Chapter Nineteen: The Murder Case

“If I put down this final stroke, your esteemed father’s last breath of life will be severed for good. Have you made up your mind, young master?”

Within the secluded quarters of the Qian household, in Qian Yuhai’s chamber, Qi Xiu stood poised with his brush before the jade Bodhisattva. The statue, sealed by more than a hundred “Seal” characters etched into its surface, had become almost wholly petrified—only the hand resting atop Old Master Qian’s head retained its jade-like luster.

Gazing at his father, whose life was hanging by the thinnest thread, Qian Yuhai knelt and bowed his head deeply to the ground before his ailing parent.

“Your son is incompetent, unable to cure your illness and instead subjecting you to such torment. Please be at ease, Father—when you depart, I vow to exhaust every effort and devote myself to safeguarding our family’s legacy.”

His forehead pressed against the ground, Qian Yuhai’s shoulders trembled slightly. The grief he fought to contain welled up in his eyes as tears.

Qi Xiu watched in silence, a faint sigh stirring in his heart. He was about to inscribe the final “Seal” character to completely suppress the eerie jade Bodhisattva, when he noticed an almost imperceptible smile at the corners of Old Master Qian’s mouth—a glimmer of relief and comfort.

Qi Xiu was subtly moved. For the one condemned to this existence, the so-called life extension offered by the statue was little more than an ordeal.

He finished the last stroke. The “Seal” characters embedded in the jade Bodhisattva glimmered into view, golden ripples radiating with solemn majesty. In the unseen, the hundred characters linked together, forming golden chains that bound the statue immovably.

“What is this…”

As Qi Xiu stared at the golden chains conjured by the “Seal” characters, his mind trembled with the edge of revelation. If only he could seize this enlightenment, perhaps he might comprehend a deeper mystery of the “Seal” symbol.

Yet the insight, sudden as it was, remained elusive—like a thin barrier he could not pierce. No matter how he focused, the revelation would not fully surface, gradually fading away and leaving him with a sense of loss, as if a great opportunity had just slipped past.

Was it his lack of mastery in calligraphy that kept him from breaking through? Qi Xiu’s eyes flickered as he pondered. His calligraphy had only recently advanced to the second level, with proficiency barely at one percent. The slow progress was not from idleness, but rather a stagnation following his breakthrough. The gains from practice had become meager, and unless he found another method, it would take at least half a year at this rate to advance further.

Moreover, each improvement in calligraphy brought a leap in the power of innate cloud script, and with it, the consumption soared. Using a level-two “Martial” character even once would exhaust him, and as for level-three cloud script, he did not dare to imagine it.

Calligraphy must be honed, but martial arts and other skills could not be neglected either. In troubled times, only a well-rounded fighter could ensure his own safety.

As Qi Xiu reflected on his new training regimen, Qian Yuhai quietly lifted his father’s body and dressed him for burial with his own hands.

“When will you hold the funeral for your father, young master?” Qi Xiu, having finished his part, folded his sleeves and stood aside.

“This is no small matter. I will send urgent messages to Yuchuan and Yuze, asking them to return and discuss our father’s affairs. You have labored much these days, Master Qi. Please accept this small token of thanks.”

A stack of banknotes was pressed into Qi Xiu’s hand. He rubbed them between his fingers, his eyes narrowing briefly—ten thousand taels! Truly, the family lives up to its name.

“I would have done this without your request; we have both helped each other.” Tucking away the banknotes, Qi Xiu turned to leave, but paused at the door and looked back.

“You should see a physician about your own illness. Concealing it is not the act of a wise man.”

At Qi Xiu’s advice, Qian Yuhai smiled slightly, cupping his hands in gratitude. “Thank you for your concern, Master Qi. I understand.”

Vaulting over the wall of the Qian estate from a secluded corner, Qi Xiu found a hidden spot and took out a mask. As he donned it, the refined scholar vanished—replaced by a weathered farmer with sallow skin and sun-darkened cheeks, a man clearly used to toiling in the fields.

The Qian family matter was settled, at least for now. Even if Yuchuan and Yuze returned, it would take some time before their suspicions reached him. And with money no longer an issue, it was time to find a proper place to settle down.

With ten thousand taels in his pocket, Qi Xiu felt for the first time what it meant to be truly wealthy. He made his way to a broker’s office in the southern market, where the crowded hall was packed with noisy patrons, louder even than a marketplace.

“Brother, may I ask what’s going on here?” Qi Xiu inquired of a vendor in his forties.

“What else? Renting rooms.”

“Renting?” Qi Xiu was puzzled, seeing at least a hundred people crammed inside. “So many people, all to rent rooms?”

“You haven’t heard? Nine murders happened in the western market just yesterday, all over the district. Those who lived there are either staying with relatives or returning to their hometowns. The ones who don’t want to leave and have some spare cash are all out here renting rooms. Hey, it’s my turn!”

With a hurried explanation, the vendor squeezed into the crowd, leaving Qi Xiu frowning. Murders…

At sunset, the sky ablaze with evening colors, Qi Xiu carried two large bundles of daily necessities to his new home—a secluded courtyard in the eastern market, acquired at four times the usual price, two taels a month with a three-month deposit.

The residence was three times larger than his previous lodging, surrounded by high walls, with a tranquil courtyard and a flower bed set in one corner. Passing through the courtyard into the main hall, he noted guest rooms and inner chambers to either side.

Once his belongings were arranged, Qi Xiu sat in the main hall, his expression calm with a trace of contemplation. After a month of peace, murders had begun anew in the city. With the jade Bodhisattva sealed, who was behind the killings? Qian Yuhai? Qian Yuze? With the old master dead, they had no reason to act. Or was it someone else entirely?

A series of questions circled through his mind.

“Never mind. The authorities will handle the murders. I should mind my own business and live my own life.”

Unable to untangle the confusion, Qi Xiu decided to let it go. He was, after all, just a scholar with some modest abilities. Righteousness and demon-slaying were not his responsibilities.

No longer troubled, he felt much lighter. Humming a tune, he headed to the kitchen to busy himself. During his recent seclusion in Lu Village, he’d often helped Sister Dongmei, and his culinary skills had reached thirty-seven percent proficiency. He was now capable of preparing a few simple dishes.

After dinner, he boiled water to soak his feet, practiced calligraphy for a while, and, pleased with his new home, went to bed early for once.

Night fell, the moon bright and high. As the lamps of Baoxian County gradually went out, silence settled over the town.

Soft, almost imperceptible footsteps sounded. A nimble shadow swept across rooftops, slipping into courtyards from the peak of each roof. Stealthily entering a room, in less than half a minute there was a muffled groan. A window was quietly lifted from within, and the figure leaped out with ease.

Weighing the extra bundle now at his waist, the shadow let out a low chuckle before vaulting over the wall toward another house.

One after another, the shadow crept through homes, the bundle at his waist growing ever heavier, until he reached Qi Xiu’s newly rented abode.

A thin wire slid the bolt open without a sound, allowing the intruder to slip inside. Glancing around, the shadow entered the inner room and approached the sleeping Qi Xiu.

Peering closer in the darkness, he shook his head—perhaps the light was too dim to see clearly. From his arms he drew a portrait scroll, and with a flicker of fire from his tinder, cast a faint glow.

He carefully compared the scroll with the figure on the bed, nodded, and turned to look at Qi Xiu.

At that moment, a pair of calm, cold eyes gazed up at him from the bed.