No one had an answer.
Li Yuchun added: "Why would demons steal tax silver?"
Magistrate Chen pondered briefly. "Demons act on whim—no reason, no remorse. Seeking logic in their chaos is futile."
The girl in yellow, however, disagreed—though not before finishing her buns. Munch, munch. Her cheeks puffed like dumplings as she gulped down the last bite, chased it with tea, then dove back in:
"Human flesh tastes better... Anyway!" She waved a greasy hand. "Demons care little for silver. Living prey tempts them more. Even if they did want silver, why risk stealing imperial shipments? Raiding a merchant caravan would be safer."
In the heart of the Dafeng Dynasty's capital, hijacking tax silver wasn't just reckless—it was suicide.
Magistrate Chen nodded. "A valid point. We can't rule out the possibility of manipulation."
Li Yuchun narrowed his eyes. "Then who would command demons to steal tax silver? And why? Why this shipment? Why 150,000 taels?"
"Consider this," the girl interjected, her painted lips pursed. "The mastermind needed vast sums—but couldn't draw attention. Or, more precisely, couldn't seize wealth openly."
A realization struck Magistrate Chen. "So they targeted the tax silver?"
"The escort route was randomized, decided last-moment by Xu Pingzhi," Li Yuchun mused. "Yet the demons lay in wait... There must've been an insider." He turned to Chen. "Shall we consult the scholars at Yunlu Academy? Their Heart-Questioning arts could—"
The girl cut him off with a glare. "Are you doubting the Directorate's Qi-Observation techniques? I told you—none of the escort soldiers knew a thing."
Silence swallowed the trio.
Li Yuchun bent over the case files, scrutinizing every line, while Magistrate Chen exhaled long, weary sighs. The girl in yellow—Caiwei—twirled the Feng Shui compass at her waist, already plotting how to slip away from the Capital Prefecture before sunset and mooch a meal off the Grand Princess. The imperial chefs' skills are unmatched, after all!
Unlike the others, Caiwei served more as a consultant than an official. Though involved in the case, she bore no real responsibility—no rank, no consequences.
Magistrate Chen's eyes flickered with an idea. "Progress is sluggish, yet time slips through our fingers. Might we... seek Lord Wei's counsel?"
The middle-aged man shot him a sidelong glare. "You civil officials have your evaluations—we Shadowbreakers have ours. This is Lord Wei's test for me."
"Fail this case," Chen said bitterly, "and I'll lose more than just my position. The entire court watches us."
Their shared silence thickened like congealed ink.
...
"If this truly is the work of demons... then I'm doomed." Xu Qi'an's face paled as he felt the heavens' cruel mockery.
This was a world where monsters existed—where humans and demons had hunted and devoured each other since antiquity. The Southern Frontier's Hundred Thousand Mountains once housed the Kingdom of Ten Thousand Demons, the largest gathering of demonic beings. Five centuries ago, the Western Kingdoms, led by the Buddhist sects, waged war against it. The conflict raged for sixty years until the demon kingdom was finally eradicated. History recorded it as the Sixty-Year Extermination.
Since then, the demons' fortunes had waned, their power dwindling—while Buddhism soared to unprecedented heights. In Xu Qi'an's modern terms: humanity had won the battle for the top of the food chain.
But if demons had taken the silver, recovering it was his only chance to save himself and the Xu family.
And as a mere Refined Essence Peak cultivator in this world's hierarchy, he knew the odds were hopeless.
The autumn air was damp and chilly, yet Xu Qi'an's body was slick with cold sweat.
Fear.
With the original host's memories fully merged, he knew escape was impossible—knew too well how this imperial society trampled on human rights. Life and death hinged on the whims of those in power.
Back in his old world, he'd fantasized about time-traveling to ancient times, reciting poetry to awe crowds. How thrilling! Reality, however, had slapped him hard. Even after transmigrating, the world refused to spare its cruelty.
"No—this is just conjecture. The Capital Prefecture's conjecture. I can't let their assumptions cloud my judgment. I'll analyze this myself... There's still hope... still hope..."
Survival instinct sharpened his mind, honing his logic to a razor's edge.
Why would demons steal tax silver? Isn't human flesh tastier? Even if they needed money, why target heavily guarded shipments? And those demonesses—supposedly alluring, with curves to die for... Do catgirls or doggirls exist here—
Slap!
He struck his own face. "Focus!"
The core of deduction was elimination—lining up clues one by one, untangling the threads. Otherwise, it'd become a knotted mess, spiraling into chaos.
The tax silver case had two glaring clues:
1. The Unnatural Gale
2. The Explosion After the Silver Plunged into the River
Nearly every major cultivation system—except martial artists—could summon such gales. Thus, Clue One only confirmed a cultivator's involvement, narrowing nothing. This incidentally reduced his uncle's (a martial artist) suspicion—though collusion remained possible.
Clue Two's explosion, however, defied logic. High-level cultivator battles often triggered blasts, but this case involved no combat. An explosion here made no sense—
"Unless it was necessary!" Xu Qi'an muttered.
Which cultivation paths require explosions to achieve their goals?
After a futile mental search, he froze. He'd repeated the Capital Prefecture's mistake.
Their error was fundamental: they'd latched onto the most obvious clue—demons—and charged down that road without question.
Though Xu Qi'an had merged memories with his original's host, his modern mindset dominated—his reasoning anchored in past-life experience. He preferred dissecting case files, gnawing at overlooked details before drawing conclusions.
"If this path leads nowhere, I'll switch tracks," he decided. "Assume this wasn't demonic chaos, but a meticulously planned human scheme."
"Then the perpetrator must have left flaws."
Locard's Exchange Principle states that every criminal leaves traces—direct or indirect—at a crime scene. The specifics eluded him, but categories surfaced: footprints, fingerprints, carriage marks, tool imprints...
"The answer isn't in the obvious clues, but in these scattered traces..."
Mentally, he reconstructed his uncle's tax silver escort using the files. Adrenaline surged; neurons fired like koi in a frenzied feeding, churning the water's surface. Over and over, he replayed the scenario—clues converging, his brain a hypercharged CPU.
As the pieces connected, the case sharpened into focus. Unconsciously, Xu Qi'an slipped into a trance—his soul weightless, breaking free of flesh and stone, soaring above the capital.
Time seemed to rewind. Dawn's first light crept eastward as Xu Pingzhi led armored guards escorting the tax silver toward the Ministry of Revenue.
Mǎo hour, two marks...
Then—Guangnan Street. A sudden gale. Horses rearing. The carriage plunging into the river.
BOOM!
The explosion tore through the water, a geyser of filth and foam. The blast echoed in Xu Qi'an's very bones, jolting him back to his body with a reflexive kick.
Exhaustion darkened his eyes, but his face blazed with triumph.
"I've got it. I've got it! HAHA! The puzzle's solved!"
Xu Qi'an laughed wildly, hammering the cell bars. "Guards! Guards, damn it—someone get over here!"
The duty jailer stormed over, a firestaff in hand. "Yapping like a mad dog—you itching to die early?" He smacked the bars, the clang ringing sharply.
Xu Qi'an stepped back, releasing the bars just before his fingers could be crushed. "I demand to see the Magistrate."
"A fucking prisoner demanding an audience?" The jailer wheezed with laughter, thrusting the firestaff through the bars to jab at him. "Why not piss in a puddle and check your reflection first?"
Another dodge.
"Daring to dodge, are you?" The jailer unhooked the keys at his waist, grinning. "Let's see how you dodge with broken kneecaps."
"I've uncovered critical leads on the tax silver case," Xu Qi'an said, locking eyes with him. "Delay this, and the blame falls on you."
The jailer froze.
.....
In the inner chamber of Capital Prefecture, the girl—now done with her pork buns—gnawed on sugarcane, occasionally fishing candied fruits from her deerskin pouch to complement the sweetness. One side of the room was thick with gloom; the other, blissfully carefree.
"His Majesty demands the case solved in five days," Magistrate Chen paced, too agitated to sit. "Any longer, and the silver may be lost forever. Yet with time so short, we're at a dead end!"
Solving crimes required time.
With a sharp clap of his hands, the Magistrate declared, "I'll petition Lord Wei myself. Hand me the files."
Li Yuchun hesitated. "I'll join you."
The girl in yellow flicked a glance his way, smiling brightly. "Now we're talking. With the Dafeng Dynasty's 'Grandmaster' stepping in, you two might just escape imperial wrath."
Then her grin sharpened, tiny fangs glinting. "Though losing Lord Wei's favor? Far worse than the Emperor's scolding."
The middle-aged man's face darkened.
A yamen runner hurried in, bowing. "Magistrate Chen, the jailers report that Xu Pingzhi's nephew—Xu Qi'an claims to have critical leads on the case. He requests an audience."
All three froze.
Xu Qi'an... A peripheral figure, already interrogated and cleared.
After a beat, Magistrate Chen waved a hand. "Bring him."
Minutes later, shackles clanking, Xu Qi'an was led in—his prison garb stained with dried blood.