The mountain wind swept by then, rustling through the sea of trees, producing a rhythmic whoosh, whoosh.
No matter how noisy the world outside became, their mountaintop village remained perpetually tranquil—a stillness so deep it could make one lose their sense of self.
By all rights, it should have been an idyllic place. They were a tribe of semi-divine beings, close to the heavens, with long lifespans and an easy path to enlightenment.
But the situation had taken a dire turn. Their clan leader had passed away nearly twenty years ago. Though he had been reincarnated, he had yet to return.
The restless spirits trapped in the well were unwilling to accept their fate and repeatedly attempted to break free.
“We must find Ya Jin and help him restore the Moonlight Blade. Someone has to go.” Gu Mo’s tone grew firm.
Chi Xue looked up at the words, still blank-faced.
“You’ll go.”
Chi Xue’s jaw dropped. “Master… what are you saying? Me? You want me to find Ya Jin’s reincarnation and help him restore the Moonlight Blade? Are you serious?”
“Today, you’ll leave. I’ve read the water signs—he’s headed for the capital.”
“What’s the capital?”
“It’s where the emperor lives.”
“What’s an emperor?”
“… …”
“All of this, you’ll figure out on your own once you descend the mountain.” Gu Mo was at a loss for words. “I’ll give you a duo lotus. This flower only blooms under the moon, and its buds will point in the direction you need to go. It will lead you to the Moonlight Blade. Finding the Moonlight Blade means finding Ya Jin.”
“Oh.”
“In addition to the flower, you’ll need to take some silver. Without money, you won’t be able to take a single step down the mountain.”
“Oh.”
“Alright, let’s pack now.”
“Oh.”
Gu Mo finally lost his patience. “Can you say anything besides ‘oh’? Oh, oh, oh—are you a dumb goose?”
“What should I say, Master?”
After a long pause, Chi Xue stretched out his neck like an actual goose, looking more foolish than ever.
At the same time, in the capital, Xuan Ye knocked on the door of Yuan Fang’s house.
Her husband had recently been promoted to Vice Minister of Rites, and their household exuded an air of grandeur.
Ban Xia had come up with an idea—not her worst, but certainly not brilliant—claiming they were relatives from Kirin Town: the second cousin of Yuan Fang’s aunt’s nephew’s daughter-in-law. Here to seek family ties.
The servant who opened the door was thoroughly confused by this explanation. After informing the steward, he led the two of them inside.
Though it was still early, Minister Lan was diligent and had already left for the government office. The servant directed them to wait in a side hall while he went to inform Yuan Fang.
“Please wait here,” the servant said. “Madam doesn’t like to rise early. I’ll go pass on the message.”
Xuan Ye nodded and gestured for Ban Xia to wait patiently.
“Do you think he’s arrived yet?” Ban Xia asked during the dull wait.
“Probably not… I don’t feel any resentment in the air.”
Before the words had fully left his lips, a maid’s terrified scream rang out nearby—a long, sharp “Ah!” filled with panic.
Xuan Ye immediately sprang into action, rushing toward the sound.
The inner room’s door was wide open. The maid who had gone to wake Yuan Fang stood trembling, her legs shaking uncontrollably.
Ban Xia arrived moments later and rushed inside. Sure enough, Yuan Fang lay on the bed, fully dressed but rigid and lifeless.
She was dead. Her neck bore a wide, black bruise—broader than Ban Xia’s arm—evidence that she had been strangled.
Ban Xia sighed. As she moved closer, Yuan Fang’s lifeless hand suddenly opened.
A single copper coin rolled out of her palm, spinning across the floor until it stopped at Ban Xia’s feet.
“Still clutching a copper coin even in death…” Ban Xia bent down, picked up the coin, and turned it over in her hands. “There’s nothing special about it.” She handed it to Xuan Ye.
Xuan Ye examined the coin carefully. It appeared perfectly ordinary, so he leaned over to look at Yuan Fang.
Yuan Fang’s expression was unsettling—her face frozen in terror, her lips slightly parted, as though she had been moaning.
“Check her body,” Xuan Ye said, turning to Ban Xia.
Ban Xia stepped forward, pulled aside Yuan Fang’s gauzy robe, and couldn’t help but let out a cold chuckle. “Looks like Minister Hou had a wild night. She’s covered in kiss marks.”
“What are ‘kiss marks’?”
“If I kissed you—very hard, very intensely—the marks left behind are called kiss marks.”
Xuan Ye coughed softly, slightly embarrassed.
The two of them fell silent after that. Yuan Fang’s death was strange, but it was hard to pinpoint exactly what was wrong. With nothing more to go on, they left the room and waited in the side hall for her husband’s return.
It wasn’t long before the master of the house came rushing back, heading straight for the inner room. His hurried footsteps echoed with his anxiety.
Ban Xia and Xuan Ye followed, watching as Minister Hou ran into the room, gathered Yuan Fang’s body in his arms, and broke into sobs.
“How could this happen? She was fine last night, perfectly fine!”
“Did you and your wife sleep in the same room last night?” Xuan Ye asked.
“Yes. She was sleeping soundly this morning, so I didn’t wake her.”
“Your wife died from a condition called ‘night heart death.’ She has been dead for at least two hours, meaning she died right next to you.”
Minister Hou froze at these words, as if waking from a dream. He looked up and asked, “Who are you? Why are you in my house? Are you accusing me of murdering my own wife?”
“I am a spirit collector—I capture malevolent ghosts. I don’t suspect you,” Xuan Ye said gently. “I only want to ask if you noticed anything unusual last night.”
“Nothing at all. I slept soundly; nothing happened!”
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