The Widow of the Zhou Clan

His ex-wife?

Hearing those two words, Chen Ye froze for a moment. He thought he must have misheard.

His ex-wife had become another man's concubine.

Had she been forced, or had she gone willingly?

Seeing how agitated Zuo Dongxi was, Chen Ye had the sense not to ask.

"Those damned Aristocratic Clans, hiss..."

Zuo Dongxi cursed under his breath, accidentally pulling at his wound. The pain made him suck in a sharp breath.

The Dungeon fell quiet.

Days of travel and mental strain had left Chen Ye exhausted. Before long, he drifted off to sleep.

He did not know how much time had passed when a commotion woke him.

No daylight reached the Dungeon. When he opened his eyes, all he saw was the same dimness.

With a thought, Chen Ye summoned the Pawn System.

[Remaining lifespan: five months and twenty-five days.]

Judging by how much of his lifespan had been consumed, he reckoned it was daytime.

If none of this had happened, he would now be returning from Luoyang, ready to collect a month's wages.

But as things stood, he doubted he could keep his job with the transport company even if he got out of the Dungeon.

The waters of Capital City ran deeper than he had imagined.

Without connections or backing, he could hardly take a single step.

Outside, another round of interrogation began.

It would be some time before his turn came.

Chen Ye stood and took up a stance in the cramped cell, slowly circulating his True Qi.

Across from him, Zuo Dongxi opened his mouth, at a loss for words.

At a time like this, he still had the leisure to practice martial arts?

Chen Ye ignored the look Zuo Dongxi gave him. He focused inward, letting his True Qi flow with his breathing.

Because the cell was dim, he deliberately steered his True Qi around the acupoints near his dantian to avoid bringing out the Radiance. He drew on his vitality through his breathing alone.

Gradually, a gentle warmth rose from his flesh and blood. It felt as though he had sunk into a hot spring, every pore opening in a comfort beyond words.

As he breathed, his injuries began to improve visibly, quietly knitting together.

Chen Ye knew that if he let the Radiance shine out through his dantian, he would heal faster.

But now was no time for that. He dared not take the risk.

Watching Chen Ye practice, Zuo Dongxi could not help leaning closer. "Is that a martial art passed down in your family? It doesn't look... particularly impressive."

Chen Ye neither confirmed nor denied it. Instead, he asked, "Have you seen impressive martial arts?"

"Of course I have." Zuo Dongxi perked up. "The finest martial arts under heaven are in Capital City; the essence of Capital City's martial arts belongs to the Aristocratic Clans; and among those clans, the Yang, Xie, Wang, and Cui families reign supreme."

"The Yang Family is the imperial family, so let's set them aside. Of the other three great houses, the Xie Family's martial arts excel at killing, the Wang Family's at transformation, and the Cui Family's at cultivation. Everyone in Capital City knows that."

"I've had the good fortune to see disciples from several of those families fight. Their command of force was almost supernatural, and their breath surged like a dragon. Your art is a long way from theirs."

Chen Ye found that only natural.

This was a martial art the Gao Family used to train its people. How impressive could it be?

He took the opportunity to probe further. "I hear the stages of martial arts are Mortal Shedding, Dragon Elephant, Bridge Sea, and Xiantian. With foundations that deep, those families must have quite a few Xiantian masters, mustn't they?"

"Hard to say. The Xie Family definitely has some, though, and more than one. I've heard they're strong enough to contend with the imperial family now. Who knows if it's true?"

Chen Ye's brows drew together. He suppressed his unease, said no more, and returned his attention to regulating his breathing.

Time slipped by in the dimness.

Gradually, Zuo Dongxi grew restless. He kept craning his neck to look outside, muttering, "Another one dead... That makes three. Xing'er, Xing'er, your old brother's life is counting on you..."

As he muttered, unable to sit still, the door to the Dungeon suddenly opened.

This time, it did not close again.

A beam of light fell straight through the entrance. Dust drifted within it, forming veils of luminous mist.

A beautiful woman with a face like cold jade walked in, one step at a time.

Unlike Zuo Dongxi's ex-wife, this woman wore mourning white, and a solemn grief hung about her.

She was a widow.

The guard overseeing the interrogations went pale when he saw her. He immediately ordered his men to stop, then hurried forward and saluted with clasped fists. "Young Madam, why have you come in person?"

"I received some information and came to see for myself." Her tone was mild but brooked no argument. "Which cell is Zuo Dongxi in? Show me."

The guard did not understand, but he dared not defy her. Bowing, he led her forward. "Young Madam, please follow me."

At the sight, Zuo Dongxi called to Chen Ye excitedly, "She's here, she's here! Xing'er really got the message through!"

Chen Ye looked up. The widow had reached the cell door, and her frosty gaze swept over them both.

"You're Zuo Dongxi? Were you the one who sent the message?"

Zuo Dongxi glanced instinctively at Chen Ye.

Chen Ye showed no nerves. He straightened his clothes, stepped forward, and saluted with clasped fists. "It was me."

"And you are?"

"Chen Ye. A transport hand."

Just as Chen Ye had expected, the widow had come as soon as she received his message.

Feng Yanwu had been the strongest contender to become the next head of the Feng Family, only to die suddenly by poison.

That left the widow in the most awkward position of all.

Who stood to gain the most from Feng Yanwu's death?

Without question, the Feng Family's other heirs.

Every one of them was a suspect.

Feng Yanwu had left children behind, however, and that complicated the contest to become family head.

If Chen Ye were the mastermind, the safest course would be to finish the job and wipe out Feng Yanwu's line entirely—or drive the mother and her two children out of contention and leave them on the margins.

If Chen Ye could see that, how could this widow, born into an Aristocratic Clan and steeped in the Feng Family's affairs for years, fail to see it?

That was why she had been certain to come when she received his message.

No one wanted more desperately to uncover the killer.

The widow of the Zhou Clan let her gaze rest on Chen Ye's face for a moment.

A transport hand had been thrown into the Feng Family's private prison, yet he could still face her with such composure.

That was rare indeed.

She asked nothing further. Glancing at her attendants and private guards, she said coldly, "Leave."

"But Madam, these men are prisoners..."

The widow of the Zhou Clan raised her eyes, her gaze sharp as a blade.

The guard shuddered. He dared say no more and hurriedly waved the others away.

Quiet returned to the cell. Only the three of them remained.

The widow of the Zhou Clan looked back at Chen Ye. "You can tell me now. Who is the killer?"

Chen Ye answered calmly, "I don't know."

Beside him, Zuo Dongxi nearly choked. He stared at Chen Ye, eyes wide, and whispered urgently, "Have you lost your mind?"

The widow of the Zhou Clan drew her fine brows together and regarded Chen Ye in silence. "So you only wanted to bring me here?"

"Madam, you see clearly." Chen Ye met her gaze. "I may not know who the killer is, but I can find them for you."