Qi Ran’s face was slashed with seven or eight wounds. One cut ran across the bridge of his nose, deep enough to expose bone. Another stretched diagonally from his left eye down to the corner of his mouth, splitting his eyelid and tearing open his upper lip. The rest crisscrossed his face, leaving it a blur of blood and flesh. But the most fatal wound was at his left abdomen, where blood soaked half his robe.
Qi Xun hurried forward to check his pulse, then nodded. “There’s still a pulse. Quickly—take him back to the post station and fetch a physician!”
Liu Yishan was stunned, then frantically ordered the station runners to help. Four men rushed forward, clumsily lifting Qi Ran. The movement tore at his wounds, jolting him awake from unconsciousness. His blood-caked eyes opened, his throat rasping with hoarse sounds.
“He’s awake! Lord Qi is awake!” Wu Han cried out.
Song Huaijin and Qi Xun rushed closer.
Song Huaijin asked urgently, “Lord Qi, who attacked you? Who was it?”
Qi Ran groaned in pain. “It was… Xue…” He managed only two syllables before his breath failed and he fainted again.
Song Huaijin stumbled forward a few steps before realization struck. “Xue? Blood? Xue? Xue Mingli?!”
Wu Han sucked in a sharp breath. “That scholar who once lodged at the post station with them?”
Wu Han remained relatively composed, recalling the man. Beside him, Liu Xie and Yang Fei stared at Qi Ran in shock, never imagining he would be the killer’s next target.
As Qi Ran was carried down the mountain, Yang Fei suddenly exclaimed, “Xue Mingli has returned? The murderer is Xue Mingli? He’s hiding in the post station?!” His gaze turned dark and suspicious, sweeping over the station runners as if each might be the culprit.
At that moment, Qi Xun pulled a sword from the snow. “The weapon has been found!”
Yang Fei turned, and at the sight of the blade, his expression changed instantly.
Qi Xun examined the sword when, suddenly, someone in the crowd cried out in terror: “This… this is the torture of the ‘Waiting Hell’!”
Qi Xun looked toward the voice. It was Li Yang, standing beside Hu Li.
Li Yang’s face was pale with fear, while Hu Li seemed tense but not afraid.
Qi Xun stepped closer with the sword. “What is ‘Waiting Hell’?”
Li Yang’s voice trembled. “It is a hell reserved for those guilty of killing or corrupting the righteous path. In this hell, sinners wear iron claws and strike each other until the flesh is torn from their faces.”
Though Qi Ran’s face was not stripped bare, the sight was horrifying enough. Qi Xun had already wondered why the killer disfigured him—now the reason was clear. She looked around; fear clouded every face, but none betrayed guilt.
Song Huaijin realized the murderer was staging killings with the same grotesque motif. His expression darkened. He ordered Zhu Yun and Wang Su to remain on the mountain while he followed Priran down.
Wang Su and Zhu Yun stayed to investigate the scene and search for Wu Shuang’s remains.
Wang Su scraped at the ground, then approached Qi Xun. “Well?”
Qi Xun showed him the sword. “There’s blood on it—it must be the weapon. When we arrived, it was covered with a thin layer of snow. I suspect the attack happened just before the snowfall ceased.”
Wang Su said, “The snow stopped before dawn, at the hour of Mao.”
“Then it was between mid-Yin and Mao.” Qi Xun examined the spot where Qi Ran had knelt. “He was stabbed in the left abdomen. Other wounds I haven’t checked yet. The killer must have thought him dead when leaving.”
The snow still bore the imprint of Qi Ran’s knees, with the sword mark beside it. Qi Xun lowered her gaze to the weapon again, recalling the glint of a blade she had glimpsed yesterday.
Qi Ran was skilled with the sword. How could he have been subdued so easily? And if the killer returned to the post station at Mao, then appeared with everyone at the west gate shortly after, the timing fits.
Most of the station runners were familiar faces from Lotus Village and Li Family Village. Yet Qi Ran had uttered “Xue.” Was Xue Mingli truly back?
If so, then the villagers were excluded from suspicion. But if that’s the case, does this crime still tie back to the Wu siblings?
Her thoughts tangled. Turning, she realized Yang Fei, Wu Han, and another had vanished. Qi Ran still lived, but his wounds were grave.
Qi Xun searched the snow for traces of the killer, but fresh snowfall had erased nearly all signs.
Zhu Yun returned from scouting. “Besides the main path we took up, there’s another steep trail on the east side. It’s more treacherous but faster. If the killer sought speed, he may have escaped that way.”
Qi Xun examined the sword again. Though she knew little of weaponry, this blade gleamed with a cold brilliance, its scabbard inlaid with a white jade ring—clearly no ordinary piece. Remembering that flash of swordlight she had glimpsed before, she murmured with suspicion: “This sword… it may well belong to Lord Qi.”
“Lord Qi’s sword? Could it be that he chased the killer up the mountain, only to have his weapon seized and turned against him?”
Qi Xun could not make sense of it either. “Lord Song is right. Back then, besides Yu Ming and Xin Yuanxiu, there was another who lodged here—Lord Qi. Otherwise, he would never have recognized Xue Mingli. And the killer used imagery of Buddhist hell to strike him, which means that in his eyes, Lord Qi bore sins as well. Wu Shuang’s remains must still be found. I’ll return to the post station and ask Lord Qi’s attendants if they recognize this sword.”
Zhu Yun scanned the surroundings. “No clear leads. It may be difficult to trace.”
Qi Xun noticed many felled stumps. “Ignore trees older than twelve years. If Wu Shuang’s bones were buried here, it would be in soil easy to dig. Any pine regrown would be less than twelve years old.”
Zhu Yun and Wang Su understood her reasoning.
Qi Xun then descended the mountain with Zhou Wei. As they walked, Zhou Wei asked, “You know some medicine—can Lord Qi survive in that state?”
Qi Xun shook her head. “It’s unlikely. Even if he lives, his career is finished.”
In the Great Zhou court, it was decreed that those maimed or disfigured could not sit for the examinations. Though Qi Ran already held his post securely, gossip would be inevitable—and he himself might never overcome the shame.
They returned to the post station. At the eastern quarters, they found many runners gathered outside. Qi Xun and Zhou Wei hurried to Qi Ran’s chamber. At the doorway, Liu Yishan’s panicked voice spilled out.
“There’s no good physician in the village. Usually, a traveling doctor comes once a month, and people seek him then for medicine. The station has herbs, but no one knows how to use them. What are we to do?”
“Lord Song, if nothing else, send him to Youyang County. It’s a day’s journey.”
“Lord Wu, I fear he won’t last a day. The snowy roads are treacherous—such jolting would hasten death.” Song Huaijin finished, then spotted Qi Xun returning. His eyes lit up. “Qi Xun! You must help! You know medicine—save Lord Qi!”
Qi Xun felt her head swell. “My lord, I studied medicine only for autopsies. Simple wounds I can manage, but Lord Qi’s life is at stake. I truly cannot.”
Liu Yishan, desperate, seized on her anyway. “Miss Qi, we have no other choice. We cannot let him die. Even if you only staunch the bleeding and stabilize him, we can at least arrange to send him on.”
Qi Xun knew there was no alternative and braced herself—when suddenly the sound of wheels approached. She turned instinctively.
Lin Wei was pushing Fu Jue inside.
Fu Jue’s gaze swept past her to Song Huaijin. “I have a physician at hand. Let him treat the man. Shen Lin—”
A refined young attendant stepped forward, bowed to the officials, and went straight to Qi Ran’s bedside. His attendants quickly made way.
No one had expected this, but with no other options, all hope now rested on Shen Lin. He loosened Qi Ran’s robes and applied medicine he had brought. Then he said, “Bring strong liquor, cotton thread, and a sewing needle.”
At once, Qi Ran gasped sharply—the medicine burned so fiercely it roused him from unconsciousness. His blood-soaked eyes opened briefly, dazed, before he fainted again.
Shen Lin frowned. “Fetch five qian of drunken immortal peach seeds, and four qian each of raw pinellia, fragrant angelica root, dong quai, and chuanxiong. I must prepare mafeisan.”
Liu Yishan quickly ordered the runners. “Yes, yes, I recall the station’s storeroom has all these herbs.”
As they went to fetch them, Shen Lin staunched the bleeding. “His facial wounds are severe but not fatal. The true danger is his abdomen—the spleen is injured. I have only thirty percent confidence of saving him. The rest depends on fate.”
Song Huaijin said gravely, “Do all you can.” Then he turned to Fu Jue. “My thanks, heir, for your timely aid.”
Fu Jue’s expression remained unreadable. “How did Lord Qi come to be wounded so gravely?”
Song Huaijin recounted the morning’s events on the mountain. When he finished, he noticed Qi Xun holding the sword. “Where did this blade come from?”
Qi Xun replied, “It was this sword that struck Lord Qi. But I suspect it is his own weapon. I came to ask his attendants.”
Song Huaijin raised his brows. The murder weapon—yet belonging to Qi Ran? He turned to the two tearful attendants by the bed, pointing to the sword. “Is this your master’s?”
They looked and quickly nodded. “Yes, it is his sword. He practiced martial arts for health, though he rarely carried it with him.”
Song Huaijin was stunned. “Then do you know when he left the quarters last night?”
Qi Ran’s life hung in the balance, and his two attendants, shaken and leaderless, dared not conceal the truth. One continued: “Last night, the master left after the hour of Chou. We asked where he was going, and he said he couldn’t sleep and was going to find Lord Wu for a game of chess. We thought nothing of it and went to bed.”
Wu Han’s face changed. “What? To play chess with me? But I never saw Lord Qi last night! My attendants were with me the whole time—you can ask them.”
Song Huaijin found this strange, and Qi Xun too fell into thought.
Qi Ran’s departure was clearly his own decision, and he had taken his sword with him—his purpose was deliberate.
Qi Xun asked the attendants, “Before bed last night, did anyone deliver anything to you?”
“They brought dinner. We ate with the master, but his appetite was poor, so the dishes were soon cleared away, and he retired early.”
Qi Xun recalled Xin Yuanxiu’s odd behavior before his death. “Who received the food box? Was there any note?”
The attendants looked blank. One said, “I did. There was no note.”
Qi Ran would not have gone to the back mountain without reason. How had the killer lured him out? Qi Xun shook her head. Seeing Shen Lin still working to staunch Qi Ran’s bleeding, she turned to Song Huaijin. “My lord, may I speak with you privately?”
They stepped into the corridor. Learning that Qi Ran had visited the Guanyin Temple, Song Huaijin said, “On the way, I wondered what connection he had to this case. Now it seems he must have come to Furong Post Station with Yu Ming and the others back then.” He paused, puzzled. “But if he knew of those events, why did he speak yesterday in a way that sent us searching the back mountain for Wu Shuang’s remains?”
Qi Xun followed his thought and quickly saw a possibility. “Precisely because he knew! That’s why he said it!”
Song Huaijin was baffled.
Qi Xun spoke faster: “He knew why the killer had come, and guessed what the killer sought. So he deliberately guided us to the back mountain to look for the bones. But yesterday morning was a heavy snow—he calculated we couldn’t go, and that night gave the old witnesses time to move the remains.”
“He thought the killer would realize this too, so he used it to draw the killer out. He carried his sword, and I suspect he already had an idea of the killer’s identity. He wanted to confront him first, to end it. One, to prevent revenge; two, to keep the past buried. He risked everything to strike first—but the killer turned the tables.”
Song Huaijin was stunned. “Deliberately luring the killer out? Would Qi Ran truly plot so far?”
Qi Xun said, “When Xin Yuanxiu died, the killer sent a note to summon him. But Qi Ran left last night without any such sign. That means it wasn’t the killer’s move—it was his. I’ve seen him wield a sword. Though he practiced for health, he was confident in his skill. That’s why he took this desperate course. Either the killer’s skill surpassed his, or the killer had already guessed his intent and prepared.”
Song Huaijin was still pondering when Qi Xun asked, “My lord, have you questioned everyone in the station about last night? Qi Ran named Xue Mingli—so the killer cannot be from Li Family Village or Lotus Village. That rules out most.”
Song Huaijin nodded. “I have. Everyone was asleep at midnight, rising only after the hour of Mao. Then all gathered at the west gate, nothing unusual. Those who stayed inside were the same—after dawn, everyone was accounted for, each at their duties.”
Qi Xun frowned. She couldn’t understand it. Aside from Yu Ming’s murder, the other killings had all occurred in the deep night. True, that was when people slept most soundly, but the station housed two or three per room. Coming and going should have woken someone. Surely the killer couldn’t have accomplices to cover for him.
Lost in thought, she suddenly felt eyes on her. She turned quickly, but saw only Fu Jue and Lin Wei watching the rescue inside. A few runners peered curiously from afar. She was still uneasy when the runner sent for medicine returned at a run.
“My lord, we’ve fetched the herbs you ordered. But one is missing—the Drunken Immortal Peach. The drawer is empty—”
Liu Yishan was shocked. “Impossible! These herbs were gathered in autumn. I checked them at the start of winter. No one’s been gravely ill these past two months. How could they vanish?”
The runner was equally baffled. Liu Yishan asked Shen Lin anxiously, “Doctor Shen, what if we have no Drunken Immortal Peach?”
Shen Lin paused at the bedside. “Then he must endure it.”
“Drunken Immortal Peach…” Qi Xun murmured softly. She had never seen it, only knew it was used in mafeisan. Without it, Qi Ran’s wounds would mean unbearable pain.
“Drunken Immortal Peach, also called mandrake.” Fu Jue’s voice cut in.
Qi Xun looked at him. He continued, “Besides its use in mafeisan, its seeds ground to powder and mixed with spices become the soporific incense often used by rogues and wanderers.”
Qi Xun was startled that Fu Jue knew this. But his gaze lingered on her, as if waiting. At first, she was puzzled, then suddenly understood—he wasn’t just explaining. He was reminding her.
A spark flashed in her mind. She turned to Song Huaijin. “My lord, none of the testimonies can be trusted! Someone stole the station’s herbs to fabricate an alibi!”