Chapter Seventy-One: The Phoenix Does Not Eat Spicy Food

A few of the men looked listless, with only their leader, Cai Xiao, stepping forward.

“Sir, those bodies were all dug up from beneath the garden behind Xue Dafu’s residence. Yesterday, we saw a ghost…”

It turned out that the night before, Cai Xiao and the others heard suspicious sounds. Fearing they might miss a clue, they went to investigate together. As soon as they reached the back garden, a chill wind swept past them. When they regained their senses, they found a woman lying beneath an ancient tree.

The woman was covered in wounds. At first, they intended to carry her out for treatment, but another gust of cold wind sent them tumbling into layer upon layer of illusions.

“Illusions? What did you see?” Qin Shu, already trembling, had taken several steps back. Liu Yuezhi had no choice but to step forward and ask.

“Their lives—the lives of those women.”

At this, many of the men behind Cai Xiao fell silent, for what they witnessed was nothing short of the world’s worst miseries.

Endless torment and bitter suffering—all of it buried underground, transformed into resentment.

“Sir, that Xue Dafu was less than human. Not only did he lend money at usurious rates, ruining countless families, but he also kidnapped virtuous women. Those he fancied, he kept by his side to torment. If they survived, he would sell them to the lowest brothels. The ones he didn’t want, he would reward to his henchmen, who were just as vile…”

Qin Shu, having served as an official elsewhere, had heard of the filth within powerful clans, but never imagined a mere household servant could act so outrageously. It was beyond reason.

“Cai Xiao, take my warrant to the Ministry of Justice and summon several coroners to assist with the investigation.”

“Yes, sir.”

“As for the rest, arrest all of Xue Dafu’s men—leave none behind!”

“Yes, sir!”

Once all the constables had rushed out, Yue An hurried in. “Master, trouble! There’s a commotion out front!”

“What?” Qin Shu leapt from his chair. Being Prefect of Jingzhao was truly a thankless task!

Qin Shu and Liu Bu followed Yue An to the front of the yamen, where a sea of commoners had gathered. Some carried bamboo baskets filled with fresh vegetables, clearly just back from the market. Others brought shoulder poles right to the yamen gates, shouting “Release him!” while doing business.

Seeing Qin Shu and his party emerge, the crowd surged forward, excitement written on every face.

“Sir, Xue Dafu deserves his fate! Release the heir!”

“Yes, release the heir!”

“Let him go! Let him go…”

The crowd’s fervor forced Qin Shu to retreat repeatedly. As he backed away, he promised to thoroughly investigate the truth and return justice to the heir.

Only then did the crowd settle down. As noon approached, many people went home to eat, though quite a few agreed to return in the afternoon.

Qin Shu paced anxiously, wringing his hands. “What do we do? What now? How can we handle this?”

Noticing Liu Bu deep in thought, Qin Shu rushed to grab his arm. “Yuezhi, what are we going to do? I don’t want to be the first Prefect of Great Chen remembered forever for being besieged by angry citizens!”

Liu Yuezhi nodded, indicating he was working on a solution.

“Take your time, Yuezhi. I’m going to check on Coroner Ma.”

“Mm.”

Jiang Lan and Shen Duo, having hit it off at first meeting, leaned against the wooden railing and chatted idly for quite some time.

Suddenly, a green leaf drifted in through the window. Jiang Lan took the opportunity to stifle a yawn.

“The heir must not have slept well last night?”

Jiang Lan nodded. “I’m not used to the bed.”

Shen Duo laughed brightly. Given the shabby conditions here, how could someone raised in such luxury be expected to adapt?

“You should get some rest, Your Grace.”

Jiang Lan nodded, removed his shoes and socks, and lay fully clothed on the bed in the corner.

At a signal from Jiang Lan, Chifeng—who was concealed within the cell—flicked his sleeve, shrouding the room in invisible golden light.

Jiang Lan sat up and asked the eye-catching Chifeng, clad in garish red and green, “Have you completed the tasks I asked of you?”

Chifeng nodded, and with a casual wave, several array disks appeared on the Eight Immortals table.

“How much did Sanmu charge for his help?”

“Was I supposed to pay him?” Chifeng was surprised, but then recalled the scowl of that filthy Taoist when they parted. No wonder he’d felt something was off—he’d thought he’d offended the man’s ancestors.

“Should I deliver the payment now?”

Jiang Lan waved him off. “Never mind. It’s not much, and it won’t starve him. I’ll give it to him next time.”

Chifeng nodded—he had no interest in gold or silver.

A cultivator going hungry over lack of silver—tsk, tsk.

“How did that other matter go? Tell me.”

Jiang Lan settled at the Eight Immortals table and began fiddling with the array disks, while Chifeng, with his long legs, took a seat on a stool by the bed. He waved his hand, summoning Jiang Lan to the table, then happily helped himself to snacks.

“You told me to follow that fellow, and if anyone harbored ill intent, to handle it swiftly, without being seen.”

“Exactly. So, who were they?”

Chifeng took a bite of red bean cake and, finding it tasty, emptied the whole plate into his mouth.

Seeing this, Jiang Lan thought of those poor wandering souls and quickly moved a plate in front of himself.

He explained, “That plate contains Sichuan pepper from Jiannan Circuit. It’s salty and spicy—I doubt you’d like it.”

Chifeng nodded; he hated spicy food. Then he realized something. “How do you know?”

“Wouldn’t a phoenix spew fire after eating spicy food?”

Chifeng looked askance at this absurd mortal notion. Who said phoenixes breathe fire when eating spicy food? Only he did, and that was just him.

With a calm face, Jiang Lan tucked away the plate, which actually held the best icy mooncakes. Whatever they were made of, they tasted cool and smooth, with a hint of orchid.

“I first flew overhead to observe the man you told me to follow—what was his name? Oh, Qin, right?”

Jiang Lan nodded, deftly dismantling three array disks in quick succession.

“He was sitting in his sedan, shaking and sweating, but not doing anything else.”

“But then, chaos broke out on the main street. A group of oddly dressed people closed in on his sedan…”

“Oddly dressed?” Jiang Lan paused and glanced at the flamboyant fellow across from him—now that was an odd outfit.

“That’s not the point—the point is, they were all armed. I could tell they were after this Qin fellow, so I immediately used the knockout powder you gave me, put them all out, and conveniently snatched some of their gear.”

With a flick of his sleeve, a pile of iron weapons clattered to the floor.

Chifeng generously declared, “Mortal, see anything you like? Take it! A gift from me!”

Jiang Lan laughed softly, unmoved by his arrogant bluster.

“Looking for a beating, are you?”

“No, no, take it all, it’s yours.”

Jiang Lan glanced over the heap of cold steel, suddenly noticing something unusual.

“These don’t seem to belong to the same group.”

Chifeng, mouth full of pastries, nodded slowly. “Mm-hmm.” After swallowing, he took a big gulp of tea and said, “Then I realized another group had arrived. They checked the ones I’d knocked out, spoke a language I couldn’t understand, then seemed to discuss among themselves. Next thing I knew, they slit the throats of those I’d drugged, then charged at the sedan.”

“Of course, I couldn’t allow that. They were ruining my work! So I quickly took them down.”

“Hey, mortal, who are these people, anyway? Why do they keep attacking one after another?”

When Jiang Lan heard that the second group had killed the first, he understood these were not from the same faction, though he hadn’t expected Qin Shu’s enemies to be so ruthless.

“Next time you take action, be more careful. If you run into this kind of ‘black eats black’ situation, wake them all up and let them fight it out. Don’t let the second group get an easy win.”

Chifeng nodded emphatically—he’d been annoyed too. If not for the rule against mortals killing, he would’ve finished off that pack of bastards himself.