Chapter 22#

Madness#

At Qingdu Mountain, the main hall.

Feng Qianqiu reluctantly moved his gaze away from the corpse at the foot of the steps, pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed—three months in seclusion, and upon emerging, instead of coming to see him, his son had quietly slipped down the mountain and returned with a corpse. Feng Qianqiu truly had no idea what to do with his son.

…But how could Zhuo Yu have joined in this nonsense?

Feng Xianyu nervously scratched his brow. Beside him stood nearly all the elders of Qingdu Mountain.

“Impossible!” Elder Xu interrupted after hearing Feng Xianyu’s explanation. “I know those two disciples, Xiang Wan and Meng Zi’an—they’re not irredeemable villains. How could they kill someone in broad daylight? There must be some misunderstanding! They had no grudge, no reason at all.”

“That’s right!”

“I’ve seen them too. And come to think of it, this is the first time I’ve seen them skip class!”

“Of course, that’s what I think too!” Feng Xianyu said loudly. “But after all, death in full view of everyone, even the city lord’s people arrived—there’s no denying it. I carefully questioned the witnesses. They said they didn’t see blood, but the collision was real and solid. Xiang Wan also admitted to accidentally bumping into him; contact was unavoidable. But in my mind, this death is indeed strange.”

Feng Qianqiu tapped his forehead, thought for a moment, then asked, “Who was this person?”

“A scholar,” Feng Xianyu replied. “His parents died when he was very young, raised by his grandmother. When she passed away in old age, he lived alone, never married.”

As he finished, Feng Xianyu was about to bend down, but unexpectedly Zhuo Yu moved first, condescendingly lifting the burial cloth. The corpse’s full appearance was revealed: a young, handsome scholar, at most twenty-three or twenty-four. Though somewhat thin, there was no sign of illness.

Feng Qianqiu glanced coldly a few times and said, “What do you find strange?”

“As you can see, the scholar didn’t look like someone who’d been ill for long. I asked his neighbors, and they said he wasn’t sick, had good stamina, and usually did some labor to earn money.” Feng Xianyu withdrew his gaze, which had been fixed on Zhuo Yu, and continued, “So young, not ill, dropping dead on the street in broad daylight—it’s just not plausible. So I did a little probing.”

Elder Xu asked, “And?”

Before Feng Xianyu could answer, Zhuo Yu took the initiative to lift the corpse’s outer robe, revealing the scholar’s frail, pale chest. The spot over his heart was a mass of purple-black! Blood vessels spread like a spiderweb, layer upon layer, piled precariously. From a distance, the heart area bulged abnormally, like an oversized purple grape.

The crowd was stunned, exclaiming in shock.

An elder cried out, “What is this?!”

Feng Xianyu looked up and said, “Now, does this remind anyone of anything?”

Feng Qianqiu remained silent, then suddenly flicked his finger. A curved blade flew out from his side, casting a rainbow in the hall—his Feathered Blade.

In his youth, Feng Qianqiu had studied at Shangyang Sect, a proper ancient blade sect. After completing his studies, he betrayed his master and established his own sect on Qingdu Mountain. He practiced blades, his son practiced bows, his disciple practiced swords, and Qingdu Mountain had practitioners of all kinds. When he was young, Feng Xianyu once said that Qingdu Mountain should be renamed “Mountain of a Hundred Arts”—naturally earning him a beating from Feng Qianqiu.

The Feathered Blade hovered directly above the scholar’s corpse. The “purple grape” trembled slightly, and then a sinister dark aura seeped out. Everyone’s faces changed: “Demon aura!”

Zhuo Yu coldly uttered three words: “Xuanji Mountain.”

Elder Xu slapped his forehead: Right! Xuanji Mountain had mentioned a farmer who had cried out about heart pain and then dropped dead.

He examined the scholar’s corpse and finally realized: What if that farmer had died the same way? Such a bizarre death, and with demon aura! Thinking of this, Elder Xu felt a chill of fear. If the scholar hadn’t run into Xiang Wan and the others, ordinary people would have just assumed it was a sudden death, closed the case without understanding, and no one would have known.

“Sect leader, I’ll investigate the recent number of sudden deaths.” An elder stepped forward, cupping his hands.

Feng Qianqiu’s expression wasn’t good either, but he nodded. The elder accepted the order and withdrew. In no time, countless talismans flew out from Qingdu Mountain like a flock of birds, rustling through the air. Another elder asked, “Should we send word to Xuanji Mountain?”

“Wait until the investigation results come back,” Feng Qianqiu said. “The body will be temporarily kept on the mountain.”

Everyone acknowledged. Elder Xu remembered something and asked Feng Xianyu, “What about those two kids?”

Feng Xianyu was staring at Zhuo Yu’s wrist. Hearing this, he turned back, winked slyly, and said matter-of-factly, “Naturally, they’re being held at the city lord’s residence.”

Everyone: “???”

Feng Xianyu tilted his head innocently. “Is there something wrong?”

Elder Xu said, “They didn’t kill him. Why hold them at the city lord’s?”

“As I said, it was in full view of everyone.” Feng Xianyu shrugged helplessly. “How could I bring the ‘suspects’ back directly in front of the townspeople? That would give them something to talk about. Besides, mortals can’t do much to two cultivators. It’s just a bit of detention. Otherwise, how could I have brought the corpse back?”

Elder Xu was convinced and praised, “They deserve a bit of hardship, daring to skip class! When they come back, they’ll be confined anyway!”

Feng Xianyu gave a perfunctory smile, but his gaze involuntarily shifted back to Zhuo Yu’s wrist.

At that time, there were too many onlookers. To avoid causing a commotion, they had to follow the city guards to the city lord’s residence. The city lord came out to meet them personally and even served hot tea. Xiang Wan and the others had no mind for tea, but Feng Xianyu savored a few sips, found it bland, and set it aside. He told the city lord that he would take the scholar’s corpse back to the mountain for the sect leader and elders to examine and determine the cause of death. In exchange, Xiang Wan and the others would be held there.

It was a fair deal. The city lord, troubled over how to resolve the situation, agreed immediately.

Xiang Wan and Meng Zi’an had been looking at them with tearful eyes. Hearing this, they froze, staring in disbelief. Meng Zi’an sniffled constantly, whining, “I really didn’t kill anyone…”

“Even if I believe you, will the townspeople?” Feng Xianyu said with a half-smile.

Xiang Wan: “Boo hoo hoo.”

“It’s confinement either way, here or back at the mountain—pretty much the same.” Feng Xianyu said ruthlessly. “Serves you right for skipping class!”

Just then, Zhuo Yu suddenly stepped forward. Ever since they’d left that street corner, he hadn’t said a word, only following Feng Xianyu like a shadow. Now, his sudden movement made Feng Xianyu think he was going to plead for the two. But instead, he stretched out his hand toward Xiang and Meng, showing no mercy:

“The spirit pouch.”

Xiang Wan: “…”

Meng Zi’an: “…”

Feng Xianyu’s smile froze on his face: “…”

A thousand thoughts flashed through his mind. Feng Xianyu jolted, nearly jumping on the spot. Xiang Wan and Meng Zi’an couldn’t even cry anymore—being wrongfully accused was something they could argue about, but what about the books in their spirit pouches? Those were undeniable evidence!

Feng Xianyu was uneasy. Did Zhuo Yu know what was in those pouches?

The thought of… no, he absolutely could not imagine Zhuo Yu flipping through those romantic tales!

Zhuo Yu only said those three words and then calmly looked at the two. The room was dim, but his eyes were like cold stars. Xiang Wan and Meng Zi’an felt a chill like blades flying toward them. In just a few breaths, they completely crumbled, their faces crumpling in defeat. Trembling, they obediently bowed their heads and held out their spirit pouches, like traitorous ministers in ancient tales opening the city gates to the enemy.

Feng Xianyu nearly ground his teeth to dust, screaming in his heart: How could these two have no spine, surrendering without a fight!

Two identical spirit pouches were presented before Zhuo Yu. Only then did he seem satisfied, withdrawing his oppressive aura. He even avoided the pouch without books, taking only Meng Zi’an’s.

“Hold on!” Just as the evidence was about to fall into the sword cultivator’s hands, Feng Xianyu grabbed Zhuo Yu’s wrist.

Unexpectedly, Zhuo Yu didn’t resist at all. His gaze lightly swept over Feng Xianyu’s hand. Feng Xianyu didn’t notice his expression and forced a smile: “Senior brother, is this really necessary? As a rule, we shouldn’t be searching personal belongings.”

Zhuo Yu said softly, “Is that so?”

“Yes!” Feng Xianyu said firmly. Seeing that Zhuo Yu seemed about to pull his hand away, he quickly tightened his grip, pressing down hard on Zhuo Yu’s wrist—even though the other’s hand seemed a full size larger.

But Zhuo Yu said, “But I see they seem quite willing, don’t they?”

Feng Xianyu immediately turned his head to glare at Xiang Wan and Meng Zi’an.

But Xiang Wan was already trembling, completely broken: “Senior brother is right. We’re very willing. Extremely willing.”

Meng Zi’an, shaking and on the verge of tears, added, “Junior brother, this is our choice. Don’t blame senior brother. Boo hoo.”

Feng Xianyu: “…”

Hopeless.

Truly.

Feng Xianyu turned back in frustration, only to find Zhuo Yu’s eyes fixed on him, unmoving. He realized then that Zhuo Yu hadn’t been paying attention to Xiang and Meng’s reaction at all—he was just messing with Feng Xianyu. So Feng Xianyu let go resentfully.

Watching that pile of books vanish into Zhuo Yu’s sleeve, Feng Xianyu spent the entire journey observing whether Zhuo Yu would try to look through them.

Fortunately, Zhuo Yu seemed to forget about them later. But the matter still hung over Feng Xianyu’s heart.

The scholar’s sudden death awaited investigation results. Feng Qianqiu dismissed the elders. Only when everyone had left did he ask the two about their seclusion. Feng Xianyu didn’t mention his own anomaly or Zhuo Yu’s qi deviation. He only said everything was fine. Then he deliberately shot Zhuo Yu a look, indicating that he still owed him a favor.

But Zhuo Yu stood like a silent snowman, giving no response. He reported everything in proper form and then took his leave.

Seeing him about to leave, Feng Xianyu immediately jumped out of Feng Qianqiu’s arms and hurried after him.

“Yu’er, what madness has gotten into you now?” Feng Qianqiu asked, baffled, shouting at his back.

Feng Xianyu rushed to the threshold, pausing only to wave at his father. “Nothing major, I’ll tell you later, Dad.”

His radiant expression outshone even the rainbow from the Feathered Blade. His red-clad figure was incredibly nimble, disappearing in a few steps. Only then did Feng Qianqiu withdraw his gaze, melancholy in the twilight. He lowered his eyes, sadly stroking the hilt of his blade. The Feathered Blade hummed softly.