Qingshan

Chapter 83 : Chapter 83

Chapter 83: Silenced

"The owner of Li's Tailoring saw jianghu types fleeing Red Cloth Lane last night?"

"Yes, sir. The four of them looked panicked and highly suspicious."

Luocheng's snow had not yet melted.

A bitter wind swept low along the ground, setting the torchlight swaying. It illuminated the agents' hands tightening around saber hilts, and the white plumes of breath puffing from beneath their hats -- like hungry beasts scenting new prey.

Every eye turned to Chen Ji, waiting for his decision.

Chen Ji stood with his grey mask covering the lower half of his face, head bowed in thought.

Three strokes of the rod scatter all jianghu loyalty; three pages of confession, and every sentence names a brother. These jianghu swordsmen were no hardened men. If the Secret Spy Division caught them, they would inevitably drag the Heir and Baili into the mess.

But if he deliberately held back, West Wind would see right through it.

In the wavering firelight, drops of burning oil fell from the torches and sizzled on the flagstones.

Then the wind died. The flames steadied.

Chen Ji raised his head and looked at the reporting agent. "Bring the owner of Li's Tailoring here for questioning."

Moments later, a portly, well-dressed man hurried forward with an ingratiating smile. "My lords, this humble one is Li Bing."

Chen Ji studied him. "Where exactly did you see these jianghu types? Tell me everything."

Li Bing answered eagerly. "When your lordships sealed off Red Cloth Lane, those four were slipping out through the back alleys. One of them was so scared he dropped his sword, ran two steps, then went back for it."

Chen Ji frowned with apparent disappointment. "That pathetic? Doesn't sound like Jing Dynasty agents."

West Wind, too, seemed let down. "Jing Dynasty agents are hateful, but they're disciplined. They'd never be that sloppy."

Li Bing suddenly added, "Oh -- and there was someone in the back alley calling to them for help getting over a wall. One of them went to assist, but before he could pull the person over, he ran back out and told his companions, 'Run -- we can't save them, they're boxed in by six men.' He was right next to me when he said it. I heard every word."

West Wind's expression shifted. He looked at Chen Ji. "Sir, the six who boxed them in must have been our comrades. The killer stepped in specifically to protect whoever was trapped in that courtyard. We don't know who they were shielding, but it must be someone extremely important."

Chen Ji drew a slow, silent breath. This shopkeeper had heard far too much. There was no way to bury this lead now. "Master Li, did you see which direction they ran?"

"West along Luoyi Street. But I don't know where they ended up."

Chen Ji exhaled. In a city this large, hunting down four men wouldn't be quick. At least he'd gained some time.

Then Li Bing drew a breath before continuing. "But I do know where they're staying!"

Chen Ji stared. "What?"

Li Bing spoke rapidly. "These four jianghu types arrived in Luocheng about half a month ago. I remember them because they dressed plainly -- worn-out clothes, even -- but spent lavishly. The moment they arrived, each of them ordered two custom outfits from my shop: standing-collar front-opening robes with gilt melon-and-squirrel embroidery along the cuffs and hems."

He went on. "After their measurements were taken, they told me to deliver the finished garments to the Fortune Inn on the west side."

Gilt melon-and-squirrel embroidery was an intricate and expensive technique, popular among the wealthy and powerful.

The more Li Bing said, the heavier Chen Ji's mood became.

He'd seen these four before. At the gathering in the Embroidery Building on White Cloth Lane to meet Courtesan Liu -- aside from Chen Ji, the Heir, Baili, She Dakang, Liu Quxing, Liang Gou'er, Liang Mao'er, and the little monk, the remaining four were these men.

They'd been wearing standing-collar robes with gilt melon-and-squirrel embroidery on the cuffs that very day.

The timing matched too. These four had been scraping by until they befriended the Heir, after which their fortunes improved considerably.

And yet, despite the Heir's generosity, when danger came, they'd thrown him and Baili to the wolves.

West Wind looked at Chen Ji's profile. "Sir, what do we do?"

Chen Ji's voice was still as a frozen well. "Surround the Fortune Inn. Take them."

His only hope now was that these four weren't stupid enough to return to their lodgings after fleeing Red Cloth Lane.

...

...

Outside the Fortune Inn, dozens of agents drew sabers. In barely a dozen breaths, they encircled the inn without a sound -- the back courtyard, both flanks, the stables. Not a gap left.

If the four men -- all merely at the Acquired Realm -- were inside, they had no chance.

Chen Ji stepped over the inn's threshold first.

The ground floor was a modest tavern, closed for the night. Chairs had been wiped clean and upended on the tables. Behind the counter, a young server was slumped over the abacus, fast asleep, an oil lamp flickering beside him.

Chen Ji approached and gently tapped his shoulder.

The server raised his head, bleary-eyed. "Looking for a room? Sky-tier rooms are a hundred and forty wen a night, Earth-tier forty-five, stable stall twelve..."

Mid-sentence, he saw the masked Chen Ji and the armed agents behind him. He snapped wide awake.

"My lords -- I -- I haven't done anything wrong."

"Relax. Just one question."

"Please, ask."

"Are four armed jianghu types staying here?"

The server nodded frantically. "Yes!"

"Are they still inside?"

"They are. They went to Red Cloth Lane last night for a good time, but came back early, looking panicked. Since then they've ordered food and drink to their room and haven't come out."

This was the last answer Chen Ji wanted to hear. After a pause: "Which room?"

The server pointed to the staircase. "Up the stairs, third door on the right. Sky-tier room. The plaque on the door says 'Spring Waters.'"

Before Chen Ji could give an order, West Wind signaled, and several agents drew their sabers and crept up the stairs.

Chen Ji moved to follow, but West Wind placed a hand on his shoulder. "Sir, Lord Jinzhu specifically instructed us to keep you safe. He mentioned you have no martial training. Leave the dangerous work to us -- please don't put yourself at risk."

Chen Ji studied the man's expression beneath the hat brim -- sincere, unguarded, eyes absolutely steady. This wasn't suspicion. Jinzhu had genuinely given that instruction.

He sighed inwardly and stood by the counter. "Be careful."

An agent kicked in the Spring Waters door. Sabers drawn, they poured inside, murderous and precise.

Then, from upstairs: "Sir! Come look at this!"

Chen Ji grabbed the oil lamp from the counter and ran up. He pushed through the agents crowding the hallway, reached the doorway, and looked up at the ceiling beam.

His breath caught.

From the beam, four bodies hung by white silk nooses around their necks, arranged in a neat row.

Worse still, every face had been carved clean off. Nothing remained but raw, glistening muscle exposed to the air -- a sight of pure horror.

The agents' expressions were flat, as though they'd seen this kind of thing before. But a chill surged up from somewhere deep inside Chen Ji. These four had been silenced in advance.

He suppressed his revulsion and went to examine the bodies.

The corpses were cold and rigid, the stiffness spread throughout. They'd been dead at least four hours.

Chen Ji checked the door. The bolt was undamaged.

He moved to the window. The copper latch had been severed by a sharp instrument. The killer had entered through the window.

"Cut them down. Strip all their clothes," Chen Ji ordered, his voice hard.

The agents formed a human ladder and lowered the four bodies onto the beds.

Once the clothes were removed, everyone could see by the moonlight streaming through the window: a single copper nail had been driven into each man's heart, clean and precise, without a drop of blood.

The victims hadn't cried for help. Whoever killed them was a master among masters -- they hadn't even been given time to react.

Chen Ji pried open each mouth. On every tongue, a shorter copper nail had been driven through.

"This isn't silencing. This is judgment."

"Someone was punishing them."

West Wind's face was grim. They'd barely found a new lead, and before they could celebrate, the thread had snapped again.

Chen Ji turned to him. "Have you ever heard of this kind of execution?"

West Wind thought hard. "There may have been one or two similar cases in the jianghu, but I'd need to check the Inner Prison archives for details. Sir, this is deeply strange. The people those four abandoned in the courtyard must be extremely important -- important enough to justify killing the four and ensuring their permanent silence. The killer also skinned their faces to prevent us from finding anyone who could identify them. Who do you think is responsible?"

Who was responsible?

Simple. Whoever stood to gain the most.

Chen Ji stood in the dim room, the oil lamp still in his left hand. He pictured the Heir's bold, open-hearted laugh and found it nearly impossible to believe that such depths of ruthless calculation lurked behind it.

Besides, if the Heir had a protector this capable, why had Chen Ji needed to step in and rescue him last night?

But if it wasn't the Heir, then who?

In Chen Ji's memory, the Heir's bright, sunlit image began to blur, as though a shadow were slowly settling over his face.