao Liu slapped the table and sprang to his feet. With a murder case on our hands, how can we...
No! Wang Fu suddenly shrieked, the sound stabbing painfully at their eardrums. Under everyone's astonished gaze, he shakily took out a handkerchief and wiped his sweat.
I mean... That courtyard has fallen into disrepair. It's too dangerous. My lords should... should...
His words cut off. A muffled thud suddenly sounded outside the hall, like some heavy object plunging into water.
A string of laughter followed, surging in from all directions. The sound seemed to come and go, now like children at play, now like an old woman coughing and wheezing.
Ye Yun was the first to charge outside. The sight in the courtyard made his hair stand on end—all the lantern flames had turned a ghastly green, casting the crowd's shadows across the walls, stretched long and twisted. And more terrifying still, those shadows... were moving on their own!
Stay alert! Yan Xiao Liu drew his saber. The instant the blade left its sheath, every strange sound abruptly stopped, and the lanterns returned to their normal orange glow.
It was as if everything that had just happened had been a shared hallucination.
But Ye Yun had seen it clearly—in the instant the lantern light changed, an eerie smile identical to the dead men's had appeared at the corner of Wang Fu's mouth.
Look out!
Ye Yun's roar exploded like thunder. Before his words had even faded, Wang Fu's hunched body suddenly straightened like a marionette pulled upright by its strings.
Blue veins bulged across the old steward's wrinkled face. His mouth split open at an impossible angle, revealing a row of yellowed teeth—the exact same smile as the dead men's!
Hhk... Hhk... A beastlike panting rasped from Wang Fu's throat, and blood vessels instantly flooded the whites of his cloudy eyes.
His withered hands curled into claws and lunged at the nearest servant. His nails sliced through the air with an eerie whistle.
Aah—The young servant's scream cut off as soon as it began. Wang Fu's right hand clamped around his throat like an iron vise, lifting the burly young man bodily into the air.
A horrifying crack came from the servant's neck. His face quickly turned purplish red, and his legs kicked feebly in midair.
Ye Yun moved like lightning, the Essence Qi of an 8th Rank martial artist surging through his meridians.
He brought the fingers of his right hand together like a blade and sent a burst of energy slashing toward Wang Fu's wrist.
The icy blade energy struck its mark precisely, but rang out with the sharp clash of metal against metal—somehow, a layer of bluish-gray horny armor had appeared over Wang Fu's skin!
Everyone, fall back! Ye Yun shouted sharply, snatching the limp servant with his left hand and hurling him behind him. Only then did he see black, viscous fluid seeping from the wrist struck by his blade energy. The skin around the wound writhed and healed at a visible speed.
Yan Xiao Liu had drawn his saber by now, pale blue Essence Qi shimmering along its edge.
Brother Ye, this old bastard's not right! Rare tension edged his voice. My 9th Rank Breaking Wave Slash can't even break his skin!
Wang Fu tilted his head. His cervical vertebrae made a teeth-grating crack.
He suddenly dropped to all fours and began scuttling at high speed like a human-shaped spider, cracking the bluestone slabs beneath him as he went. A maid who failed to dodge in time was sent flying thirty feet, her back slamming into a corridor pillar as she spat out a mouthful of blood.
Don't kill him! Ye Yun darted in front of the others. A sudden flash of insight struck him, and he quickly took out a Qi Condensation Pill and tucked it under his tongue. A cool sensation swept through his eyes. Dozens of translucent gray threads were wrapped around Wang Fu's twisted figure, their other ends stretching toward... the ancient well in the western wing!
Yan Xiao Liu understood and slid his saber back into its sheath. I'll do it! he said in a low voice. His figure flipped like a hawk, neatly evading Wang Fu's slashing claws. The Essence Qi of a 9th Rank martial artist gathered into a pinpoint of cold light at his fingertips as he aimed a Meridian-Sealing Hand strike at the vital point on the back of Wang Fu's neck.
At the dull thud of impact, Yan Xiao Liu's expression changed. His fingers felt as though they had struck solid iron, and the rebound left his entire right arm numb.
Wang Fu turned with a grotesque laugh, his withered claw carrying a foul gust as it thrust straight for Yan Xiao Liu's heart!
At the critical moment, Ye Yun's figure slipped between them like a ghost. He brought together the index and middle fingers of his right hand, a wisp of pure blade energy flickering at their tips.
With a soft shout, the blade energy pierced Wang Fu's brow precisely—right where all the gray threads converged.
Aah—Wang Fu let out a shriek that sounded nothing like a human voice. Thick black mist poured from his seven orifices.
His body flew backward like a kite with its strings cut and crashed heavily against the screen wall. The threads connecting him to the ancient well snapped one by one, dissolving into wisps of greenish smoke in midair.
A deathly silence settled over the scene. Everyone stared wide-eyed, forgetting even to breathe. The servant who had been rescued was the first to break the silence. Trembling, he pointed at the unconscious Wang Fu. T-the steward... He doesn't know martial arts at all!
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