Chapter Thirteen: Journey to Brook Village for the Autopsy

Under the cover of night, Fang Mu returned to his own home.

After carefully locking the door, he placed two objects on the table: a jade-green bracelet and a small black porcelain bottle. Fang Mu had already examined the jade bracelet, whose edge was chipped and serrated, but found nothing unusual. Now his main attention was on the black porcelain bottle.

The information gained from his corpse-examining technique indicated it was a strange potion, with effects unknown—meaning he had no idea what it actually was. Fang Mu picked up the black bottle, noting a wooden stopper sealing its mouth. He cautiously opened it.

A soft pop sounded, and an odd herbal aroma wafted out, redolent of traditional medicine yet strangely appetizing. The scent alone made his mouth water. Hurriedly, Fang Mu replaced the stopper, instantly cutting off the smell.

“There’s actually an urge to eat it,” he muttered. If he had hesitated even a moment longer, he might have swallowed it on impulse.

Finding nothing else remarkable after a thorough inspection, he tucked both the bracelet and the bottle under his pillow.

Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine. He whirled around, sensing a cold gaze fixed upon him. For a fleeting instant, it was as if some icy presence was watching him.

A woman’s corpse in green robes appeared abruptly at the doorway, only to disappear the moment Fang Mu turned his head.

“She’s…balding?”

He distinctly saw a patch of bare skin above the forehead where her hair used to be, and the look she gave him was filled with hatred.

Was this a side effect of using her hair as a weapon? Judging by the fist-sized patch now missing, she could only use her hair a few more times at best.

But could she really blame him for her predicament? If she’d let him finish her off properly, none of this would have happened.

“It seems I’ve caught her attention,” Fang Mu mused, stroking his chin. If the green-robed corpse dared show up, it would save him the trouble of hunting her down—he was curious to see just how many uses her hair still had left.

The night passed without further incident.

The next morning, Fang Mu carefully stored the jade bracelet and medicine bottle, then left home early. The green-robed corpse had not reappeared through the night; after that single chilling glance, her presence had vanished, as though she had left for good.

Fang Mu, however, was not so easily convinced. He recalled how the headless woman’s corpse had persistently sought him out before, and he knew that once these uncanny beings marked someone, they would not rest until they were utterly destroyed.

After grabbing a quick meal, Fang Mu decided to take advantage of the time to visit the mass grave. With a vengeful specter watching over him, he could hardly relax—even bathing under such scrutiny would be unbearable. His priority was to locate the green-robed corpse and put an end to her.

“Brother Fang, I’ve finally found you!”

Just as he was about to leave, a voice called out from behind. Fang Mu turned to see an officer from the county yamen approaching at a run, a piece of paper in his hand.

When the officer caught up, he was still panting, clearly having run the whole way.

“What is it?” Fang Mu asked.

“There’s been a death at Xiaoxi Village, and the body is difficult to move,” the officer said once he’d caught his breath. “The magistrate asked me to let you know to go take a look immediately.”

Fang Mu frowned. He had never encountered a corpse that couldn’t be moved since taking up his post as coroner.

The officer glanced around, then leaned in and whispered, “They say the body is completely wrapped in hair. The villagers are spooked and won’t touch it. You know how short-staffed we are—making several trips is a hassle, so the magistrate wants you to check it out first. If there’s something more to it, he’ll send reinforcements.”

A body tangled in hair—chilling at first mention. Fang Mu’s spirits lifted at the thought. The moment hair was mentioned, he thought of the balding green-robed corpse. These two incidents were likely connected.

“I’ll fetch my kit and go right away,” Fang Mu said, turning to leave without further ado.

The officer handed him a piece of paper, saying, “Xiaoxi Village is remote—take this map, and here’s some travel money, too.”

In addition to the map, he handed over a few coins. The magistrate of Jinglong County was generous with their only coroner, mainly out of fear that if Fang Mu ever quit, any new murder would leave them utterly clueless.

After a brief exchange, Fang Mu returned home for his kit and set out for Xiaoxi Village.

Following the map’s winding mountain path, Fang Mu finally arrived at his destination. From the moment he entered the village, he sensed something was amiss. Unlike the peaceful atmosphere of other hamlets, this place felt heavy with unease. The ground was littered with yellow paper used in mourning rites, and occasional slips still drifted down from the grey sky.

Not far away, a crowd was gathered on a patch of open ground, their attention focused inward. None noticed Fang Mu’s arrival.

Drawing closer, Fang Mu caught snatches of conversation.

“Do you really think this will work?”

“What else can we do? Have you ever seen anyone die like this? There’s something unclean at work, for sure.”

“The county office said a coroner was coming, but if we…”

“Don’t worry. We’ll just say the corpse burned itself up. How would he know we did it?”

“Unclean things fear fire most of all—if we burn the body, we’ll be safe!”

From these words, Fang Mu quickly understood the situation. The villagers believed some evil force was involved and intended to burn the body in hopes of protection.

He couldn’t allow that—this might be tied to the green-robed corpse.

Feigning a cough, Fang Mu drew the villagers’ attention. Startled by the presence of a stranger, they grew wary. After a brief commotion, a middle-aged man stepped forward.

“Who are you? What brings you to our village?” the man asked.

Fang Mu patted the wooden case slung over his shoulder. “I’m the coroner from Jinglong County. You’d best leave the body to me and not burn it.”

The man exchanged uneasy glances with his fellow villagers, then turned back and rubbed his hands nervously. “We…we weren’t thinking clearly just now.”

If the authorities caught wind of them burning the body, they could face serious consequences—especially since the officials were there to help them. If they destroyed the evidence first, Fang Mu’s trip would be wasted, and the magistrate’s reputation would suffer.

Fang Mu waved off the apology, more interested in the matter at hand. Pulling his case closer, he approached the corpse in the center of the crowd—and immediately frowned at what he saw.

This corpse was exceptionally bizarre.

Lying in the middle was an old man with white hair. Black strands were tightly coiled around his wrists, ankles, and neck, deeply embedded into the flesh. Where the hair constricted, the flesh was torn and swollen—a gruesome sight.

“He was our village chief,” the middle-aged man explained, stepping forward. “He died the night before last. We…have no idea how it happened.”

Fang Mu acknowledged with a soft sound, set his wooden case behind him, and began his examination of the body.