In the conventions of these kinds of stories, when a key witness died, there were generally only two possibilities: suicide out of guilt, or silenced by someone else.

But the truth far exceeded what Lin Sui’an had anticipated. Wang Hao had been beaten to death by a prison guard — on Prefect Zhou’s orders.

By the time Lin Sui’an and Hua Yitang arrived at the jail, Ling Zhiyan was already there. His face was an iron grey as he stared at Wang Hao’s body lying on the ground — the face and body covered in whip marks and burn scars from fire brands, the manner of death utterly ghastly.

The guard who had carried out the sentence was kneeling on the ground shaking from head to toe. Prefect Zhou stood nearby, berating him furiously: “Couldn’t get anything out of him, and now you’ve gotten the man killed! What a pack of incompetent fools!”

“Prefect Zhou!” Ling Zhiyan said sharply. “This person was a key suspect and witness, and he had already given testimony. Why did you torture him and take his life?!”

Prefect Zhou dropped his previous meekness and shouted back at Ling Zhiyan with a black expression: “Inspector Ling — I am the Prefect of Yangdu. When you apprehended such a critical suspect, why did you not report it to me immediately?! If great harm comes of this, can you bear the responsibility?!”

“What has happened?!” Hua Yitang demanded.

“Hua Yitang! Come face your death!” A figure suddenly burst out from the corner, where he had been standing blended into the shadows. His abrupt appearance startled everyone.

Lin Sui’an reacted fastest — she launched a flying kick. Fortunately Ling Zhiyan’s eyes and hands were quick enough to intercept, sparing this person the fate of being kicked flying. Only then did Lin Sui’an see clearly: it was Feng Yuyi’s grandfather, Feng Song.

The Feng Song before her looked as if he had aged ten years overnight — his white hair in disarray, eyes bloodshot, lips cracked and peeling, glaring at Hua Yitang with uncontrollable trembling throughout his entire body.

Hua Yitang’s expression changed. “What on earth has happened?!”

Prefect Zhou: “Feng Yuyi has gone missing!”

Hua Yitang: “What?!”

Ling Zhiyan: “When did this happen?!”

“Hua Yitang — you deliberately let the murderer escape! You’re the one who harmed my child!” Feng Song clawed and lunged toward Hua Yitang. Lin Sui’an grabbed him and flung him aside; he let out a cry and sat down hard on the ground.

“Hua the Fourth has been in the yamen all night — how could he possibly have harmed Feng Yuyi?” Ling Zhiyan said. “Feng Elder, please tell me quickly every detail of the circumstances before and after your grandson’s disappearance, so I can arrange a search—”

Before he could finish, a yamen clerk came rushing in. “Inspector Ling, Hua the Fourth — Pei Family’s Seventh Young Master urgently requests an audience.”

Hua Yitang looked surprised. “Pei Shijun? What is he here for?”

The clerk: “He says someone named Chen Zhu has gone missing.”

The atmosphere in the prefecture yamen’s flower hall was tense.

Feng Song had finally calmed somewhat, sitting on the eastern side with an iron-grey face. Ling Zhiyan was beside him, quietly asking for details on Feng Yuyi’s disappearance. Prefect Zhou was on the other side refilling tea and offering words of consolation, conspicuously attentive.

Before long, Lin Sui’an laid eyes on Pei Family’s Seventh Young Master, Pei Shijun. The moment he saw Hua Yitang, he was like a chick who had spotted its mother hen, chattering nonstop: “The Fourth, Chen Zhu has vanished! His home is empty, and I’ve looked everywhere — the bookshops he frequents, the teahouses — nowhere to be found! You know people at the Court of Judicial Review; please help find him.”

“Seventh, don’t panic,” Hua Yitang said, gesturing for Pei Shijun to sit first. “When did you last see Chen Zhu?”

Pei Shijun: “It was the day you and Lin Niangzi discovered the headless corpse at Liuyue Tower. I heard you’d both been taken away by the constables, and I rushed off to the Hua Residence to find Mu Zhong. On the way, I saw Chen Zhu. I called out to him, but he seemed not to hear at all and walked off in a hurry.”

“When, and where?” Hua Yitang asked.

Pei Shijun thought for a moment. “I was at Furong Tower when I heard the news — that would have been around the afternoon midpoint. I was in the carriage going over Middle Third Bridge, Guangji Bridge — yes, I saw him on the Climbing Bridge, around three-quarters past the afternoon midpoint. He was walking west, probably toward the teahouse in Juan Yu Ward.”

“And you haven’t seen him since?”

“Things have been so chaotic in Yangdu these past few days, and Father told me not to go out. Today, he had a painting due for Lord Li and the deadline is coming up, so I went to his house to press him — that’s when I found he wasn’t home. The neighbors on both sides said they hadn’t seen him these last two days either.”

“Was anything unusual in his home?”

“Same as usual.”

Hua Yitang’s expression darkened. He glanced at Lin Sui’an.

Lin Sui’an understood what he meant. Two people were now missing: Feng Yuyi and Chen Zhu. The charred corpse might be one of them.

But with the body so badly damaged, and no DNA testing available here, there was absolutely no way to confirm identity.

The only lead she had any confidence in was — her ability… was it?

“Who is Chen Zhu?” Lin Sui’an asked.

Pei Shijun: “Lin Niangzi, you saw him at Furong Tower. You don’t remember?”

Lin Sui’an cast her mind back — she had no impression of him at all.

“He wrote half of the five hundred flyers.”

At that, she did recall — there had indeed been several young men in white behind Pei Shijun that day, holding large stacks of flyers. But exactly how many there were, and what any of them looked like, she had no recollection; they had all been thoroughly unremarkable in appearance.

“He’s also a wastrel?” Lin Sui’an asked.

Pei Shijun: “Oh, he’s no wastrel. His mother died young; his father passed away two years ago as well. The Fourth saw that he wrote well and could paint, and asked me to help introduce him to some commissioned calligraphy and painting work.”

Lin Sui’an looked at Hua Yitang with some surprise. Who knew this wastrel also did charitable works?

But Hua Yitang had suddenly squeezed his eyes shut, lips pressed tight, the color draining from them.

“W-what’s the matter?” Pei Shijun asked. “The Fourth — is something wrong?”

“Last night another body was discovered?!” On the other side of the room, Feng Song leapt up with a shout. “Take me there at once!”

Pei Shijun’s head snapped toward Hua Yitang.

Hua Yitang slowly opened his eyes, their depths unreadable. “Let’s go,” he said quietly. “To the morgue.”

When the coroner pulled back the covering cloth to reveal the charred corpse’s face, Feng Song collapsed. His entire body crumpled to the floor, and he couldn’t produce a single intelligible word — only formless sounds, meaning nothing and everything.

Even though Lin Sui’an had no particular fondness for him, she couldn’t bear to look, and turned her gaze away.

Pei Shijun was in slightly better shape — just visibly pale and somewhat unsteady on his feet, held upright by Hua Yitang.

“Heavens — Feng the Third! How could you have come to this!” Prefect Zhou wept as if his own father had died. “Ling Zhiyan! It’s your failure to solve the case, your dereliction of duty — letting the suspect escape! Now Feng the Third has died because of it — you are the primary culprit! I, Zhou, will absolutely see to it that you are properly impeached!”

Feng Song glared at Ling Zhiyan with eyes like bleeding wounds. “The Ling Clan truly lives up to its name as one of the five great families and seven elite lineages — in perfect collusion with the Hua Family!”

Ling Zhiyan’s expression did not change. “This person is not Feng Yuyi.”

“His disappearance was last night, and the body was found last night — if it isn’t the Third, then who is it?” Zhou Changping shouted. “Ling Zhiyan — you have caused a catastrophe! Don’t even think about denying it!”

“Feng Elder said Feng Yuyi retired to his room after dinner at the second hour of the You hour. According to Wang Hao’s testimony, his rendezvous with Dong Cheng was at the second quarter of the Hai hour — only one hour’s difference. For a body to be burned to this state of char requires a minimum of more than half an hour, on top of the time needed to abduct, kill, and transport — there simply wasn’t enough time.” Ling Zhiyan gestured to the coroner to bring the autopsy report, reading through it as he spoke. “Although the body is charred, the internal organs are reasonably well-preserved. The stomach is empty, with no food residue — indicating this person had not eaten for more than an hour before death. This is inconsistent with Feng Yuyi’s meal timing.”

Feng Song struggled to stand. “He — he truly isn’t the Third?”

“He is not.”

“Then where is the Third?!”

“I must ask Feng Elder to cooperate fully. I need to search Feng Yuyi’s room thoroughly and take testimony from everyone in the Feng household.”

Feng Song’s eyes went wide. “You mean — the Third is still alive? You can find him?”

Ling Zhiyan frowned. “I cannot guarantee that.”

Feng Song’s expression looked as though he wanted to take a bite out of Ling Zhiyan.

Prefect Zhou immediately pledged his loyalty: “Feng Elder, rest assured — I will turn the entire city of Yangdu upside down if I must to find the Third!”

“Then what are we waiting for?!” Feng Song roared, turned, and stormed out. Prefect Zhou followed close on his heels.

Ling Zhiyan let out a heavy sigh and then went after them.

Throughout all of it, Hua Yitang had not said a single word. He simply stood quietly looking at the charred corpse on the autopsy stand. His figure was slender, his clothing white — his silhouette like a fragile petal against the light, the kind a strong wind could blow away.

Pei Shijun hesitated before stepping forward. “The Fourth — if this isn’t Feng Yuyi, could it be… Chen Zhu?”

“Chen Zhu must have been shadowing us all along, and was mistaken for a wastrel and drawn into this — bringing disaster upon himself.” Hua Yitang’s throat moved. “It’s my fault.”

Several hours later, Ling Zhiyan returned with news: Feng Yuyi’s disappearance was the same as Jiang Hongwen’s before it — no signs of a struggle inside the room, no witnesses. On top of that, the chaos inside the Feng Residence had contaminated the scene. Even Jin Ruo could find no way to trace Feng Yuyi’s movements.

“Our earlier conjecture was that the person who took Jiang Hongwen away was someone from inside the yamen,” Lin Sui’an said. “Looking at it now, that line of reasoning was probably wrong. With Dong Cheng’s level of skill, he could have abducted someone without leaving a trace.”

“Dong Cheng’s sword technique is formidable, but his skill in stealth movement is only middling,” Jin Ruo said. “Inspector Ling took me to look at the courtyard walls and rooftops of the Feng Residence — no sign that Dong Cheng had ever been there.”

“You mean Dong Cheng’s lightness skill hasn’t reached the point of leaving no footprints in the snow?” Lin Sui’an asked.

Jin Ruo looked disdainful. “You’ve been reading too many story books. Who in the world has that kind of ability? Anyone who walks anywhere leaves traces — unless they’re a ghost.”

Good — at least this world is still governed by Newton. Lin Sui’an thought.

“Then the most likely scenario is that both Jiang Hongwen and Feng Yuyi slipped out on their own,” Ling Zhiyan said, spreading a map of Yangdu’s wards. His gaze swept across the sixty-four wards of the outer city. “Why they went out, when they went out, where they went — all unknown.”

“Do you think Feng Yuyi is still alive?” Pei Shijun asked.

Ling Zhiyan: “Until we see a body, there is still hope.”

Jin Ruo slumped over the table. “We’ve searched less than a fifth of Jing Yun Ward and found absolutely nothing. And now the people have been pulled away too — this is a disaster.”

“Why has the search of Jing Yun Ward been called off?” Lin Sui’an asked in surprise.

“All the city patrol soldiers, constables, and clerks have been reassigned by that old scoundrel Zhou Changping to go look for Feng Yuyi!” Jin Ruo said.

“Shouldn’t they be searching Jing Yun Ward in order to find Feng Yuyi?”

“Prefect Zhou said that before Wang Hao died, he had stated that his claim about Dong Cheng having a shop in Jing Yun Ward was made up on the spot — just something to buy himself a reason to stay alive.” Ling Zhiyan rubbed the bridge of his nose.

From Ling Zhiyan’s expression, Lin Sui’an could tell that Prefect Zhou had probably said a great deal more than just that, and most of it had been unpleasant to hear.

“Zhou Changping is quite clever,” Pei Shijun said. “He spent all this time pretending to be ill and keeping out of things — but now that something has happened to the Feng Family, he’s suddenly efficient and dutiful again. Though with his capabilities, the Feng Family had better pray for themselves.”

Ling Zhiyan sighed. “Relying only on the Ten Purity Sect’s people, the efficiency is too low. Hua the Fourth — could you ask the Hua Family’s people to help?”

“Yangdu is vast. Even sending out every last person in the Hua Family, it would be a drop in the ocean,” Hua Yitang said, leaning against the armrest with his eyes half-closed. “Rather than searching a vast sea for a needle, it would be better to lure the snake out of the hole.”

Ling Zhiyan: “What do you mean, lure the snake?”

Hua Yitang drew something from his sleeve and handed it to Ling Zhiyan. It was the bamboo tablet about the “Ten Cruel Punishments” that Qi Yuansheng had found.

Lin Sui’an was astonished. When had he taken that with him? Hadn’t he been dismissive of what was written on it just a moment ago?

Ling Zhiyan glanced at the bamboo tablet and his expression changed. “Hua the Fourth — this object—”

“The way Dong Cheng has handled the bodies matches exactly what is recorded here. I suspect he planned from the very beginning to kill people in this sequence and by these methods.” Hua Yitang seemed weary, and slowly closed his eyes. “He has now killed four. Six remain. And last time he said the next target was me — so by his plan, the punishment he has arranged for me should be pulverizing the spine.”

Ling Zhiyan: “Outrageous! Who found this thing? And where was it found?!”

“In reply to Inspector Ling — it was I.” A voice emerged from the corner, startling everyone.

Only then did they remember there was still a Division of Justice scribe in the room.

Qi Yuansheng sat in the shadows, still as a ghost bound to the earth, his voice flat and measured. “The bamboo tablet was found among the sealed case archives and ancient texts of the Division of Justice, prompted by a suggestion from Lin Niangzi.”

Ling Zhiyan was puzzled. “And how did Lin Niangzi come to know of these Ten Cruel Punishments?”

Not good! Lin Sui’an thought. She couldn’t exactly say she had a golden ability, could she? That was far too absurd. Should she claim she’d overheard Dong Cheng let something slip during their fight? No — there had been too many eyes on her at the time; she’d never get away with it.

“Wait, I’ve seen these words before!” Jin Ruo’s eyes were practically glued to the bamboo tablet. “‘After ten cruelties — comes ten purities.’ That exact line is on a fragment of the Ten Purity Sect’s ancestral blade manual too!”

Hua Yitang’s eyes snapped open.

“Ah — yes, that’s right,” Lin Sui’an said immediately. “I heard my A’Ye mention the Ten Cruel Punishments once when I was young, but I forgot it at the time — it was only after seeing the state of these bodies that I remembered.”

“You said earlier that your martial skills were taught to you by Wang Hao?” Hua Yitang asked Jin Ruo.

Jin Ruo: “That’s right.”

“Then the person who was keeping the blade manual fragment before would be…?”

“Wang Hao, naturally.”

Everyone fell silent in unison.

“Then that explains it,” Hua Yitang said, rising to his feet and straightening his clothing. “It seems Dong Cheng got his inspiration for the killings from Wang Hao’s blade manual.”

Pei Shijun: “The Fourth — where are you going?”

“Dong Cheng said Yangdu has long suffered under the tyranny of wastrels — he intends to deliver heaven’s justice. If that is so—” Hua Yitang stepped toward the main door, standing against the light. At that moment dusk had arrived, and a slanted column of late afternoon light fell upon him, solid as a pillar. “Then I — Hua Yitang, Yangdu’s foremost wastrel — will stand here and wait for him to come and kill me!”

Everyone’s expressions changed. Ling Zhiyan’s eyes went wide.

Only Lin Sui’an curved her lips in a faint smile. She could see clearly: Hua Yitang’s fingers were gripping the fan handle so tightly his knuckles had gone white, and they were still trembling faintly.

His words were bold, but his body was perfectly honest. With that little rabbit heart of his, he’d barely finished speaking his brave line and had already half frightened himself to death.

“Alright,” Lin Sui’an said, stepping forward and patting Hua Yitang on the shoulder. “I’ll go with you.”

Side Skit

Hua Yitang: I — I — I’m not scared at all!