Constable Xing

Li Yunxin was a fourteen-year-old boy, yet no one knew where he found so much strength. He ran without stopping through the dense forest for three shichen before finally pitching headfirst to the ground. The skies had cleared by then, and faint dawn light glimmered in the east. He heard the roar of rushing water and knew there was a river nearby.

So he rested on the ground for a while, then forced himself up and slowly made his way toward the sound, supporting himself against the trees. At last, he saw it. Last night's torrential rain had turned the river muddy, carrying dead branches and rotting leaves downstream in a rolling surge. It was not wide, but it was enough to rob him of any courage to cross it.

Beyond the river, he could vaguely make out a cluster of buildings with blue-tiled roofs and white walls. It was likely a town. Li Yunxin dearly wanted to go there and find something to eat and drink, but first, he had no strength to cross the river. Second, he feared that demon-like Ninth Young Master—though, properly speaking, he really was a man-eating demon.

He thought that was all right. If that demon came after him again, he would surely expect Li Yunxin to head for one of the nearby towns. So he would not linger. He would continue downstream and go farther away.

If an ordinary person had fallen into such circumstances, they probably would not last more than a few days in this dense forest. But Li Yunxin possessed a "treasure."

It was the treasure the two dead Daoists had demanded he hand over.

He had previously tricked the two men by saying that he had hidden the treasure somewhere. That was why they had pursued him all the way without truly trying to kill him. Thinking back now, he found it somewhat strange—the two men looked like reclusive Daoists utterly ignorant of worldly customs and human affairs. Why had they come looking for him to murder him for treasure?

Because the "treasure" was actually hidden in the sole of his shoe, beneath his foot. It was laughable that after the two men had caught and searched him, they had failed to notice his shoes.

Perhaps the two Daoists simply could not have imagined that the Tongming Jade Slip, which they regarded as a priceless treasure, would be hidden by Li Yunxin so casually in such a place.

It was practically sacrilege.

The so-called Tongming Jade Slip was, in truth, simply a translucent jade slip. It was palm-sized and rectangular, as transparent as a piece of glass. Perhaps his parents had truly wanted him to live a safe and steady life; while they were alive, they had never mentioned this thing to him.

He had only found it after accidentally discovering a few clues his parents had carelessly left behind and digging it out of a low hill behind the village.

Afterward, he had been deeply disappointed—it looked utterly ordinary. In this world, at most, it counted as an unusually pure piece of glass.

As for how he had learned about the Tongming Jade Slip and more about his parents, that story began after the two Daoists found him in disguise.

But this was no time to dwell on the past. Li Yunxin still had to force himself onward. He did not want that demon to catch up and cook him alive. He still wanted to live.

This was the first time he had ever seen a living, breathing monster. At the time, his terror had been so immense that he had not even had the spare wits to be shocked. Only now did the lingering fear slowly rise within him, growing stronger and stronger.

So monsters truly existed in this world, and one of them might even be watching him like a tiger stalking its prey from behind.

That emotion, together with his desire to survive, drew out the potential in his body. He walked for two whole days.

At noon on the third day, he saw a bridge.

It was a stone arch bridge spanning the river, its piers carpeted in moss. The river had lost its former ferocious force and now ran clear and shallow.

An old man was fishing on the far bank. Waterweed drifted in the shallows, and translucent fish and shrimp frolicked within. Farther away lay another small town, its cooking smoke curling upward.

Li Yunxin's heart loosened, and he nearly collapsed to the ground. Yet he still forced himself to keep going, staggering onto the stone bridge with his sword in hand and heading toward the town.

The old man looked up at him once. Li Yunxin knew that he looked strange now. His hair was disheveled, his face grimy, and one arm was wounded. The cloth wrapped around it had been soaked through with blood, turning dark brown. The wound was somewhat numb—not terribly painful, nor itchy. Li Yunxin knew that was not a good sign.

His clothes were ragged, yet he carried a slender sword of refined steel—a weapon no ordinary person could afford.

So he lowered his head and quickened his pace. After stumbling along for a while, he saw the archway at the town entrance.

Qinghe Town.

Two yamen runners in dark uniforms stood beneath the archway, holding waist-high staves as they frowned at him. When he drew close, they stretched out their hands to stop him and stared warily at his sword. "Where are you going?"

Li Yunxin felt increasingly exhausted. It had been manageable while he was fleeing for his life in the wilderness, when he always had one breath of strength left in him. But now that he had reached human habitation, that breath had long since dispersed. Every muscle in his body wanted to loosen and collapse. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stay alert. "I ran into some villains on the road..."

The moment he spoke those words, it seemed as though the last breath in his body had escaped entirely. His vision went black, and his body pitched forward. Instinctively, Li Yunxin tried to brace himself with the sword in his hand, but his wrist twisted—and the blade lunged straight toward one of the yamen runners.

Thus, the last words he heard before losing consciousness were—

"Ah!"

"What a villain...!"

When Li Yunxin woke, he realized that things seemed rather bad.

The air around him carried a cold, damp smell of mold, and the room was dark. He looked around and found that the room had walls on only three sides. The fourth side was a wooden fence, upon which hung a rust-covered iron lock.

Outside lay a dim corridor paved with blue stone. An oil lamp sat in a recess in the wall.

He had been thrown into a cell. He hurriedly felt the sole of his shoe and found that the jade slip was still there.

The people outside seemed to have heard him stirring. Before long, a yamen runner approached with a dark expression, one hand pressed to the saber at his waist. He looked Li Yunxin over, then pried open the lock and opened the door.

Li Yunxin watched him without betraying any emotion and noticed that this man was dressed differently from the two men he had met at the town entrance. A green peacock feather was fixed to his black hat. Though somewhat ragged, it still marked him as the county constable—a great figure, at least in this town.

The constable's surname was Xing, and his given name was Li. Recently, a certain matter had left him so overwhelmed that his temper was foul.

Last month, the county magistrate's son had taken several people on a spring hunt and entered the wild woods across the Qinghe River. He did not return that night. Three days later, Old Xin, the hunter who had accompanied him into the mountains, came back alone.

The old man was covered in blood, with disheveled hair and a filthy face. He told everyone he met that the county magistrate's son and two household servants had been seized and eaten by a monster. By the time Constable Xing arrived with his men, the old man had already gone mad. Other than that one sentence, they could not get another word out of him.

They had heard tales of monsters before. But that was like hearing of someone who, after being gravely ill for three years, suddenly became sharp in all seven apertures and could remember anything at a glance—who would believe such a thing could happen to their own household?

If every time someone died, people claimed they had been seized and eaten by a monster, what use would law, discipline, and moral order be?

Especially when the dead man was his own son.

The county magistrate flew into a rage, threw Hunter Xin into prison, and strictly ordered Constable Xing to capture the culprit before a set deadline.

Constable Xing examined Li Yunxin's arm. "That is a sword wound."

Then he looked into Li Yunxin's eyes. "You killed someone. The sword in your hand wounded you. That sword should not belong to you."

Li Yunxin shook his head. "I did not kill anyone. I was only defending myself. I encountered a monster."

A strange expression appeared on Constable Xing's face, and he became even more convinced that his suspicions were correct.

This boy was far too calm. Even an adult who woke to find himself thrown into prison would panic for a while. Yet this boy was not only unafraid, but composed. He even seemed... relieved.

In truth, three days had passed since Li Yunxin fainted. The reason they had not woken him earlier was that something horrifying had happened upstream, within Gai County—two Daoists' remains had been found in an abandoned temple. From the looks of it, they had been killed by someone, then roasted and eaten.

At the scene, there had been a broken refined-steel sword identical to the one this boy carried.

They had found some unusual things on the boy—talismans, paper and brushes, and a few strange odds and ends.

Constable Xing had gone to Gai County, and afterward, he felt that the matter was gradually becoming clear. This boy might be a painter, a painter who had gone mad. He ate people. Under that assumption, many things seemed to find a perfectly satisfactory explanation.

Now all they needed was to prove that he truly had the ability to kill and eat people.

Today was the final day of the county magistrate's deadline. As long as he had that ability, it would do.

"You are a painter, and you know some crooked sorcery," Constable Xing said. "We found certain things on you. So you killed and ate people in Gai County before this, and even earlier, you killed the county magistrate's son."

Li Yunxin sighed beneath the dim lamplight, feeling hunger nearly crush him. Yet he was still somewhat relieved—at least this place was far better than the wilderness. He did not need to fear Ninth Young Master coming to eat him, nor did he need to fear someone hunting him down.

"I have lived in a mountain village in Ding Prefecture since I was young. My father and mother taught me a few little tricks. You say I am a painter; perhaps that counts. But I have not killed anyone, and I have not eaten anyone..." At this point, he sighed again and said nothing more.

After thinking for a moment, he raised his head. "Actually, nothing I say will matter, right? I suppose you need a scapegoat."

"Then, no matter how you deal with this matter, execution will not be until after autumn, and it is only spring now. I need medicine for my wounds and something to eat. If I die, you will have a hard time answering for it."

Xing Li's brow furrowed even tighter. He stared at Li Yunxin for a long while, then turned and walked out. After locking the door again, he could not help asking, "What you said was true?"

Li Yunxin spread his hands. Xing Li did not quite understand what the gesture meant, but he could guess that the other party was expressing helplessness.

"...And the monster?"

"You would not believe me anyway," Li Yunxin said.

Xing Li walked out. A waiting yamen runner in a dark uniform came forward in the corridor. "Chief Xing, how was it?"

"That boy is no simple person. He is someone remarkable," Xing Li said after hesitating for a moment. "What a pity."

"Put up notices. Say that bandits have been seen nearby, and tell the townsfolk to avoid going into the mountains."

"Yes."

Last month at Qinghe, three days ago at Gai County. It must have slowly gone farther downstream along the river... It should not come back again.