Several Doubts

The town's empty streets were completely shrouded in darkness.

Chu Ming stepped out from the shadows, glanced in the direction the Teahouse Owner had gone, then turned and made his way toward Wheat Valley Alley under cover of darkness.

As soon as he neared the alley entrance, he caught a foul, pungent stench. No wonder the three runners had been so disgruntled. This was only the entrance; it had to be even worse inside.

He activated [Sword Gourd Spiritual Sense] and began searching the alley entrance under cover of night.

"Bloodstains, bits of flesh, hair..."

Tiny traces of grime, hidden in narrow crevices and impossible to spot with the naked eye, all appeared before him.

But without high-tech equipment, he couldn't use these traces to identify the culprit behind them.

After searching for a while, Chu Ming left the entrance and moved beneath the eaves of a nearby building. Once he had confirmed that nobody was around, the qi and blood within him surged. His legs burst with power, and he soundlessly leaped onto the roof.

Avoiding the places touched by moonlight, Chu Ming seemed to merge with the darkness. This was one advantage of the keen perception granted by [Sword Gourd Spiritual Sense].

With his sharp senses, he could quickly analyze and make use of his surroundings, hiding himself more effectively and vanishing from sight.

Chu Ming reached the edge of the wall's eaves and activated [Sword Gourd Spiritual Sense] to investigate.

Suddenly, he lifted his eyes toward a rooftop ahead and to the side.

A shadow lay prone there. If not for his keen senses, he would have overlooked it.

"Steward Fang..."

Fang Xiao held his breath, staring intently at the shadow moving along the eaves of the alley wall.

"Such skillful concealment. Could this person be the culprit?"

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

But the next instant, he felt as though someone was watching him.

"Have I been spotted?" Fang Xiao was startled.

Though he was getting on in years and his qi and blood had declined, his skills at concealing his presence were excellent. He shouldn't have been discovered so easily.

At that momentary flicker of distraction, he saw the shadow, concealed in the darkness, dart away at high speed. Within a few breaths, it had vanished completely.

"Trying to run?"

Fang Xiao abandoned all pretense of concealment, sprang up, and gave chase.

Meanwhile, Chu Ming's feet flew as he crossed three or four rooftops. He braced himself against a wall, leaped down, and disappeared into the darkness once more.

"Gone..."

Fang Xiao furrowed his brow as he came to a halt. His nose twitched faintly. "That faint scent... Why does it smell a little like Young Master?"

"No, it's ink!"

"Was the culprit a scholar who grinds ink and wields a brush, just like Young Master?!"

"How could that be? Was my guess wrong? Is the culprit not someone inside the Catching Yamen?"

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

"Steward Fang really was once a martial artist who had condensed ten strands of qi and blood power. His senses are almost as sharp as mine."

Just as the steward didn't bring the Catching Yamen's business home with him, Chu Ming wouldn't let Steward Fang know he was investigating the case.

Chu Ming lowered his gaze to the two broken bricks in his hands.

"One has faint tea stains that are hard to notice. The other has bloodstains that someone deliberately tried to clean away..."

"If I hadn't activated [Sword Gourd Spiritual Sense], there'd have been almost no chance of spotting these traces with the naked eye."

He had found the two broken bricks on top of a wall while investigating Wheat Valley Alley. They had seemed out of place.

"Tea stains. The Teahouse Owner..."

Night had fallen. It was the hour of the Dog.

Willow Town, North Street.

This was where the poor lived: peddlers, porters, and even beggars.

Clang—

"The air is dry and the kindling is brittle. Mind your candles."

Clang—

"The air is dry and the kindling is brittle. Mind your candles."

The sound of a night watchman's gong rang through the street.

"Why's tonight so strange? The night watchman's come all the way to North Street. 'Mind your candles,' he says. Heh, we can't even afford candles."

"Shh, keep your voice down. The night watchman's an officer from the Catching Yamen. You tired of living?"

"..."

Clang—

"The air is dry and the kindling is brittle. Mind your candles."

Yuan Chengji walked down the blackened street, holding a gong and clapper in one hand and a lantern in the other.

Suddenly, he stopped in front of a small house.

A chilling wind blew past. The flame in the lantern suspended in the air flickered as though it were about to go out.

Clang—

He struck the gong once and called, "The air is dry and the kindling is brittle. Mind your candles. Close your doors and windows; guard against thieves and burglars."

Then he stood motionless in front of the little house, like a wooden doll.

"That's strange. It's only the first watch. Why'd he say the second watch's words?"

"He must've misspoken. Listen, he's gone quiet now. Go to sleep."

One after another, the residents nearby pinched out the flames beside their beds, and the entire street grew even darker.

There was no more sound from the night watchman. Only one lantern floated in front of the little house.

A full quarter of an hour passed before candlelight appeared inside the house, which had been pitch-black.

Creak...

The door opened, revealing a somewhat aged face. Deep wrinkles cast shadows in the light of the lantern, making the face look eerie and terrifying.

"You're here?"

"I'm here."

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

At the words "Young Master," the night watchman's lantern visibly shook. The clapper in his hand accidentally struck the gong as well, producing a soft metallic clang.

But the street was too quiet. Even the faintest footsteps could carry into the nearby homes.

"Did you just hear a gong?"

"You imagined it."

"I definitely heard it. I heard someone talking, too."

"You sure it was a person talking?"

"Then was it a ghost?"

"..."

"It's the middle of the night! Why aren't you asleep? You keep startling me—are you trying to scare me to death?!"

"Got energy to burn, do you?"

"No, no. I'm going to sleep, I'm going to sleep. I've got to haul goods at the market tomorrow. I can't strain my back..."

In the darkness at a street corner, Chu Ming concealed himself, his eyes fixed on the only place lit by a dim glow.

"The Teahouse Owner really is suspicious. I just didn't expect that the night watchman—or, more accurately, the officer—seemed to be in cahoots with him."

"No wonder Steward Fang couldn't find any evidence. There's a ghost inside the Catching Yamen."

He pondered this, preparing to move closer and listen to what they were saying inside.

But before he could act, two figures darted across the rooftops along the street behind him.

Chu Ming focused on them, his heart tightening.

The pair's concealment was poor, and their movements across the rooftops were rather loud.

They wore black clothes and masks, with sabers at their waists. Chu Ming had seen boots like theirs at dusk; they were the same kind worn by the three members of the Criminal Defense Division.

At the same time, loose tiles rolled down with a faint clatter. A voice came from inside the little house where the Teahouse Owner lived. "Grandpa, it's time to go to bed."

The light inside went out, and the whole street sank into complete darkness.

The two masked men leaped down from the rooftops and crept along the street toward the Teahouse Owner's house.

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

Clink, clink—

The sound was like silver coins hitting the floor.

After doing this, the pair jumped back onto the roof and quickly left.

Chu Ming's brow furrowed tightly.

What were those two Criminal Defense Division officers doing?

They had thrown something to the Teahouse Owner. Were they working with him?

But why, when the Teahouse Owner heard the noise outside, had his first move been to make it look like the ordinary residents were putting out their lights and going to sleep?

"Did they notice me? Or were they putting on a show for those two members of the Criminal Defense Division?"

"The night watchman, the officer, the Teahouse Owner, the little girl..."

His eyes grew deeper and more intent. He activated [Sword Gourd Spiritual Sense], and his senses instantly sharpened. Keeping to the shadows, he crept forward carefully. He stopped only when he was close enough to hear the conversation inside.

He was a hundred meters away—far enough to flee.

He didn't know how strong the other party was, so he couldn't act rashly.

"It's silver," an old man's voice sounded from inside.