Chapter 82: Entering the Valley at Midnight

As they moved silently through the darkness, a sudden flare of firelight appeared ahead, startling the wolf pack. With a collective howl, the wolves turned and fled down the valley. Beneath the glow of more than a dozen burning torches, faces young and full of vigor and fearlessness emerged from the shadows.

Yet, among them was also a face not quite so young—the face of Song Wen, thirty-two years old.

Hearing the wolves' howl, Song Wen rubbed his tired face and asked Di Ying, “Sir, couldn’t you have chosen to enter the valley during the day?”

Before Di Ying could reply, Zhao San grinned and reassured him, “Don’t worry, it’s only wolves. We’re here, aren’t we?”

In truth, Song Wen wasn’t afraid, only puzzled. Why did Master Di insist on entering the valley at midnight, ordering them to wait silently in the darkness until the wolves approached before finally letting them light the torches? Surely it wasn’t just to scare off some wild beasts? What a peculiar sense of amusement that would be.

Peng Liang, meanwhile, was reminded of another time. Back when it was just him and Master Di traversing the Taihang Mountains, his lord would always prepare woodpiles and torches at night, but never light them without need—unless, as now, they encountered wolves or other wild beasts.

Peng Liang had once asked about this.

His lord had simply replied, “If we can avoid disturbing the mountains and forests, then we should.”

Peng Liang hadn’t understood, but his loyalty and protective instincts left him with no further questions.

Now, someone else had asked for him.

Yet their lord still offered no explanation.

Di Ying stood there, gazing in a daze at the sparse trees, lush weeds, and trickling stream within the valley. In such an environment, it would be easy for a murderer to leave no trace behind. However, it would be impossible not to disturb the sheepdogs. Where wolves roam, sheepdogs are especially alert. In the same way, when the wolf pack was sneaking up earlier, everyone had heard it. Even accounting for the stillness of night, this valley in daylight should not be much noisier. Han Lixing, herding sheep alone, should not have been caught off guard.

How then could he have been ambushed so suddenly?

“What do you think, what could have been the murderer’s motive?”

Di Ying turned to the group and, after posing the question, explained, “It’s rare for someone to commit a crime without reason—those are usually cases of a fundamental lack in one’s nature. Most people, when they commit a crime, have a motive. For wealth, for love, for revenge. Even crimes of passion are triggered by something. Han Lixing was just a shepherd, supporting his family with his flock. According to the case files, after the incident, the number of sheep grazing in the valley remained unchanged. His family was of modest means, and no valuables were found missing. We can conclude he likely hadn’t brought any money with him. So, what reason did the murderer have to kill him?”

“Perhaps it was a crime of passion?” Song Wen ventured, “I think it must have been a love affair. After all, Han Lixing was just a shepherd, out early and back late every day with his sheep. It seems unlikely he’d have made any enemies—certainly none so deep as to warrant murder.”

Peng Liang, however, disagreed. “On the contrary, shepherds are even more prone to conflicts. Over grazing land, or if sheep stray and eat someone else’s grass, say. Ordinary folks often quarrel bitterly over trifling matters. When tempers flare, sudden courage can take over. And sheep—each one is valuable. Disputes over them are hardly uncommon.”

“But that can’t be right,” Zhao San said in confusion, “The imperial edict forbids meat-eating. Few people keep livestock anymore, and shepherds are rarer still. Who would Han Lixing have to quarrel with?”

After hearing this, Xu Si shook his head. “There’s another possibility. Suppose someone craved meat so badly that they deliberately picked a fight with Han Lixing, and in the scuffle, a sheep was killed. You can hardly just throw it away—so, there’s meat to eat.”

Because the Empress had once spent time in a monastery, and her first consort had likewise adopted the title of monk and resided in the temple, she came to believe herself destined for Buddhism. Thus, the entire nation revered Buddhism, which forbids killing and the eating of meat. The Empress issued a decree banning all meat-eating and the catching of fish or shrimp.

“Yes, yes, I’ve heard a story about that,” Qian Wu chimed in after Xu Si, “A shepherd secretly slaughtered a sheep to help his sickly mother recover. When discovered, he claimed the sheep had been killed by wolves, so as not to waste it. I heard the local authorities didn’t punish him—they just pretended not to know.”

“Oh?” Di Ying’s curiosity was piqued. “Who was the county magistrate there?”

Qian Wu paused, realizing Di Ying meant the official who had not punished the crime of eating mutton. “I think his name was Cheng Ting. You know, the Imperial Guard has men from all sorts of backgrounds, many promoted from the army. Word is, Cheng Ting was once an outstanding general, but after offending someone, he was demoted to serve as a county magistrate in a remote place far from the capital. Just thinking about it makes one feel for him.”

To demote a man who had devoted his whole life to the battlefield, risking everything in combat, and make him a civil official—surely that was a punishment worse than any torture.

Many in the army felt resentment and pity for him, and such stories circulated in whispers; Qian Wu had heard a few.

His words cast a sudden hush over the group. Everyone felt a chill creep down their spines.

Peng Liang glanced anxiously at his own lord.

His master had already sent several powerful martial families to justice, and there were still more on that list...

If His Majesty were to banish his lord to the army, could he endure it?

Di Ying himself was pondering this very question.

His own answer was: he’d actually welcome it.

Every man, from the time he is a boy, harbors a desire to fight. Growing up, he loves to swing a stick, wave a staff, and imagine himself a great, conquering general. Di Ying had dreamed such dreams, too.

But to suffer Cheng Ting’s fate—certainly not.

Setting aside such unpleasant thoughts, Di Ying brought the conversation back. “Let’s not wander off topic—back to the case.”

Song Wen replied, “No traces at all. Excluding theft as a motive, and with crimes of passion unlikely, we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to visit the village and question Han Lixing’s family and the villagers.”

Di Ying nodded.

By now, some of their comrades had built up a fire and dragged over a dead tree stump. They split it in two with an axe, fashioning stools for Master Di and Master Song. Another set a clay pot over the flames to boil water from the stream.

Di Ying’s eyes glinted thoughtfully.