The Azure Mountain

Chapter 83: Silencing

"The proprietor of Li's Clothing Store saw Jianghu fighters fleeing from Red Clothe Lane last night?"

"That's right, sir. The four of them looked panicked and extremely suspicious."

The snow in Luo City had yet to melt.

A biting wind swept along the ground. The flickering torches wavered, casting light on the agents' hands tightening around saber hilts, and on the white plumes of breath drifting from under their bamboo hats — like starving predators that had caught the scent of fresh prey.

The agents instinctively looked to Chen Ji, waiting for his decision.

Chen Ji stood with his face wrapped in gray cloth, head bowed in thought.

Three rounds of the clubs shatter all Jianghu bonds. Three pages of testimony, and every line names a brother. These Jianghu fighters were no hard cases. If the Secret Spy Division caught them, they'd inevitably drag the Prince Heir and Baili into it.

But if he deliberately did nothing, Xi Feng was no fool.

In the wavering firelight, droplets of burning oil cloth dripped from the torches, falling onto the cobblestones.

Suddenly, the wind died. The flames went still.Chen Ji raised his head and looked at the reporting agent: "Bring the proprietor of Li's Clothing Store here for questioning."

Moments later, a middle-aged man in a gentleman's outfit shuffled forward with an ingratiating smile: "My lords, ten thousand blessings. My humble name is Li Bing."

Chen Ji gave him a once-over and asked evenly: "Where exactly did you see these Jianghu fighters? Tell me everything."

Li Bing hurried to answer: "When your lordships were sealing off Red Clothe Lane, they were fleeing from the back alleys behind it. One of them was so frightened he dropped his sword on the ground — ran two steps, then went back to pick it up."

Chen Ji frowned, sounding disappointed: "That's pretty pathetic. Doesn't match the profile of a Jing Dynasty operative."

Xi Feng shared the sentiment: "The Jing operatives may be detestable, but every one of them is rigorously trained. They wouldn't be this bumbling."

Li Bing suddenly added: "Oh — right. At the time, someone in the back alley was calling out to them for help getting over the wall. One of them went back, but before he could help the person out, he ran back and told his companions: 'Let's go — we can't save them. They're surrounded by six men.' They passed right by me. I heard every word."

Xi Feng's expression shifted. He looked at Chen Ji: "Sir — the six who surrounded them had to be our colleagues. The killer intervened to protect the people in that back courtyard! We don't know who was cornered, but they must be extremely important!"

Chen Ji quietly drew a deep breath. This shopkeeper had heard far too much. There was no covering this up: "Shopkeeper Li, did you see which direction they ran?"

"West, along Luoyi Street. But I don't know where they ultimately ended up."

Chen Ji breathed a small sigh of relief. In a city the size of Luo, rooting out four people wouldn't be easy. At least he could buy some time.

But then Li Bing dropped his bombshell, pausing for dramatic effect: "However — I do know where they're staying!"

Chen Ji: "...What?"

Li Bing spoke quickly: "These four Jianghu men arrived in Luo City about half a month ago. The reason I remember them is that despite wearing plain, shabby clothes, they spent lavishly. Right after arriving, they each ordered two custom outfits from my shop — autumn-style standing-collar cross-front robes with the expensive gold-painted melon and mouse pattern."

Li Bing continued: "After they were measured, they left instructions for me to deliver the finished garments to Fulai Inn on the west side."

The gold-painted melon and mouse pattern was an intricate silk embroidery used on cuffs and collars — complex to produce, beloved by officials and the wealthy, and far from cheap.

The more Li Bing revealed, the heavier Chen Ji's heart grew.

He had met these four men. At the Embroidery Building in White Clothe Lane, where they had gone to see Courtesan Liu, there had been twelve people — aside from Chen Ji, the Prince Heir, Baili, She Dengke, Liu Quxing, Liang Gou'er, Liang Mao'er, and the little monk, those four were the remaining attendees.

That day, they had worn exactly those standing-collar cross-front robes with gold-painted melon and mouse patterns on the cuffs!

The timeline matched too. These four had originally lived in poverty; it was only after befriending the Prince Heir that their circumstances improved.

Yet even after the Prince Heir had treated them so well, when danger came, they had abandoned him and Baili without a second thought.

Xi Feng looked at Chen Ji's silhouette: "Sir, what do we do?"

Chen Ji's voice was as still as dead water: "Surround Fulai Inn. Arrest them."

The only thing he could hope for was that these four weren't stupid enough to have gone straight back to the inn after fleeing Red Clothe Lane.

......

......

Outside Fulai Inn, dozens of saber-bearing agents moved with quiet precision. In barely a dozen breaths, they had the inn completely encircled — rear courtyard, both flanks, the stables — not a corner overlooked.

If those four Acquired Realm Jianghu fighters were inside, they wouldn't be going anywhere.

In silence, Chen Ji stepped over the inn's threshold first.

The ground floor was a modest tavern. The place was closed for the night — chairs wiped clean and turned upside down on the tables. Behind the counter, a young clerk was slumped over an abacus, snoring. A single oil lamp flickered beside him.

Chen Ji approached the counter and gently tapped the clerk's shoulder.

The clerk raised his head groggily, still half-asleep: "Looking to stay the night? Sky-class rooms, one hundred forty wen per night. Earth-class rooms, forty-five wen per night. If you don't mind the stables, twelve wen..."

Blinking, the clerk caught sight of the masked Chen Ji and the saber-wielding agents at his back. He snapped awake!

He stammered: "M-my lords, I... I've never done anything wrong."

Chen Ji said: "Don't worry. Just one question."

"Please ask, sir."

"Do you have four Jianghu men staying here — the kind who carry swords?"

The clerk answered immediately: "Yes!"

"Are they still in the inn?"

The clerk gave a thorough account: "They are. Yesterday when they went out, they said they were heading to Red Clothe Lane for a good time. But they came back before midnight, looking rattled. After that, they ordered food and wine sent to their room and haven't come out since."

This was the last answer Chen Ji wanted to hear. He was silent for a moment: "Which room?"

The clerk pointed at the stairs: "Up the stairs, third door on the right. Sky-class room. The placard on the door reads 'Spring Water.'"

Before Chen Ji could even give the order, Xi Feng flashed a signal to the agents. Several of them immediately drew sabers, crouched low, and crept upstairs.

Chen Ji moved to follow, but Xi Feng stopped him with a hand on his shoulder: "Sir, Honorable Jin Zhu told us you don't fight. He specifically ordered us to protect you. This kind of danger is our job. Please don't put yourself at risk."

Chen Ji studied the expression beneath Xi Feng's bamboo hat — sincere, earnest, eyes unwavering. This wasn't suspicion. Jin Zhu really had given that instruction.

He sighed inwardly and remained by the counter: "Be careful."

The agents kicked in the Spring Water room's door. They poured through in single file, sabers drawn, murderous spirit rising.

But the next instant, someone shouted: "Sir — come look at this!"

Chen Ji snatched the oil lamp from the counter and charged upstairs. He pushed through the agents crowding the corridor, reached the doorway, and looked up at the ceiling beam.

His breath caught.

There — suspended from the roof beam by four white silk sashes looped around their necks — hung the four Jianghu fighters they'd been searching for, lined up in a neat row!

And that wasn't all. The skin of all four faces had been cut clean away, leaving nothing but raw, blood-red facial muscle exposed to the air. The sight was horrifying beyond measure.

The agents' expressions were indifferent — they'd seen plenty of this sort of thing. But a chill surged through Chen Ji. These four had been silenced ahead of time.

He fought down his discomfort and went to examine the bodies.

The corpses were ice-cold and rigid — rigor mortis had spread throughout. They'd been dead at least two hours.

Chen Ji went to the door. The bar was undamaged.

He moved to the window. The copper latch used to secure the shutters had been cleanly severed by a sharp instrument. The killer had entered through the window.

"Cut them down. Strip their clothes!" Chen Ji ordered coldly.

The agents formed a human ladder and lowered the four bodies onto the beds.

When the clothing was removed, everyone could see by the moonlight streaming through the window: a single copper nail was driven into each victim's chest, over the heart. The nails had been hammered in with surgical precision — not a single drop of blood had escaped.

None of the victims had cried out. Whoever killed them was a master among masters — they hadn't even been given time to react.

Chen Ji pried open each victim's mouth. Short copper nails were also driven into every tongue.

"This isn't silencing. It's judgment."

"Someone was punishing them!"

Xi Feng's expression turned grave. They had just found a new lead — hadn't even had time to celebrate before the thread was severed.

Chen Ji looked at Xi Feng: "Have you ever encountered this method of execution before?"

Xi Feng considered: "There seem to have been two cases in the Jianghu, but I'd need to check the Inner Prison's case archives for details. Sir, something is deeply wrong here. The person they abandoned must have been extremely important — important enough that someone killed these four to ensure permanent silence. The killer also cut away their faces to prevent us from finding anyone who could identify them. Who do you think did this?"

Who did it?

Simple. Whoever benefits most.

Chen Ji stood in the dim room, oil lamp still in his left hand. He recalled the Prince Heir's bold, generous smile — and found it hard to believe that such deep and lethal cunning lurked behind it.

Besides, if the Prince Heir had a master like this cleaning up after him, why would Chen Ji have needed to intervene last night?

But if this wasn't the Prince Heir's doing... then who?!

Chen Ji's bright memories of the Prince Heir suddenly blurred, as though a shadow were slowly closing over the young man's face.