Chapter Seventy-One: Dongfeng County

At the far end of a shadowy street outside the county yamen, in a gloomy and deserted corner, a figure dressed entirely in white stood hunched over. The exposed skin of this person was deathly pale, and the face bore no eyes, nose, or ears—only a single mouth. That chilling mouth curled into a smile, revealing a row of razor-sharp teeth as its cold gaze fixed on Fang Mu.

"An apparition," Fang Mu remarked, leaping down from the wall, his butcher’s knife flashing from its sheath in the moonlight. The eerie figure kept its unsettling grin, then vanished in an instant.

Fang Mu hurried to the corner, knife in hand, but found it empty. "Gone?" he muttered.

Meanwhile, the commotion within the yamen rose and fell in waves, but Fang Mu, brow furrowed, remained outside with his knife. He was certain the apparition was behind the incident, but it had chosen not to confront him and had instead fled.

Sheathing his knife, Fang Mu returned to the top of the yamen wall. Inside, after the physician’s urgent care, Madame Zhao’s condition had stabilized. Overcome by pain, she had fainted. "Someone, take Madame Zhao into solitary confinement and post guards at her door," ordered the magistrate, instructing his men to remove her.

Gradually, the courtyard quieted as people dispersed. When the crowd had thinned, Fang Mu descended from the wall and left the yamen. Though night had already fallen, he had no intention of lingering.

He had received a letter whose contents pointed directly to Dongfeng Commandery. Taking advantage of the hour, Fang Mu decided to investigate at once. Waiting in the yamen to catch his adversary was not an option—he was clearly one step too late this time.

Yet the apparition had not killed Madame Zhao outright; instead, it had gouged out her eyes, torn out her tongue, and severed her hands. This suggested the apparition’s purpose was not to kill her, but to maim—signs that someone was manipulating it from the shadows.

Fang Mu recalled Li Gun’s description of a kind of occultist known as a "Wraith Conjurer," who used apparitions to harm others—this fit the situation perfectly. It seemed the occultist meant only to inflict grievous harm on Madame Zhao: blinding her, robbing her of speech, and rendering her unable to write.

He wondered why they hadn’t simply killed her, which would have been simpler, but the purpose was clear enough.

Under a bright, cold moon, Fang Mu, with A Bai in tow, hurried out of Jinglong County under cover of darkness.

…

The mountain road was rugged, but the journey passed without incident. Jinglong County fell under Dongfeng Commandery, but was in a remote corner of the region. Fang Mu’s pace was swift—he traveled with the aid of the Earthwalking Technique.

According to its description, the Earthwalking Technique allowed one to cover a hundred li a day and to dodge with great agility. Through his own trials, Fang Mu found that while a hundred li per day was not especially far, it was faster than relying on raw qi. More importantly, the technique’s evasive maneuvers were far superior to his previous abilities. Where he once relied solely on qi to dodge, he now found his agility had increased severalfold.

By dawn, the streets of Dongfeng Commandery were already stirring, with a few vendors setting up their stalls. Compared to the small town of Jinglong, Dongfeng was far livelier.

Vendors eyed Fang Mu curiously, puzzled by the man with a white cat perched on his shoulder, wondering why he was out so early.

Fang Mu stroked his chin and pondered. Where should he begin his investigation? He had only a cryptic letter, and Dongfeng Commandery was vast—how was he to search?

Not far away, several vendors, having set up their stalls, began to chat idly.

"Sigh, there are fewer and fewer people around here these days," said one.

"Isn’t that the truth? Ever since that incident, everyone’s been afraid to tempt fate. But what brings you all out here today—aren’t you scared?"

"What’s there to be afraid of? With those folks gone, business is better for the rest of us. Isn’t that what you’re all thinking?"

Their voices were low, but with the early hour and the quiet street, Fang Mu heard every word.

He approached one of the stalls. "What incident are you talking about?" he asked.

The vendor, a middle-aged man, looked up at him. "What’s happened in the commandery? Why are there so few stalls?" Fang Mu pressed.

The vendor rubbed his hands together, looking uncomfortable. "I set up here often. You seem unfamiliar—are you new in town? Well, there have been some strange happenings, that’s all."

He hesitated, clearly reluctant to speak further. Fang Mu understood and tossed him a coin. "I’m a traveling merchant, just arrived today. I’m here to get the lay of the land."

The vendor glanced around quickly, pocketed the coin, and grinned. "It’s nothing much. Just yesterday morning, one of the vendors went mad—out of his mind in broad daylight. Since then, everyone’s been anxious, so there are fewer vendors around here."

Fang Mu frowned. "Yesterday? Do you know where that vendor lives?"

The man nodded and pointed. "He lives in an alley on the west side of the commandery."

"Take me there," Fang Mu said, producing two more coins.

The vendor eagerly accepted and began to pack up. Three coins in as many minutes—more than a day’s profit—so he was more than willing to guide Fang Mu.

Under the envious gaze of his peers, the vendor finished packing and led Fang Mu off the street, weaving through several alleys until they reached a particularly quiet one.

"That’s the house, right at the end," the vendor said, pointing. "Brother, I won’t go any farther. He’s a fellow vendor, after all, and I…well, I have my scruples."

Fang Mu waved him off. After the vendor departed, Fang Mu walked to the house at the alley’s end.

The front door was tightly shut. Fang Mu stood before it, but heard no sound from within. He did not bother to knock; instead, he vaulted over the wall and landed silently in the courtyard.

The yard was bleak. A middle-aged man lay on a recliner, staring vacantly at the sky. Beside him stood a young man in plain clothes, who, upon seeing Fang Mu, started in alarm, grabbed a broom from the corner, and swung it at him.

"Thief—!" the youth shouted, but was cut off midway as a powerful force knocked him to the ground.

Fang Mu withdrew his hand and said coolly, "Don’t shout. I have some questions. I’m with the authorities."

The young man stared in disbelief as he got up. "You—you say you’re with the government?"

"If I weren’t, you’d already be in trouble," Fang Mu replied. "Why would I bother speaking civilly otherwise?"

The youth hesitated, then nodded, his face clouded with worry. "You’re here because of what happened to my father, aren’t you?"