Chapter 004: Extracting the Essence, Coconut Juice

“What’s wrong?”

His unusual reaction immediately caught the attention of Chen San and Chen Wu. Seeing the change in his expression, they hurriedly asked.

Yao Qian’s face grew dark as he stepped aside and said, “See for yourselves.”

He truly had no patience to explain to the Chen brothers right now. Instead, he quickly began examining the other corpses. As expected, each corpse had two holes behind the head, each about the size of a fingernail.

In that instant, Yao Qian felt a cold wind sweep through the corridor, chilling the nape of his neck. It seemed as if the sky itself had grown dim, and he thought he heard a faint whisper drifting around his ears. The sound was elusive, lingering at the edge of perception.

He glanced around uncertainly, but found nothing out of the ordinary. Everything appeared perfectly normal, as if the strange sensation had been nothing but a hallucination.

Just then, the voices of Chen San and Chen Wu, filled with disbelief, rang out beside him.

“How could this happen?”

“There are blood holes behind the head?”

They looked to Yao Qian, who nodded, indicating that the other corpses were the same.

Now, not only Yao Qian but the two brothers as well showed fear on their faces. Who could silently pierce two bloody holes in someone’s skull?

“Perhaps it was done by an expert skilled in hidden weapons,” Yao Qian forced himself to suppress his anxiety and came up with an explanation.

Chen San nodded, evidently uneasy. “It must be a master among the Black Mountain Bandits—it’s their doing.”

At that moment, a loud bang erupted. Flesh and hair splattered everywhere, staining the Chen brothers’ black robes. Fortunately, Yao Qian had stepped back earlier and avoided the mess.

No one paid attention to that now. Both Yao Qian and Chen San’s eyes were fixed on the head of the corpse under Chen Wu’s fist.

With that blow, the servant girl’s once pretty features were utterly ruined. Her eyes had burst from the pressure, leaving two empty sockets, her hair was scattered in clumps as if gnawed by dogs, and her delicate facial features were compressed together like dough.

But Yao Qian had no time to feel disgusted; he was drawn to the inside of the girl’s skull.

The brain cavity was empty, the entire head like a hollow coconut shell. It seemed as if two straws had been inserted through the holes, sucking out the brain matter and everything inside.

His expression became grim, as did the brothers’, who were pale with fright at the sight of the hollowed skull.

He looked at the two brothers and said sternly, “This matter is no longer something we can handle. Even if Old Chen knows in the afterlife, he will not blame us.”

Such a murderer was beyond their ability to apprehend, unless they wished to share a similar fate.

Upon hearing this, Chen San agreed wholeheartedly. Chen Wu, though stubborn, was no fool. He possessed some martial strength, but compared to such a killer, he was nothing.

Chen Wu angrily punched the wall, causing blood to flow, then stormed out of the manor without a backward glance.

Chen San glanced at him. Yao Qian signaled that he was fine, so Chen San immediately went after his brother.

Watching them leave one after another, Yao Qian gazed at the corpses beside him, lost in thought.

He had crossed into this world only half a month ago, and was prepared to live quietly and peacefully. Now, it seemed he had been naïve.

The environment here resembled ancient China, but was far more dangerous by orders of magnitude. He had been blind to the risks before, but now he realized they were countless times greater than he had imagined. To live quietly here might no longer be possible.

He could not help but think of Chen Zekuan. Truth be told, since crossing over, he had only known Chen Zekuan for a few days, and their relationship was not deep, certainly not as close as with the Chen brothers. Sensing how unfathomable and strange this case was, his first instinct was to protect himself and abandon the investigation.

Even if he did uncover the truth, what would it change? At most, it would mean another corpse chopped to pieces or drained to a shell, nothing more.

And then there was the Chen family—a respected official lineage in Pingyang City, a minor noble house with dozens of members, all slaughtered in a single night. Yao Qian could not help but feel a chill of despair.

If such a powerful family could be wiped out overnight, what hope was there for ordinary folk like them?

The deeper he thought, the worse his expression became.

“Why are you still here? I already said, this case was committed by the Black Mountain Bandits—the murderer is one of them!”

Old Wang had appeared behind him, at some point, as if to strengthen his claim, his final words were firm and severe.

Yao Qian knew Old Wang must have knowledge they lacked, but now was not the time for questions. He glanced at Old Wang, who seemed to have regained his usual composure—steady and resolute.

“Understood, Uncle Wang. I’ll head back now.”

Yao Qian answered and, without another look at the corpses, walked out the door, soon disappearing from Old Wang’s sight.

Old Wang had expected Yao Qian to retort or argue, but was surprised when he said nothing. He stepped to where Yao Qian had stood, and immediately saw the gaping skull on the ground—empty within. His face turned grim. After a long time, he sighed and murmured, “Perhaps, it’s time they learned a little more.”

Just as Yao Qian left the manor and reached the main road, he saw a large troop approaching in the distance. At the front was a sedan chair carried by four burly men, followed by a dozen robust attendants.

The sedan barely stopped before the manor when a fat man in a green official robe tumbled out, the scene almost comical, though no one dared laugh. The fat official, too panicked to straighten his attire, shouted to the men behind him, “Quick, quick, go in and clean things up.”

Immediately, the attendants covered their faces with white cloth, grabbed bags and cloths, and swarmed into the manor.

As an arrest officer of the yamen, Yao Qian naturally recognized the highest boss above him—the pig-like fat man was the magistrate of Pingyang City. However, the magistrate had lost all his usual arrogance, scurrying about before the manor like a headless fly, cold sweat pouring down as if praying for divine intervention.

Yao Qian’s own thoughts were in chaos, and he had no patience for the magistrate. He simply headed back toward the city.

Upon returning to the yamen, the Chen brothers were nowhere to be found. Yao Qian did not bother searching for them, instead sitting in a chair to wait. He did not know how much time passed when footsteps sounded outside the hall. He looked up to see Old Wang returning.

“Uncle Wang, the murderer who slaughtered Old Chen’s family isn’t human, is he?”

He had held back the question for a long time, his mind a jumble without a clue. Without realizing, he asked it aloud.

As soon as he spoke, Old Wang’s expression changed, and his own did as well.

He still held a sliver of hope that all this was the work of some martial arts master or hidden weapon expert, not connected to supernatural forces.

Old Wang began to scold him, but then seemed to remember something, sighing, “Come with me…”

Without waiting for Yao Qian’s reply, he walked toward the back of the hall.

Yao Qian followed, passing through a corridor until they reached a room—he glanced around and saw it was the archive room.

This was where the records of all major and minor cases in Pingyang City were stored.

As Yao Qian wondered what Old Wang wanted here, the latter pushed open the door and entered.

Yao Qian followed, and the air inside carried the scent of decaying paper and a faint aroma of ink, suggesting it had been long since anyone entered.

Old Wang glanced back at him, then walked to the back of the room. Rows of bookshelves stood in neat order, stacked with thick and thin case files.

Ignoring the files, Old Wang strode to the furthest shelf, pulled aside a bundle of records, and retrieved a thick, thread-bound book.

The book was clearly old, its pages yellowed and corners worn from frequent handling. The cover bore no title.

Old Wang carefully handed the book to Yao Qian and said, “Everything you want to know is inside. I hope you’ll keep it safe.”

Hearing this, Yao Qian’s breath quickened. He took the book with both hands, feeling as if it weighed a thousand pounds. Were all the secrets, the hidden history, the truth of the world contained within?