After the Mirror Division took over the Zhao family’s murder case, they quickly reached a conclusion.
In a single night, four people in the Zhao household died. Zhao Ming’s parents had their limbs smashed in their bedroom, struggling through the night and dying in agony. Zhao Ming and his mistress, Su Yao, were flayed alive in the inner room of the study.
The maid keeping watch over Zhao Wenqi reported that he had left his room in the middle of the night. At both crime scenes, his bloody footprints were found.
In Zhao Ming’s parents’ room, a wooden stool bore a child’s bloody handprint, matching the size of Zhao Wenqi’s hand. In the study’s inner room, a dagger with a similar bloody handprint was discovered.
When Zhao Wenqi was brought before Bai Xiuming, the young boy, having seen his parents’ gruesome corpses, had become dazed and foolish, no longer the clever child he once was.
The knife wound on his face had gone untreated, and even if it healed, his appearance would likely be ruined.
“Sir, he won’t say anything when questioned. He’s probably in shock,” Feng Yang said, somewhat troubled.
Bai Xiuming turned to him, his tone icy. “Haven’t you learned how to interrogate such a suspect?”
Feng Yang’s body stiffened instantly. He had initially felt pity for the young child facing such a tragedy, thinking that using the Soul-Shocking Technique to forcibly rouse him might overwhelm him with reality.
He could easily go mad.
Feng Yang dared not dwell on it further. He bent down to meet Zhao Wenqi’s eyes. Sensing something, Zhao Wenqi’s vacant pupils suddenly contracted, his body trembling as if abruptly awakened.
Feng Yang asked, “Tell me, what did you see last night?”
“Someone used a stool to break Grandpa and Grandma’s legs. They kept screaming,” Zhao Wenqi said, his eyes filled with terror.
“And then?”
“And… someone cut the flesh off Father and Mother, ah—ah—”
Zhao Wenqi seemed to relive the horrors of the previous night, clutching his hair and screaming incessantly.
With no other choice, Feng Yang applied the Soul-Shocking Technique a second time to forcibly rouse him.
“Do you know who killed them?”
“It… it… it was Xiaoqiao. That wretched woman misled me. I was deceived by her,” Zhao Wenqi said, his expression shifting suddenly, pointing in a direction, his demeanor and tone transforming as if he were a different person.
Zhao Wenqi seemed to sink back into his own consciousness, muttering endlessly, “Xiaoqiao, please spare me. Xiaoqiao, I wronged you, I beg you. Xiaoqiao…”
Feng Yang turned to Bai Xiuming. “Sir, the Xiaoqiao he speaks of is likely Zhao Ming’s late wife, Lin Xiaoqiao.”
He refrained from using the Soul-Shocking Technique again. Zhao Wenqi had completely broken down, beyond saving.
The case was now clear: Zhao Ming’s late wife, Lin Xiaoqiao, had turned into a vengeful ghost, possessed Zhao Wenqi, and used his body to kill the adult members of the Zhao family, sparing only her daughter.
Though Zhao Wenqi was spared, his current state suggested death might have been kinder than surviving last night.
Even if he hadn’t gone mad, having killed his grandparents and parents with his own hands, ghost-possessed or not—the world would not forgive him.
What depth of hatred drove Lin Xiaoqiao to exact such vengeance?
“Bring the Zhao household’s steward,” Bai Xiuming said, finally showing interest in the Zhao family’s tangled grudges.
The steward was brought into the study. Seeing Bai Xiuming seated behind the desk, he immediately knelt and kowtowed. “This commoner, Zhao Fu, pays respects to the Lord.”
Bai Xiuming propped his head with one hand, his tone languid. “Tell this officer about the Zhao family, starting from after your madam’s death.”
“Yes,” Zhao Fu said, discreetly wiping sweat from his forehead before speaking truthfully. “Not long after Madam’s death, Old Master and Old Lady arrived, bringing Young Master Wenqi, saying they wanted to have him adopted by the Master.
I felt something was off then. It wasn’t until the day before Madam’s funeral, when Madam Su arrived, that I overheard Young Master Wenqi call her Mother. That’s when I realized the Master had been keeping a mistress all these years.”
“Go on.”
Zhao Fu swallowed hard and continued, “On the day of Madam’s funeral, the Master brought in Master Jingyun from Pingnan Temple. The old Daoist said Madam might turn into a vengeful ghost, so everyone in the household agreed to suppress her soul in the coffin.”
Bai Xiuming raised an eyebrow. “Everyone in the household agreed? So, someone disagreed?”
Zhao Fu nodded. “Sun Mama, who served Madam, cried and made a fuss. I sent her away. There was also Madam’s niece, Miss Ji, who disapproved, but our Young Master said a few words that persuaded her.”
“What did he say?” Bai Xiuming asked, intrigued.
He had been busy lately, and the reports from his spies were concise, focusing only on key points. He hadn’t expected such a drama to unfold in the Zhao household.
“Young Master said Madam was kind in life and surely wouldn’t want to harm anyone, but what if she truly became a vengeful ghost? He said the living in the household were what mattered most, and everyone agreed with him.”
Bai Xiuming lowered his gaze, concealing a fleeting glint in his eyes. He didn’t believe Ji Chan would be swayed by a few words.
“What do you think of your Young Master?”
The steward instinctively wanted to offer praise but, realizing the Master was gone, saw no need to flatter. He spoke honestly, “Young Master seems clever and polite, but he’s actually very selfish. He knew he was taking the place of the Eldest Young Master but felt it was his due. He even insulted Madam.”
“Anything else?”
Zhao Fu hesitated, then gritted his teeth and said, “This commoner has always suspected Madam’s death was tied to the Master.”
“Any evidence?”
“This commoner has no proof, but… Young Master sometimes got carried away, as if he knew the Eldest Young Master would fall and he’d be adopted. If Madam were still alive, that would’ve been impossible.”
As the Zhao household’s steward for years, Zhao Fu wasn’t blind to certain truths; he simply knew when to stay silent.
“Alright, you may go.”
Zhao Fu kowtowed again and hurriedly left the study.
Looking at the dazed Zhao Wenqi, Feng Yang’s feelings grew complex.
If the steward’s account was true, everything that happened made sense.
But one thing remained strange: if Lin Xiaoqiao’s soul was sealed, how did she escape to kill?
Bai Xiuming spent most of the day at the Zhao residence. By the time he returned to the Mirror Division, it was the shēn hour (3 PM to 5 PM). The team sent to investigate Lin Xiaoqiao’s grave had also returned.
They brought less-than-ideal news.
The centurion dispatched reported, “Sir, Lady Lin’s coffin hasn’t been touched since burial. Seven specially crafted coffin nails were driven into it, likely to suppress the soul. Upon opening, the coffin was thick with resentment, indicating she had turned into a vengeful ghost. But I attempted to capture her soul three times and found nothing.”
The centurion was uneasy after his report.
Ordinary souls are fragile after death and cannot be captured. Only vengeful ghosts or higher spirits can be forcibly detained. Yet, though Lady Lin had clearly become a vengeful ghost, her soul was missing. He feared the Commander would deem him incompetent.
Bai Xiuming merely chuckled. “Interesting.”
He turned to Feng Yang. “Where’s Old Daoist Jingyun?”
Feng Yang replied promptly, “He’s waiting outside. He’s been in the capital recently, not back at his temple.”
“Let him in.”
Old Daoist Jingyun, still in his ritual robes, looked as if he’d been pulled from a ceremony by the Mirror Division guards.
Upon seeing Bai Xiuming, he lost all traces of his sage-like demeanor, immediately kneeling and kowtowing. “This humble Daoist Jingyun pays respects to Commander.”
Bai Xiuming glanced at him. “Did Zhao Ming, the Left Deputy Censor, hire you to perform a ritual at his home?”
Jingyun dared not conceal anything. Without further prompting, he spilled everything like beans from a bamboo tube. “Indeed, sir. This humble Daoist was just doing a paid job. Lord Zhao sought me out, saying his principal wife suffered a demonic calamity. He feared her resentment would turn her into a vengeful ghost and wreak havoc in the household. He asked me to seal her soul in the coffin and hinted I should make her soul scatter.”
“When you sealed the coffin, did Lady Lin show signs of becoming a vengeful ghost?”
Jingyun hesitated before saying, “I sensed her resentment was strong, but she hadn’t yet turned into a vengeful ghost.”
“If she became one, could she escape the coffin?”
“Absolutely impossible,” Jingyun said firmly. “The coffin nails I crafted are a technique passed down through my sect for generations, capable of restraining any vengeful ghost below the level of a ghost general. In centuries, it’s never failed. Even if Lady Lin became a vengeful ghost, she couldn’t break free.”
“By your account, she should still be in the coffin, but her soul is now missing.”
“How is that possible?”
Jingyun’s baffled expression didn’t seem feigned.
For failing to provide a satisfactory answer, and for using Daoist arts to aid wrongdoing, Old Daoist Jingyun was sent to the Mirror Division’s prison for reflection.
Bai Xiuming reviewed the freshly compiled case file on the Zhao family bloodbath. The case was nearly closed, save for the true culprit, the vengeful ghost Lady Lin, who had vanished without a trace.
He closed the file, tossed it aside, and picked up a stack of reports, casually asking Feng Yang, “Where do you think Lady Lin went?”
Feng Yang had considered several possibilities. The most logical was that her soul had been captured or sealed by someone else. But their team had tried to detain her soul beside her corpse, and if that had happened, they would have sensed it.
That left two possibilities: her soul had been scattered, or she had descended to the underworld.
“I think perhaps someone discovered Lady Lin’s evildoing and scattered her soul,” Feng Yang said.
He didn’t suggest the latter because vengeful ghosts couldn’t enter the underworld on their own. Sending one there required a lengthy process of exorcism by highly skilled monks or Daoists, which was no simple task.
Bai Xiuming flipped through the report page by page, neither confirming nor denying Feng Yang’s guess.
The report was from spies monitoring Ji Chan, written like a ledger with brief entries and much blank space.
In the past ten days, only two pages were fully written. One recorded her meeting with Sun Mama, who served Lady Lin. Sun Mama overheard the cause of Lady Lin’s death and told Ji Chan, but Ji Chan reacted coldly.
The second page detailed Ji Chan’s purchases at the West Market’s Hunter Shop the day after learning the truth about Lady Lin’s death.
Spending a hefty sum on seemingly useless items, did she truly feel nothing about Lady Lin’s death?
The following pages were nearly identical: Ji Chan used the three materials to make incense at home, lighting it every night at the zǐ hour (11 PM to 1 AM) and stopping at the fifth watch.
Bai Xiuming searched his memory, certain he had never seen or heard of such a ritual.
What was she doing? Was Lady Lin’s disappearance connected to her?
At that moment, Jiang Kai’s voice came from outside. “Sir, someone from the Ministry of Justice is here to see you.”
Bai Xiuming looked up, and Feng Yang, understanding, opened the door.
“Who is it?”
“Yan Liru, Left Vice Minister of Justice.”
Bai Xiuming stood, adjusted his sleeves, and strode out, with Feng Yang and Jiang Kai flanking him.
Outside the Mirror Division’s office, Yan Liru, a man past his prime yet still upright in his purple official robes, stood sternly. The Ministry of Justice clerks behind him glared murderously at the Mirror Division guards, who seemed oblivious.
Without proper announcement, even a third-rank official couldn’t enter the Mirror Division’s yamen.
When Bai Xiuming approached at a leisurely pace, Yan Liru shifted his gaze to him.
Their eyes met, and Bai Xiuming spoke first. “What brings Vice Minister Yan to my Mirror Division?”
“I heard my Ministry’s Assistant Minister Xue Mingtang was brought here by Lord Bai. I hope Lord Bai can provide an explanation.”
“Xue Mingtang tampered with evidence at the scene, obstructing the investigation. Is that reason enough?”
“If Xue Mingtang erred, the Ministry of Justice should handle his punishment. It’s not the Mirror Division’s place to intervene,” Yan Liru said firmly, unyielding.
Bai Xiuming said meaningfully, “Vice Minister Yan seems quite concerned about this subordinate.”
“I treat all my subordinates equally. I ask Lord Bai to release Xue Mingtang immediately, or I’ll have no choice but to submit a formal complaint against you.”
After a brief standoff, Bai Xiuming finally said, “Bring Xue Mingtang out.”
Joy flashed in the eyes of the Ministry clerks behind Yan Liru, but when they saw Xue Mingtang being dragged out, their joy turned to anger.
Yan Liru glanced at Xue Mingtang, noting only superficial injuries, and looked no further.
“I’ve disturbed you today. Farewell,” he said, turning to leave with his entourage.
Some of the clerks, long loyal to Xue Mingtang, were furious seeing their superior so injured after a trip to the Mirror Division. One couldn’t help but speak. “Lord Yan, the Mirror Division must have tortured our lord. They—”
“Silence,” Yan Liru said, his cold gaze silencing them.
Once they were gone, Jiang Kai said, “As you predicted, sir, the Ministry came for him. I didn’t expect it to be Lord Yan. I heard Xue Mingtang is a student of the Right Vice Minister of Justice.”
Bai Xiuming squinted at Yan Liru’s retreating figure. “What did he say?”
Jiang Kai said regretfully, “Xue Mingtang’s tight-lipped. He said nothing, and we found no snow needle snake on him.”
“No matter.” Compared to a pawn like Xue Mingtang, Bai Xiuming was more curious about who was behind him.
Stealing from the Great Xia’s forbidden vault required someone with great skill and high position.
Could Yan Liru, with his impeccable reputation, be one of them?
Interrupted by the Ministry’s visit, Bai Xiuming left the office at the yǒu hour (5 PM to 7 PM).
After a busy day, his two subordinates looked at him expectantly, so he took them to a restaurant for dinner.
With the boss treating, Jiang Kai ordered without restraint, and soon the table was laden with dishes.
With Bai Xiuming’s current cultivation, he no longer needed food for energy, so he ate sparingly.
Jiang Kai and Feng Yang polished off the table in no time.
As the three left the restaurant, the sky had darkened, and the streets grew quieter.
“Sir, where are we going?” Jiang Kai asked, following Bai Xiuming without knowing their destination.
“Changping Lane.”
Jiang Kai scratched his head. Why did that sound familiar?
The three walked briskly, reaching Ji Chan’s doorstep before the xū hour (7 PM to 9 PM).
Upon Bai Xiuming’s arrival, a Mirror Division spy emerged from the shadows to report. “Sir, Ji Chan hasn’t left her house today. She went upstairs this morning and hasn’t come down.”
Bai Xiuming nodded, and the spy melted back into the shadows.
“Knock on the door.”
At Bai Xiuming’s command, Jiang Kai stepped forward and rapped on the door. His large hands struck twice, making the entire door shake.
Yet the house remained silent, with no light visible from the second floor.
“Sir, shall I break the door down?” For Jiang Kai, opening it with a single palm was the easiest way.
Bai Xiuming pushed him aside, pressed his palm against the door, and it opened.
The latch was long gone, leaving only a layer of sawdust on the ground.
The house was dark, but the lack of light didn’t hinder cultivators from seeing everything clearly.
On the only table stood a bowl filled with rice mixed with incense ash, likely Ji Chan’s makeshift “incense burner.”
Whether for honoring ancestors or spirits, it was far too crude.
Bai Xiuming left his two subordinates on the first floor and climbed to the second.
Achan was feverish again, drifting in a haze as if in a dream.
She dreamed of her time in the mountains.
Back then, her body was strong, never falling ill, though she often got beaten.
Due to her grandmother’s coldness, her clan disliked her and her sister, constantly ostracizing them.
She was fine, a born eight-tailed fox. Even if her grandmother didn’t acknowledge her, the clan feared her to some extent. But her sister, with only one tail, sometimes couldn’t even transform.
In a clan of foxes, a human form was always excluded.
They not only bullied her sister but wanted her dead.
To protect her sister, Achan was often injured. Each time, her sister would cry endlessly, running through the mountains to find herbs for her.
Lying in the cave, watching the sunlight outside, Achan always hoped their parents might come to take them away, but they never did.
Later, her sister vanished. When injured, no one cried at her side or cared if she lived or died, just like now.
Achan lay in bed, her breaths scalding. This illness was particularly severe, leaving her too weak to rise, let alone seek a doctor.
She was a little afraid. Would she die like this, her body undiscovered for days?
It sounded somewhat bleak.
At that moment, something brushed her cheek.
Achan opened her eyes. The room was pitch black. By moonlight, she saw only a dark shadow. “Who’s there?”
Her voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.
Bai Xiuming leaned down slowly. “It’s me.”
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