Getting Involved

Feng Yanwu sat upright on the silk-embroidered mat, sipping tea slowly with a look of contentment on his face.

After resting for about the time it takes to brew a cup of tea, Feng Yanwu rose, straightened his attire, and continued the journey.

While waiting for the carriage, he suddenly turned toward the rear, his gaze falling upon Chen Ye, who was busy working.

At this moment, Chen Ye was squatting beside the carriage shaft, carefully inspecting the wheel axle and the mortise and tenon joints; feeling the gaze, he looked up.

"Young brother, what should I call you?" Feng Yanwu asked.

Chen Ye stood up, cupped his hands in a salute, and said, "This subordinate's surname is Chen."

Feng Yanwu nodded and said, "The journey is long, and you have all worked hard. Once we reach Luoyang, in addition to the original reward, I will have the accountant issue an extra portion."

Zuo Dongxi, hearing this from the side, hurriedly cupped his hands to thank him on Chen Ye's behalf.

Feng Yanwu said nothing more and turned to board the carriage.

Before the carriage curtain fell, he waved at the guards, signaling that they could rest a while longer before moving on.

Chen Ye looked toward the carriage where Feng Yanwu was, his eyes flickering slightly.

He had served as a menial in the Gao Family and was accustomed to noble scions who did not treat servants as human beings.

Feng Yanwu's conduct was rare indeed, possessing the demeanor of a true gentleman.

However, even though the master had said they could continue resting, no one in the caravan dared to truly slack off.

After a brief wait, the carriages set off once more.

Just as the caravan reached the halfway point, a sudden, violent thud echoed from inside Feng Yanwu's carriage, as if someone were struggling and rolling about within.

This was immediately followed by the sharp sound of porcelain shattering.

The commotion stopped abruptly.

The personal guard sensed something was wrong, hurried toward the carriage curtain, and whispered, "Young Master?"

There was no response.

The personal guard's expression changed drastically, and he ripped open the curtain.

Inside, tea cups were overturned and tea was splattered everywhere, leaving the interior in a mess.

Feng Yanwu lay slumped in the carriage, his teeth clenched tight, his body arched backward like a bow.

The guard's face turned deathly pale as he hurriedly stepped forward to turn him over for a closer look.

Feng Yanwu's face was blue and purple, and he was already devoid of breath.

The personal guard hurriedly signaled the others, saying, "Quick! Send word back to the manor! Also, seal off the scene; no one is allowed to leave!"

The caravan came to a sudden, screeching halt.

Other guards nearby caught a glimpse of the scene inside the carriage and immediately erupted into a chaotic, surging panic.

Seeing the crowd gathering at the front of the caravan, Chen Ye quickly dismounted and ran over.

He stood outside the carriage and glanced in through the crowd.

There were no signs of a struggle inside; Feng Yanwu lay there with his head and feet curled tightly toward each other, resembling the tension mechanism used in a loom.

His state of death was truly wretched.

Chen Ye recognized at a glance that Feng Yanwu had died of poisoning; in medical terms, this posture was known as "opisthotonos."

Only a highly potent poison could cause such a scene.

Chen Ye scanned his surroundings and discovered that the Feng Family guards had surrounded the scene like an iron barrel.

Feng Yanwu's carriage was isolated within the cordon, and no one was allowed to approach.

Listening to the chatter of those around him, Chen Ye knew that the Feng Family's private troops were already on their way.

He felt that the situation was turning ominous.

Once the Feng Family arrived, for a nobody like him without any background, in a place where human life was as cheap as grass, he knew exactly what his fate would be.

He could not sit and wait for death; he had to seize some initiative.

The carriage was the crime scene and the only breakthrough point; he had to get inside and take a look to have any certainty.

However, he was merely a transport worker from Shuntong Transport Agency, with no ties to the Feng Family, and would never be allowed near.

Chen Ye pondered for a moment, and suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck him.

He walked straight through the crowd, found a Feng Family guard standing stern watch, and said in a professional tone, "This carriage was leased from Shuntong Transport Agency. I am a transport worker for the agency, and our rule is 'the person stays with the carriage.' Now that the Third Young Master has met with an accident, I must inspect the carriage first to ensure it wasn't a mechanical failure."

He paused, then refined his phrasing to be more blunt: "If there is nothing wrong with the carriage, then it is a human-caused tragedy, and Shuntong Transport Agency cannot bear that responsibility. This must be verified clearly."

The guard looked him up and down.

A transport worker who, instead of defending himself, was concerned about the carriage at a time like this—what a strange fellow.

However, his words did hold some logic.

If it were a problem with the carriage, it would be the responsibility of Shuntong Transport Agency, and it would have nothing to do with him.

Right now, he was desperate to distance himself from the incident; if this man was willing to shoulder the responsibility onto the transport agency, it was exactly what he wanted.

"Very well, but you are not to touch anything."

Chen Ye nodded, walked up to the carriage, placed his hands on the shafts, and leaned in to peer inside.

As the curtain was lifted, light flooded into the carriage.

The scene within became instantly clear.

Feng Yanwu's eyes were bulging, blood spilled from the corners of his mouth, and his body was arched in a clear case of opisthotonos.

He had undoubtedly been poisoned to death.

Feng Yanwu was a martial artist who had undergone five Mortal Shedding stages, his physical body perfected.

For someone of this cultivation level to die so quickly from poison, low-concentration gaseous toxins would be ineffective; it had to be ingestion.

Furthermore, this poison was likely specifically designed to suppress a martial artist's blood energy.

The higher the cultivation, the faster the death, which explained why he hadn't even been able to let out a cry.

Chen Ye's gaze instinctively fell upon the purple clay teapot resting on the low table.

The spout faced downward, no longer dripping tea.

There was nothing unusual to be seen.

However, a teacup near Feng Yanwu's hand on the floor seemed slightly peculiar.

Along the inner edge of the rim, a faint, almost imperceptible glint shimmered.

As the light from the doorway shifted, that glint became even more pronounced.

His intuition told him that this was, in all likelihood, the vessel used to administer the poison.

Chen Ye kept his expression neutral, withdrew his gaze, jumped down from the shafts, and said, "The carriage is intact; there are no signs of external force."

His voice was neither too loud nor too soft, just enough for everyone nearby to hear clearly.

He appeared exactly like a carriage hand who cared deeply about his firm's reputation.

The Feng Family guard standing nearby let out a cold snort and muttered, "This carriage hand is more diligent than the yamen officials."

He waved his hand impatiently, shooing Chen Ye away.

Chen Ye retreated into the crowd and walked over to Zuo Dongxi.

Zuo Dongxi's face was as pale as paper. Having been with the Patrol Horse Gang for over a decade, he wasn't unaccustomed to seeing the dead, but he had never encountered someone of such status.

A young master from a prominent family with five Mortal Shedding stages, poisoned to death in his own carriage—this entire job was likely a trap from the very beginning.

He figured the situation was dire and that it would be difficult to escape unscathed.

Seeing Chen Ye approach, he lowered his voice and asked, "Did you see anything?"

"No," Chen Ye said, casting him a glance.

Time ticked away bit by bit.

After waiting for nearly half a day, everyone began to grow restless.

Just as the guards were struggling to maintain order, the Feng Family steward arrived at the scene with private soldiers, immediately surrounding everyone.

The Feng Family steward climbed into the carriage at once, and upon seeing that Feng Yanwu had already breathed his last, his expression turned to one of utter shock.

"Search the entire caravan for clues."

At the steward's command, the private soldiers began rummaging through everything.

The scene instantly descended into chaos.

Carriage trunks and crates were opened one by one, revealing rows of neatly packed gold bars.

"Someone has been through this one."

A Feng Family soldier shouted.

The Feng Family steward rushed over, and seeing the clear signs of disturbance, he immediately concluded that someone in the caravan was working from the inside.

He barked an order, "Seize everyone, take them back to the Capital City, and hand them over to the Family Head for judgment!"