Chapter 003: Annihilation of the Clan

Yao Qian could never have imagined that the culprit behind the obstruction of his vision—the blood membrane—would ultimately evolve into such a bizarre thing.

The crimson panel hovered just below his eyes, about the size of his palm. He scrutinized it several times, but it remained crude and simple, nothing like the technological displays he'd seen in science fiction films from his original world; instead, it resembled a knockoff game character interface.

"The information on this panel must represent me—or more precisely, the constable skills acquired by my original self," he thought.

His mind was a jumble of thoughts, even entertaining fantasies of becoming unstoppable with this panel, cutting down all who opposed him, reigning supreme above and below. But just then, he was pulled back to reality by a tug, spinning him around as Chen Can's voice rang out.

"Yuanzhen, what are you daydreaming about? Hurry and grab your knife and rope. This case might really be a major one."

"Can he not see this thing in front of my eyes?" Yao Qian wondered, noticing that Chen Can looked directly at him without any sign of noticing the blood-red panel hovering beneath his eyes.

The thought passed in a flash—this was no time to worry about such things. In a rush, he went to the rack, secured a single-handed blade at his waist, slung a rope over his other side, and, fully equipped, followed Chen Can and the other two out of the yamen.

Old Wang led the way. In his current state, no one dared get close, fearing he might lose his temper, so everyone trailed cautiously behind him.

Yao Qian, still puzzled by the strange phenomenon before his eyes, spent the walk experimenting with the panel, but it was as if it were an illusion—unchanging, intangible.

Compared to a game interface or system, Yao Qian was sorely disappointed; it felt more like hallucinatory software, capable only of monitoring or recording his physical state and skills in a straightforward, clinical manner.

Beyond that, it seemed to serve no other purpose.

With these realizations, Yao Qian's earlier excitement vanished, leaving him somewhat deflated.

"So it's nothing but a figment of my imagination. Relying on a golden shortcut was always too much to hope for."

"But, in the end, this software is the only trace left of my former world. I might as well call it ‘Blue Star.’"

As these thoughts ran through his mind, they had already left the city’s east gate. After walking a short distance along the main road, an estate appeared not far to their left. Seeing Old Wang head straight for it, Chen Can and Chen Wu's expressions changed, for they knew this place all too well—it was the estate of Chen Zekuan’s family.

"Could something have happened at my brother’s home?"

"Don’t worry, maybe Old Wang just wants to rest there before heading to the scene—or perhaps Zekuan has returned, and Old Wang wants him to come along."

The three exchanged words of comfort as they followed Old Wang to the estate’s entrance.

The estate was eerily silent. Not a sound of people could be heard, only a few black crows cawing noisily atop the eaves.

The main gate stood ajar, just wide enough for half a person to slip through. As they approached, Yao Qian caught a faint scent of blood in the air.

Chen Can and Chen Wu clearly noticed it too, their faces turning pale.

Chen Wu darted forward, kicking the gate open.

But the scene that greeted them sent chills stabbing into their bones and left their scalps crawling.

Yao Qian’s pupils dilated in shock.

A wave of nausea surged from his stomach, forcing him to retch uncontrollably.

Chen Can and Chen Wu fared no better, especially Chen Wu—who’d rushed in first—now slipping in fright and collapsing to the ground, his face white as paper and eyes glazed.

Tragedy! Utter tragedy!

The carnage before them was beyond anything Yao Qian had ever witnessed. He felt as though plunged into an icy abyss, shivering uncontrollably.

Only Old Wang, impassive as ever, showed no outward sign of discomfort.

Clearly, he’d already known what awaited them, but even he now looked grimmer than ever, his features stiff as he paced into the estate.

After a long spell of dry heaving, Yao Qian still couldn’t vomit, but his stomach roiled mercilessly.

Watching Old Wang disappear inside, Yao Qian glanced at Chen Can and Chen Wu, then forced himself onward.

The moment he stepped through the gate, a heavy stench of blood assaulted his nostrils. Now he understood how someone as fearless as Chen Wu could be so shaken.

The estate was built with raised sides and a central open area. Now, that open ground was littered with corpses.

No—“corpses” could hardly describe the horror.

Severed limbs and chunks of flesh were strewn everywhere; not a single body was intact.

Blood pooled several inches deep, forming small crimson ponds glinting in the sunlight, with mangled limbs and meat soaking in the gore.

Were it not for the presence of arms, legs, and heads, it would have been impossible to tell whether the remains were human or beast.

Suppressing his nausea, dry heaving again and again, Yao Qian dared not look any longer. He rushed along the higher ground at the side into the estate, Chen Can and Chen Wu close behind.

Passing through the front courtyard and entering a corridor, they found more bodies. These, at least, were more or less intact—two maids, two servants, and the rest all members of the Chen family.

“Don’t worry—no matter what, Old Chen’s skills should have been enough to save himself, even if he couldn’t protect the others,” Yao Qian tried to reassure the brothers, though he could hardly believe it himself.

Chen Can and Chen Wu nodded silently, and the three passed the bodies, traversing the corridor to the rear courtyard, where they saw a room with its door ajar. Old Wang stood inside.

A sense of foreboding crept over them as they approached.

Inside were four more bodies—Chen Zekuan’s own family: he himself, his brother and sister-in-law, and their elderly father.

Old Wang's eyes were fixed on the corpse slumped by the bed—their father.

This man had once been Old Wang’s mentor and guide in becoming a constable, and their ties ran deep. It was for his sake that Old Wang had helped Chen Zekuan secure his post as county bailiff.

Yao Qian stepped quietly to Old Wang’s side and whispered, “Uncle Wang, how did Zekuan and his family die?”

Only then did Old Wang turn to look at him—a look laden with unfathomable emotion that made Yao Qian’s heart quail.

After a long pause, Old Wang finally spoke, his voice slow: “It may have been revenge by the Black Mountain Bandits.”

“The Black Mountain Bandits?” Yao Qian repeated incredulously.

“Yes. Wasn’t Chen investigating them? Perhaps they found out, and since he came home on leave, they struck.”

Old Wang’s voice was low, but Yao Qian noticed his fists clenched tight, the words squeezed painfully from his throat.

Yao Qian could not believe it for a moment.

Never mind whether the Black Mountain Bandits had the means to carry out such a massacre—the state of the bodies alone defied all possibility of human agency.

And the four corpses before them bore the same marks: terror and horror etched on their faces, eyes wide in their final moments, as if they had seen a demon.

If the Black Mountain Bandits had done this, it made no sense. Chen Zekuan was a skilled fighter, and his father had seen all manner of hardship and peril—he would never have died in such abject terror before common bandits.

Chen Can and Chen Wu also heard Old Wang’s explanation, their faces filled with disbelief. Chen Wu protested, “Uncle Wang, but they clearly—”

Before he could finish, Old Wang turned, fixing him with a cold, unyielding stare, cutting him off. “I said it was the Black Mountain Bandits. This case is closed.”

He realized he’d spoken too harshly, sighed, and continued, “Enough. You shouldn’t stay here. I’ll send for others to handle the bodies. You should go.”

Chen Wu wanted to argue, but Yao Qian and Chen Can pulled him away. Reluctantly, he turned to leave.

In the corridor, Chen Wu rounded on them. “Why did you stop me? It’s obvious the Black Mountain Bandits didn’t do this—someone else did. Is Uncle Wang too old and timid to investigate? Are you two the same? Wasn’t Old Chen your brother?”

Yao Qian and Chen Can’s faces darkened. Chen Can glared at him. “Don’t you dare say we weren’t brothers to Old Chen! Didn’t you see how they died? No human could have done this. Uncle Wang is trying to protect us, to keep us out of it.”

Yao Qian, now calmer, shared Chen Can’s view and suspected even more—Old Wang must know something, but he wasn’t telling.

As they walked, they passed another corpse in the hallway. Yao Qian glanced down; something about the hair seemed odd.

His expression changed as he knelt, reaching out to touch it. Instantly, his face grew grim.