Fang Dashan suddenly froze, his eyes staring straight ahead, his body completely still.
Song Xian was still curiously waiting for the second half of his sentence.
“What’s wrong? Are you alright?”
Song Xian waved his hand in front of Fang Dashan’s eyes but got no response.
Leaning closer for a better look, he realized Fang Dashan’s pupils were dilated and vacant—he was dead.
How could this happen?
“What’s going on?”
Song Hancheng stepped out of the woods with slow, measured steps, carrying a bamboo basket filled with a dozen or so mushrooms.
“He… seems to be dead.”
Again, an ancient forest.
Again, a death right before his eyes.
Though Song Xian was an atheist, he now truly suspected there might be something about himself—always sending people to their deaths.
He remembered that on the very first day he became a Chongxi Zhaoxu, he had already caused the death of his wife, who was supposed to be a spirit-calming bride.
That meant, in less than a month, he had “killed” four people.
Not even harvesting chives went this fast.
Most of the villagers believed in fate and spirits.
Did the sons think he was unlucky, always bringing death?
“It’s fine, let me take a look first.”
Sensing Song Xian’s growing anxiety, Song Hancheng comforted him before setting down the basket and checking Fang Dashan’s body.
Feigning a check of the head, Song Hancheng discreetly pulled out a needle from the back of Fang Dashan’s neck.
He then examined several other wounds on the body before gently covering the dead man’s unclosed eyes with his hand.
“Internal injuries are severe; likely died from a ruptured spleen.”
Song Hancheng deliberately pressed on Fang Dashan’s abdomen in front of Song Xian; it felt unusually soft.
“Oh, so someone seriously beat him, causing his death?”
So it had nothing to do with him?
Song Hancheng nodded.
Seeing no suspicion in Song Xian’s eyes, he secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
Song Xian, seeing his eldest son had no metaphysical blame toward him, also felt a bit relieved inside.
The two agreed to descend the mountain together and notify Village Chief Chen Changgui.
“You came up here to pick mushrooms?”
“Yes, but I don’t really know how to identify them. They all look the same,”
Song Hancheng said, handing the basket to Song Xian.
Song Xian glanced inside.
There were eighteen mushrooms—only one was edible Yue Luo Mushroom, the rest were all Toxin Mushrooms.
“How poisonous are these Toxin Mushrooms? Will eating them cause immediate death?”
Song Hancheng asked curiously.
Song Xian separated the mushrooms into two groups with a flick.
“These few are mildly toxic; eating them causes vomiting and diarrhea. These are highly toxic—the red one is deadly if eaten even in small amounts; the blue one causes hallucinations first, then vomiting, heart palpitations, and death; the remaining two have hidden symptoms initially, showing nothing at first, but later cause sudden multi-organ failure. Once ingested, no medicine can cure it.”
This was literally a godsend for killing invisibly!
Especially the last two—those who poisoned with these could not only escape blame easily but also cleverly frame others.
Song Hancheng’s eyebrows rose slightly as he took the basket back.
“That’s too dangerous. I must learn to recognize them properly and remember, to avoid picking the wrong ones and harming myself or others.”
Song Xian didn’t doubt him and praised Song Hancheng’s earnestness and sense of responsibility as the eldest brother.
“Good kid. Among the three brothers, you’re the most reliable.”
Song Hancheng smiled and accepted the compliment humbly.
“I’ll keep working hard.”
When they arrived at Chen Changgui’s house, he was directing his two sons to move newly purchased timber into the backyard.
The previous timber had all been bought by Song Xian yesterday, so Chen naturally had to restock today.
Holding a bowl of soaked dried berries, Chen sighed happily,
“Yesterday’s business went well; made a good profit.”
“Really?”
Upon hearing Song Hancheng’s voice, Chen’s smile instantly vanished.
He quickly put down the bowl, bent slightly, and politely greeted Song Xian and Song Hancheng inside.
“What? Fang Dashan died?”
Before sitting down, Chen was shaken by the terrible news.
“How… how did he die?”
Chen’s eyes betrayed his fear as he covertly glanced at Song Hancheng.
Song Hancheng sat calmly beside Song Xian, lowering his eyes and sipping the berry water, expressionless.
Song Xian said,
“When I met him, he was covered in wounds, as if beaten badly. Village Chief, do you know who attacked him?”
“The Li family. He poisoned Li Dalang, but since the Li family didn’t pursue it, he just got beaten up. But those were only superficial injuries, nothing fatal.”
“Han Cheng found he died from a ruptured spleen; it must have been a beating that killed him,”
Song Xian explained.
“Then this kid must have gotten into trouble outside again, got beaten, and lost his life. Ah, you reap what you sow!”
Chen Changgui sighed bitterly.
Song Xian sensed Chen’s feelings toward Fang Dashan were deeper than usual; he probably knew him well.
“When he saw me, he seemed to want to say something important. He said I was deceived, that I wasn’t really—”
“Not really what?”
Chen asked anxiously.
Song Hancheng set down his bowl and lifted his gaze.
Song Xian shook his head.
“He didn’t finish and suddenly passed away.”
Chen clicked his tongue.
“That kid… I was just greedy yesterday, tricked you saying the timber was good quality, charging double. What’s so big about that? Maybe he felt he was dying, saw you, and spoke from the heart.”
Song Xian frowned, finding Chen’s explanation weak and unconvincing.
Just over timber prices, how could someone say something like,
“You’re not really—”
What was the rest of the sentence?
“I guess he meant to say that you were deceived. You’re not really the Chongxi Zhaoxu of the Song family. You didn’t kill our mother.”
Song Hancheng suddenly spoke in a calm, pleasant voice, like a mountain stream flowing smoothly, inexplicably soothing and convincing.
Song Xian stared at Song Hancheng, waiting for further explanation.
“Strictly speaking, when you came as a son-in-law, our mother was already dead. You were essentially a spirit marriage.”
“According to custom, spirit marriages cost more money, but we didn’t have more to give, so we lied to you about that.”
Song Hancheng stood and politely bowed to Song Xian.
“Sorry for hiding this from you for so long, Father.”
“Oh, there’s nothing to apologize for,”
Song Xian quickly helped Song Hancheng up, lightening the mood.
“What does it matter? Compared to what I did to you all, this is nothing. Besides, you did it out of filial piety—I understand.”
So now, he hadn’t “killed” four people but only two.
Well, two is still not a small number.
No matter—better than four.
Song Xian still needed to go to the ancient forest to find Zhongxianmu, so he said goodbye and left first.
Song Hancheng pretended to have other matters and stayed at Chen Changgui’s house.
Once the door closed, Chen immediately slid to his knees before Song Hancheng, begging for forgiveness.
“Gongzi, I—”
Song Hancheng tossed a Blunt Knife to the ground.
“I warned you.”
“Fang Dashan’s character was no good, harming comrades; he deserved to die.”
Chen’s mouth opened and closed, unable to utter any defense.
He thought locking up the severely injured Fang Dashan would solve things but never imagined he would escape.
He made a mistake and deserved to be punished.
Chen silently picked up the Blunt Knife.
Without even looking at him, Song Hancheng selected a mushroom from the basket and left.
Changxian County, County Yamen.
Cheng Zehai had been eagerly awaiting for days, and finally, the young, handsome Juren he once met at the market arrived.
Cheng Zehai enthusiastically led Song Hancheng to the accounting office to show him the environment.
“Luo Han Pine, Famous Painter, Golden Abacus… these are all prepared for you. If you’re willing to stay, you’ll get a monthly salary of three thousand wen. How about it? Interested?”
Song Hancheng nodded, indicating he was more than willing.
“Hahaha…”
Cheng Zehai was not surprised by the answer.
He lifted a cup of water on the table, handed one to Song Hancheng, and took one himself.
“Then let’s toast to an agreement. It’s settled.”
After clinking cups, Cheng Zehai brought the water to his lips but didn’t drink, instead watching Song Hancheng sip, his gaze filled with malice.
These damned Juren always pretended to be refined and aloof, acting as if they were superior to everyone else!
Song Hancheng took a light sip and asked with a smile,
“Inspector Cheng, aren’t you drinking?”
“Of course, I am.”
Cheng Zehai tossed back his cup in one gulp.
“I have an engagement later; I’ll come find you to explain the accounting work.”
Now, Cheng Zehai’s gaze changed, full of mockery and contempt.
Song Hancheng had already willingly drunk the poisoned water, meaning he was completely under control.
Cheng no longer needed to pretend.
There would be plenty of time to trample and humiliate him later—this moment didn’t matter.
“Sui’an, you take Accountant Song around the Yamen first.”
The young servant Sui’an nodded respectfully and watched Cheng Zehai leave.
Then, turning to Song Hancheng, he bowed and called out,
“Gongzi.”
“There are fifteen Juren imprisoned in the jail, all persecuted by him, tortured beyond recognition,”
Sui’an said, his face dark with rage, gritting his teeth.
“Just because the woman he loved abandoned him to marry a Juren, he hated and vented on all Juren. Truly a sick man!”
“Gongzi, you’ve brought justice. Those Juren in jail have all sworn loyalty to you after being saved.”
Song Hancheng gave a faint “hmm” and prepared to leave through the back window.
“Gongzi, aren’t you staying to watch the show?”
“No, I need to go home for dinner. My old father will worry if I’m late.”
Sui’an: He must have imagined it! Definitely imagined it!
That night, a heavy rainstorm lashed the region with thunder and lightning.
After the rain stopped, two major, bizarre, and horrifying events happened in the Yongzhou area.
The first:
“Heaven’s Retribution, Thunderstruck Graves, Eternal Damnation for Steamed Infants.”
Last night, in eight villages and four counties, many family graves were struck by thunder, all hitting precisely on the graves’ heads.
Two coffins caught fire, burning the boards and the bodies inside to ash, leaving no remains.
When the nearby villagers saw this after the rain, they noticed a pattern: all the deceased had eaten Steamed Infants in life.
Further investigation confirmed this without error—each grave fit the pattern perfectly.
The truth was chilling, especially combined with two previous incidents at the market Wharf—people shivered in terror.
Terrifying, utterly terrifying!
Henceforth, the warning was clear:
Those who eat Steamed Infants will have short lives, suffer death, be struck by heavenly thunder upon burial, and never find peace in the afterlife.
The second event:
Cheng Zehai, the Changxian County Inspector highly favored by Prince Liang, was found dead at the Red Sleeves Tower late at night, poisoned by the food and wine there.
His subordinates immediately surrounded the Red Sleeves Tower demanding answers.
The tower flatly denied responsibility and accused the others of framing.
The dispute escalated until someone died.
The matter was reported to the Yongzhou County Magistrate, who dared not make a decision and requested Prince Liang to intervene.
Prince Liang was busy with his grandson’s Hundred Days Banquet and had no time, so he called on Gongzi Yu to handle it.
“Who is Gongzi Yu?”
Song Xian found some wild sugarcane and boiled sugar, planning to make braised fish for the children tonight.
The bean sprouts he planted in sand a few days ago were good; after harvesting, he stir-fried them to add to dinner.
“Don’t you know Gongzi Yu?”
Lu Yuan, helping wash the sprouts, asked casually.
Song Xian was puzzled.
“Should I know him? Come to think of it, the name does sound a bit—”
The three children simultaneously looked at him.
“Nice!”