Chapter 70

The lightness skills displayed in that leap—the ascent, the descent, then the perfect silence—were movements so familiar that Chen Shu recognized the figure without even seeing his face.

It was indeed the very person she’d mistaken earlier: Yan Ji.

Yan Ji, by nature, was carefree and impulsive. For him, that thump on the shoulder was just an ordinary prank. But for Li Chou, it was different. The shock wiped the barely regained calm from his face, darkening his expression once more. A vein pulsed on his forehead as he nearly cursed aloud.

Yan Ji, however, seemed utterly oblivious—or perhaps just pretending to be. Radiantly smiling, he patted that same shoulder again. The stark contrast between his bright smile and Li Chou’s thunderous scowl only made Li Chou seem more ill-tempered and cornered. Swallowing the unspoken fury, Li Chou shot Chen Shu a glare and managed a stiff reply:

“Merely a frustrated remark meant to placate a child. Pay it no mind, Young Master Yan—”

“Placate what child?” Yan Ji exclaimed, turning his head deliberately to sweep an exaggerated gaze over Chen Shu. “You call this a child? You truly haven’t been beaten up by her before, have you?”

Li Chou’s mouth twitched again. This time, before he could retort, Chen Shu stepped up, hands planted indignantly on her hips. “I never beat people up randomly! Don’t make me sound like some bully!” With that, she lunged to grab Yan Ji.

Ducking smoothly, Yan Ji dodged her grasp. Pressing against the alley’s narrow walls, he leaped clear from Li Chou’s left, stepping off the wall to maneuver behind his right shoulder, shouting: “Still say you don’t randomly hit people!”

Instantly, the two were a whirlwind of giggles and playful scuffles, utterly heedless. The sight caused the pent-up rage in Li Chou to boil over completely. Even the timid junior brother trailing behind him edged back half a step, clearly wanting no part in this commotion.

Sporadic lights finally began to glow along the street. It wasn’t just the magistracy; wisps of smoke curled upwards throughout the pass. The aroma of food from the nearby charity porridge distribution drifted on the air as more passersby collected porridge along the roadway. And amidst it all, Chen Shu and Yan Ji’s ruckus attracted curious stares from every person who walked past.

Their alley corner commotion, in fact, became far more eye-catching than when they’d been openly blocking the road earlier.

So Li Chou bit back his anger—once, twice—but finally snapped. Raising his voice to halt them, he spoke with an almost resigned tone: “…Enough! Settle down! It’s truly no earth-shattering secret, just a suspicion. So long as word doesn’t spread, I suppose I can just… say it.”

His words brought an instant halt to the roughhousing. Both instantly spun around, their eyes fixed on Li Chou as one. The perfectly synchronized move made it seem as if the earlier ruckus had been staged purely to aggravate Li Chou further.

But the words were out, impossible to retract. Fuming internally, Li Chou could only inwardly curse his bad luck. Not only did he agree to share the information with these two, but he was now effectively shepherding them back to the temporary quarters Biyang Valley had secured within Diancang Pass.

That expanse of courtyards originally meant for the various tournament participants had been utterly compromised. Located right at the ferry crossing, they bore the first brunt of the flood surge. Rows upon rows had been swamped. Despite sturdy vermillion walls, the torrent had battered through, and due to the high water level, the entire complex was completely flooded. Wooden and metal furnishings alike were swept entirely away, doubtless long downstream now, scattered among the towns and villages along the Yushui River.

This new arrangement was a small courtyard that had escaped the flood’s destruction. One of the families the Biyang Valley disciples had rescued showed their gratitude by offering their home to the sect for temporary use.

Though cramped, it was complete. But for Li Chou, its more crucial quality was security: guarded by his own disciples, this space at least minimized risks of eavesdropping.

Stepping through the gate, the trio saw Biyang Valley disciples gathered within. Gone was their usual martial vigor. Unlike Li Chou, they weren’t neat or tidy. Dust streaked their faces; robes that once flowed pristine were grubby—thoroughly soaked by the flood, then dried, leaving grotesque muddy patterns across the pale silk. Clad in these disheveled clothes, they clustered in small groups. It being mealtime, similar cooking aroma filled the courtyard air. Yet it differed starkly from the simple porridge fragrance outside. Here, smoke curled under the eaves, laced with the choking tang of not-yet-consumed charcoal and an unidentifiable… pungent smell.

Being disciples of a prestigious sect—whether bolstered by their rescue efforts’ renown or restrained by unnecessary pride—not a single person in the courtyard seemed willing to queue outside for porridge.

They had, thankfully, managed makeshift meals. A grateful soul Li Chou had rescued brought simple ingredients, sparing them from jostling with the common people. Yet these elite disciples, champions handpicked for martial mastery, utterly lacked culinary skill. Naturally, the food produced was… difficult to stomach.

Wandering into the courtyard first, Yan Ji acted as though he owned the place. Deflecting Li Chou’s murderous glares, he tugged Chen Shu along to explore.

Chen Shu initially remembered some decorum. But seeing Yan Ji so uninhibited and Li Chou mute, she too cast restraint aside. She scampered happily around the small courtyard with Yan Ji, peering into nooks and crannies. Soon, she found herself in the smoke-filled kitchen, handkerchief over her mouth, peering in—only to face the awkward stare of the junior disciple relegated to cooking duties.

Li Chou scurried after, apparently at his limit, intending to reprimand them. Before he could speak, Yan Ji waved a hand through the thick smoke, coughed once, and said matter-of-factly:

“This isn’t how you cook, you know.”

Spoken lightly, his words nonetheless struck the cook—and every Biyang Valley disciple in earshot—like divine revelation.

Li Chou snapped his mouth shut. The cook on duty, oblivious to his Young Valley Master’s expression, fixed hopeful eyes on Yan Ji. Carefully, voice tentative, he spoke up.

“Young sir… can you cook?”

“A little,” said Yan Ji. He turned around and saw that the people in the courtyard who were busy with various chores—some washing clothes, others tidying up clutter—all looked up, staring at him with a mix of shock and eagerness. Even Li Chou, who had kept his mouth shut, could not stand apart, and Yan Ji understood perfectly. With a broad grin, he said, “Alright then, shall I give it a try?”

That night, after several days, these outstanding individuals from Biyang Valley—folks who usually commanded great influence—finally ate a hot, satisfying, fragrant meal, having endured several undercooked meals that caused diarrhea. Naturally, the bowl of fresh fish soup, the most vibrant and delicious of all, rested right at the center of the table in the yard. Li Chou picked up his chopsticks first, took a bite, and could not help but compliment it aloud. Only then did the other disciples relax a little. With the many mouths among them, they ate without pause while showering continuous praise on Yan Ji’s cooking skills. By their demeanor, they seemed to wish Yan Ji would just wrap himself in bedding and settle right there in that small courtyard, never leaving.

The meal sated their hunger, and Li Chou’s irritability faded significantly. A barely detectable smile appeared on his face.

Perhaps out of gratitude for this meal, or perhaps because he considered that Yan Ji himself came from downstream and was not in the city when the flood hit, by the time the moon reached its zenith, when Li Chou led the two into a small study tucked in the corner of the courtyard to continue the confidential talk from earlier in the day, his wariness had mostly vanished. Between the two, Chen Shu had already “handed over the task,” her mind entirely preoccupied with how to issue the sword-seeking bounty. Yan Ji, however—likely someone who relished stirring up excitement in idle times—listened most attentively to Li Chou’s words.

“In these past days, because I was urgent to find those junior brothers and sisters, fearing the scattered disciples might be swept away to places where they couldn’t call for help,” said Li Chou, pausing, “I not only combed all through Diancang Pass, but even went to places outside the pass that were already abandoned and uninhabited.” He paused again, then said, “One of those spots was where the yamen runners cleared away and piled up the dead—probably designated by Right Supervisor Shen before she left—near the city gates. When I went, worried some of our Biyang Valley people might be among them, I spent a long time searching, working until sunset, with the yamen runners having all returned to the city. I hadn’t finished going through the corpses, so I kept at it with my junior brother late into the night.”

“Let me guess,” said Yan Ji, “did you run into some thugs trying to loot and steal from the dead? People have both good and bad sides, and without oversight after a big disaster, it’s common for someone to take advantage and do evil.”

Just then, Chen Shu, who had been distracted the whole while, finally turned her head, as if she had just heard something gripping. Her dark eyes fixed intensely on Li Chou, who was about to painstakingly explain to Yan Ji. After a moment’s thought, she interjected, “But Diancang Pass is different. Not only are there plenty of troops outside the pass, but during the flood burst, Liu Mao gave no order for those soldiers to enter the city and assist with the waters. So now, the garrison soldiers within the city should be more than sufficient…?”

“Exactly,” said Li Chou, lowering his voice slightly as he continued gravely, “But that night, when I finished searching through that mountain of corpses, it was midnight. The entire city slept. At that chaotic burial ground, there wasn’t a soul—not even a guarding yamen runner. Plus, while I waited for my junior brother to return outside the city, he insisted he heard distinct sounds, as if someone was hiding behind the corpses, wanting who knows what—”

“Oh!” cried Chen Shu, completely intrigued. “You got spooked by ghosts?!”

“I did not!” retorted Li Chou, taken aback and angry.

“Really? I thought you said—”

“Whether I was scared or not doesn’t matter! That’s beside the point!” Li Chou seized the conversation, raising his voice sharply. “What’s crucial is, I went back the next day—not outside the city, though. I found a concealed spot by the wall corner and indeed saw the source of the noise. Not some ‘ghost’—absolutely not!—but two soldiers, armed with weapons, sneaking from the barracks into that mass grave. If they were looking for people, why not come in daylight? Why hide their tracks? This Protector Liu Mao must be up to no good!”

“You’re right,” said Yan Ji, nodding slowly. “No wonder you were so frantic when you heard Miss Chen had gone to the magistracy—”

“—Huh?” Chen Shu blinked her eyes, turning in confusion.