Leopard King

If someone tracks this down later, there will be no evidence left to find—

The first thought that sprang into He Lingchuan's mind startled him.

This seemed like the sort of thing his predecessor could have done without a second thought, but for He Lingchuan, it felt like a heavy burden.

He pondered for a moment. "Have the Red and White Path find a place to lock it up securely. I'm going back to report to Father."

The most reliable pillar he could lean on was his own old man; they were in this together, after all. He was still a minor, and his shoulders weren't broad enough to carry such a heavy responsibility.

As it turned out, he hadn't even traveled a hundred paces from home when he saw a servant from the He Manor sprinting toward him. The man looked flustered, but his eyes lit up upon seeing him, and he hurried forward to bow.

"Young Master! The Master requests your immediate return to the manor!"

The "Master" was, naturally, the Prefect of Qiansong Prefecture, He Chunhua.

He Lingchuan lengthened his stride, rushing to see his father.

The He residence was a sprawling estate covering twenty-five mu—or, in units He Lingchuan was more familiar with, over sixteen thousand square meters. Among the wealthy, it wasn't particularly large or small, but the architecture was distinctive. With its black tiles and white walls, the pavilions tucked into the gardens were delicate and refined, a stark contrast to the rugged style of Blackwater City.

For instance, the garden gate He Lingchuan had just passed was shaped like a treasure vase, and behind it stood a fifteen-year-old plum blossom tree that bloomed in profusion every midwinter. Looking from the Treasure Viewing Pavilion in the corner of the garden, the yellow blossoms appeared to bloom right at the mouth of the vase, their posture so graceful they truly seemed to be growing out of it.

Such aesthetic sensibilities were said to be found only in the high-ranking families of the interior, yet He Chunhua was deeply fond of them.

Last year, a new craftsman, unaware of the significance, pruned the plum tree and ruined this scenic view with two cuts. The Prefect, usually known for his mild temper, flew into an unprecedented rage.

Furthermore, the materials for the white walls of the He residence were hard to come by; the family had them shipped from the heart of the Yuan Kingdom, making the labor costs higher than the materials themselves. Moreover, Blackwater City was plagued by sandstorms seven or eight months out of the year, leaving buildings coated in a dull yellow. Why would anyone paint a wall white just to attract dust?

Yet He Chunhua insisted on it. To keep the walls from turning yellow, he even had a magic array installed around the perimeter of the estate to ward off the erosion of wind and sand.

Seeing the uniqueness of the He residence, He Lingchuan understood exactly who his predecessor had inherited his headstrong nature from.

He walked through the courtyard and was surprised to see the Prefect standing at the entrance of the storage room, with the loyal steward Old Mo following behind him.

The storage room was mainly used for stacking tools and sundries; usually, only servants entered, and the masters of the He household rarely went near it. But now, He Chunhua beckoned to his son: "Come quickly!"

He Chunhua had become Prefect seven years ago and was only thirty-four, in the prime of his life. Standing there, he was still a tall, handsome man.

Walking the streets of Blackwater City, the Prefect often drew lingering gazes from young women and wives alike.

Only when standing as close as He Lingchuan was now could one notice the one or two strands of silver hidden in his father's dark hair.

Over these years, he had also been racking his brains.

"Father, I have something..."

He Chunhua waved a hand, cutting him off. "Come inside. There is something I want you to see."

His expression grave, he led his son and Uncle Hao into the storage room. Steward Old Mo closed the door behind them and stood guard by the entrance.

The daylight was bright, and He Lingchuan saw that the long table where the craftsmen usually piled their tools had been cleared off to make room for a massive object.

This is...

"The Leopard King!" the youth gasped. His father had actually sent people to bring it back?

Lying on the long table was a dead leopard. It was enormous, rivaling a rhinoceros in size, and even in death, it exuded an intense sense of oppression.

Compared to this, the Leopard Demon that had fallen off the cliff with him was a mere trifle.

How powerful a monster must this thing have been while it was alive?

The leopard's corpse had a yellow coat with black spots, its fur exquisite, though it was now marred by several large holes and stained with blood.

The leopard's hind legs were broken. Even though the group could still smell the thick stench of blood, there were no flies buzzing about.

He Lingchuan noticed that the leopard's corpse showed no signs of decay. He pressed a hand against it; the fur was still slightly soft.

They say that a centipede dies but never stiffens. The fact that the Leopard King's body hadn't decayed after so many days showed that its cultivation in life had been profound, reaching a state of "indestructibility."

Conversely, how terrifying must the opponent who killed it have been?

"How long has it been dead?"

"Nearly forty days." He Chunhua lifted one of the leopard's front legs. He Lingchuan and Uncle Hao could see that its belly had been sliced open; clearly, an autopsy had been performed.

"Forty days ago?" He Lingchuan calculated. "Indeed, that's right around the time I was attacked."

The Leopard Demon hadn't been lying; the West Mountain leopard den had truly been slaughtered.

"I've already sent people to confirm it. The West Mountain leopard den was wiped out entirely, from the Leopard King down to cubs not even two months old." He Chunhua paused, then continued, "For some time now, passing merchants have frequently spotted Fire Foxes in the West Mountain. A few times, they even saw them lying in the sand pits, basking in the sun, looking quite content."

He Lingchuan let out an "oh." "The West Mountain is the Sand Leopard's territory. They would never allow the Fire Foxes to encroach unless something happened to them."

"Exactly. So I sent men to scout the West Mountain. They found thirty-four leopard corpses and over a dozen human corpses near the den, with signs of battle spanning two hills. Most of the dead were unarmed, ordinary people. Judging by the wounds, they were killed in a single strike; they must have been the Sand Leopards' servants. It took them five days to bring this leopard corpse back to the city for examination."

It wasn't strange to find humans in a demon's lair; they were either food or servants, usually kidnapped civilians. Sentient demons enjoyed luxury, and the dexterity and skill of humans were things other races couldn't replicate.

To have it cleaned out so thoroughly, only one phrase came to He Lingchuan's mind:

Killing to silence the witnesses.

"Father, why did the news of the West Mountain den being slaughtered only arrive now? This is too slow!"

He Chunhua was accustomed to his complaints. "A sand tornado has been raging on the west side of the Coiling Dragon Desert for over ten days. No one could get close."

The Coiling Dragon Desert was a man-eating place at the best of times, and when a sandstorm kicked up, it was even worse. No matter how great your abilities, you had to wait patiently for it to pass.

He Lingchuan stroked his chin, thinking that the West Mountain Leopard Demon had indeed been in cahoots with his father.

This wasn't surprising; Blackwater City guarded the Red Cliff trade route and inevitably had to deal with the surrounding sand bandits. These bandits included humans, but even more were demons, and the West Mountain Leopard Demon was just one of those factions.

Qiansong Prefecture knew the Red Cliff trade route was a lucrative prize. As long as there was profit to be made, sand bandits would spring up faster than weeds. Thus, He Chunhua had spent years using a mix of intimidation and negotiation—the so-called "carrot and stick" approach—with the large bandit groups within a two-hundred-mile radius. Over the years, they had actually developed a decent, tacit understanding.

As for whether there was more complex cooperation between the two sides, He Chunhua hadn't said, and the former He Lingchuan hadn't asked.