Gray Rat? Worshiping Me?

The streets were bustling, noise rising on all sides.

When the cry from the alley suddenly rang out, even the clamor of the street was briefly drowned out.

Zhou An paused slightly.

That scream had come from the alley he had just emerged from.

Some of the townsfolk had already started heading toward the alley upon hearing it.

People loved a spectacle; gossip was something everyone was born with.

Something had happened in his patrol district. Zhou An did not linger, striding toward the alley with a long saber at his waist.

When he reached the alley, he found quite a few townsfolk already gathered there, their murmurs drifting through the air.

"Isn't that Old Wang? Why is he crying so miserably?"

"No idea. Sounds like he's crying inside his house. Should we go in and take a look?"

"Who would dare? He's usually a sickly ghost who needs his daughter to care for him. If you go in, you might get it all over yourself."

The discussion had begun quietly, but as more people gathered, it gradually grew louder.

Zhou An stood outside, coughed, and shouted, "Constable on official business! All unrelated persons, stand aside!"

At his shout, the nearby townsfolk immediately reacted and hastily backed away.

Once one person did so, it triggered a chain reaction. The others saw Zhou An approaching in the Zi Clothes of a constable.

Under normal circumstances, it might not have mattered, but now that something had happened in the alley and a constable had arrived, the townsfolk feared getting the trouble stuck to themselves.

Like people fleeing the plague god, they swiftly left the alley.

In an instant, the entire alley was empty, not a soul left behind.

At the mouth of the alley, a few bolder people still clung to the walls, poking out their heads to look around.

Clang!

Zhou An drew his saber.

Those few bold townsfolk immediately pulled their heads back, vanishing without a trace.

Only then did Zhou An sheath his saber and look at the house ahead.

The house was dilapidated, with several holes in its front door.

At this moment, the wooden door stood open. Inside, a thin man knelt with his back to Zhou An, weeping bitterly.

Beside the man was a small figure, though the room was too dark to make it out clearly.

Zhou An entered with his long saber in hand.

The thin man seemed to hear his footsteps and turned around, allowing Zhou An to see his face.

The man was gaunt and pale, with heavy dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked utterly sickly.

Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Zhou An saw what was beside the man.

A little girl knelt on the ground, her palms pressed together in a worshipful pose.

Her chest had been torn open, and her organs had been scooped out completely.

Zhou An's gaze darkened.

The little girl was the one he had seen earlier.

This manner of death was exactly the same as the previous corpse—both had been posed in worship.

"My lord, my lord! Please help me! My daughter suddenly became like this this morning. Please help me, catch the murderer! They must be severely punished!"

As if he had grasped a lifeline, the thin man crawled to Zhou An's feet on his hands and knees, repeatedly kowtowing, his face covered in tears.

"Get up first. Then we'll talk."

Zhou An sighed and moved to help the thin man up.

Seeing the corpse beside him, his gaze sank further and further, while the hand gripping his saber hilt tightened slightly.

The thin man did not rise. He continued begging, his stick-thin arm clutching Zhou An's clothes tightly.

"Get up first. We'll go to the yamen, and someone will naturally investigate this for you."

Zhou An suddenly felt as though the thin man before him had lost his only support.

Thinking of what he had seen earlier—the little girl staggering out alone to buy meat—the bloodstained copper coins and the girl's helplessness connected in his mind, and an inexplicable rage rose within him.

He knew this world was dangerous.

He had even prepared himself for it.

But he had never expected ordinary lives to be as worthless as grass.

When that man had died a few days ago, Zhou An had arrived too abruptly to feel much. But with this little girl, he could feel it in his own bones.

Gray Rat Worshipers, hollowed-out organs, a dead little girl.

Zhou An's grip on his saber tightened further, veins bulging on the back of his hand.

He forced himself to take a deep breath.

"Get up first. If you don't get up, how can we help investigate? Let's go to the yamen first. There are professionals to handle this."

The thin man was still kneeling in worship. Hearing this, he raised his head, just about to speak.

But his body had already been frail, and the blow had pushed him to the brink of despair. His eyes rolled back, and he fainted on the spot.

Zhou An sighed.

He turned around, intending to return to the yamen first and report the matter.

Just then, footsteps sounded behind him.

Zhou An turned to look.

At some unknown moment, a gray rat had appeared in the doorway behind him.

The rat was the size of a fist and stood upright.

Its two forepaws were clasped together as it bowed to him.

It was clearly a rat, yet its face bore a human expression, the corners of its mouth lifted in a smile.

The scene was strangely eerie, reminding Zhou An of a tale spread among the common folk of Great Chu.

When an animal bowed, its lifespan was nearing its end.

A bone-chilling feeling suddenly surged through him, and Zhou An felt every hair on his body stand on end.

He felt a cold gust rise behind him. Whirling around, he saw a shadow swaying across the pitch-black wall.

Sunlight streamed in through the doorway, and the shadow on the wall seemed like black water flowing as it peeled away from the surface.

Squeak!

The gray rat let out a shriek, then fell to the ground and went rigid.

The shadow on the ground rose upright, becoming a blurry humanoid shape twisting in the darkness.

Zhou An suddenly found that he could not move. Looking down, he saw that the shadow of his legs had connected with the figure's shadow.

His legs were bound in place, completely unable to move.

The black figure gradually approached. Its hands stretched longer, ten fingers sprouting pitch-black nails.

"Only my legs, huh?"

Zhou An murmured.

The black figure suddenly sped up, reaching Zhou An in the blink of an eye.

Zhou An could even feel the cold gleam flashing from its black nails.

Each nail was half a meter long, digging straight toward Zhou An's abdomen.

"So that's how it scooped out their organs. And then? Ate them?"

His battle with Auntie last time was still vivid in his mind. Zhou An remained calm, the airflow within him surging without cease.

The hand that had been gripping his long saber drew it.

Clang!

A clear ring sounded, and the blade became a white line.

Airflow covered the blade.

Before Zhou An's eyes, the black shadow was no longer a shadow, but a dish—a dish waiting to be sliced.

Enlightenment rose in his heart. At that moment of danger, the saber in Zhou An's right hand slashed diagonally upward from below.

Fast!

What stood out about this strike was a single word: speed.

Airflow covered the blade, drawing out a slender white line through the darkness.

The white line spread. One became two, two became four, and in the blink of an eye, they had become more than a dozen white lines.

The white lines formed by saber radiance passed through the black shadow's body. The black shadow abruptly stopped and lowered its head to look at its chest.