Yet the Qiao estate was unlike the Chen and Xu households. The Chen and Xu families had been of modest means, but the Qiao estate was large and prosperous — the compound alone was several times the size of those two families combined.

For the killer to slaughter everyone in this compound was clearly not a realistic proposition. Never mind the sheer number of people — there were also many servants and guards, all of whom had some degree of skill. Fighting one against ten would not be a wise move for anyone.

Yet the killer bore a deep, blood-soaked hatred for these families. One could see it from his methods — what he sought was not only the map but also blood for blood, even if the majority of those he killed had no personal grudge against him whatsoever.

Just then, Shi Ting noticed several maids carrying incense burners and candles as they filed past along the corridor nearby.

He couldn’t help but ask, “Is the household preparing for something?”

“This is for the ancestral rites on the fifteenth of the first month.”

“Where does the household hold its ancestral rites?”

Master Qiao answered, “Right in our family’s ancestral hall.”

“Is the ancestral hall in the rear courtyard?”

Master Qiao didn’t understand why Shi Ting would be interested in such a matter, but since he asked, Master Qiao led the two of them through pavilions and terraces to the rear courtyard.

The Qiao family’s ancestral hall stood at the northernmost end of the estate, sheltered by a grove of green trees. Now that the leaves had fallen bare, the ancestral hall gleamed golden and imposing.

When the three families had fled those years ago, they had all taken considerable sums of gold and silver with them. But by now, the Chen and Xu families had little wealth remaining. The Qiao family, however, had used their original capital to grow and expand, gradually accumulating the prosperous scene before them.

The ancestral hall was built with lavish grandeur and spaciousness. Even from a distance, the fragrance of sandalwood incense drifted toward them.

“Incense burns here year-round,” Master Qiao said with evident pride. “On every New Year and festival, the Qiao family bathes and changes clothes before coming here to pay their respects — it is the most solemn ceremony of the Qiao household. It’s just that before there was my eldest brother to preside over things, and now I, the youngest brother, am left to make all the arrangements.”

Shi Ting gazed at the magnificent ancestral hall before him, lost in thought.

As they were leaving the Qiao estate, Qiao Yiran used the excuse of seeing Ling Ai off to successfully slip out.

“Yan Qing.” She couldn’t help pulling Yan Qing to one side and asking curiously, “What big event happened? What were you and Shi Ting discussing with my father?”

A reporter’s instinct drove Qiao Yiran to get to the bottom of everything.

Yan Qing considered that this matter very likely concerned Qiao Yiran’s own safety, and so she gave her a brief account of the events of Zhiqing County.

Qiao Yiran was greatly shocked, then sighed with feeling. “I never imagined our Qiao family had such a past. Alas — when faced with mountains and seas of wealth, human lives are nothing more than blades of grass. Wealth like that is better left unwanted.”

Yan Qing took her hand and said, “Your thinking is just like your grandfather’s.”

“It’s too cruel,” said Qiao Yiran.

“Though what those families did back then was deeply cruel, the killer, in his quest for vengeance, has slaughtered more than twenty people regardless of sex, age, guilt, or innocence — and that number is likely to keep rising. Compared to the cruelty of those families, the killer is even more frenzied and extreme.”

“Will he come to kill our whole family?”

Yan Qing reassured her. “Your father and Shi Ting spoke privately at the end — I think arrangements have already been made. Regardless, stay close to home for now and pay close attention to your safety. Try not to go anywhere alone.”

“I understand,” Qiao Yiran sighed. “Anyway, my holiday has started — I might as well stay close to Mother and keep a proper watch over her. If the killer really does come, I’ll fight him to the death.”

“You foolish girl — the killer is a trained fighter. How could you possibly beat him?”

“I’m joking.” Qiao Yiran mustered a faint smile. “Does this mean that over the New Year, I won’t be able to go eat with you and Ling Ai?”

“Is it your life that matters, or your food and drink?” Yan Qing couldn’t help but scold her gently.

Qiao Yiran declared with great confidence, “Life is precious, love is dearer still — but for good food, one can sacrifice them both. Isn’t that the poem you recited to me?”

Yan Qing was speechless.

She was pretty sure the original line was “for freedom, one can sacrifice them both.”

“Yiran, you must take care of yourself,” Ling Ai said worriedly. “Stop acting like nothing in the world frightens you.”

“Don’t worry, you two — I promise I won’t die,” Qiao Yiran said, patting her chest. “I still haven’t fulfilled my dreams. Why would I be willing to die?”

“Oh? What dream do you have?” Ling Ai asked curiously.

Yan Qing heard this and merely tugged at the corner of her mouth, then grabbed Ling Ai’s arm and started walking.

Behind them, Qiao Yiran called out at the top of her lungs, “Hey! You’re leaving just like that? You don’t want to know my dream? My dream is to eat my way through every delicacy in the world…”

Ling Ai heard this and couldn’t help but twitch the corner of her mouth. What a truly magnificent dream.

Qiao Yiran watched them leave, standing in place and shrugging her shoulders. “You two really have no appreciation for the finer things in life.”

“Young Mistress.” A servant came rushing out. “Young Mistress, the Master asks that you not go out — please hurry back inside.”

Qiao Yiran didn’t know what final arrangement Shi Ting and her father had reached, but given the current situation, caution was indeed necessary at every step.

“Where are you going?” Qiao Yiran asked the servant who was hurrying back out.

“I’m going to call Second Young Master back — he’s still drinking at the tavern.”

Qiao Yiran’s brow furrowed and an expression of dissatisfaction crossed her face. This second brother of hers, Qiao Hanlin, was a notorious pleasure-seeker who spent his days in and out of establishments catering to food, drink, and entertainment, associating himself with the dregs of society.

Master Qiao had administered family discipline on his behalf several times, to no avail. Qiao Hanlin would cry and beg for mercy while being beaten, and once his wounds healed, he would promptly return to his old ways.

When Master Qiao cut off his allowance, he borrowed money at exorbitant interest rates. When debt collectors came knocking at the door threatening to break his legs, Master Qiao, soft-hearted in the end, couldn’t bear to watch his son become crippled, and so restored his allowance.

Fortunately, Qiao Hanlin indulged only in drinking and women — not gambling and not opium. Over time, Master Qiao turned a blind eye.

“That Qiao Hanlin — doesn’t he realize death is at his doorstep, still out there carousing,” Qiao Yiran muttered through her teeth, then told the servant, “Come on, I’ll go with you to find him.”

The servant knew this young mistress was not one to be argued with, and so had no choice but to brace himself and accompany Qiao Yiran to the tavern.

Shun Cheng had several taverns. Inside, all manner of people mixed together — every sort under the sun. On the second floor, people drank. On the first floor, storytellers performed, from morning until late at night — it was always lively.

Some people sat in the tavern every day, knowing all the news from far and wide — battles erupting here today, a blizzard there tomorrow. And some people especially enjoyed listening to these talkers spin their stories, regardless of whether the news was true or false, just for the entertainment.

Qiao Hanlin was on the second floor, drinking with friends in a round of toasts, a young woman perched in his lap.

“Second Young Master, you’ve had enough — any more and you’ll truly be drunk,” the young woman said coquettishly, leaning against Qiao Hanlin’s shoulder and breathing warmly at his ear.

Qiao Hanlin planted a firm kiss on her lips. “Beauty, keep drinking a few more rounds with us brothers.”

“I really can’t drink any more — I’ll just watch you all drink.”

“Can’t refuse — if you refuse, it’s disrespecting Brother Zuo,” Qiao Hanlin said, casting a bleary glance at the man across from him. “Isn’t that right, Brother Zuo?”

Zuo Liang associated with these young scoundrels and came and went with them frequently — always showing up at taverns, precisely to gather all kinds of information.

It had taken him nearly three years to locate the Chen family, and a year to find the Xu family. For the remaining family, he also had several clues — though he had not yet been able to confirm them with certainty.

“Brother Zuo is not that sort of man,” another man nearby said. “Brother Zuo has always been tender toward the fairer sex — he would never make things difficult for a beauty.”

“Isn’t that right, Brother Zuo?”

Zuo Liang gave a slight smile, picked up the wine bottle, poured himself a full cup, and said to Qiao Hanlin, “Brother Qiao, let’s drink.”

Qiao Hanlin was equally forthright and drained his cup alongside Zuo Liang.

Zuo Liang frequented this place, yet no one knew his true identity. Everyone assumed he was just another pampered young man of leisure, and so they called each other brother.

After several rounds, the young woman suddenly noticed a red cord around Qiao Hanlin’s neck. She gave it a light tug and pulled something out.

“Come look at our Second Young Master Qiao — what is this thing around his neck?” someone immediately began to jeer.

“So he wears an amulet too — doing too many bad deeds, are we?”

Faced with everyone’s teasing, Qiao Hanlin held up the amulet and declared loudly, “Don’t you dare look down on this amulet. A great monk has chanted sutras over it — it protects lives.”

“Really that powerful? Let me have a look.” Someone reached out to grab it.

Qiao Hanlin moved with surprising speed and tucked the amulet back into his clothing. He raised his cup and said, “This thing is Father’s most prized possession. It can’t be played with by you lot — if it breaks, I’ll really be beaten to death.”

The crowd had little interest in an amulet. After the teasing, they resumed their drinking. But one person among them wore an expression as cold as frost, his eyes fixed unblinking on the eating and drinking Qiao Hanlin.

In the depths of those dark eyes, a vast black tide was surging — and within that tide, a boundless, murderous intent.

“Brother Zuo, drink up,” someone said, picking up the wine bottle to pour for him.

“Come on, Brother Zuo, no spacing out — drink up.”

Zuo Liang took his cup and recovered his earlier composure, though in his heart a tempestuous storm had already been unleashed.

The pattern on that amulet — he had carved it deep into his mind. He had carried it for twenty years.

Twenty years. He had finally found them all.

Zuo Liang’s grip on his cup tightened with force. To everyone’s astonishment, the cup was crushed to pieces in his bare hand.

The table fell into a sudden hush as all eyes turned to him.

After a momentary pause, Zuo Liang immediately laughed it off. “This cup must have been made of paper — I barely squeezed it and it shattered. Innkeeper, bring new cups.”

Seeing that Zuo Liang was unharmed, the table came alive again with noise and cheer.

The drinking party didn’t break up until past midnight.

Zuo Liang proactively stepped forward to help steady Qiao Hanlin. “Brother Qiao, let me see you home.”