Many Doubts

The empty streets of the small town were completely shrouded in a black curtain.

Chu Ming stepped out from the shadows, glanced in the direction the tea stall owner had left, and turned to slip toward Wheat Valley Alley under the cover of darkness.

As soon as he approached the alley entrance, he caught a whiff of a foul, putrid stench that was unbearable; it was no wonder those three bailiffs were so resentful, for if this was only the entrance, the interior was likely even more revolting.

Activating [Sword Gourd Spiritual Sense], Chu Ming took advantage of the night to scout the alley entrance.

"Bloodstains, shredded flesh, hair..."

Within the narrow crevices, minute traces of filth that would have been impossible to spot with the naked eye all manifested before his vision.

However, there was no high-tech equipment here, and it was impossible to track down the culprit behind these things.

Chu Ming investigated for a moment before leaving the entrance and moving to the eaves on the side. After confirming no one was around, he surged the blood energy within his body, unleashed the power in his legs, and leaped onto the roof without a sound.

Avoiding the patches of moonlight, Chu Ming seemed to merge with the darkness; this was the benefit brought by the powerful perception of [Sword Gourd Spiritual Sense].

With keen perception, he could quickly analyze and utilize the surrounding environment to better conceal himself, achieving an effect of perfect stealth.

Chu Ming arrived at the edge of the alley's wall and activated [Sword Gourd Spiritual Sense] to scout.

Suddenly, he lifted his gaze toward the roof to his front-left.

A black shadow was crouching there; had his perception not been extraordinary, he would have overlooked it entirely.

"Steward Fang..."

Fang Xiao held his breath, staring fixedly at the black shadow moving along the alley wall.

Such brilliant concealment techniques. Is this person the murderer?

He tightened his grip on his saber, ready to charge out at any moment.

But the very next instant, a sense of being watched rose in his heart.

I've been discovered? Fang Xiao was startled.

Although he was advanced in age and his blood energy had declined, his own breath-suppression and concealment techniques were highly refined; he shouldn't have been discovered so easily.

It was precisely this momentary lapse in his composure that allowed him to see the figure hidden in the darkness flash away rapidly, disappearing completely within a few breaths.

"Trying to run!"

Fang Xiao abandoned all attempts at stealth, sprang up violently, and gave chase.

On the other side, Chu Ming had wind beneath his feet, vaulting over three or four houses and using the walls to leap down, once again blending into the darkness.

"Gone..."

Fang Xiao, who had pursued him, furrowed his brows and twitched his nose slightly. "This faint scent... why does it smell a bit like the scent on the Young Master..."

"No, it's the smell of ink!"

"The murderer is a scholar who grinds ink and holds a brush, just like the Young Master?!"

"How can this be? Could my line of reasoning be wrong? Is it not someone from within the Catching Yamen?"

In a dark spot several streets away from Wheat Valley Alley.

"Steward Fang is worthy of being a martial artist who once condensed ten strands of blood energy; his perception is almost catching up to mine."

Just as this steward did not bring the affairs of the Catching Yamen home, he would not let Steward Fang know that he was investigating the case himself.

Chu Ming lowered his eyes to look at the two broken bricks in his hand.

"One has tea stains that are difficult to detect, and the other has bloodstains that have been deliberately cleaned..."

"If I hadn't activated [Sword Gourd Spiritual Sense], it would have been basically impossible to discover these traces with the naked eye."

These two broken bricks were anomalies he had discovered on the wall while scouting Wheat Valley Alley.

"Tea stains, the tea stall owner..."

Nightfall, the Hour of the Dog.

Willow Town, North Street.

This was where the lowest classes lived, such as small vendors, laborers, and even beggars.

Clang—

"The weather is dry, watch out for fire."

Clang—

"The weather is dry, watch out for fire."

The sound of the night watchman echoed through the streets.

"Why is it so strange tonight? The night watchman has come all the way to North Street. Watch out for fire, heh, we can't even afford candles."

"Shh, keep your voice down. The one on watch is a bailiff from the Catching Yamen; are you tired of living?"

"..."

Clang—

"The weather is dry, beware of fire."

Yuan Chengji held a copper gong and a wooden clapper in one hand and a lantern in the other, walking through the pitch-black street.

Suddenly, he stopped in front of a small hut.

A cold wind blew past, causing the flame of the lantern hanging in mid-air to flicker as if it were about to go out.

Clang—

He struck the gong once and shouted, "The weather is dry, beware of fire. Close your doors and windows, guard against theft and robbery."

After speaking, he stood motionless in front of the hut like a wooden statue.

"Strange, it's only the first watch, why did he call out the second watch?"

"You must have misheard, listen, isn't it quiet now? Go to sleep."

The residents living nearby extinguished their bedside lamps one after another, plunging the entire street into deeper darkness.

There was no sound of the watchman, only a lantern floating in front of that small hut.

A full quarter of an hour passed before a candle was lit inside the previously pitch-black hut.

Creak...

The door opened, and an aged face poked out. The folded wrinkles cast deep shadows under the light of the lantern, making the face look terrifying and sinister.

"You've come?"

"I've come."

"The Young Master has been waiting for you for a long time."

Upon hearing the words "Young Master," the watchman's lantern shook visibly, and his clapper accidentally struck the gong, producing a metallic sound that wasn't particularly loud.

But the street was so quiet that even the slightest footstep could be heard in the surrounding houses.

"Was that the sound of a gong just now?"

"You heard wrong."

"I definitely didn't hear wrong, I even heard people talking."

"Are you sure it was people talking?"

"Could it be a ghost?"

"..."

"It's the middle of the night, you aren't sleeping, jumping at shadows—are you trying to scare me to death?!"

"Got too much energy, do you?"

"No, no, I'm sleeping, I'm sleeping. I have to haul goods at the market tomorrow, I can't strain my back..."

Hidden in the shadows at the corner of the street, Chu Ming kept his eyes fixed on the only place with a dim light.

The tea stall owner is indeed suspicious, but I didn't expect that watchman... or more accurately, that bailiff, to be in league with him.

No wonder Steward Fang couldn't find any evidence; there is a mole in the Catching Yamen.

He pondered in his heart, preparing to move closer to hear what they were saying inside.

But before he could make a move, two figures darted rapidly across the rooftops behind him.

Chu Ming focused his gaze, his heart tightening.

The two on the roof were poor at concealment, making quite a bit of noise as they moved.

They were dressed in black with their faces masked, carrying sabers at their waists. The style of boots they wore was one he had seen at dusk—the exact same style worn by the three men from the Criminal Defense Division.

At the same time, tiles rattled with a faint sound, and a voice came from the hut where the tea stall owner was: "Grandpa, it's time to sleep."

Following that, the light in the room was extinguished, and the entire street fell into total darkness.

The two masked men leaped down from the roof, creeping stealthily along the street until they reached the side of the tea stall owner's hut.

One of them pulled something from his bosom, gently pushed open the window, and tossed it inside.

Clang, clang—

The sound resembled silver hitting the floor.

After finishing this, the two leaped back onto the roof and quickly departed.

Chu Ming's brows furrowed tightly.

What were these two men from the Criminal Defense Division doing?

They threw something to the tea stall owner; could they be in league with him?

But why did the tea stall owner, upon hearing the commotion outside, immediately create the illusion of an ordinary person extinguishing their lights to go to sleep?

Did they discover me? Or was it a performance for those two from the Criminal Defense Division?

"Night watchman, bailiff, tea stall owner, young girl..."

His eyes grew increasingly profound, and as he activated his Sword Gourd Spiritual Sense, his perception surged instantly. He hugged the shadows, carefully shifting his steps, and only stopped once he was close enough to hear the voices conversing inside.

A hundred meters of distance was enough for him to make an escape.

The strength of the opposition was unknown; he could not act rashly.

"It is silver," an old man's voice rang out from within.