The Leopard King

If anyone came looking here another day, there'd be no witnesses left to prove anything—

That was the first thought that sprang into He Lingchuan's mind, and it startled him.

It seemed like exactly the sort of thing his predecessor would do without a second thought, but for He Lingchuan, it was still a lot to take on.

After a moment's thought, he said, "Have the Red and White Path find somewhere to keep them under lock and key. I'll go back and report to Father."

The biggest leg he could lean on was his own father. They were in this together, after all. He was still a minor; his shoulders weren't broad enough to carry such a heavy burden.

As a result, before he'd gone even a hundred paces from home, He Lingchuan saw a servant from He Manor running toward him. The man was in a hurry, and when he spotted He Lingchuan, his eyes lit up. He hurried over and bowed.

"Eldest Young Master, Master orders you to return to the manor at once!"

"Master" naturally meant the governor of Qiansong Prefecture, He Chunhua.

He Lingchuan strode off at once to see his old man.

The He family's residence covered twenty-five mu, which came to more than sixteen thousand square meters in the units He Lingchuan knew. That wasn't particularly large for a wealthy family, but neither was it small. Its buildings were distinctive, with black tiles and white walls, and delicate pavilions nestled among the gardens—a sharp contrast to Blackwater City's rugged style.

For instance, the garden gate He Lingchuan had just passed was built in the shape of a treasure vase. Behind it stood a fifteen-year-old wintersweet tree, its branches bursting into bloom every midwinter. From the Treasure Viewing Pavilion in one corner of the garden, the yellow blossoms could be seen flowering right at the mouth of the vase, their graceful beauty making them seem as if they had grown straight out of it!

They said that only the great families of the heartland paid such careful attention to aesthetic refinements, but He Chunhua adored them.

Last year, a new craftsman had arrived and, not knowing any better, pruned the wintersweet. Two cuts had been enough to destroy the whole scene. The governor, famous for his good temper, had flown into a rare rage.

The white wall material used at the He Residence was hard to come by, so the family had it shipped from the heartland of the Yuan Kingdom. The labor alone cost more than the materials. Besides, Blackwater City was blessed with sandstorms for seven or eight months of the year, leaving buildings coated in yellow dust. Why paint the walls white, only to invite the dust?

But He Chunhua insisted. To keep the white walls from turning yellow, he even had a formation installed around the manor to shield it from the wind and sand.

Just from the He Residence's distinctive style, He Lingchuan could tell whom his predecessor had inherited his freewheeling ways from.

Crossing the courtyard, he spotted the governor standing outside the storeroom, with the loyal steward Old Mo behind him.

The storeroom was mainly used to hold tools and odds and ends. Only servants went in and out; the masters of the He family rarely approached it. But now He Chunhua beckoned his son over. "Come quickly!"

He Chunhua had become governor seven years ago. He was only thirty-four, in the prime of his life, and still cut a tall, elegant figure.

When he walked through the streets of Blackwater City, the governor often made young women and married ladies turn their heads for a second look.

Only when He Lingchuan came close could he make out the one or two silver strands mixed into his father's thick black hair.

All these years, his father had worried himself sick.

"Dad, I have something—"

He Chunhua waved him quiet. "Come in. There's something I want you to see."

With a grave expression, he led his son and Uncle Hao into the storeroom. Steward Old Mo closed the door behind them and stood guard beside it.

The daylight was bright, so He Lingchuan could see that the long table where the craftsmen usually piled their odds and ends had been cleared. A hulking creature lay on it.

This was...

"The Leopard King!" The young man cried out. Had his father actually sent people to bring it back?

There on the table lay a dead leopard. But it was enormous, nearly the size of a rhinoceros, and even lying still, it exuded an oppressive presence.

The Leopard Demon that had fallen off the cliff with him was a mere trifle by comparison.

Just how powerful a monster must this thing have been when it was alive?

Its hide was yellow with black spots, and its fur was exquisite, but several huge holes had been torn through it, leaving it covered in blood.

The leopard's hind legs had also been broken. They could still smell the thick stench of blood, but not a fly buzzed nearby.

He Lingchuan noticed that the corpse showed no signs of decay. He pressed a hand against its fur, which felt slightly soft.

They said that even a centipede kept moving after death. The Leopard King had been dead for many days, yet its body hadn't rotted. That was proof of its deep cultivation and a body that had reached the "undying" realm.

Which raised the question: how powerful was the opponent who had killed it?

"How long has it been dead?"

"Almost forty days." He Chunhua lifted one of the leopard's front legs. He Lingchuan and Uncle Hao could both see that its abdomen had been cut open. Clearly, they'd already performed an autopsy.

"Forty days ago?" He Lingchuan did the math. "That was about when I was ambushed."

The Leopard Demon hadn't lied. The West Mountain leopard den really had been wiped out.

"I've already sent people to confirm it. The West Mountain Leopard Demons' lair was wiped out, from the Leopard King down to cubs less than two months old." He Chunhua paused, then continued, "Lately, traveling merchants have spotted Fire Foxes in the West Mountain several times. A few times, they even saw them lying in the sand, sunning themselves as if they didn't have a care in the world."

He Lingchuan gave a quiet "oh." "The West Mountain is Sand Leopard territory. They'd never let Fire Foxes trespass unless something had happened to them."

"Exactly. So I sent people to make a round of the West Mountain. They found thirty-four leopard corpses and more than ten human corpses near the den, with signs of fighting spread across two hills. Most of the dead humans were unarmed and of ordinary build. Judging by their wounds, they'd usually been killed with one blow. They were probably the Sand Leopards' servants. It took the search party another five days to bring this leopard's corpse back to the city and examine it for clues."

It wasn't unusual to find humans in a Demon Race lair. They were either food or servants, usually commoners who'd been abducted. Intelligent demons enjoyed the finer things in life, too, and no other race could match humans' delicate hands and nimble fingers.

With all those deaths, He Lingchuan could think of only four words:

Murder—and leopard—to silence them.

"Dad, why did we only just hear that the West Mountain leopard den was wiped out? That's far too slow!"

He Chunhua was used to his complaints. "Sand Tornadoes raged through the western part of the Coiling Dragon Desert for more than ten days. No one could get close."

The Coiling Dragon Desert was a place that devoured people even in ordinary weather. When a sandstorm kicked up, there was no messing around. No matter how great your abilities, you had to sit tight and wait for it to pass.

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

That wasn't strange. Blackwater City guarded the Red Cliff Trade Route, so it had no choice but to deal with the surrounding sand bandits. The raiders who came and went weren't just humans; most were members of the Demon Race. The West Mountain Leopard Demons were only one faction among them.

Qiansong Prefecture knew that the Red Cliff Trade Route was a juicy prize. As long as profit was at stake, one bandit gang was wiped out only for another to spring up, faster than weeds. So He Chunhua negotiated and forged ties with the large bandit groups within a two-hundred-mile radius, while also keeping them in line with threats and shows of force. In other words, he combined kindness with authority. Over the years, they'd managed to get along surprisingly well, exchanging meaningful glances and keeping an unspoken understanding.

As for whether the two sides had even more complicated arrangements, He Chunhua hadn't said, and the old He Lingchuan had never asked.