Chapter 13: A Chilling Spring Night—A Hasty Pursuit of the Culprit

The sun gradually sank in the west, and fiery red evening clouds filtered through the trees, casting their glow upon Su Mu. As the light faded, the temperature in the woods began to drop. Su Mu's awareness flickered faintly while An Rui and the others were trapped by Du Feiyang; perhaps it was the last blaze of dying consciousness. Every word of their conversation was painfully clear to him, as was Wei Wenzheng’s agonized moaning at the moment of death. Yet his body would not move, not even a twitch—no matter how hard he tried, it was as if it no longer belonged to him.

He managed to open his eyes a sliver, seeing, blurred, the familiar figure of An Rui being roughly pulled into Zhou Chen’s arms. Zhou Chen laughed madly as he dragged her away, heedless of her desperate struggles. An invisible fire of rage threatened to consume Su Mu’s body. He wanted to shout, to reach out and stop them, but his dying body could do nothing.

“I hate... I hate it so much, I hate this useless body, I hate Zhou Chen for breaking his word! I cannot die! No, I must not die! I have to save An Rui—she’s waiting for me, she’s waiting for me!”

Countless thoughts tumbled through Su Mu’s mind, all coalescing into this single, unyielding conviction. His indignant will swelled and surged.

“Help! Help! Ahhh!” A shrill, desperate scream wrenched Su Mu’s mind back to the present. The sight before him made his eyes widen in horror. Du Feiyang withdrew a dagger and plunged it mercilessly into Xiao Lan’s slender body. She was just a girl in the bloom of youth, slaughtered so cruelly in a roadside grove.

Du Feiyang wiped the bloodied blade on Xiao Lan’s clothes, sneered, and cast a sidelong glance at Su Mu, who lay like a discarded heap of flesh. Flashing a row of sharp teeth, he licked his lips, spat in contempt, and turned toward the manor without another word.

Boundless pain, rage, and regret flooded Su Mu’s being. He, who never cried, felt twin streams of blood trickle from his eyes; blood seeped slowly from his mouth, ears, and nose as well.

“Ha ha ha, Su Mu, come quickly—look what I’ve brought you!”
“Su Mu! Su Mu! If you keep grinning foolishly, I’ll be angry—why are you so dumb, don’t you see they’re mocking you?”
“Su Mu, you’ll protect me, won’t you? Others curse and fear you, but I know you were born to protect me. Please, don’t hurt yourself anymore, all right?”

Scene after scene flashed before Su Mu’s eyes: finally, the moment he promised An Rui eternal protection. An Rui gently grasped his hand and said with unwavering faith, “I believe in you.”

“Ah—!”

Like a volcano erupting after centuries of slumber, Su Mu—who should have been incapable of speech—let out a roar that shook the heavens.

Three points of light suddenly flared on his lower abdomen, each dazzling as if they held the splendor of a myriad stars. From these three lights surged a power he had never known before—like the caress of a mother, or a lover's whisper.

Like the gentle rain of spring, this energy coursed through every meridian, seeping into every inch of his skin, every drop of his blood.

His battered, ruined body began to radiate an unbelievable vitality. Never in his life had Su Mu felt such comfort.

Before he could savor it, an indescribable force surged from the three points of light. Su Mu blacked out without even a groan.

At last, the sun vanished completely. The woods were plunged into utter darkness, until several fiery torches flickered to life in the distance, drawing nearer with shouts and cries.

“Master! Master! Over here! We’ve found Xiao Lan and a young man—and there’s a mound of earth with someone inside!”

A youth dressed as a servant held up his torch not far from Su Mu, calling out to the distance. The sound of hurried footsteps followed, and a dozen torches soon lit the area around Su Mu as bright as day.

“Xiao Lan! Xiao Lan! What happened—ah!”
A servant knelt to check on Xiao Lan, only to find her lifeless. He slumped to the ground in shock.

A figure pushed through the crowd into the firelight—a man in his forties, with keen eyes and a long beard, bearing a striking resemblance to An Rui.

The servant who’d checked on Xiao Lan swallowed hard and saluted. “Master, Xiao Lan... she’s gone. Murdered by some fiend... Master, you must get justice for her! She was only twelve—who could be so heartless? Heaven will surely punish them!” Fear gave way to sobs as he spoke.

This was An Yusheng, An Rui’s father. Earlier that evening, he’d noticed Liu Dali, the gatekeeper, loitering outside his door. Suspecting something was amiss, he questioned Liu Dali and learned, through his stammering replies, that An Rui had taken Mu Zhenshan to Lu’an Manor, and Xiao Lan had told Liu Dali to inform him at dusk.

An Yusheng knew his daughter well—shrewd, resourceful, always leaving herself a way out, though it was rarely needed. But if Liu Dali had to report to him directly, something serious must have happened. Cursing his reckless daughter, he quickly gathered his men and hurried to Lu’an Manor.

Along the way, he ordered his men to call out in case they missed the girls. But who could have guessed they’d stumble upon Xiao Lan’s corpse here?

An Yusheng knelt beside Xiao Lan, confirming she’d died from a blade piercing her heart. He noted several abrasions on her body, assuming she’d fallen while fleeing the killer—unaware they were caused by Du Feiyang’s earth-binding spell.

With a long sigh, An Yusheng ordered, “Search the area carefully for clues. If you find the young miss, report at once.”

“Yes, sir!” The servants dispersed at his command.

Frowning, An Yusheng pondered why Xiao Lan had been killed, and where An Rui and Mu Zhenshan had gone. He had always kept a low profile in Jiangnan Town, never making enemies. Could it be trouble from sheltering Mu Zhenshan?

“Isn’t that Su Mu? Why’s he here? And who’s in that mound?” Only now did An Yusheng notice Su Mu and Wei Wenzheng.

“Hurry, see if he’s still breathing!” The sight of Su Mu covered in blood shocked him—was the boy dead too?

A servant quickly checked Su Mu’s breath and exclaimed, “Master, he’s alive! Amazing—he’s hurt so badly but still clings to life. But the one in the mound is dead.”

An Yusheng relaxed a little—at least the boy survived. Otherwise, he’d have a hard time explaining to Su Yan, that old fox. But seeing Su Mu’s wounds and the corpse in the mound, with An Rui and Mu Zhenshan still missing, worried him more than ever.

“Two of you—carry Su Mu to the doctor at once! Be careful on the road, do not delay.”

With Su Mu dispatched to town, An Yusheng led the others toward Lu’an Manor.

At the manor gates, which should have been aglow with lanterns, darkness reigned. An Yusheng’s anxiety deepened. He sent a servant to knock, but the door swung open at a touch. The servant glanced back, and at An Yusheng’s signal, they all entered.

At night, Lu’an Manor was eerily silent, its pavilions lurking like beasts in the darkness. The party moved in single file. Soon, a servant returned to report: the manor was deserted—no servants or cooks remained, only the empty halls.

“Search thoroughly—there must be clues. My daughter would not leave without some trace.”

With a grim face, An Yusheng ordered torches and pressed deeper inside.

“Master, we’ve found Master Mu... but—”

Moments later, his steward Zhao Kang approached, hesitated, but finally whispered in his ear.

An Yusheng’s brows snapped together. “Speak! This is no time for dithering!”

Startled, Zhao Kang blurted, “Master Mu is dead inside—and his death was gruesome.”

“What? Take me at once!”

An Yusheng dragged Zhao Kang to the training yard. There, he found Mu Zhenshan’s cold body sprawled on the ground. Even he, a man of steadfast composure, could not hold back tears. Staggering to Mu Zhenshan’s side, he knelt and gently touched his friend’s face—only to find that the eyes were now two bloody holes, hideous in the darkness.

Sobbing, An Yusheng cried, “Brother, we were as close as kin. Just this morning, you greeted me at breakfast, and now you lie dead here! How could you leave so recklessly for the underworld, while I am left to struggle on alone? How will I manage without you at my side?”

His grief overwhelmed him again. After a moment, he wiped his face with his sleeve and asked in a husky voice, “Any word of the young miss?”

A servant stepped forward. “Master, I found a scrap of cloth by a table in one of the pavilions. It looks like it’s from a woman’s garment.”

“Bring it here at once.”

He examined the fragment—just the length of a finger, one edge neat, the other ragged as if torn forcefully.

An Yusheng studied the piece and nodded. “Yes, it matches the new dress I had made for An Rui—the pattern is hers. But why is it so damp?”

The servant replied, “The room was in disarray when I found it. The teacup on the table was overturned—maybe water spilled on it by accident.”

An Yusheng nodded, pondering what such a tiny scrap could mean.

“Steward Zhao, come see if you can tell where on the dress this cloth came from.”

Zhao Kang peered closely, then shook his head. “Forgive me, Master—I cannot tell.”

An Yusheng tried matching the cloth to his own sleeve to guess, but found no answer. Annoyed, he stuffed the fragment into his sleeve, then suddenly had a thought and took it out again, murmuring, “Could it be from the cuff?” He compared the stitching and found it matched his own cuff exactly.

But what could it mean? What message could a scrap from the cuff convey?

Steward Zhao, dabbing his eyes, murmured, “Could the young miss have been abducted? She’s so young and beautiful—if she’s harmed, how can I face the mistress in the afterlife?”

An Yusheng slapped his forehead and shouted, “Of course! That’s it!” He seized Zhao Kang, gritting his teeth. “She was taken to the Heavenly Pavilion at Water Elegance House!”

Turning to the servants, he cried, “After them—westward!” Without another word to the bewildered Zhao Kang, he led the party in pursuit.