Fleeing in Fear of Punishment

"Not a bad haul today!"

Fang Er looked at the game he had brought down, a happy smile spreading across his face.

He was a hunter in the mountains, making his living from hunting day in and day out.

But not every day brought a harvest.

Like today—three pheasants and two muntjacs in one go. He could trade them in a nearby town for a few coins of silver, enough to keep the whole family going for a while.

It was a long way from the mountains back to the village.

By the time Fang Er returned, night had already fallen. The village was deathly quiet, without a single human voice.

"Strange. Why isn't Zhang Er's dog barking today?"

As he passed a fenced courtyard, Fang Er's expression turned slightly puzzled.

He cast a glance into the yard, but in the darkness of night, he could not make out much.

All he saw was a stretch of blackness.

He gave it no further thought.

Fang Er headed straight for his own home.

The village was too quiet today, quiet enough to make him want to get home sooner.

In the silent village, only one house still glimmered faintly with light.

Fang Er pushed the door open and entered. He set the game aside, then sat down at the table with a grin. "You wouldn't believe how lucky I was today, wife.

Three pheasants and two muntjacs. They should fetch at least three to five coins of silver!"

As he spoke,

he picked up a bowl of water from the table and drained it, then turned his head toward the kitchen, where a farm woman was busy at work.

"After a while, we should send the boy to a private school nearby. Letting him keep roughhousing with the village kids isn't much of a plan. Don't you think?"

The farm woman continued working, only making a faint sound as though in agreement.

At that,

Fang Er paid it no mind.

After laboring in the mountains all day, he was exhausted to the bone. Yet with his stomach growling, he could not fall asleep just then.

Seeing that his wife was still cooking, Fang Er grew bored of sitting around and rose to head toward a small room on the right.

Lifting the rag serving as a door curtain, he found nothing but dimness before him.

By the faint light from outside, he could see a slightly raised quilt on the bed, as though something were hidden beneath it.

"You little brat, sleeping like that every time. Aren't you afraid of suffocating?"

Fang Er laughed and scolded him, but he did not go in to disturb him. He let the curtain fall and returned to his seat.

At that moment,

the person working in the kitchen came out as well, carrying a bowl that steamed vigorously. A rich fragrance drifted over at once.

Fang Er sniffed it, and a smile immediately appeared on his face.

"What kind of soup did you make today? Why does it smell so good?"

As he spoke, he blew on it to cool it a little, then took a sip. Instantly, his body, which had been somewhat chilled, turned warm and comfortable.

Then,

a large pot of soup was placed on the table.

In no time at all,

Fang Er drained the soup in his bowl. Licking his lips, he looked at the pot on the table and ladled himself another bowl.

"Why aren't you drinking?"

As he drank, he also glanced at his wife. She seemed somewhat strange today, though he could not put his finger on what exactly was strange.

The woman shook her head slightly. "You drink. I've already had some."

"What is this? I don't think I've ever seen it before—"

Fang Er looked at the round thing he had picked up with his chopsticks, his face puzzled. It had been boiled for so long that he could not tell what it was.

Without thinking further, he put it directly into his mouth and chewed.

As he ate, he looked at the woman. "Oh, right. Should we wake Bao'er up and let him have some too? This soup tastes really good today!"

"No need!"

"Hm?"

Fang Er looked at his wife and suddenly found her unfamiliar.

All of a sudden,

the woman's face twisted into something eerie and grotesque, while her voice became low and chilling. "Isn't Bao'er already in the soup?"

Fang Er's body jolted. Looking at the woman's strange expression, then lowering his head to look at the soup in his bowl, he was suddenly seized by nausea.

Bleurgh—

His violent retching shook the table, causing the pot resting atop it to crash to the floor.

Clang! Soup and shards scattered everywhere.

There were bones, hair, an unboiled child's finger, and a round object.

The moment he saw that round object,

Fang Er instantly connected it to something. His stomach churned like storm-tossed seas.

After returning from Everlasting Fortune Pawnshop, Shen Changqing sank back into a leisurely life.

Though guarding Lin'an City seemed like a troublesome matter,

before the demon blood essence truly emerged, Lin'an City was instead at its most peaceful.

As for the people from the five factions,

Shen Changqing could not be bothered to pay them much attention.

The wandering martial artists of the jianghu were even less worthy of his notice.

Thus, over the past few days, he had kept a low profile. Either he went to Everlasting Fortune Pawnshop to check on the latest information, stayed at the inn, or took in the local customs and sights of Lin'an City.

After Zhao Fang's death, the appointment of a new county magistrate had yet to arrive. As a result, the yamen was now leaderless. Only the registrar and the legal adviser were barely holding things together, preventing the yamen from falling completely into neglect.

As for this,

Shen Changqing did not interfere much. His task was simply to ensure the safety of Lin'an City's people. Whether the yamen was in chaos had little to do with him.

The Zhao Family.

Outside its gates.

"Lord Shen, these past few days, members of the Zhao Family have kept trying to flee. We've driven them all back, but the yamen is short-handed. If this keeps up for long, mistakes are bound to happen."

Hong Cheng, temporarily acting as constable captain, wore a troubled expression.

With no orders from above, they could neither kill the Zhao Family members nor possibly let them go.

But if any Zhao Family members escaped, that would also become a huge problem for him.

Zhao Fang's collusion with evil spirits was no secret, and the Zhao Family knew it perfectly well.

Once such a crime was sentenced,

the likely outcome would be the extermination of nine generations.

Shen Changqing's expression remained calm as he looked at the Zhao Family's courtyard walls. "I've already sent word back to the Demon Suppression Bureau. The Zhao Family's judgment will arrive soon enough. If anyone tries to escape during this time, treat it as fleeing in fear of punishment."

"Lord Shen, you mean...?"

"Kill."

Shen Changqing uttered that single word coldly.

Hong Cheng's heart shuddered. Kill—this meant they were about to open a slaughter against the Zhao Family.

Just then,

the tightly locked gates of the manor suddenly flew open, and more than a dozen servants rushed out. Several yamen runners immediately drew their sabers to block them.

"Without orders from above, not a single Zhao Family member is allowed to leave!"

"Go back! All of you, get back inside, or don't blame my blade for showing no mercy—"