Volume One: The Youngest Among Three Hundred Chapter Seventy-One: Shiqiao Town

A master of divination, he saw at a glance that the hexagram was highly unusual. The veins on his forehead throbbed uncontrollably; he could not fathom why, even when faced with the enigmatic figure possessing arcane arts at Mao Ji's workshop, he could barely hold his ground, yet here, in the seemingly unremarkable town of Shiqiao, there might lurk such deadly peril.

“I want to see Cao Wu… Deputy Commander Cao,” Chen Chang’an made his request.

But his wish was not granted. Uncle Tan, the Xuan-ranked officer of the Black-Clad Guards, flicked his forehead with a finger. “What are you shouting for?”

Chen Chang’an replied truthfully, “I… I wasn’t shouting, I just wanted to ask if you could provide some equipment… weapons, or pills, things like that!”

The ominous hexagram had set his mind whirling with unease, and he felt he ought to be better prepared before setting out.

Uncle Tan’s gaze grew odd. “What are you thinking? Only official Black-Clad Guards receive supplies for each mission. Right now, you’re still in your third trial and assessment.”

“If you’re afraid, you can choose a different assignment.”

Rejected, Chen Chang’an did not argue further. He turned to fetch his horse, muttering discontentedly under his breath: If they won’t give me anything, then fine—if things get dangerous, I’ll just hide in the Fragrant Pavilion.

Wait—that’s it!

What began as a casual complaint sparked a sudden realization: he had stumbled upon an ingenious new tactic. Time within the Fragrant Pavilion flowed entirely separate from the outside world; in other words, if he faced a crisis, he truly could hide inside. Then, he could ask Taohua for some pills or secret arts to recover and strengthen himself, and finally burst out of the Fragrant Pavilion, returning in triumph to vanquish his foes.

“Haha, I really am a genius!”

Praising himself, Chen Chang’an gathered his temporary Black-Clad Guard uniform and the golden badge gifted by Cao Wu, then mounted his snowy-white pony and set off in a cloud of dust.

Shiqiao Town lay several kilometers from Chang’an, a remote township under the jurisdiction of Sanhe County. Its folk were known for their honesty and simplicity; the people lived in peace and prosperity, and not even petty theft had ever occurred. No one could have imagined a murder would happen here.

Yet three people had died in brutal succession, and the authorities had not uncovered a single clue—truly a bizarre affair. Seated on horseback, Chen Chang’an pondered how he ought to proceed.

By late afternoon, he arrived at Shiqiao Town. True to its name, at the entrance stood an ancient arched bridge built from moss-covered blue bricks and tiles. As he rode across, he noticed every household had their doors and windows tightly barred.

A gloomy pall hung over the entire town.

“Ah, it seems everyone here fears death.”

Muttering, he headed straight for the small post station.

According to the system of the Great Min Dynasty, each township was managed by a village head, and the post station served both as an office and a place to receive superiors. As he approached, Chen Chang’an saw guards at the entrance, and the county magistrate of Sanhe, Peng Wanli, was personally present to oversee the investigation.

“Whoa!”

Reining in his white pony, Chen Chang’an dismounted and was about to greet them when a constable in uniform stopped him. “No loitering! Move along!”

Without wasting words, Chen Chang’an flashed Cao Wu’s golden badge and added, “The Black-Clad Guard uniform is on my horse. Want to check?”

“My lord!”

“We were wrong! Please forgive us!” The two previously arrogant constables instantly dropped to their knees, all bravado gone.

Putting away the badge, Chen Chang’an ordered, “Take me to see your magistrate.”

“Yes, sir!”

They dared not defy him and led Chen Chang’an into the post station with the utmost respect, announcing in unison, “Reporting to Lord Peng, an officer of the Black-Clad Guard has arrived!”

Wearing a pale blue robe and black boots, Peng Wanli, the magistrate, was at that moment anxiously scratching his head, sweat beading on his brow. Annoyed, he snapped, “Don’t bother me, you—”

“What? The Black-Clad Guard?”

At once, he reined in his initial temper and greeted Chen Chang’an with a clasped fist. “So you are a colleague from the Black-Clad Guard!”

Peng Wanli knew the Black-Clad Guard would not involve themselves in minor local affairs unless there were special circumstances. Nevertheless, any help was better than struggling alone.

“Yes.” Chen Chang’an nodded. “Strictly speaking, the case in Shiqiao Town doesn’t fall under the Guard’s jurisdiction. But the murderer’s repeated crimes are brazen, a flagrant affront to the laws of Great Min—they must be punished. That’s why I came in person.”

He did not reveal that this was a new recruit’s trial, instead projecting the demeanor of a seasoned veteran. Otherwise, the magistrate might look down on him, leading to uncooperative attitudes and delays.

Having introduced himself, Chen Chang’an asked, “Lord Peng, why are you gathered here instead of investigating the case?”

Peng Wanli sighed. “I am investigating, colleague, but you may not know—just now, another person died. I was reading the coroner’s report.”

He stepped aside, revealing a corpse laid out on a wooden rack, its lower half covered by a white cloth, only the head exposed. An elderly, stooped woman with graying hair was carefully dabbing powder onto the face with a cotton pad.

“What is she doing?” Chen Chang’an asked.

Peng Wanli explained, “She’s Granny Gui, the mortuary artist of Shiqiao Town.”

“I see.”

Chen Chang’an was familiar with this unique profession. Mortuary artists specialized in preparing the dead, belonging to the same circle as paper effigy makers, coffin shop owners, and feng shui masters.

But something seemed off. “Isn’t mortuary makeup usually applied after the funeral rites, right before the body goes in the coffin? Why now?”

Granny Gui paid no heed, wholly absorbed in her work.

Peng Wanli answered for her. “People keep dying lately. It’s a special time, so I asked Granny Gui to prepare them in advance to save trouble later.”

“That makes sense.”

Chen Chang’an nodded, blinking his eyes sore from prolonged scrutiny. He took the autopsy report from the coroner, and after reading it, was stunned—the man’s genitals had been cut off while alive.

Peng Wanli, noticing his subtle reaction, kindly clarified, “All the victims are men, and… had that cut off. The women had their chests removed. The killer is utterly deranged!”

“What the—!”

Chen Chang’an jumped as if shocked by lightning, unable to fathom such depravity. Could the murderer be some monstrous hermaphrodite?

He finally understood why the Black-Clad Guard had classified the serial murders in Shiqiao Town as high-risk. What they faced was likely a heartless demon.

Perhaps not even a demon could be so cruel.

Suppressing his horror with a deep breath, Chen Chang’an lifted the white cloth to examine the body himself. His findings matched the coroner’s: the fatal wound was a stab to the heart, with nothing else apparent.

Truly baffled… He shifted his focus to Peng Wanli. “Lord Peng, please show me the other victims. I also have some questions for you.”

“Yes, of course, Brother Chen—this way!” Peng Wanli gestured politely.

Meanwhile, Granny Gui had finished her work, tossing aside her powder box and eyebrow pencil.

Curious, Chen Chang’an asked, “Why not keep those? Isn’t it a bit wasteful?”

Granny Gui, rubbing her numb knees as she stood, replied, “You may not know, sir, but in our trade, every item used in preparing the dead is single-use, never to be reused.”

“Understood.” Chen Chang’an nodded. It was the least respect due the departed.

“Brother Chen, this way—let me show you the other victims,” Peng Wanli said.

“Alright.”

Chen Chang’an followed, calling along the town head, who had stood silently by. He would need a local guide to visit the victims’ families.

Despite Peng Wanli’s orders, the bodies, stored in the cellar, still exuded a faint stench of decay in the summer heat, flies buzzing incessantly.

Covering his nose and mouth with the blindfold he’d worn earlier, Chen Chang’an inspected each corpse in turn. He asked the town head, “Tell me in detail who found each victim, how they were discovered, and the exact circumstances at the scene.”

“Yes, Lord Chen!”

People of Great Min had a curious attitude—they resented martial artists, but held the Black-Clad Guard, who evolved from such warriors, in particular esteem.

Subconsciously bowing low, the town head replied, “The first victim was Zhang Fenggu, found in the woods by Sun Si, the woodcutter. The second was Jin Ruolan, found dead at home. The third was Du Mingcong, son of the wealthy Master Du Yuhua. I found him by the riverside while grazing mules and hauled him out.”

“As for the latest one…”

Chen Chang’an listened quietly, but frowned. He sensed the man was lying. If Du Mingcong’s body had truly been dumped in the river, the skin would be pale and bloated in summer. Moreover, water would have washed away most of the blood, making it hard to attract flies.

Yet, Du Mingcong’s corpse had the most flies swarming around it.

Why lie? Could he be the killer?

Chen Chang’an made a mental note but outwardly remained calm, smoothly changing the subject. “Did the victims or their families have any connections?”

“No!” The town head replied instantly. “Not only were they unconnected, but the Jin and Du families often quarreled over some farmland.”

Chen Chang’an was momentarily stumped, unsure where to begin. After some thought, he asked the town head to bring the town map and mark the victims’ residences, hoping to spot a pattern from the locations.

In most serial murders, the victims shared some link; identifying it was key to solving the case.

If he could, he could predict and preempt the next attack.

But the marked locations were scattered across different streets, with no discernible connection.

So that avenue was also a dead end.

Making a gesture as if adjusting imaginary spectacles, Chen Chang’an patted his belly and said, “Take me to visit the victims’ homes, one by one.”

He had to resort to the most laborious method.

Besides, having noticed the town head’s lie, Chen Chang’an kept assigning him tasks—a practical test. If the man was guilty, he would surely slip up eventually.

“Yes, Lord Chen!” The town head respectfully led Chen Chang’an and Magistrate Peng Wanli out of the cellar, heading first to Zhang Fenggu’s house.

As Chen Chang’an stepped out of the post station and prepared to fetch his little pony, an unexpectedly familiar figure came into view.

His pupils widened in surprise. “Sister Hua, what are you doing here?”