Chapter 77: The Magical Artifact
The main hall stood in solemn silence, its doors shut tight, yet the last vestiges of the setting sun filtered through the window lattice, casting a dim glow upon the interior.
Chen Yan sat quietly upon a wooden chair. Across from him, Chu Ke Qing conversed in hushed tones with Chairman He, yet his gaze was fixed upon an old, black-and-white portrait hanging on the wall—a solemn image of Old Madam He, her face adorned with the gentle kindness of a past generation.
Beneath the portrait, an ancestral shrine stood, its wooden surface laden with a pair of bronze candlesticks, an incense burner, and offerings of fresh fruit. The lingering scent of incense whispered of prayers long uttered and memories long preserved.
Chen Yan studied the image in silence, as though caught in the threads of some distant thought. Then, without warning, he rose to his feet, glanced at Chu Ke Qing and Chairman He, and murmured, “Please, continue your discussion. I’ll step outside for a while.”
Chairman He narrowed his eyes at the young man, his expression unreadable. Chu Ke Qing, sensing his displeasure, pressed her lips together before offering the chairman a polite smile. She then rose gracefully and followed Chen Yan to the doorway.
“Where are you going?” she asked in a low voice.
“You stay here and talk. I’ll take a stroll around.”
Chen Yan waved a hand, his tone casual, and stepped beyond the threshold.
Inside the hall, Chairman He narrowed his gaze. “Is he not your disciple? I thought he was supposed to be a junior under your tutelage, but he seems rather free to do as he pleases.”
“Not exactly,” Chu Ke Qing replied, shaking her head. “He is the disciple of a fellow Daoist. He’s merely staying with me for a time to refine his cultivation.”
Seeing the displeasure in Chairman He’s expression, she added, “I understand that this is your family’s private matter, and I would not have brought an outsider without good reason. However, this young man is quite capable—he may be of help to you.”
Chairman He’s stern expression eased slightly. He waved a dismissive hand. “So long as you resolve the issue, I won’t question the details.”
—
Stepping into the courtyard, Chen Yan acknowledged Assistant Zhao with an easy smile and a nod before making his way beyond the estate walls.
“Mister Chen, where are you headed?” Assistant Zhao inquired, following a few steps behind.
“Nowhere in particular, just taking a walk.”
Assistant Zhao hesitated. “Would you like me to send someone with you?”
“No need. Oh, and don’t wait for me for dinner.” Chen Yan waved a hand dismissively and strode off, his steps unhurried.
He Village was neither large nor small—one of those typical rural settlements of the southern regions of the Dragon Nation. In quieter times, such villages lacked any real liveliness. Young men and women had long departed for the cities, either to labor or to chase grander dreams, leaving behind only the elderly and the children. Rarely would one see youth lingering in these ancestral lands.
But with the Spring Festival barely ten days away, the village had begun to stir with life once more.
Wandering through the village paths, Chen Yan observed the homes with their doors flung wide, revealing glimpses of families reunited. Young faces—no doubt those of returning kin—could be spotted amidst the older generations.
He moved leisurely, teasing chickens, amusing stray dogs, his steps unhurried as he absorbed the rustic familiarity of it all. Before he had gone off to university, he had spent his childhood in the countryside under the care of his grandmother. Even now, the earthy scent of the village air filled him with a strange sense of ease.
At the village entrance, a small convenience store stood, its awning shading a lazy yellow dog slumped against the wall, lazily scratching itself with its hind leg. As Chen Yan approached, the dog barely spared him a glance before yawning and shutting its eyes once more.
The store’s shelves were lined with an assortment of goods, a small outdoor stall displaying fireworks and firecrackers in preparation for the upcoming festival. From within, the rhythmic clatter of mahjong tiles could be heard.
Chen Yan stepped inside and plucked a bottle of cola from the shelf. To his left, a small door led into a cramped backroom, where thick cigarette smoke curled in the dim light. Inside, several mahjong tables were packed with players, their chatter and laughter filling the space.
A man with hands tucked into his sleeves—a likely shopkeeper—poked his head out from the gambling room, giving Chen Yan a cursory glance before lazily announcing, “Two yuan. Scan the code yourself.”
Chen Yan chuckled. This sort of operation—half convenience store, half mahjong parlor—was all too familiar. Back in his home village, such businesses thrived more on the latter than the former.
After paying for his drink, he wandered into the mahjong room, standing by a table to watch the game unfold. His mind, sharp and honed by his cultivation of Qi, swiftly grasped the rules of the local variation.
He lingered a while until a player excused himself, likely to take his evening meal. Seizing the opportunity, Chen Yan tapped the shopkeeper’s shoulder.
“An open seat—I can play a few rounds?”
The shopkeeper gave him a once-over but showed no wariness. Chen Yan’s youthful face was far too innocent to belong to an undercover officer cracking down on gambling.
“You play? It’s real stakes.”
“Mm.” Chen Yan nodded, his expression relaxed. “How much for the tea fee?”
The shopkeeper named a price and then, grinning, pulled back the chair for him. “I have noodles and fried rice for dinner. Let me know if you want any.”
The other three players were clearly local village folk, men who worked the fields when duty called and whiled away their idle hours here when it didn’t. Such men lived lives neither rich nor poor, content with the ebb and flow of time.
Chen Yan’s entrance prompted lighthearted banter.
“Young man, you’re not from our village, are you?” one of them inquired with a grin.
“I’m from the county,” Chen Yan replied smoothly. “Just visiting an old friend.”
A middle-aged man with a cigarette tucked behind his ear chuckled. “An old friend, eh? Or is it a little lady friend?”
Chen Yan merely smiled, unfazed, waiting for the dice to be cast before deftly stacking his tiles.
Another player laughed. “Old Stick, don’t tease the lad. He’s a fine-looking young man. In a few years, when your daughter’s looking for a suitor, you might not find one this good.”
Old Stick’s face reddened. “Nonsense! My daughter is studying in the city. She’ll marry in the city, too!”
The thin man seated beside Chen Yan gave him a curious look. “Young man, which family’s girl are you seeing?”
Chen Yan returned his gaze with a knowing smile. “Why? Afraid I’ll lose and refuse to pay? Didn’t know mahjong required a family background check.”
The table burst into laughter, the game unfolding with the crisp clatter of tiles, as the village night deepened around them.
The dim lantern light cast shifting shadows on the mahjong table, the tiles clicking like the whispered schemes of hidden masters. Chen Yan had spent the day learning the local dialect from the townsfolk, and now, as he spoke, his words flowed effortlessly, like a seasoned swordsman wielding his blade.
The men at the table chuckled, but before any further inquiries could be made about his origins, Chen Yan played his tile. “East Wind.”
With that, the game took precedence, and the probing gazes momentarily withdrew.
Chen Yan’s mahjong skills were unremarkable—neither sharp nor dull. The local rules were different from what he was used to, making his movements somewhat hesitant, like a martial artist adjusting to an unfamiliar stance. After an hour of play, he had only won a modest hand but had twice found himself defeated, once even gifting his lower seat a grand victory. The recipient of that fortune was a wiry, half-aged man, whose sunken cheeks stretched into a broad grin. His attitude toward Chen Yan warmed considerably after that.
The three men at the table observed this young outsider closely. He neither boasted in victory nor faltered in defeat, maintaining his composure like a true disciple of the art. “A good player with good conduct,” they murmured in approval.
Sensing the moment was ripe, Chen Yan waved to the owner of the establishment, calling for a pack of Furong Wang cigarettes. With practiced ease, he opened the pack and distributed one to each player. The air grew even more congenial, the room thick with camaraderie and drifting smoke.
Then, he began his true game—one of inquiry. With the ease of a seasoned strategist laying out a formation, he led the conversation toward Boss He and his household. No one found this suspicious.
After all, it was only natural for outsiders to be curious about Boss He, a man so wealthy his name graced even the rolls of the nation’s fortune lists. In He Village, the man was legendary, and the villagers often found amusement in gossiping about his affairs.
By most accounts, Boss He was well-regarded in the village. Having risen to prominence, he had not forgotten his roots. He had funded roads and bridges, ensuring prosperity trickled back to the land of his ancestors. Every Lunar New Year, he distributed gifts to every household, a tradition that kept goodwill firmly in his grasp.
Of course, no legend is without its envious whisperers, those who muttered in secret corners, their hearts tainted with jealousy. But to openly speak ill of Boss He? That was rare.
Yet, these days, the village was abuzz with a darker tale—one that could not be silenced.
The tomb of Old Madam He, Boss He’s mother, had collapsed. Worse, her body had vanished without a trace.
On the day of the exhumation, the He Family had held a grand ritual, summoning all manner of spiritual masters to oversee the proceedings. Villagers had gathered in droves, eager to witness the event, and when the casket was finally pried open, the truth was laid bare for all to see—
There was no corpse.
The tale spread like wildfire. Rumors sprouted in every direction. Some claimed Boss He had made enemies too powerful to be ignored. Others whispered of divine retribution, of a Mountain God’s wrath. Still others spoke of the presence of something far more sinister lurking in the shadows.
Yet, despite the feverish speculation, one thing stood out—none at the mahjong table dared utter a single ill word about Old Madam He herself.
Superstition held that the dead should be spoken of with reverence, but Chen Yan sensed there was more to it than mere tradition.
As the conversation unfolded, a clearer image emerged.
In her lifetime, Old Madam He had been a woman of kindness and virtue. Her door was always open to those in need, and none who sought her aid left empty-handed. When the He Family clan sought to restore their ancestral shrine, she had funded nearly ninety percent of the costs—not out of arrogance, but because she believed all should contribute, if only symbolically, to uphold tradition and harmony.
The same was true for the family’s burial lands. It was she who had purchased the He Family Ancestral Tomb’s mountain plot, covering nearly the entire expense.
When Chen Yan casually inquired whether Old Madam He had any gifts in feng shui or fortune-telling, the three men shook their heads.
“No such thing,” they said. “She was a widow from a young age, raising Boss He alone. She rarely stepped beyond her own threshold. Even her family’s fields were leased out, and the rents she collected were modest.”
“She had a quiet reputation,” one added. “A widow’s house invites trouble, but not hers. No one dared to disturb her.”
Another man, Old Stick, who claimed kinship with the He Family, spoke up with a hint of pride. “She was my great-aunt, you know. Her husband—my distant great-uncle—left her some wealth, but she survived more through virtue than coin. Even the village ruffians knew better than to cause her grief.”
He leaned forward conspiratorially. “There was once a lowlife who tried peeking through her window at night. Next day, his legs were broken.”
“By whom?” Chen Yan asked.
Old Stick puffed his chest. “Who else? The He Family men, of course! No outsider would dare offend our bloodline.”
One of the other players chuckled. “If she was so close to you, why didn’t Boss He offer you some fancy title in his company? Maybe a managerial role?”
A flush crept up Old Stick’s neck. “Bah! I’m no fool. I barely finished primary school, and his company’s filled with university graduates. What would I even do there? Cause trouble?”
He cleared his throat. “Still, when the mourning banquet was held, Boss He personally raised his cup to me.”
Satisfied with this piece of insight, Chen Yan shifted the discussion to Madam He, Boss He’s wife, Sun Chen.
Unlike her mother-in-law, she was an enigma. None at the table could claim familiarity with her. She rarely appeared in the village, and when she did, it was always in Old Madam He’s shadow. She lived secluded in the grand estate, escorted whenever she left, never mingling with the locals.
“But she had a younger brother,” someone mused. “Passed away a few years ago.”
The table grew somber.
“With Boss He’s fortune, that young man could have lived a life of riches,” one sighed. “What a waste.”
“Nonsense,” Old Stick snapped. “He wasn’t her brother. He was her cousin.”
The others stared. “What?”
“Her father only had one child—her. The boy was the son of her uncle.”
He smirked. “That’s why people came knocking. Twice.”
Chen Yan’s eyes narrowed. “For what?”
Old Stick leaned back, the flickering lantern casting long shadows across his face.
“That cousin of hers? He was rotten to the core,” he said, voice thick with contempt. “If you ask me, he deserved what he got.”
Chen Yan deftly flicked a cigarette from the pack and offered it with a casual smile. “Come on, enlighten me. I enjoy a good piece of gossip. Her cousin died, so why are they causing trouble for the He family?”
The old gambler arranged his mahjong tiles and began his tale. “To be fair, Madam He was more than generous to her maternal kin. That cousin of hers—the son of her uncle—was much younger than Sun Chen. When Boss He rose to wealth and power, the boy’s family came seeking favors. Out of kinship, the He family arranged a comfortable position for him, where he made no small sum. But the brat? He refused to walk the right path. Word is, he took to indulging in that accursed habit…”
As he spoke, the old gambler made a subtle gesture that everyone at the table immediately understood.
“Once you touch that poison, you’re finished.”
“True enough. That stuff ruins people.” Another player nodded in agreement.
“Eventually, the brat got caught and was thrown into a rehabilitation center. His family, desperate, went begging to the He household, hoping for intervention. But the Old Madam was resolute—she declared that while other matters could be negotiated, this was a line the He family would not cross. They were a house of upright standing; such filth would never be tolerated. Not only did she refuse to help, but she forbade that branch of the family from stepping foot into their home ever again. That severed all ties. The Old Madam, soft-hearted as she had been all her life, was unyielding in this one decision.”
Chen Yan nodded approvingly. “She made the right call. Who wants to associate with people like that? They’re nothing but bad luck.”
“Exactly!” The old gambler smacked his tile down. “With the He family cutting him off, he lost his cushy position as well. After that, who knows what trouble he got himself into? Word was, he racked up a massive debt. One year, desperate, he crawled back to the He family, pleading once more. But the Old Madam remained steadfast—no mercy, no assistance. With her stance clear, Madam He did not go against her will. And then, not long after… the brat was dead.”
Chen Yan raised an eyebrow. “How did he die?”
The old gambler shook his head. “No one knows for sure. Some say he leaped from a building, shattered on the ground below. Perhaps his mind was too far gone from his habit. Or maybe his creditors pushed him to the brink. I’m not a constable—I can’t say for certain.”
Chen Yan scoffed. “So why all the commotion? His death had nothing to do with the He family.”
“Exactly!” The old gambler’s voice turned indignant. “The brat ruined himself! What does that have to do with the He family? But you know how the world is—some fools refuse to be reasonable. After his death, his parents stormed into the He mansion, blaming them for his downfall, claiming that their refusal to help led him to his grave. It was only thanks to the intervention of the He clan’s elder that they were thrown out. I was there that day, saw it all with my own eyes.”
“Pah!” Another player sneered. “Like father, like son! A fool raises a fool. If the old ones are so shameless, no wonder their child turned out rotten.”
Chen Yan chuckled in agreement, tossing in a few words of camaraderie.
By the time the game ended, the sky had turned dark. Chen Yan tallied his losses—three hundred gone, while the others walked away with winnings, especially the old gambler, who pocketed two hundred alone. Despite losing, Chen Yan maintained his ever-present smile. His ease with loss pleased the other players, who invited him back for another game the following night.
He laughed. “We’ll see.”
Then, hands in his pockets, he wandered through the village, soaking in the night air before eventually making his way back to the He mansion.
Upon arrival, the housekeeper greeted him and opened the courtyard gates. As he stepped inside, his gaze landed on a small side chamber. Inside, Chu Ke Qing sat with Sun Chen, their conversation hushed but animated.
He entered the room, his eyes briefly flicking to the female assistant nearby. She met his gaze and gave the subtlest nod—confirmation that the information he had asked for had borne fruit.
Smiling, Chen Yan made his way to Sun Chen’s side and took a seat. A bold move—by decorum, as Chu Ke Qing’s guest, he should have sat beside her. Instead, he positioned himself so that he and Chu Ke Qing flanked Sun Chen, boxing her in between them.
The housekeeper soon arrived with tea, placing a cup before him. Chen Yan glanced at it before flashing a disarming smile. “I’m still young and not much for tea at night. I fear it’ll keep me awake. Could I trouble you for something else? Juice or cola, perhaps.”
Sun Chen gave him an assessing look. Her gentle features curved into a smile. “Young people… drinking such sweet things before bed isn’t good for you.”
Chen Yan returned her smile with one of his own. “I’ve got youth on my side. Fast metabolism and all.”
Sun Chen chuckled, shaking her head. “Still, it’ll ruin your teeth. Be sure to brush well tonight.” She scrutinized him again before sighing. “Forgive me, Xiao Chen. You’re around my son’s age… I suppose I got carried away.”
“No offense taken. You’re looking out for me—I appreciate it.” Chen Yan nodded, then casually asked, “Your son is abroad?”
“Yes. He returned for the Old Madam’s funeral, but after the rites, he left again. When this trouble arose, I decided not to disturb him. No need to burden the children.”
A shadow crossed her face—a flicker of sorrow.
Chen Yan understood. This woman was drowning in longing for her son.
Sun Chen was a rarity in the modern world—a woman of tradition, who had dedicated her life to her husband and children. She had spent years at the Old Madam’s side, their lives deeply intertwined. With the Old Madam’s passing, Sun Chen had lost not just a mentor, but an anchor. With her husband and children far away, she had been left adrift.
In Chen Yan—tall, fair-skinned, and easygoing—she saw a reflection of her own son. The resemblance, even if faint, stirred her maternal instincts.
She continued making small talk, inquiring about his name, age, school, and studies.
Chen Yan humored her, all the while observing her closely. A delicate jade pendant hung from her sweater, its emerald surface carved into the shape of a Buddha.
A talisman of faith and fortune.
Chen Yan narrowed his eyes, his gaze lingering on the jade amulet worn by Madam He. It bore an uncanny resemblance to the one he had seen Boss He wearing earlier that day—perhaps they were a matching pair.
A flicker of thought crossed his mind.
“Madam He, that jade amulet of yours is truly exquisite,” he remarked, his tone casual yet deliberate.
Pausing for a moment, he then smiled apologetically. “Forgive me, Madam He. I have but one hobby—studying jade and gemstones. Whenever I spot a fine piece, my curiosity gets the better of me.”
As he spoke, he reached into his robes and produced an emerald thumb ring, holding it up for her to see. “See? I keep one on me at all times. It’s a small passion of mine.”
Sun Chen’s eyes flickered toward the ring. Though she seldom left the house, she had long been surrounded by wealth and had developed an appreciation for fine objects. One glance was enough for her to discern the quality. “This is imperial-grade jade,” she observed, nodding. “A fine piece indeed.”
Chen Yan nodded. “It’s been passed down in my family for generations.”
Sun Chen chuckled softly. “This jade token of mine was a gift from Old Madam He on the day I married into the family. It’s part of a matched pair, an heirloom of the He lineage.”
She continued, “Boss He has worn his since childhood. After we wed, Old Madam He entrusted this one to me, instructing me to wear it at all times.”
“A superior piece of emerald jade,” Chen Yan murmured in admiration. Then, as though struck by impulse, he hesitated briefly before asking, “Madam He, would you mind if I took a closer look?”
His request was abrupt—perhaps even impolite.
First, the jade token was no ordinary trinket. It was of the highest quality, a priceless artifact. It was unseemly to ask to handle such a treasured possession so casually.
Second, objects such as these often carried protective blessings. To allow another to touch it—especially without due cause—was considered a grave taboo.
By all logic, for a young man like Chen Yan, of far lesser status than Sun Chen, to make such a request was inappropriate.
By right, since he was brought here by Chu Ke Qing, she should have immediately stepped in to rebuke him and smooth over the situation.
But how could Chu Ke Qing dare to oppose this man, this senior?
Sun Chen, though momentarily taken aback, was by nature gentle and obliging. While she found the request somewhat unusual, she did not refuse. Unfastening the jade token, she placed it upon the table with a mild smile. “Since you like such things, take a look. But do be careful not to drop it. Of all the gifts from Old Madam He, this one holds the most significance. She insists I wear it every day.”
Chen Yan’s brow twitched slightly as he carefully picked up the jade token, studying it with meticulous attention.
A full minute passed before he returned it with both hands. Sun Chen immediately took it back and secured it safely once more.
“This is a rare treasure,” he said earnestly. “You must guard it well.”
Sun Chen sighed, a shadow of melancholy passing over her face. “Old Madam He treasures it above all else. Naturally, I shall keep it safe.”
Chen Yan exchanged a glance with Chu Ke Qing before continuing, “Earlier, I spoke with Teacher Chu about the Eight Characters of the He household…”
Sun Chen’s expression grew more solemn as she turned toward Chu Ke Qing.
Chu Ke Qing nodded at once. “To divine the placement of a Yin residence, one must consider the Eight Characters of the closest kin. Earlier today, I sought Boss He’s approval to obtain yours, as well as your children’s, for an analysis.”
Sun Chen shook her head. “I don’t really understand such things.”
Chen Yan smiled faintly. “That is of no concern. However, Madam He—your Eight Characters and those of Boss He form an unparalleled match.”
Sun Chen blinked, surprised.
“Simply put,” Chen Yan continued, “your fates are the most perfectly aligned pair I have ever seen. Your union is one of longevity, prosperity, and endless blessings. Such fortune is rare beyond measure.”
As he spoke, he watched her intently, seeking the faintest shift in her gaze. “Surely, when you married Boss He, Old Madam He must have consulted a master diviner?”
Sun Chen laughed softly. “Most likely. In a family like the He lineage, marriages are always arranged through proper rites, including fortune readings. It is tradition.”
She pondered a moment before adding, “When I was still a young maiden, Old Madam He once invited me to a meal. I thought she merely wished to assess my character, as prospective in-laws often do.”
“Shortly after that meeting, the He family formally proposed.”
Chen Yan’s gaze sharpened. He and Chu Ke Qing exchanged a meaningful glance. Could it be that Old Madam He was truly a master of the mystic arts? A single meal—was it not, perhaps, a means to read Sun Chen’s face and divine her fate?
Sun Chen then mused aloud, “Now that I think back on it, Old Madam He wasn’t alone that day. She brought another elder with her.”
Her smile turned nostalgic. “At the time, I thought she had merely gathered family members to assess me, and I was so nervous I scarcely ate.”
She shook her head, chuckling. “After I married into the family, I never saw that elder again. I once asked Old Madam He about it, and she told me the person was an old friend who happened to be visiting and joined us for the meal.”
“Looking back… could that have been a master diviner she invited?”
Chu Ke Qing immediately pursued the thread. “Sister Chen, you’re saying that when Old Madam He first met you, she was accompanied by another elder?”
“Yes. There were three of us at that table—myself, Old Madam He, and her friend, also an elderly lady. I recall her surname was Huang. My mother addressed her as ‘Sister Shun Ying.’”
Huang… Shun Ying. Then her full name must have been Huang Shun Ying?
Chu Ke Qing remained silent, but beside her, Chen Yan’s eyes widened.
A peculiar expression flickered across his face as he fought to suppress his shock.
Huang Shun Ying?
That name belonged to none other than his own grandmother—the renowned oracle of ten villages, the exalted one of the Domain Realm…
His grandmother’s official identification bore that very name!
Then…
Old Madam He was not the master.
The true master… was his own grandmother!
This revelation struck Chen Yan like a thunderbolt, leaving him momentarily speechless.
Sun Chen glanced at the time before rising to her feet. “Alright,” she said with a polite smile, “I had the kitchen prepare a late-night meal for Old He. I should go check on it. You all rest well tonight. The guest rooms in the rear courtyard are ready—new bedding, fresh toiletries, everything in order.”
With that, the ever-gracious Madam He excused herself, leaving the dining hall.
Chu Ke Qing and Chen Yan stood to see her off before returning to their seats. A trace of hesitation flickered across Chu Ke Qing’s face as she observed Chen Yan’s slightly stiff expression. “Senior,” she asked, “what’s wrong?”
Chen Yan waved it off. “Nothing serious. Feels like I twisted my back a little.” He exhaled, stretching slightly. “Let’s talk about what we gained today.”
Chu Ke Qing decided not to press further and instead spoke in a measured tone. “Madam He came over to deliver the guest list from the funeral of Old Madam He, just as we requested.”
She placed a meticulously recorded booklet on the table.
Chen Yan glanced at it but did not reach for it. His gaze turned to his female assistant. “What about the inquiries you made today?”
The assistant scooted a little closer, her posture straightening. “I asked around in the village—spoke with the barefoot doctor, the barber… Eventually, I stopped by the small convenience store near the village entrance. But just as I arrived, I saw you at the mahjong table, Senior. I didn’t dare disturb you.”
“Mm. And your findings?”
A complicated expression passed over the assistant’s face before she finally spoke. “Ever since Old Madam He passed, there have been three deaths in He Village.”
She took a steady breath before listing them out. “The first was Ding You Quan, an outsider to He Village, though distantly related to the He family by marriage. A man of forty-one, divorced, with a son who now lives in another town with his mother. He was known for his violent temper—beat his wife and child often when he was younger. After the divorce, his son severed ties with him entirely.
“This morning, we saw a funeral procession on our way back from the mountain. That was for Ding You Quan.”
She paused before continuing. “He made a living farming and managing a fish pond, supplying live fish to local restaurants. It brought in some money, but he was a gambler—rarely had anything saved. He owed many debts.
“Eight days ago, he fell into his own fish pond while catching fish. They pulled him out, seemingly unharmed. But the next day, a friend visited and found him dead in his home. The official cause was high fever leading to shock—probably from falling into the water in winter and catching a cold. Since he lived alone, no one got him medical attention in time.
“Oh, and the reason his funeral was delayed until this afternoon was… his son refused to come. Held a deep grudge against the man for years of beatings and wouldn’t even collect his ashes. His relatives tried persuading him until the very last moment, but he refused, which pushed back the procession. That’s why we ran into it.”
Chen Yan nodded slightly. A brute who abused his wife and child—no wonder no one mourned him. Those relatives trying to talk sense into the boy? Meddling fools.
The assistant continued, moving on to the second death. “The next was Wang Da Sheng. Another outsider to He Village, completely unrelated to the He family.
“He was thirty-seven, had a wife and child, but was a layabout. Got into fights when he was young, even served over a year in prison. Later, he married through a matchmaker’s arrangement.
“Worked for a fruit wholesaler in the county, sourcing fruit from local farmers. But during the off-season, he had no work and spent his days loitering in the village—drinking, gambling, getting into fights.
“Ten days ago, he collapsed at the gambling table. Heart attack. They rushed him to the hospital, but he died before arrival. The hospital’s preliminary diagnosis was cardiac arrest. The family refused an autopsy, so no further investigation was done.”
Chen Yan’s expression darkened slightly, but he remained silent as the assistant moved on to the last case.
“The third man—He De Nian. When people hear the surname ‘He,’ they might assume he was part of the He family, but he wasn’t. Just happened to share the name. No relation at all.
“He was thirty-nine. A lifelong bachelor. In villages like this, when a man his age remains unmarried, there’s usually a reason—either a troublemaker or a wastrel. He De Nian was both.
“His mother remarried into He Village, bringing him along when he was a child. She and his stepfather died years ago, leaving him to fend for himself. But instead of making a living, he became infamous for stealing poultry during the day and harassing widows at night.
“The kind of scoundrel with just enough sense to avoid serious crimes—always toeing the line, never getting caught for anything more than petty theft.
“Two weeks ago, he died in a car accident in the county.”
Her report complete, the assistant leaned back, letting the weight of her words settle over the room.
Chen Yan looked at Chu Ke Qing. “Well? Do you see it?”
Chu Ke Qing’s fingers tapped lightly against the table. “All three deaths… occurred after Old Madam He’s grave collapsed.”
Chen Yan nodded. “And one more thing—each of them was a bottom-feeder in the village. Lazy, greedy, lacking morals, with no family wealth to speak of.
“Men like these… are the easiest to buy.”
Chu Ke Qing narrowed her eyes. “You mean—this wasn’t coincidence?”
Chen Yan’s gaze flickered toward the guest list on the table. His tone was cool. “If my guess is right, check the names recorded here. These three weren’t present at Old Madam He’s funeral. Their names won’t be on that list.”
Chu Ke Qing immediately flipped through the booklet, scanning the neatly documented records. Madam He, Sun Chen, was a meticulous woman. Though the booklet wasn’t handwritten by her, the details within were precise, recorded under her direction. Every household, every visitor, their names, offerings, and even the amount of funeral money given—each detail was accounted for.
As her eyes traced the pages, her expression subtly shifted.
“Senior, the register states that none of them came—Old Madam He’s funeral, Ding You Quan, Wang Da Sheng, and He De Nian—not a single one of their names appears on the list.”
Chen Yan shook his head. “A guilty conscience, no doubt.”
He mused for a moment before laughing softly. “They had long plotted to bring misfortune to the He family. With such treachery in their hearts, how could they dare to set foot in the mourning hall?”
Chu Ke Qing furrowed her brows in thought. “I see what you mean, Senior—so those three who died, they were the ones who desecrated Old Madam He’s tomb?
But… from what I know, they had no connection to each other. Just lowly scoundrels, idle and thieving. There was no enmity between them and the He family—why would they do such a thing? Unless… they were mere hired hands, nothing more than blades wielded by someone in the shadows…”
Chen Yan smirked. “Seems my game of mahjong wasn’t played in vain today.”
With that, he recounted the matter of Sun Chen’s cousin.
Hearing this, Chu Ke Qing nodded. “Madam He’s cousin… he even came here causing trouble. That’s a grudge right there.
That cousin of hers got himself into trouble, and when his family sought the He household for aid, it was Old Madam He who refused to intervene. She was also the one who severed ties with them. Such resentment, long buried, would naturally fester. The He family is wealthy and powerful, and those resentful relatives wouldn’t have dared to act against them in life—so they chose the most insidious of paths, desecrating Old Madam He’s grave after her death.”
Chen Yan nodded. “A plausible theory, but we need more proof to confirm it.”
Without hesitation, Chu Ke Qing turned to her assistant, issuing swift orders. “Go to the county at once. Investigate Madam He’s family background, especially that cousin’s household. Verify all details immediately.”
Her assistant hesitated. “Elder Zi, if I leave, then—”
Chu Ke Qing frowned. “I’m at the He family mansion. Boss He is here as well, surrounded by security. What trouble do you think I’ll run into?”
“No, I mean—you should at least have someone by your side…”
“How many times must I say this? We cultivators have no need for such worldly indulgences.” Chu Ke Qing’s tone was tinged with impatience.
Seeing this, her assistant quickly took her leave.
With a sigh, Chu Ke Qing turned to Chen Yan. “I must have made a fool of myself, Senior. Those by my side have been with me too long; they’ve picked up some worldly habits.”
Chen Yan merely chuckled. “Nothing wrong with that. Your assistant is quite devoted to you. We cultivate, true, but we are not monks. Must we truly abandon all pleasures of the mortal realm? Should we eat nothing but gruel and water, live as ascetics, to be considered sincere in our path?”
Chu Ke Qing shook her head. “The techniques of the Cloud Sect demand a pure heart. The slightest contamination by worldly desires can cloud one’s vision in Qi observation.”
Chen Yan found this notion laughable. [Your Cloud Sect techniques must be sorely lacking, then. I partake in the world’s delights, yet my Qi observation remains as keen as ever.]
After the assistant left, only the two of them remained in the dining hall.
Chen Yan pondered for a moment before asking, “Earlier, I took a look at the jade pendant that Sun Chen was wearing. Have you seen it before?”
“Yes, I have,” Chu Ke Qing replied. “I saw Madam He wear it often. And I’ve seen Boss He’s jade pendant several times as well. He once said his mother gave it to him when he was just a child.”
Chen Yan shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I’m asking—have you ever examined it closely, in your own hands?”
“…No,” Chu Ke Qing admitted. [What does he take me for? Not everyone acts as recklessly as he does. It was only because Madam He was so good-natured that she tolerated his abruptness. Anyone else would have ignored him entirely.]
But she was no fool. She immediately grasped the implication. “That jade pendant—is there something unusual about it?”
Chen Yan’s expression grew serious. “It is a pair of magical artifacts.”
Chu Ke Qing’s eyes widened in shock.
“Magical artifacts?” The Cloud Sect leader was momentarily stunned, then her gaze burned with intrigue. “Are you certain, Senior?”
Chen Yan shot her a glance. Chu Ke Qing immediately corrected herself, speaking in a lower voice, “I do not doubt your insight, Senior. It’s just that… magical artifacts are exceedingly rare.”
Chen Yan shook his head. “I may not have examined Boss He’s jade pendant, but I held Madam He’s in my own hands. It contained a distinct flow of Yuan Qi, continuously circulating. Ordinary jade can be infused with Yuan Qi, true, but as a lifeless object, the Qi would naturally dissipate over time.
Magical artifacts are different. They possess formations within them, allowing them to retain Qi indefinitely, even drawing upon surrounding energy to replenish themselves.
Madam He wore this jade pendant for decades, yet its Yuan Qi remains intact. There is no doubt—it is a magical artifact.”
Chu Ke Qing’s eyes gleamed. “If it is truly a magical artifact… then what is its function?”
Chen Yan spoke slowly. “It wards against harmful Qi.”
Chu Ke Qing frowned. “Wards against harmful Qi?”
“Exactly. It repels Yin Sha Qi, evil spirits, and demonic energy. There exist certain places in this world where mortals should not dwell for long—such as graveyards, where Yin Sha Qi lingers. A brief stay does little harm, but prolonged exposure can erode both health and fortune.
This jade pendant, imbued with the power of a magical artifact, shields its wearer from such influences.”
Chu Ke Qing nodded. “So… it is essentially a protective talisman?”
She thought for a moment, then added, “The He family has long been an esteemed lineage, standing for centuries. It’s not entirely unthinkable that they might possess such an artifact.
However, what does not make sense is this—Madam He gifted it to Boss He many years ago. At the time, she was but a widow of modest means, and he was merely a child. Even if the He family possessed such treasures, why would they bestow one upon a mere boy?
Not to mention, even if it weren’t a magical artifact, a high-quality emerald of this caliber would be far too valuable to casually give to a child.”
Chen Yan’s eyes flickered at her words, but he remained silent.
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation