The bed was large, its drapes hanging low to the ground. Though dim and cramped underneath, there was just enough space.
As he crawled toward the farthest corner, his foot suddenly hit something soft. Shocked, he froze—there was someone else hiding under the bed!
Before he could cry out, a hand reached out from the darkness and clamped over his mouth with unerring precision.
He trembled, his heart racing, and instinctively tried to wrench himself free.
Though the hand’s placement was uncanny, it seemed to lack strength. With a forceful twist, he broke free.
To his astonishment, of all the scenarios he had imagined, he had never expected to find someone else under the bed. Just as he turned to see who it was, two cold fingers swiftly pressed against the vital acupoint at the nape of his neck. The fingers froze in place, poised to strike but holding back.
A low voice whispered, “Quiet. Don’t make a sound.”
No sooner had the voice faded than the door to the room was kicked open with a loud “bang.” Several pairs of boots stomped inside, their wearers rummaging around as if searching for something.
Two blades probed under the bed, but the bed’s size worked to their advantage, and the swords missed them entirely.
A soldier’s voice said, “It’s raining outside, but there aren’t any footprints in here. Doesn’t look like anyone came in. No need to keep searching.”
With that, the sound of footsteps receded, and the group left the room.
The young man in the yellow robe couldn’t help feeling smug. His lightfoot technique, which left no trace even on snow, had fooled the soldiers with ease. But his pride was short-lived; the cold fingers still resting on the back of his neck reminded him that he wasn’t in control of the situation.
After a long silence, the courtyard finally grew quiet. It seemed as if no one in the inn dared to breathe. Then, the sound of footsteps approached, boots splashing through puddles with deliberate, measured force, exuding an air of authority.
After a moment, a gruff, slightly raspy voice asked slowly, “Have you found any clues about that person?”
Under the bed in the side room, the young man in the yellow robe couldn’t suppress a shiver at the sound of the voice.
Someone replied respectfully, “My lord, one of the inn’s servants claims to have recognized the person in the drawing. However, despite thoroughly searching the premises, we’ve found no trace of them. It’s possible the servant was mistaken, or that the individual fled after committing the murders.”
The first voice fell silent for a long time, as though pondering, before speaking again. “In my opinion, the people from Xing Yun Manor weren’t killed by that person.”
Another voice asked, “Why does my lord think so?”
The first replied, “They had no prior enmity with Xing Yun Manor. Why would they kill them without cause? In their current situation, their priority would be to cover their tracks and escape quickly—not provoke new enemies. Moreover, didn’t you notice that the deceased all bore knife wounds, not sword wounds? And the wounds were tinged blue, likely inflicted by Tang Sect’s poisoned blades.”
The second voice asked, “But what would Tang Sect be doing here?”
The first replied slowly, “Tang Sect rarely takes action unless provoked. The Xiang Yang Prince’s Mansion holds significant influence, and Tang Sect has members even in the prestigious Jin Shi Hall. They wouldn’t act against us. What puzzles me most is the short spear that killed Mu Xiu Quan.”
The second voice asked, “But didn’t we already question Innkeeper Cai? No one in the hall at the time saw where the spear came from. It was as if it descended from the heavens like a ghostly apparition.”
The first voice replied, “I suspect the spear because of its peculiar force.”
The second voice inquired further, “What concerns does my lord still have?”
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