Chapter Sixty-Four: Pursuing the Killer Amidst Bloody Suspicion

"I already know who the murderer is."

Lu Wuyi let out a cold laugh. "Do you even know what you're saying?"

"Of course I know what I'm saying." Xu Wenshan lay prone before the stretcher—he still couldn't sit up—pointing at a wound on the corpse's neck. "Look at this wound, and then look at the rest of the body—doesn't anything come to mind?"

The magistrate frowned and turned his face away; he had no desire to look at the corpse again. The registrar, on the other hand, shouted angrily, "Do not further defile my nephew's body!"

Xu Wenshan picked up a strip of flesh with his fingers and said, "Look at this wound... Taoist, why do you accuse me of being a heretic just by looking at a corpse?"

Lu Wuyi pointed at the body. "There's a trace of demonic energy on it. If this man had been attacked by a demon before he died, his body wouldn't be like this. All things considered, it's most likely the work of a heretic's dark arts. You are close to the county constable's daughter, and your behavior is furtive—it's clear that only you could be the heretic."

Xu Wenshan replied, "Wrong! Your reasoning is completely self-contradictory. There is demonic energy on the body, yes, which might relate to a heretic. But would a heretic really slit someone's throat and then slice the flesh into strips?"

"Obviously, you held a grudge against Song San and tormented him with dark arts to vent your anger, which is why the body looks like this," Lu Wuyi said.

Xu Wenshan countered, "Again, that's incorrect. The fatal wound is on his neck—all the blood was drained. If you wanted to torment someone, you would do it while they were alive. Why cut open the body and gut him after death?"

Before anyone else could speak, Xu Wenshan continued, "Look at these wounds. They were all made with a dull blade. I don't believe a heretic would purposely use a dull knife to kill someone."

Lu Wuyi was silent for a moment—Xu Wenshan made sense. Then he said, "So?"

Xu Wenshan replied, "So let us make a bold deduction."

"What deduction?"

Word by word, Xu Wenshan declared, "He was eaten."

At these words, the scene fell silent. Xu Jing retched, about to vomit again.

Xu Wenshan pointed at the corpse. "Look at his neck—slit open, blood drained, then the abdomen cut open and the organs removed. Isn't this exactly how we process livestock? Look at his arms and stomach—most of the flesh is gone, and what remains has been sliced into strips. Hmm, it looks as if they were meant to be skewered and roasted."

Xu Jing vomited again, and even the magistrate was sick.

The registrar listened, his eyes nearly bursting with rage, as if he wanted to burn Xu Wenshan alive with his glare. Xu Wenshan said to him, "Don't look at me like that. I'm merely analyzing how the killer acted."

Lu Wuyi, however, remained calm. "This is only a theory."

Xu Wenshan snapped his fingers. "Very well, then let's go look for evidence."

After the registrar had calmed down a bit, Xu Wenshan asked, "When did your nephew go missing yesterday?"

"Yesterday afternoon. We ran out of oil at home, so he went to the market to buy some... and never returned."

Xu Wenshan said to the others, "Let us go to the oil shop and inquire—what led him out of town, and how did he end up like this?"

After some discussion, Lu Wuyi decided to go with Xu Wenshan to uncover the truth. The registrar insisted on accompanying them, swearing to find the real killer. The county constable had his duties and also joined. Before they set out, Lu Wuyi thought to himself that Xu Wenshan was still a suspect; bringing Xu Jing along might restrain him, so he requested her presence as well. In the end, only the magistrate stayed behind.

Xu Wenshan's injuries were severe, so he couldn't ride. Two bailiffs supported him as they followed the group.

Soon they arrived at the oil shop. The owner, a fat man, said he hadn't seen Song San at all that afternoon.

"Are you certain you didn't see him?"

"I'm sure. I have a good memory and remember every customer clearly. Song San definitely didn't come yesterday."

"Perhaps he got lost on the way," Xu Wenshan said. "If we ask around, we might find a clue."

Indeed, a bailiff soon found Song San's trail at a basket-weaver's stall not far from the oil shop.

"Song San? Yes, he was here yesterday. He squatted by my stall for a while."

"Squatted? How so?"

The basket-weaver picked up a bamboo tray and held it before his face. "He took one of my trays, hid his face behind it, and squatted for a bit. I asked him what he was doing, and he told me to keep quiet and not talk to him. So I didn't. Who would have thought he'd end up dead the next day..."

Xu Wenshan stroked his chin. "Did he see anyone unusual?"

The basket-weaver replied, "Yes! He kept glancing toward the oil shop—I don't know what he was looking at."

With this clue, Xu Wenshan went back to the oil shop owner and asked if any strange people had come to buy oil that afternoon.

"Strange people? No, just the usual faces—no one odd at all," the fat owner insisted.

With the trail cold, Lu Wuyi regarded Xu Wenshan with a cold eye. "Well?"

Glancing at Xu Jing, Xu Wenshan suddenly understood. "Song San was a lecher; he must have caught sight of a beautiful woman."

The registrar protested furiously, "My nephew died such a tragic death, and you still slander him! I think you and that demon from the Xu family are in league!"

The county constable snapped, "Old man, who are you calling a demon?"

As the two were about to come to blows, the fat shopkeeper interjected, "Hey, now that you mention it, there really was a pretty young lady who has been coming here every day to buy oil."

This time, the registrar was the most eager. "What is her name, and where does she live?"

The fat owner scratched his head. "I don't know. She never speaks, only gestures with her hands. She seems to live outside the city."

Xu Wenshan and Lu Wuyi exchanged a glance. At last, a lead.

Xu Wenshan said, "I imagine Song San noticed the young lady's beauty and wanted to find out where she lived—so he secretly followed her out of the city."

Lu Wuyi added, "Then he met his end. There must be something strange about that young woman."

"Right," the owner called out just as the group was about to leave, "I just thought of something odd."

"What is it?" Lu Wuyi turned back.

"Well, what was it... I was just thinking about it... Never mind, if I can't remember, it can't be important."

"Hmph, wasting our time," Lu Wuyi muttered, turning away.

They walked on, and only after a while did the owner slap his forehead. "Ah, that's right—she used to come just once a month, but lately she's been coming every day, buying a lot of oil. I keep wondering if she suddenly has a lot more people at home?"

But by then, his words were lost on the wind—the group was already long gone.

...

After gathering clues within the city, Xu Wenshan led the group outside, claiming he wanted to see the 'scene.'

The 'scene' was the site of the crime—a hillside. It was nearing dusk, and farmers were working in the fields below, children playing nearby.

But there was no sign left of any death.

Xu Wenshan rubbed his forehead. "The crime scene has been disturbed. Still, if we search carefully, we should find something."

The clue Xu Wenshan mentioned was quickly found: a crude fire pit filled with burnt charcoal and ashes. Not far off lay scattered, whittled branches, some still smeared with greasy, congealed fat.

Holding up one of the branches, Xu Wenshan said, "If my deduction is correct, yesterday, Song San's flesh was skewered onto these branches and roasted over this fire."

The registrar clutched his head and cried out in agony.