Chapter Seventy-Two: Shocking Transformation

Although dawn had not yet fully broken, the snow made everything appear clearer than on most days. Che Wuyou moved his stiff, frozen limbs a little, when suddenly a sharp, terrified voice pierced the silence: “Little Sister, you—”

The voice came without warning, abrupt and chilling, as if a person in the midst of a scream had their throat suddenly crushed by a powerful hand. The abruptness of its disappearance sent a shudder down Che Wuyou’s spine.

He froze for an instant, unable to comprehend, then his face changed dramatically. What had happened to Lanzhi? Had something befallen her?

An ominous feeling gripped Che Wuyou. Like a startled beast, he leapt to his feet without hesitation. Guided by the direction of the voice, he dashed madly toward the rear courtyard. “Lanzhi, you must be safe, you must be safe…”

He ran with all the speed he could muster, nearing the place where the voice had arisen. Yet, the closer he drew, the more intense his sense of foreboding became. He was certain—something had happened, and it was something dire.

He rounded a corner, and suddenly a wind laden with snowflakes assailed his face, carrying with it the pungent scent of blood. Che Wuyou’s eyes narrowed, stinging from the metallic tang. Clenching his fists, he beheld a scene awash in red.

On the open snowy ground before him lay two motionless figures. They sprawled in the snow, in pools of blood—white snow, crimson blood, a sight so stark and glaring it hurt to look upon. Staring at the lifeless bodies of a man and a woman, Che Wuyou’s nerves tightened to the breaking point.

His heart pounded violently. Han Feng and Senior Sister Lu had been killed. Who had murdered them, and why? He scanned the surroundings warily, when suddenly, not far away, a figure in turquoise flashed into view.

The turquoise figure was moving swiftly, vanishing around a corner in the next instant. Che Wuyou’s eyes narrowed in recognition; he knew that figure too well. He saw at a glance, “Lanzhi—it’s Lanzhi! What is she doing here…”

He was confused, his gaze falling on Han Feng’s body. Han Feng had died from a sword driven clean through his skull—whoever struck had been ruthless and swift, leaving no trace of struggle.

The woman lying next to Han Feng was Lu Haitang. Her eyes were open, her expression tinged with disbelief. She’d been killed by a sword through the heart, facing her killer, meaning she’d seen the murderer’s face.

“Senior Sister Lu was a formidable fighter. To kill her head-on, leaving her no chance to resist, the assassin must possess extraordinary skill or wield a powerful treasure.”

Che Wuyou pondered, “Could it be Lanzhi, seeking vengeance for me, killed Han Feng in secret, only to be caught by Senior Sister Lu and silenced her? But Senior Sister Lu was always so kind to her—Lanzhi could never have killed her. Not just Senior Sister Lu, even Han Feng, Lanzhi wouldn’t kill him. Could there be someone else?”

His mind was in turmoil. Who had uttered that cry moments before? Judging from the scene, it was likely Lu Haitang. But why would she cry out ‘Little Sister’? Did she see Lanzhi…?

Che Wuyou glanced toward the direction Liu Lanzhi had disappeared. He dared not dwell on it further. “No matter who the real culprit is, I can’t stay here. If I’m found, I’ll never be able to explain myself.”

As he prepared to leave, something caught his eye—a detail that immediately set his nerves on edge.

A white identity jade. Clutched tightly in Han Feng’s hand was Liu Lanzhi’s identity jade. The snow might have concealed it from a casual glance, but Che Wuyou was all too familiar with this piece of jade. He recognized it at once.

This was the jade that proved Liu Lanzhi’s identity, placed in her swaddling clothes when she was abandoned, and the sole keepsake left by her parents. Though Liu Lanzhi always acted indifferent toward her birth parents, she had never parted from this jade.

Why would something she never let out of her sight be here now? There was no time to think. Che Wuyou’s first thought was to eliminate evidence. If anyone saw the jade, Lanzhi would never be able to clear her name, even if she were innocent.

Che Wuyou hurriedly knelt to retrieve the jade from Han Feng’s grasp, but Han Feng’s grip was deathly tight. After several failed attempts, beads of cold sweat broke out on Che Wuyou’s brow. He could no longer afford to be gentle. With a forceful tug, there was a sickening crack as he snapped Han Feng’s fingers to free the jade.

He breathed a sigh of relief upon retrieving it, but then another thought struck him: “Lanzhi has always been careless. If she dropped her jade, might she have left behind other things as well?”

Without delay, Che Wuyou began searching the bodies of Han Feng and Lu Haitang.

“What are you doing… Ah! Murder! Che Wuyou’s killed someone!”

A scream shattered the quiet, echoing across the rear courtyard. Che Wuyou’s face turned ashen. He looked up to see a senior sister, dozens of meters away, her expression a mix of terror and accusation. He felt as though a bucket of icy water had been poured over him—there was no way to explain himself now. He wanted to silence her, to shout, “It wasn’t me! What you saw isn’t the truth!” But would anyone listen?

Her cry brought others running. Soon, Che Wuyou was surrounded by shocked onlookers, none of whom had ever imagined he was capable of such brutality.

After a short while, Yang Jian arrived, his gaze complicated as he looked from the corpses to Che Wuyou. Had he misjudged Che Wuyou? Was he no different from Che Yeming—ruthless, unscrupulous, evil without compunction?

“Tie him up,” Yang Jian ordered coolly. As the officer in charge of discipline, it was his duty.

“It wasn’t me. I didn’t kill them,” Che Wuyou pleaded, looking at Yang Jian, desperate to defend himself.

“You’d best save your explanations for the master. They’ll do you no good with me.”

Before long, Miao Shilin appeared, his face thunderous as he glared at Che Wuyou, now bound to a pillar. “Why? Tell me, why did you do this?”

“I-I didn’t kill anyone,” Che Wuyou replied, meeting Miao Shilin’s gaze with unwavering conviction. “When I arrived, they were already dead.”

“Oh? Still denying it… From the scene, Han Feng was stabbed through the head from behind. Who bore such hatred for him, enough to pierce his skull? Who other than you?” Miao Shilin trembled with anger.

The onlookers found his reasoning persuasive. After all, Che Wuyou had just expressed murderous intent toward Han Feng the previous day, and Han Feng was now dead. The suspicion against him was overwhelming.

“As for Haitang’s death, it must have been a coincidence. She probably saw the killer’s face, so the murderer silenced her as well. Haitang was highly skilled; only two people here could have killed her in an instant—those possessing a lower-grade treasured weapon: Liu Lanzhi and Che Wuyou.” Miao Shilin stared at Che Wuyou, “If it wasn’t you, are you saying it was Lanzhi?”

“It wasn’t me—it wasn’t Lanzhi, either! This is all a coincidence. The real killer might be someone else.” Che Wuyou’s confidence faltered. Indeed, only he and Liu Lanzhi had the power to kill Lu Haitang head-on. If he denied it, did that mean Lanzhi was the culprit?

“Fine. Even if it’s all coincidence and the killer is someone else, what were you doing when you were caught? Why were you furtively searching their bodies? If not to destroy evidence, then for what purpose? Tell me!” Miao Shilin’s face seemed to age before their eyes, his hand shaking as he pointed at Che Wuyou. “Han Feng’s fingers were broken—what was he holding that you worked so hard to take? What are you hiding?”

“So many coincidences. I ordered you to kneel in the front courtyard, yet you appeared in the rear. Why is it that only Han Feng was killed? Who but someone with a lower-grade treasure could have slain Haitang in an instant? You rifled through the corpses—what exactly did you take from Han Feng’s hand? What are you covering up?” Miao Shilin’s tone was weary, tinged with despair.

“I—I… It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me.” Che Wuyou’s voice grew faint, as if speaking only to himself. Recalling all that had happened that morning, he was left dazed and bitter. Could he say he’d rushed to the rear courtyard because he heard someone call for Little Sister? Could he say he saw Liu Lanzhi’s figure, and was trying to protect her? Could he confess that Han Feng had been clutching Liu Lanzhi’s identity jade, and that he’d broken Han Feng’s fingers to retrieve it?