Lin Sui’an washed down a flatbread with a mouthful of tea soup that Yi Ta had prepared. The bitter, sour, and pungent taste sent a shudder through her entire body — but in terms of waking effects, Yi Ta’s tea soup was unquestionably superior to any brand of coffee.

The sky was growing light by degrees. The light of the rising sun fell on the old scholar tree before the Hall of Records in the Court of Judicial Review, carrying with it a faint trace of blood — whether because the hall housed records of too many wrongful cases and unsolved crimes, or simply because her own eyes were crosshatched with bloodshot red.

Everyone had pushed through the entire night. There was progress to speak of, and yet there was not.

The scroll book seized from Hao Liu’s establishment — that so-called “gift from Seventh Master” — had proved genuinely useful. The Court of Judicial Review, the Jingzhao Prefecture, and the Net Sect cooperated as three parties, sending people to search the addresses recorded in the scroll book. They arrested quite a number of rabble who had been spreading the rumors. Combined with the leads seized from Hao Liu’s establishment, and aided by the court’s interrogation officers who alternated between questioning and intimidation, those house boys had not managed to hold out for two hours — every one of them came clean.

Several months prior, Hao Liu had taken the drowning cases as a foundation and constructed a legend of the ferocious beast Xiangliu committing murders, then hired many street roughs to spread the rumors far and wide. These roughs spent their days in gambling dens, wine shops, tea houses, and polo grounds — wherever people gathered in large numbers. Their social circles were broad and tangled, making them ideally suited to carry information through the lower layers of society. Hao Liu’s house boys, for their part, passed the rumors along to the women who came to the establishment for entertainment. Among those clients were no shortage of wealthy merchant women and daughters of noble families — so the rumors were able to reach the upper and middle levels of aristocratic society as well.

One had to admit that Hao Liu had done extensive research into the principles of information dissemination. This two-pronged approach from above and below simultaneously doubled the speed and force of the rumors’ spread, and the results were remarkable. These roughs were also dedicated to their work: besides operating around the various outposts, they frequently went out on excursions, drinking and chatting with friends, making certain the rumors reached every corner of the Eastern Capital. Blacksmith Zhao was one of those who had taken two strings of coin to do work on their behalf. Yet there are no walls without cracks — the Zhong Xue case had drawn the attention of the Court of Judicial Review, and Blacksmith Zhao had happened to walk straight into its jaws.

As for how Hao Liu had learned of this and come to silence the man, that remained unknown. Lin Sui’an suspected it was very likely the handiwork of the “Seventh Master.” She even had a vague feeling that they had somehow been used by Seventh Master as tools.

Beyond that, any genuine leads on the drowning cases and on Zhong Xue remained utterly nonexistent.

Lin Sui’an was waiting — waiting for Ling Zhiyan’s interrogation report, waiting for Fang Ke’s autopsy summary, waiting for Hua Yitang to resurface from the mountain of case files he was buried under, waiting for Wan Lin to locate the burial sites of the remaining thirteen victims.

When the sky had grown fully bright, the first person returned.

Jin Ruo yawned continuously, his face looking somewhat sallow in the morning light. He dropped down beside Lin Sui’an, fished a white sugar cake from his front, and fed it into his mouth. “You were right — Hao Liu and those black-clad people from the White Egret Boat are definitely the same group. The outposts he set up in the Eastern Capital happened to be exactly where the Net Sect is weakest — Shen Xun must have passed that information along. As for this Seventh Master you mentioned—” He poured himself a bowl of tea and drank it in one go. The bitterness pulled his face into a crumpled grimace. “Yi Ta sent tea over?”

Lin Sui’an: “Prepared through the night. Delivered at the mao hour. Very dedicated.”

Jin Ruo fanned his tongue. “The jianghu world has no record of anyone called Seventh Master — either a complete unknown, or someone who has only recently risen.”

Lin Sui’an had not truly expected Jin Ruo to find anything substantial. Given how Seventh Master had made himself known only through words without ever appearing in person, he was clearly another boss figure who intended to maintain a considerable air of mystery. Even so, hearing Jin Ruo say it, she still felt a small pang of disappointment.

The Net Sect’s expansion and consolidation was a pressing matter indeed.

The second to return was Ling Zhiyan, dark circles of enormous proportions beneath his eyes, his forehead and the tip of his nose gleaming with oil. He drank Yi Ta’s tea and had no particular reaction to it — he was probably so thoroughly exhausted from the night that even his sense of taste had dulled.

“Every person in Hao Liu’s establishment, from the four garden masters down to the gatekeeper boys — all questioned. None of them know anything about the drowning cases. They were all nothing more than marionettes following Hao Liu’s instructions.” Ling Zhiyan had pressed his brow so hard there was a crimson indentation forming. “Man Qi is indeed a servant from Hao Liu’s establishment — has been there less than half a year. He is quiet and compliant in ordinary life and does not socialize much. He appears to be an orphan. Beyond that, there is no further information.”

Lin Sui’an thought: The background information has been thoroughly scrubbed. This Man Qi is certainly no ordinary person.

“As for the other matter — ahem — Su Yiyun has no connection to any of this. He simply happened to go to Hao Liu’s establishment for entertainment. Hao Liu’s is the only place that receives male clients—” Ling Zhiyan rubbed his nose. “He had the misfortune of being… unexpectedly encountered by Lin lady, and received quite a beating. Genuinely unlucky.”

“He’s born with an unlucky face. Serves him right!” The hall door of the Hall of Records was kicked open with a bang, and Hua Yitang emerged, cradling the sleeping little beggar boy in one arm. He squeezed himself into the space between Jin Ruo and Lin Sui’an and sat down. The little beggar boy firmly believed that Hua Yitang was a genuine disciple of the Maoshan Sect who could read fortunes and wield sacred instruments. He had plastered himself to Hua Yitang like a sticking plaster and refused to come down, leaving black handprints all over his clothing. Even in sleep he would not loosen his grip.

What was remarkable was that Hua Yitang — who prized his appearance above all things and could not abide a speck of dirt — had somehow endured this without knocking the little brat unconscious and flinging him outside.

Yi Ta had said something rather meaningful when delivering the tea: “Fourth Young Master has been liked by little ones since he was small. Fourth Young Master also likes them.”

Lin Sui’an had her doubts about Yi Ta’s assessment. Watching Hua Yitang’s expression — as if he had been personally insulted by the child’s very existence — he was clearly not someone who harbored any love for small human creatures.

“I went through the import and export records for perfumes, fragrant salves, and aromatic powders in the Eastern Capital over the past ten years. I found one particular scent that matches Doctor Fang’s theory — it can preserve fresh produce without rot, fish and shrimp without decay, and was commonly used in shipping for long-distance transport. But later it was determined to be toxic and its import was prohibited. It has not appeared in the records since — the last entry was five years ago.” Saying this, Hua Yitang sniffed the little beggar boy’s hair, then sniffed his own sleeve. His expression became one of extreme suffering. “This little brat smells like salted fish!”

The others rarely had occasion to see Hua Yitang in such a hapless state, and most were struggling to hide their laughter.

By the time Fang Ke returned, the little beggar boy had woken. One hand clamped onto Hua Yitang’s collar, the other gnawing on the white sugar cake Jin Ruo had given him. Drool dripped onto Hua Yitang’s sleeve in a large wet patch.

The news Fang Ke brought back was startling. The first item was the autopsy report on Hao Liu.

“Hao Liu, male, estimated age thirty-five to thirty-eight. Multiple fractures of the femur, lower leg, and ribs — none fatal. The actual cause of death was internal organ damage.” Fang Ke reached into the box, set a white porcelain jar on the ground with a heavy thud, and stepped back. “His stomach had dissolved.”

Everyone recoiled in unison, reaching up to pinch their noses.

“A stomach isn’t a candle — how could it dissolve?” Jin Ruo asked.

Fang Ke: “He likely ingested some powerful corrosive substance prior to death, which ate away the stomach lining. This kind of drug would cause the heart to race uncontrollably, massively dilate blood vessels, and drive the person into a state of extreme agitation and mental frenzy.”

“So his strength and speed would suddenly increase?” Lin Sui’an asked.

“It would also accelerate his death.”

The group exchanged glances.

Fang Ke: “There is one more thing. He is a eunuch.”

Everyone: “What?!”

“In the first year of Xuan Feng, when the current Holy One ascended the throne, the eunuch system was abolished, and all eunuchs were released to return home and settle among ordinary people.” Ling Zhiyan said. “Given his age, could he be a remnant from the previous dynasty’s palace?”

Jin Ruo: “No wonder he looks like a white sugar cake.”

The little beggar boy instantly shoved the sugar cake he was holding into Hua Yitang’s mouth. Hua Yitang very nearly retched.

“Ah, and one more interesting detail.” A peculiar smile crossed Fang Ke’s face. He produced the white porcelain gourd retrieved from Su Yiyun, gave it a shake. “I tested the contents while I was at it. The medicinal pills inside appear to be some variety of potency-enhancing tonic.”

Everyone: “…”

Fang Ke produced the illustrated booklet also found on Su Yiyun. “Combined with this item, my assessment is that Su Yiyun did not go there for pleasure. He went to consult Hao Liu on the art of bedroom cultivation.”

Jin Ruo: “What on earth?!”

Lin Sui’an: “Has Su Yiyun taken a wife?”

Hua Yitang let out a cold laugh. “He probably took the rumor about the imperial selection of consorts seriously and set about acquiring the secret manual — planning to improve himself and ascend to the highest station in one stroke.”

Ling Zhiyan: “Ahem — ahem — ahem!”

Lin Sui’an was too shocked to speak.

Good heavens. The Su Family of Suizhou was truly going all out.

The last to return was Adjutant Wan. The news he brought back was not encouraging.

Of the remaining thirteen victims in the drowning cases, two families had already left the Eastern Capital — the burial locations of those victims’ graves were impossible to trace. Two more families, considering their daughters had died in a manner that brought shame, had simply cremated the bodies and scattered the ashes. That left nine victims. Eight families had agreed to allow exhumation for autopsy. One family refused no matter what, claiming it would disturb the household’s geomantic fortune.

“Geomantic fortune, my foot — they buried that girl in the common pauper’s graves and she never even made it into the family plot. I told them the government needed to open the coffin for examination, and they actually had the gall to ask me for money! Of all things!” Wan Lin muttered and fumed.

Only nine people. Lin Sui’an stared at the addresses on the paper, unease stirring in her chest. She did not know the condition of those bodies, and she could not be certain her golden ability would activate properly. More than a day and a night had already passed since Zhong Xue went missing — was it already too late? She squeezed her eyes shut, then tilted her head back slightly. The morning breeze struck her face, cold enough to jolt her wide awake.

There was no more time for this kind of uncertainty. At this point, all she could do was try her utmost and leave the rest to heaven.

Lin Sui’an opened her eyes and looked at Hua Yitang. “Come with me for a while.”

Hua Yitang sighed, rose with the little beggar boy in his arms, and said: “Agreed — but if anything goes wrong, we stop immediately.”

Lin Sui’an smiled. “Agreed.”

Jin Ruo looked baffled. “What kind of riddle are you two speaking in? And the bodies have been dead for this long — what could you possibly get from examining them?”

“You’d only know once you’ve examined them.” Fang Ke shouldered his large wooden box and cast a glance at Lin Sui’an, a flash of something sharp passing through his eyes.

Leaving through the Yanching Gate of the southern Luo city, heading north for ten li, there was a mountain called Baochuan Ridge — a burial ground where generations of Eastern Capital residents had laid their kin to rest. Any resident of the Eastern Capital with a household registry, nine out of ten, chose to be interred here.

Looking out across the expanse, tombstones stood thick as a forest, each of varied styles and arrangements. Newer graves had the fresh color of recent earth, with a few cups of thin wine set before them as offerings. Older graves showed the mottled marks of time, gazing across at one another in quiet companionship. Pear trees and white poplars interleaved and overlapped, the grass turning between green and yellow, dead leaves drifting — altogether a desolate scene.

Of the nine victims’ families Wan Lin had previously contacted, one had buried their daughter in the common pauper’s graves. The remaining eight had their burial plots here at Baochuan Ridge — three on the south slope, four on the north slope, and one at the summit.

Based on the relative distances of the grave sites, Ling Zhiyan mapped out a route up the mountain. Wan Lin led a team of clerks to go ahead and notify the victims’ families to be at their respective graves, so that by the time Lin Sui’an and the others arrived, all the preliminary arrangements were already in order.

Exhuming and examining a body was a solemn and weighty matter, and the procedures were by no means simple. First, a “red canopy” had to be erected above the burial site — supported by eight bamboo poles each over eight chi tall, arrayed around the four sides, with a special canopy suspended above. The canopy was four chi wide and six chi long, its material similar to oil-paper umbrellas, treated with tung oil, and mostly reddish-brown in color. It served to keep off rain, block sunlight, and ward off inauspicious influences. Most importantly, when sunlight fell on the red canopy, certain wavelengths of light were absorbed, making it possible to reveal traces of injury on the body as it had been in life — an effect similar to ultraviolet illumination in the modern world.

At each of the four directions around the canopy — east, south, west, north — black-glazed earthenware basins were set out, burning calamus and honey locust pods to dispel the corpse-air. A basin of charcoal was also prepared, along with three-year-aged vinegar. Once the examination was complete, the vinegar would be poured over the charcoal to generate acetic fumes, and every person who had participated in the exhumation would step over the charcoal basin in turn to cleanse themselves of any contaminating odors.

The most important step came once the coffin was opened: placing a “soul-stilling talisman” on the head of the deceased. This was every coroner’s secret art, passed down from master to disciple through word of mouth, never disclosed to outsiders. Each coroner’s method of writing it therefore differed — some resembled Taoist ritual symbols, some derived from the sorcery of foreign peoples, some evolved from the Five Elements and Eight Trigrams. Whatever form they took, their reputed effects were spoken of in near-miraculous terms: purifying malevolent energies, gathering and concentrating the soul, guiding the departed to the next world, and so on. If a family had someone who had died an unjust death, it was common to seek a soul-stilling talisman from an official coroner to be buried with the deceased, as a way of comforting the spirit.

It was Lin Sui’an’s first time watching Fang Ke write a “soul-stilling talisman.” A piece of yellow paper two cun wide and four cun long was laid flat on the large wooden box. The wolf-hair brush was moistened with cinnabar — red as fresh blood. Fang Ke took up the brush, sat cross-legged, closed his eyes for a moment, then first wrote down the name of the deceased.

[Zhou Shi San Niang, Zhou Xing Hong]

She was the first victim to be exhumed. She had died nine months prior, at only fifteen years of age. Her body had been found in the Xie Kou Channel. Her parents had fallen ill from grief over their youngest daughter’s death and had since both passed away. The only family remaining now were two elder sisters, one nineteen and one seventeen, leaning on each other for support as they stood ten paces outside the red canopy, silently wiping their tears.

The clerks from the Jingzhao Prefecture, directed by Ming Shu and Ming Feng, began digging open the burial mound. Ling Zhiyan and Wan Lin stood watch at the head of the grave. Shovel after shovel, yellow earth built up into two new mounds beside the grave — and before long, came the scraping sound of iron against the surface of the coffin.

Fang Ke lifted the brush and continued writing, his script dry and taut, just as his voice.

[Tell me who killed you. I will cut that beast into eight pieces and grind the bones to scatter in the wind.]

Jin Ruo blinked. “That’s… allowed?!”

Hua Yitang raised his fan. “Brother Fang’s soul-stilling talisman is truly—”

Lin Sui’an thought: Truly simple and blunt in the most direct way imaginable.

“One — two — three — open — the — coffin—” The clerks called out the rhythm together and wrenched the lid free. In an instant, the smell of decay surged up to overwhelm the smoke of the calamus and honey locust pods, flooding into everyone’s nostrils.

The clerks burst into cries of shock, scrambling over each other to leap out of the burial pit, shouting things like “something’s wrong here” and “this is unnatural.” The two sisters went pale — wanting to look and not daring to — and wept all the harder.

Lin Sui’an had already guessed why they were reacting this way. She walked to the side of the coffin and looked inside. Just as she had expected — the face of the body within was perfectly preserved, eyes gently closed, as if in peaceful sleep. Only the stench of decay hanging in the air attested to the fact that the internal organs had long since turned to rot.

Fang Ke’s blood-red long robe swept into the burial pit. He pulled on white cloth gloves, unflinching and unhurried. He folded the soul-stilling talisman three times and placed it on Zhou Xing Hong’s head, then turned a glance toward Lin Sui’an.

This time, it was he who reached forward first and carefully lifted the eyelids of the deceased.

“My period arrived — I’m so tired…”