Dead Men Tell No Tales

Dawn had barely broken, and the well water was biting cold.

Chen Ping stood before the water vat in the servants' courtyard, scooped up a handful of cold water with both hands, and splashed it hard across his face.

The icy sensation seeped in through his pores, clearing his muddled mind and forcibly suppressing the exhaustion from a sleepless night.

Once the water's surface stilled, it reflected a pale, somewhat dull-looking face.

Chen Ping stared at his reflection, the corners of his mouth slowly twitching.

First they twitched stiffly, then gradually lifted into a humble, ingratiating smile.

"Too fake."

He rubbed the stiff muscles in his cheeks and tried again.

This time, the light in his eyes dimmed, leaving only meek, murky timidity, while a habitual bitter smile hung at his lips.

"That's more like it."

Chen Ping nodded at himself in the water vat.

The eyes that had brimmed with killing intent and cold light in the darkness last night had already been buried deep in the depths of his gaze.

After straightening his collar, he picked up the worn-out broom and, as usual, hunched his back as he went to answer roll call.

Near noon, the previously lifeless Lin Manor suddenly stirred into commotion.

Noisy voices came from beyond the wall of the guards' quarters, followed by hurried footsteps rushing through the corridors.

Chen Ping was wiping down the pillars of the covered walkway. Hearing the disturbance, his rag paused briefly before he calmly continued wiping, though his ears subtly perked up to catch the scattered words drifting on the wind.

"Gone?"

"The room was a mess, like a pigsty..."

"The stink of alcohol..."

Before long, the Head Steward of Lin Manor stormed into the western side courtyard where the guards lived, his face dark as thunder, followed by several burly servants.

Chen Ping mingled behind several servants who had come to watch the excitement and craned his neck from afar.

Wang Meng's door stood wide open, and several servants went in and out. Before long, the Steward emerged with a black face, pinching a crystalline object that reflected an emerald gleam under the sunlight.

It was precisely the Jade Pendant Second Young Master had lost several days ago.

A low gasp rippled through the crowd.

"What a Wang Meng! I said it was the thief within the house who was hardest to guard against!"

The Steward gritted his teeth, spittle flying everywhere. "He usually puts on such a respectable front, but who would have thought his hands were so filthy! Search! Search every inch! See what else this bastard stole!"

Naturally, the search turned up nothing apart from the reek of alcohol and the disorderly tables and chairs, as though the owner had hastily packed his valuables and fled overnight.

Chen Ping kept his head lowered in a corner, his heartbeat steady and strong.

He had deliberately left that Jade Pendant behind last night.

In a great household like Lin Manor, the death of a guard would most likely draw an official investigation. But if that guard had "stolen and fled," then it was a family disgrace, proof that the master had failed to keep his servants in line.

For the sake of face, the Lin Family would never make a great fuss over a murder case. They would only handle it as an ugly matter of someone fleeing in fear of punishment.

"Bring all the servants from this courtyard here!"

At the Steward's command, his hawk-like gaze swept over every person present.

As the servant responsible for cleaning this area, Chen Ping was naturally the first to bear the brunt.

"Chen Ping!"

The Steward barked.

Chen Ping's body jolted violently. Like a startled quail, he hurried forward and dropped to his knees in the snow with a thud, not daring to raise his head.

"Ste... Steward, this servant is here."

"Did you hear anything last night?"

The Steward looked down at the frail youth with scrutiny.

Chen Ping trembled like chaff in a sieve and stammered, "R-replying to you, sir, the wind and snow were fierce last night. This servant... this servant slept deeply and heard nothing. Only... only..."

"Only what? Speak!"

"Only this morning, when this servant passed Instructor Wang's door, I smelled... smelled a very strong scent of alcohol, but I didn't dare look any further..."

Chen Ping hunched his neck, looking as though Wang Meng's usual intimidation had scared the wits out of him.

The Steward gave him a disgusted glance. This boy was usually a mute gourd. Wang Meng had bullied him for more than just a day or two; even if he had ten times the courage, he would not dare lie, much less have any dealings with a martial man like Wang Meng.

"Useless trash, get out of my sight!"

The Steward kicked Chen Ping in the shoulder, sending him staggering.

Chen Ping scrambled away on hands and knees, his face full of terror, yet he let out a long breath of relief.

He had passed this hurdle.

Just then, Lai San, who usually did not get along with Wang Meng, came running over from the direction of the back gate, panting heavily and carrying a mud-caked boot.

"Steward! Steward! Found it!"

With a look of seeking credit, Lai San shouted loudly, "This servant found this in a snowdrift outside the back gate! It's Instructor Wang's boot! The footprints went all the way toward the city outskirts. Looks like he dropped it when he climbed over the wall and fled last night!"

The Steward took the boot and examined it. It was indeed the pair Wang Meng usually wore, and it still carried the distinctive greasy odor of the guards' quarters.

"Hmph, he truly fled in fear of punishment!"

The Steward sneered and threw the boot to the ground.

"He stole from his master's household and left the city overnight. By now, he must have run dozens of miles away already. Go, take my calling card to the county office and report the case. Have them issue a wanted notice. A slave who betrays his master—never let me see him again!"

With the Steward's final verdict, the watching servants gradually dispersed, their murmurs filled with contempt for Wang Meng and delight at his misfortune.

A murder case that should have shaken the entire manor had, through Chen Ping's careful arrangement, become nothing more than gossip for after meals.

By evening, the snow had stopped.

As Chen Ping passed through the back alley of the Inner Kitchen carrying a bundle of firewood, a familiar figure blocked his path.

Yun Niang's eyes were red and swollen. She looked as though she had been crying.

Wearing that faded blue cloth jacket washed nearly white, she stood in the wind, looking especially frail.

When she heard that Wang Meng had "fled," her whole mind had gone blank.

Others did not know, but she knew exactly what ultimatum Wang Meng had given her last night.

How could a greedy, lecherous man like him, just when he was about to get what he wanted, suddenly steal something and flee?

Unless...

She looked at the calm-faced youth before her. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

Chen Ping stopped and looked around. Only after confirming that no one was nearby did he shift slightly, blocking the cold wind blowing toward her.

"It's cold. Go back and rest early."

His voice was soft, yet steady.

Yun Niang raised her head and stared fixedly into Chen Ping's eyes, wanting to find some answer within them.

Yet those eyes held only their usual gentleness and calm, unfathomably deep.

After a long while, understanding seemed to dawn on her. Tears threatened to spill forth again, but she forcefully held them back.

Under the cover of her sleeve, she reached out and swiftly clasped Chen Ping's hand hanging at his side.

That hand was rough and strong, carrying a warmth that set her heart at ease.

"You too... be careful."

Yun Niang spoke softly, her voice trembling.

She did not ask, nor did she dare ask. Yet that tight clasp conveyed every ounce of gratitude and mutual understanding.

In this man-eating world, some secrets were best left to rot in one's belly, for that was the greatest protection they could give each other.

Chen Ping gently squeezed her fingertips in return, then released her. Carrying the firewood, he turned and left, his shadow stretching long beneath the setting sun—lonely, yet exceptionally upright.

Deep into the night.

Thunderous snores filled the servants' quarters, but Chen Ping could not sleep at all.

He sat cross-legged in the shadows at the depths of his bed, using the snowlight filtering through the window to review every detail of last night.

This was the first time he had killed someone in both his lifetimes combined.

Even now, when he recalled it, the feel of the knife plunging in, the resistance of the blade slicing through muscle, and the fishy sweetness of hot blood splashing across his face still made his stomach churn in waves.

"Too dangerous."

Chen Ping looked at his hands, his brow tightly furrowed.

Though the Longevity of Pine and Crane had strengthened him, if that first strike last night had not crippled one of Wang Meng's arms, and if the ambush had not given him the initiative, then in a head-on fight, he might not have been a match for that martial man.

Wang Meng's final counterattack with that grappling technique had nearly crushed his throat.

That was an instinct tempered through countless real battles, something he, who currently possessed only brute strength, could never match.

"Strength without skill is like a child swinging a great hammer—it hurts others only after hurting itself."

A wave of lingering fear rose in Chen Ping's heart.

This was only an insignificant guard instructor. If he encountered a true martial expert of the jianghu, or one of the legendary immortal cultivators, then with his meager abilities, he likely would not even know how he died.

"Lie low. I still have to lie low."

He warned himself inwardly.

This time, he had been lucky, and his scheme had been thorough. He might not get such a good opportunity next time.

Before he possessed overwhelming strength, he absolutely could not risk danger so easily again.

After calming himself, Chen Ping took the bloodstained money pouch from his clothes.

It was heavy.

Opening it, he found several pieces of silver, along with three crumpled banknotes.

"Fifty taels."

Chen Ping's breathing quickened slightly.

To him, this was undoubtedly an enormous sum.

With this money, whether he bought medicinal herbs to aid his cultivation or sought to buy back his freedom in the future, he would have the means.

He tucked the silver close to his body and looked toward his final piece of loot.

It was a thin booklet. Dark red bloodstains marked its cover, upon which three crooked characters could vaguely be seen—Shattered Stone Palm.

Chen Ping opened the booklet.

The illustrations inside were crude and simple, and the text was rather shallow. It could not be considered any profound martial art, merely a commonplace technique widely circulated through the jianghu.

But it was exactly what he needed most right now.

Longevity of Pine and Crane focused on preserving health and accumulating inner energy, lacking any means of attack.

Though the Shattered Stone Palm was rudimentary, it was a genuine external hard martial art, teaching one to channel energy into the palm and split steles and shatter stone.

"With inner energy as my foundation, learning this palm technique will be like a tiger growing wings."

Under the clear moonlight, Chen Ping turned through the pages one by one.

He read very slowly, savoring every word, while his mind unconsciously began simulating the paths of his palm strikes and the techniques for exerting force.

He did not know how long had passed. When he reached the final page, the familiar azure-gold screen before his eyes suddenly flickered.

[Skill: Shattered Stone Palm (Not Initiated 0/100)]

[Effect: Fierce palm force, shattering gold and cleaving jade.]