Yang Yingfang opened his mouth to cry out.
“If you dare to scream, the outcome will be the same,” Yin Huizhi added faintly.
Yang Yingfang shook like a sieve. “You, you have already come out, haven’t you? What more do you want to do to me?”
Xie Ling smiled slightly. “Master Yang, you wouldn’t happen to believe that I, Xie, am some sort of highly reasonable and good person, would you? Why would you think that just because I have come out, everything can be wiped clean?”
Two drops of weak cold sweat slid down from Yang Yingfang’s temples. His eyeballs trembled back and forth as he said hurriedly, “What do you want? The Ouyang family’s secret chamber has already been opened. If there is something you desire, I will immediately withdraw the surrounding guards and let you take whatever you please!”
Xie Ling replied carelessly, “Not interested.”
Yang Yingfang’s bruising fist gripped the edge of the bed tightly, asking with difficulty, “Then what do you want to do?”
“Answer one question of ours truthfully,” Yin Huizhi demanded. “Just how exactly did Ouyang Yi die?”
Yang Yingfang’s face turned from white to black, and then from black to green. Under Yin Huizhi’s cold and pressing gaze, he had no choice but to answer, “Do you two also believe that I killed him? No, no.”
He let out a muffled cough, his tone turning heavy as he continued, “That brat possessed a dark and gloomy mind. In the beginning, Ye-niang and I genuinely wished to regard him as our own biological son. It was only later, when Ye-niang became pregnant with Qiyan, that he actually attempted to harm the unborn Qiyan inside Yeniang’s womb, nearly costing two lives in one body! I did not like him, but I never thought of taking his life either. It was merely that his madness flared up later on, and he kept shouting about wanting to go up to the divine temple. I simply complied with his wishes and sent him up the mountain.”
Yin Huizhi asked, “Then why did you wish to kill us to silence us that day?”
Yang Yingfang gritted his teeth and said, “Under the current circumstances, the outside world entirely believes that Ye-niang and I killed that brat. If you two go out and spread rumors, if you go out and tell everyone that he did not hang himself, then this bucket of dirty water will be poured completely onto the head of our Yang family!”
Yin Huizhi nodded in agreement. “Therefore, whether Ouyang Yi hanged himself or not makes no difference to you. The only matter of importance is that he is dead.”
Yang Yingfang remained silent.
Yin Huizhi continued, “I recall that the Yang family has always retained several guest cultivators. The Immortal Master Feng, Feng Tianbao, who followed behind you that day, is the one among them with the highest level of cultivation. If he performs tasks upon receiving money, he would always find a way if he wished to kill Ouyang Yi.”
Yang Yingfang’s brows knitted tightly together, his eyes widening with rage. “Feng Tianbao? Ha, go and see for yourself if you can actually move him to kill someone with money!”
Yin Huizhi countered, “You have already tried?”
Yang Yingfang kept his lips firmly sealed and offered no reply.
Yin Huizhi knew that his guess had hit the mark. Yang Yingfang had long since requested Feng Tianbao to take action in secret, but Feng Tianbao had declined on the grounds that he did not kill people.
Yin Huizhi asked, “Did Ouyang Yi exhibit any bizarre behavior in the past, or interact with anyone with particular frequency? Which courtyard did he reside in before he went up the mountain, and are the belongings inside still in their original places?”
Yang Yingfang hesitated and muttered without speaking clearly. The blade of Bingpo flashed suddenly, clanging crisply as it rested horizontally against the side of Yang Yingfang’s neck.
Yang Yingfang’s composure collapsed entirely. “I, I do not know! Who would care about the actions of that madman? His courtyard is located right within the vacant courtyard adjacent to the western side courtyard. I locked all of his messy things inside there, and I have not touched a single item belonging to him!”
Yin Huizhi withdrew Bingpo, and Xie Ling stepped forward, pinching Yang Yingfang’s chin to drop a dark red pill straight into the man’s mouth.
Yang Yingfang’s eyes nearly split from their sockets as saliva overflowed from the corners of his mouth. Xie Ling avoided it with quick eyes and fast hands, and a round of earth-shattering coughing immediately resounded within the room.
“What ought to be said, and what ought not to be said, I presume I have no need to instruct you?” Xie Ling spoke softly. “Among the things I have fed to others, no one has ever managed to spit them back out.”
Yang Yingfang’s movements to claw at his throat came to a sudden halt. His eyes, bulging to the point where the blood vessels appeared distended from retching, slowly rose to look at the black-clad Rakshasa who was speaking and smiling pleasantly above his head.
“Yes.”
A rustling commotion traveled in from the outside, appearing as though Yang Yingfang’s voice just now had alerted the servants.
Yin Huizhi exchanged a glance with Xie Ling, and Xie Ling gripped his wrist. Before their departure, Yin Huizhi seemed to ask another question casually.
“By the way, Master Yang, do you happen to know if the Ouyang family had a female servant named Yueniang back then?”
Yang Yingfang’s oxygen-deprived brain had not entirely recovered yet, and he replied numbly, “Yueniang? No, wait, yes. I heard people mention her when I went to the main family residence to pay New Year greetings. Was that not the concubine kept outside whom Ouyang Xu brought back?”
Yin Huizhi’s fist clenched abruptly, the blue veins bursting forth on the back of his hand. Bingpo connected with its master’s consciousness, releasing a piercing ring from within its scabbard.
Yang Yingfang shuddered at the sound, instinctively raising his head only to discover that the figures of those two individuals were no longer present within the room.
He dazed for a short while, suddenly feeling that the youth beside the newly appointed Qianyin Realm Lord just now appeared somewhat familiar. As for where exactly that familiarity lay, he could not say for certain.
Above the pink walls and dark tiles, Yin Huizhi and Xie Ling stood facing the wind.
The cold night breeze slowly pacified the surging anger within Yin Huizhi’s chest. “My apologies.”
If Xie Ling had not pulled him away in a timely manner, he might truly have taken action to kill Yang Yingfang.
Xie Ling remarked, “Even if you had truly killed him, it would not amount to anything. I stopped you merely because I felt that you would regret it.”
Yin Huizhi did not speak.
Xie Ling did not urge him either.
Only after a long while did Yin Huizhi open his mouth, his voice dispersing into the chilling wind. “My mother was not a concubine kept outside. She carried no relations with Ouyang Xu.”
Xie Ling offered a brief grunt of affirmation.
Because of this single sound of agreement, Yin Huizhi’s nose suddenly felt a bit sour, and the explanation he had originally intended to limit to a single sentence found its second line.
“In my youth, I constantly felt that my mother had no choice but to depend on the Ouyang clan in order to raise me. It was only later, after entering the Guanlan Sect and learning more and more, that I began to harbor doubts regarding this matter.”
“On the inner side of my mother’s arm, there is a circular area of hypertrophic scar tissue, situated exactly three inches above the wrist, neither more nor less. She once informed me that it was a burn mark,” Yin Huizhi spoke in a calm tone.
“During the time when I was still unable to remember things clearly, we were wandering and passing through a village on the border of Fucheng, where we came across a dying Ouyang Xu. My mother fed him porridge, saving his life. Both my mother and Ouyang Xu spoke in this manner.”
“However,” Yin Huizhi paused for a moment.
“The insignia of the Xiaoyao Sect consists of willow branches intertwining with the moon. Whenever an inner sect disciple pays respects to a master, they must have this insignia branded exactly three inches above the wrist, which cannot be erased unless the flesh is carved out.”
“Ouyang Xu was a person of the immortal sects. A single bowl of hot porridge does not possess the capacity to bring a dying immortal back to life.”
“More importantly,” Yin Huizhi stated, “a mortal entirely devoid of cultivation cannot give birth to a child with naturally formidable spiritual roots. Before my spiritual roots were damaged, I could well be described as extraordinarily gifted.”
He turned his head, locking sights with Xie Ling’s deep eyes that resembled an ancient well, speaking syllable by syllable. “She was neither a concubine kept outside, nor was she a soft persimmon for others to knead as they pleased.”
“She must have been constrained by Ouyang Xu due to something, which forced her to suffer and endure hardships within the Ouyang residence.”
Xie Ling caught Yin Huizhi’s wrist, taking it into the palm of his hand, his voice devoid of any discernible emotion. “Then let us go and investigate exactly what the cause was.”
The courtyard adjacent to the western side courtyard mentioned by Yang Yingfang was, in reality, a deserted and abandoned house. The conditions were naturally wretched, and with no one residing there for over a year, it emitted a dense odor of decay.
Yin Huizhi pushed the door open and entered, nearly getting plastered by the cobwebs that blew directly toward his face.
The furnishings inside the room were extremely simple, being only slightly better than those of a servant performing chores. There was a set of desks, a bed, a tea table, and a wardrobe placed against the wall, with nothing more besides.
Yin Huizhi rolled up his sleeves, searching and observing place by place, yet unfortunately, there were no useful harvests.
Upon the table rested a stack of old, brittle, yellowed paper covered in dense writing. Yin Huizhi picked it up and flipped through it for a while, discovering that the writing was crooked and wretched to look at. His eyes were nearly blinded before he managed to distinguish the contents within.
“The dragon horse sports a golden mane, with a silver saddle at the head of Wuling.
The autumn frost cuts the jade sword, entering the night in a luminous pearl robe.
The blade destroys the tiger of Mount Fu, the hand catches the python of Taihang.
Thundering and conquering a hundred battles, never willing to bow to the laughter of officialdom.”
Yin Huizhi truly did not know whether he ought to admire Ouyang Yi’s state of mind or not. The Ouyang clan had been decimated, and he himself was living under another person’s roof, yet he actually still possessed the mood to write a panegyric poem about the Ouyang family to console himself.
The first two lines of this poem described the prominence and nobility of the Ouyang family, while the third line depicted the great achievements of the ancestor, Ouyang Che, during his youth.
The final line contained a deep meaning. At first glance, it appeared to speak of the Ouyang clan being unwilling to bow to the powerful and wealthy, but the Ouyang family was situated within the immortal sects, meaning they originally had no need to bow to civil officials among the common people.
The words “laughter of officialdom” sounded identical to “Guanlan and Xiaoyao,” practically implying a hidden reference to the two sects of Guanlan and Xiaoyao, which had entrenched themselves in the Upper Cultivation Realm for hundreds and thousands of years.
Regardless of the state of mind with which Ouyang Yi firmly believed himself to be of imperial lineage, the fact that he was able to write this poem indicated that he had not gone mad at that time.
Why exactly did Ouyang Yi insist on entering the divine temple? If it was merely for the sake of the items inside the divine temple, what time would not suffice for him to go? If he had gone mad, what sort of provocation would cause a perfectly healthy person to lose his sanity?
While Yin Huizhi was pondering, he caught a careless glimpse of the space beneath the bed, which was accumulated with thick dust and paper scraps.
He noted that the space beneath the bed they had rolled under previously could already be considered clean.
Yin Huizhi muttered a sentence in his heart with an expressionless face. Just as he was about to shift his gaze away, he suddenly thought of something, his eyes widening abruptly as he stepped forward and flipped the bedboard up with a forceful motion.
Sweeping away the dust and debris that was half a fingernail thick with a broom, he minutely examined the stone slabs underneath.
He lowered his voice and asserted with certainty, “Something is buried underneath.”
These few stone slabs appeared level and ordinary at first glance, and their level of newness was no different from the surroundings, seeming to present no issues whatsoever. However, the crevices between the bricks were completely stuffed with dust.
Ordinary floors would always have five-composition soil laid down first, followed by an admixture of sticky rice mortar to bind and level it out. After being left for a few days, the mortar within the brick crevices would harden, meaning that even if there were damage later on, it would not go so far as to allow dust to enter deep into the cracks.
Xie Ling folded his arms, showing no intention of stepping forward as he asked in a candy and collected manner, “Is that so?”
Yin Huizhi had no time to explain further. He drew Bingpo directly, inserted it along the crevice between the slabs, and pried hard.
The stone slab fractured into pieces on the spot, revealing the damaged blocks of five-composition soil beneath. Only then did Yin Huizhi remember that using Bingpo to dig the ground in front of its former master appeared somewhat inappropriate.
He wiped Bingpo clean with his sleeve, returned it to its scabbard once more, and then nonchalantly switched to using the handle of the broom to dig up the soil.
Very quickly, the broken earth was excavated layer by layer, revealing the corner of a wooden box. Yin Huizhi hastily accelerated his movements, digging out the entire wooden box.
There was only a small mechanism on the wooden box, which was easily opened, and the contents inside were displayed completely before his eyes. It was actually a cloth letter written in blood.
Upon it was written, “Escape, Cuan cannot be trusted!”
The handwriting on the blood letter was chaotic, appearing as though it had been written under extremely hurried circumstances. There was another word in front of the phrase “cannot be trusted,” but it had been obscured by a patch of blood applied afterward, rendering it completely illegible.
Judging by the cloth letter itself, this was highly likely left behind by Ouyang Xu for Ouyang Yi after he encountered danger. In that case, the word preceding “cannot be trusted” must denote a highly threatening individual. As for Ouyang Yi, whether out of fear or for self-preservation, he had wiped this word away with blood, burying it beneath the bed like an ostrich hiding its head in the sand.
Yin Huizhi thought to himself, Could it be that the extermination of the Ouyang clan back then was not merely because of the Tianye Sect?
Matters appeared increasingly intricate, and the truth became even more baffling. It was as though an omnipresent pair of hands existed in the shadows, disrupting everything and creating the current situation.
The image of the ghost-masked man who had appeared in the underground altar surfaced within his mind once more. Just what kind of role did that person play within all of this?
Xie Ling reached out to take the wooden box, gently groping along the walls of the box with his fingertips for a short while, and the entire bottom of the box suddenly tilted upward.
There was actually another layer beneath the bottom of the wooden box!
The bottom of the box crumbled into fine powder under Xie Ling’s hand, and a jade archer’s ring entered Yin Huizhi’s line of sight.
Yin Huizhi’s body turned slightly cold in an instant.
Because sword cultivators needed to wield a sword, they rarely wore such thick jade archer’s rings on their hands. If they absolutely had to wear one, they mostly wore narrow, flat metal bands.
Those who possessed the habit of wearing a jade archer’s ring on their hands were either cultivators unaccustomed to wielding weapons, or individuals who had left behind a habit from practicing archery over a long period. An archer would wear a jade ring on the hand used to pull the string in order to protect their fingers from being cut by the bowstring.
Xie Ling spoke up unexpectedly, “I recall that senior brother of yours came out of the Ji family of Liyang, did he not?”
Yin Huizhi’s hand pinching the ring tightened abruptly. “What are you trying to say?”
The Ji family of Liyang was one of the four great clans among the four generations and three sects, and the family was renowned for its archery techniques. Ji Huixue was an extremely rare genius of sword cultivation within the clan, who had been sent up to the Guanlan Sect before even reaching ten years of age.
Xie Ling replied, “Nothing, it merely came to mind all of a sudden.”
Yin Huizhi’s train of thought was completely disrupted by this jade archer’s ring. What exactly did this ring, buried amidst the mud and hidden beneath the blood letter, signify? To whom did it ultimately belong?
Furthermore, would all of this carry any connection to Ji Huixue?