Chapter 21: The Inn Murder (Part Two)

As he reached the second floor, Fang Yue saw the inn’s errand boy coming up from below, carrying a rag and broom.

Fang Yue returned to his room, stood by the window, and gazed out at the distant sky, his mind pondering his next steps.

Originally, he had intended to return to the countryside. But now, gifted with supernatural abilities and martial skill, he knew the county town offered a far grander stage and richer resources. Whether he wished to gather more merit points or collect martial arts techniques to further refine his cultivation, or simply needed the daily food and medicinal herbs required for training, all were more easily obtained here.

More importantly, he wanted to see how the imperial court would respond. Surely, he could not just stand by and watch as the entire county of Ping’an fell to demons and phantoms. As the ruling house of twenty-seven provinces, the Great Qi Dynasty must possess, or have behind it, transcendent powers. Yet he wondered—what was their attitude toward the lives and deaths of ordinary people?

A sudden terrified scream shattered his thoughts. “Murder! There’s a dead body!”

It was the errand boy’s voice. He had just been heading upstairs to clean—what could have happened?

Fang Yue stepped out, suppressing his own nausea, and found the boy collapsed in the corridor, retching so violently it seemed he might empty his very soul.

“What happened?” Fang Yue asked, forcing himself to stay calm.

Seeing Fang Yue, the boy clung to him as if to a lifeline, pointing with terror at the open door of the Chamber of the Dragon, stammering, “Th-there… inside… Dead body… Corpse…!” He doubled over, vomiting again.

Fang Yue frowned; the open door let spill a pungent, strange odor—neither fragrant nor foul, but tinged with the metallic scent of iron that made one’s stomach turn.

Footsteps sounded—several people from below, alarmed by the boy’s cries, had come upstairs. Besides Fang Yue, two other guests on the second floor poked their heads out as well.

“Ah Gui, what are you howling about? What’s happened?” The old innkeeper’s face was wrinkled with worry. Hearing shouts of murder, dread clutched his heart. If a killing had occurred in his inn, how could business ever continue?

“Master, inside… inside…” The boy was so terrified and sick he could barely speak, only gesturing frantically at the Chamber of the Dragon, as if something unspeakably terrifying lay within.

The others were frightened by his state and the strange, acrid odor filling the air, panic spreading across their faces.

“Someone come with me and take a look,” Fang Yue said.

The crowd exchanged nervous glances; not one volunteered.

The old innkeeper grabbed a hall servant. “Ahu, go with Master Fang and see.”

“Me?” Ahu’s voice trembled.

“Come,” said Fang Yue, leading the way. Ahu followed, reluctant.

At the door, even with mental preparation, Fang Yue was startled by the sight within. Ahu, peering inside, immediately doubled over, vomiting violently like the errand boy.

Seeing there was no immediate danger, the others’ curiosity overcame their fear. They tiptoed closer, peering into the room—and each, upon viewing the scene, began to retch.

The old innkeeper cried out, “It’s over!” He rolled his eyes and fainted, but Fang Yue caught him before he could fall.

The chamber resembled a slaughterhouse, save that the victims were not livestock but human. Only now did Fang Yue realize the iron scent masked by the strange odor was blood.

He laid the old innkeeper by the wall, then turned to the others and barked, “Do not disturb the scene. Someone look after the innkeeper, and someone else go to the magistrate’s office at once.”

With that, he rushed downstairs and out into the street.

The four traveling merchants had only just left; perhaps he could catch them.

Fang Yue hurried along the road but returned empty-handed; the men had vanished.

Back at the inn, the guests had gathered in the main hall downstairs. The innkeeper had recovered and was sighing in despair.

When Fang Yue entered, they crowded around him.

“Master Fang, did you catch the murderers?”
“What should we do now?”
“Heavens! What will become of us?”

Their noisy panic made Fang Yue’s head ache. “Quiet! Has anyone gone to the magistrate?”

The innkeeper’s voice quavered with anger. “I sent Ahu to report it. Those damned merchants—beasts in human skin!”

Fang Yue was at a loss. With such a ghastly murder, the inn’s fate was surely sealed.

As for the four burly men—were they truly merchants at all?

“I’ll check upstairs once more.”

He had only glanced in before, too sickened and in too much haste to pursue the killers. Now, thinking back, there was something strange amid the horror. He needed to be sure.

Suppressing his nausea and revulsion, Fang Yue stepped once more into the Chamber of the Dragon.

Blood stained the floor, still tacky and wet; severed limbs and flesh left barely any space to set foot. Most grotesque was the woman’s head placed upon the bed. She was beautiful, her half-closed eyes and slightly parted lips retaining the flush of pleasure after passion. In another context, it would have been an enchanting scene—like a sleeping blossom, a pear flower in spring.

But there was only a head. That made it monstrous.

Fang Yue’s gaze swept the room. He found two more women’s heads, one in the southeast corner, another in the northeast.

On the floor, strange symbols had been formed from scraps of flesh and limb, and the blood seemed not haphazardly spilled, but arranged in a deliberate pattern.

“A sacrifice? Or simple butchery? If a sacrifice, what twisted demon would require such a cruel and bizarre ritual?”

Most unsettling was that he had been lodging just one room away as this horror unfolded. His face darkened at the thought.

The blood and stench were overpowering; Fang Yue’s stomach churned. He stayed only long enough to examine the scene, then closed the door behind him.

Downstairs, he saw several guests hurriedly packing and preparing to flee. Who could remain here after such a ghastly crime?

“The magistrate’s men haven’t come yet?” he asked.

“Not yet,” replied Ah Gui, the errand boy, still by the innkeeper’s side.

The old innkeeper watched guest after guest depart as if fleeing for their lives, sighing incessantly. To be caught up in such a grim affair—his business would be ruined, and he might even face charges and financial ruin.

Desperate, the innkeeper looked at Fang Yue. “Master Fang, you’re an educated man—do you have any ideas?”

Fang Yue could only smile bitterly and shake his head. He understood what the innkeeper wanted, but what could he do?

He was troubled by another thought. If what had happened in that room was a ritual of sacrifice, why would the four brutes choose a busy inn, instead of some secluded place far from prying eyes?

Was the location chosen at random, or was it deliberate?