With the Gaunt Monk’s gaze settling on him, Chen Ji found his mouth had gone unexpectedly dry.

He was still young enough to have fire left in him — he’d joined the yamen for a steady meal, but the jianghu had always lived somewhere in the back of his imagination. Standing in front of a genuine martial legend, the hand gripping his scabbard was trembling slightly with something that wasn’t quite fear.

The excitement gave way to a quiet observation.

They were both constables. And yet this man — a figure that half the martial world would bow to — was addressing Shen Yi as an equal. The jianghu ran on what your fists could prove. That was all there was to it.

Chen Ji shook his head, and the image surfaced unbidden: Shen Yi sitting in the field with blood soaking his clothes, the corpses not yet cold in front of him. He supposed it made sense after all.

“You’re too kind, senior.”

Shen Yi returned the bow and kept walking. He had no interest in standing here trading pleasantries.

The Gaunt Monk stepped into his path with his companion. “This is my junior brother from our sect — goes by Zhang Tuhu on the road. Came up from Qingzhou looking for me. He’s hoping to find a position under the county magistrate as well.”

Shen Yi nodded a greeting. Zhang Tuhu — the Butcher — nodded back.

“I have official business to attend to. I won’t keep you.”

The courtesies concluded, Shen Yi moved forward again. The Gaunt Monk shifted, still blocking the way.

“…”

Shen Yi looked at him without particular expression.

He had no objection in principle to what the Gaunt Monk did — taking money to keep wealthy households safe was a reasonable way to live. If Shen Yi hadn’t stumbled into a constable’s uniform the moment he’d arrived in this world, cutting off the sect path entirely, he’d probably have chosen something similar himself.

But if the money this man had taken was specifically for making Shen Yi’s work harder, that was a different calculation.

“The three of us are all men who live for martial cultivation. Why not find somewhere to sit down and drink?” The Gaunt Monk’s smile was easy and warm. His hand settled on Shen Yi’s shoulder. “I’m a fair few years your senior — let me claim the title of elder, just between us. You’re young and full of edge. Talking with old men like me isn’t without its benefits.”

Even Chen Ji, standing behind them, could feel the texture of the moment.

The Lin family master and steward stood silent, eyes carefully neutral.

Neither of them put much stock in Shen Yi. But they put even less stock in the Gaunt Monk’s conclusion — and yet no merchant with a working survival instinct questioned a martial master to his face. If the constable pressed further, something might actually get done; the idea that the Monk would move to obstruct even that was a surprise. And a minor constable picking a fight with the magistrate’s favored guest—

In front of everyone watching.

Shen Yi paused.

Then he lifted the hand from his shoulder, gently, and gave his own shoulder two small pats. “I appreciate the invitation, senior. Another time — I have duties today.”

The gesture froze the air around them.

Something flustered moved through the Gaunt Monk’s composed expression. A thread of irritation surfaced on his angular face.

Behind him, Zhang Tuhu turned his head away. Under that thick beard, his mouth had found a new shape.

“If I recall correctly, Constable Shen’s responsibilities have recently expanded — all demon matters in Baiyun County fall to him now.” The warmth had left the Monk’s voice. “I have already determined that no demon is involved here. This is an ordinary homicide. The Lin family has no demon business for you to attend to. Or—” a pause, “—are you saying you doubt my judgment?”

Shen Yi glanced at the steward. “Lead the way.”

“Ah — yes — of course—”

The steward wanted no part of whatever this was. He just found it deeply remarkable that a man who had spent years as a gambling wreck could stand in front of the Gaunt Monk without his knees buckling — and that the Gaunt Monk, of all people, appeared unable to do a thing about it.

If he’d known things would go this way, the master could have just gone straight to the yamen duty room. All that trouble going to the magistrate’s residence — entirely useless.

He trotted ahead toward the east wing.

Once the three of them had disappeared from view.

The Lin family master clasped his hands with repeated apologies. “The constable means well — he takes his duties seriously. Please don’t take any offense, either of you.”

The Gaunt Monk’s expression had gone flat. He shook out his sleeves and followed.

Zhang Tuhu fell in beside him. “You know him well, elder brother?”

“Never met him before. I simply recognized the talent and thought it worth cultivating — we’ll both be working under the magistrate, after all. It seemed useful to have the connection. I didn’t expect him to be this witless.”

“I see. I’d thought perhaps elder brother was worried about him discovering that we’d let a demon frighten us into a false report. Losing face and all that.”

The Gaunt Monk stopped. He turned around, expression dark. He held it for a long moment before something settled. “You’ve just come from Qingzhou. I understand the arrogance — you think this is a small provincial backwater. But hear me: the water here is deeper than you think.”

He continued forward. “Besides — what could he possibly find that we didn’t? He’ll come up with an excuse to leave in a moment, same as we did.”

Zhang Tuhu said nothing, and closed his mouth.

While the two of them talked, Shen Yi and Chen Ji had followed the steward to a side room in the east wing.

The steward drew back the white cloth.

One look, and Chen Ji’s admiration for the Gaunt Monk — specifically his capacity for brazen dishonesty — went up considerably.

The man on the boards had been powerfully built. His left arm ended at the halfway point. His abdomen had been opened and emptied. Both eye sockets were bare. The nose was gone. The entire right side of his face had been cleaned to the bone — not a thread of flesh remaining.

“He was fine yesterday. One night,” the steward said, pressing his hands over his face, rubbing hard, trying to push the cold feeling away. He still remembered Liu Qi arriving at the Lin estate — what presence the man had carried. What was left on this table bore no relationship to that memory.

“No one knows how it happened?” Chen Ji’s frown had deepened.

A martial practitioner of that caliber, caught by a demon — how did he die without making a sound?

“The person who found him wasn’t from the Lin household.”

The steward exhaled, looked at Shen Yi, and appeared to decide something. “When you brought Miss Baiwei back, sir — after she recovered from her injuries, her temperament was unchanged, but her memory had large gaps. She didn’t recognize many relatives.”

He pressed his lips together. “Half a month ago, she said a friend she’d made outside wanted to come visit. A young man. This isn’t something I should be sharing — the young mistress is unmarried — please keep it between us and let it go no further.”

Chen Ji nodded.

“The master was sympathetic. He thought having a familiar face around might help her recover her memory, so he allowed it. The mistress seemed genuinely close to this person, and we treated him as an honored guest.”

He paused.

“Liu Qi’s body was found in this young man’s room. And the mistress has, as it happens, been away from home for several days.”

“The senior — the Gaunt Monk — spoke with him and concluded he had no involvement.”

The pieces assembled themselves in Shen Yi’s mind.

The Lin family had already identified their suspect. They hadn’t sought out the Gaunt Monk to find a demon — they’d wanted someone to remove one. The Monk’s inexplicable conclusion had simply left them with no recourse.

“Where is he now?” Chen Ji asked, instinctively.

“Right here.”

A languid voice from the doorway.

A young man leaned against the frame in a black robe, mid-yawn, unbothered. His features were striking — reddish lips, white teeth — and the smile carrying them had two prominent canines that added something provocative to the expression.

He raised an eyebrow.

“You’re Shen Yi? What took you so long?”

The tone sat above the conversation, looking down at it. The way he looked at Shen Yi was the way one looked at household staff.

(End of Chapter)