50: The True Mastermind Behind the Scenes

Has Old Qin truly died?

I didn’t know why, but I suddenly couldn’t help wondering if Old Qin was really dead.

There’s an old saying: If someone’s alive, you must see them in person; if they’re dead, you must see the corpse.

Thinking back carefully to the events of the night Old Qin supposedly died, there were indeed some problems. In the mountains, we found Old Qin’s bloodstained clothes and boots. Among a pile of dismembered remains, there were severed limbs, but no head. If Old Qin’s head had been found among those remains, we could have said with absolute certainty that he was dead.

But within that pile, there were only severed arms, severed feet, his clothes, and some organs—nothing else. We searched the area thoroughly at the time. So many days have passed, and I know that if there were any other scattered remains, the villagers would have found them by now. But in reality, only those parts discovered that night ever turned up.

Corpse demons kill without hesitation, but as Xu Buhuo explained, they aren’t beasts that devour their victims. They tear people apart, but don’t eat them.

If it didn’t eat him, then where is the head?

No one saw Old Qin killed with their own eyes. His death was only assumed because he disappeared, and his bloodied clothes and shoes were found scattered. It was night, chaotic, and in the confusion none of us inspected things closely.

“In truth, even at the time, I thought his death was strange, but I didn’t dwell on it. Now, thinking about it, if he really is the mastermind behind all this, then staging his own death would be not only easy, but necessary.”

Xu Buhuo’s words once again shook my beliefs.

“He must have realized that soon he and I would cross paths. When that happened, the truth would come out—who was lying, who was not. Only by ‘dying’ could he cleanse himself of all suspicion.”

Is it really so?

“You have to admit, he’s cunning. No one suspects the dead. Even I was taken in by his little trick, thinking I’d wrongly accused him. Now, it’s clear he’s far from simple.”

Every point seemed so reasonable.

Suddenly, Xu Buhuo turned and headed toward Old Qin’s house. I hurried after him, asking, “What are you doing?”

“I want to see if there are any clues left behind.”

With this new revelation, Xu Buhuo seemed more confident. “If things went as I expect, there should still be traces left in his house. And that soul-devouring chicken must have disappeared along with his supposed death.”

“Isn’t it just the golden-eyed chicken raised on seafood?” I blurted out, reflexively trying to argue.

Xu Buhuo shot me a helpless look. “Chen Ziwu, you’re eighteen, aren’t you? Try to be more mature. Even if it ate seafood, can a chicken’s eyes really be golden?”

I had no answer for that.

Since Old Qin’s “death” until now, I hadn’t once doubted him. But now, suspicion crept in. I remembered how he’d told me he’d seen Xu Buhuo slip into my grandmother’s yard at midnight, after which she died. I couldn’t help but ask, “The night my grandmother died, did you come by?”

I’d kept this question to myself, even after learning Xu Buhuo had nothing to do with it.

“I was there? Who said so?” Xu Buhuo stopped and turned to look at me.

“Old Qin.”

“He’s talking nonsense. I was home that night. My brother had just been killed by an enemy, and I rushed back to help with the burial. The next morning, I cast a divination and sensed that an old friend near your place was in trouble. That’s when I intercepted your village chief on the road. He’d only met my brother before, so when he saw me, he thought I was him, and brought me along.”

Is that really how it happened?

Even with my doubts, thinking it through, it made sense. Xu Buhuo had no reason to lie—his house was right there. If I didn’t believe him, I could go check for myself.

Since there was no midnight visit, it was clear that Old Qin had lied.

Looking back on his words, there were indeed holes in his story. Elderly people sometimes can’t sleep, but even so, they don’t wander the village in the middle of the night. That’s not something an ordinary person would do.

And before he paid respects to my grandmother, we had no connection to Old Qin, yet he suddenly appeared and warned me about Xu Buhuo.

Now I realize, if he was the villain, badmouthing Xu Buhuo would serve as a pretext. He kept insisting that Xu Buhuo was suspicious, urging me not to trust him. But Xu Buhuo was innocent.

If that’s true, why did Old Qin slander him?

A villain always accuses others of being villains.

“In the village, I saw the old man once, but we never spoke. I just glanced at him as I passed by and felt something was off. But my mind was occupied with your grandmother’s matter, so I didn’t look into it.”

“Let’s go to his house.”

At this point, I realized how wrong I’d been. Old Qin had always been suspicious, but he was cunning—he knew how to use my goodwill to win my trust.

He also said he’d fought with the corpse demon before. At first, I thought the corpse demon was being controlled by someone and didn’t know it was protecting my mother and me. But now I see: why didn’t the corpse demon attack Xu Buhuo?

The corpse demon’s purpose was to protect my mother and me. Xu Buhuo was helping us, and the demon, my own father, would know the difference. But it sensed Old Qin’s ill intent, and that’s why it attacked him.

We hurried to Old Qin’s house and forced open the door. My first glance was at the chicken coop by the entrance.

The coop was empty. The chickens were gone.

“See? The chickens are missing.”

“Maybe the village chief took them home to raise?” I argued, unwilling to believe that a few missing chickens meant anything. The village chief had locked the door after Old Qin’s death; maybe he’d taken the chickens home.

“We’ll ask him later and find out.”

With that, Xu Buhuo walked over to the main hall. The door was locked, but he fiddled with it for a moment and the lock clicked open. He stepped inside.

The room looked much the same as when I’d last visited, only tidied a bit by the village chief.

Xu Buhuo circled the room, found nothing unusual, and didn’t seem in a hurry to leave. From his cloth pouch, he drew a blue incense stick.

I’d seen red and black incense before, but never blue.

Staring at Xu Buhuo’s pouch, it seemed like a bottomless bag of treasures.

He lit the blue incense and placed it in the center of the hall, then sat on a stool.

“What does this incense do?” I asked.

“It’s an invisible eye that lets us see places that are otherwise hidden.”

Incense like that?

I stared at him, skeptical. He just grinned and said nothing. I watched the incense—the smoke had a faint reddish tinge.

Strangely, though the hall’s door was open, I felt no breeze. Yet the blue smoke swayed as if blown by wind.

“Found it,” Xu Buhuo said.

When the blue incense had burned halfway, Xu Buhuo suddenly stood and picked it up. The smoke drifted toward the room where Old Qin usually rested. Like a compass, the smoke guided us to the bedside, then slipped beneath the bed. Xu Buhuo snuffed out the incense and lay down to look.

Under the bed, some clutter was piled up. Xu Buhuo pulled it out, revealing a dark hole leading straight into the ground.

The earth felt cold, and a chill rose from below, making my back shiver.

Spotting a brass lamp nearby, Xu Buhuo lit it and climbed down first. I wondered if Old Qin might be hiding down there. But when I descended, I found the space wasn’t large, and no one could be hiding there.

The underground chamber was about the size of the room above. Talismans hung from the walls, giving off a sinister aura. In the center stood a stone bed, stained dark with blood.

“Ziwu, come look,” Xu Buhuo called from the corner.

I went over and nearly vomited.

In a large vat lay half a corpse. The arms, legs, and organs were gone. Only the head and part of the torso remained.

“You see now?” Xu Buhuo said.

I nodded. The remains we’d found earlier weren’t Old Qin’s. Those severed limbs had come from some unknown person he’d taken apart and scattered.

After circling the chamber and finding nothing else, we returned to the main hall. At some point, I’d broken out in a cold sweat.

I never imagined Old Qin was the villain lurking in the shadows. I’d trusted him so completely.

“Looks like he has another hiding place in the village,” Xu Buhuo said, eyes narrowed as he searched for clues. But after turning the house inside out, we found nothing.

Outside, my mind was spinning. If Old Qin was the one seeking to harm me and steal my soul, why hadn’t he attacked me during my visits to his home? With his abilities, I’d have had no chance to resist.

Although new questions troubled me, this trip had not been in vain. I was now certain of Old Qin’s true identity—he was the one even my grandmother had feared.

As we reached my house, I was about to go in when Xu Buhuo suddenly grabbed my arm, his face grave. “Wait.”

“What is it?” I asked, my nerves tightening. From his expression, he’d discovered something.

“Something’s wrong inside,” he said, pulling me back.

Something’s wrong?

I shifted my position to peer toward the main hall.

Through the doorway, I could faintly make out Cao Guangshan and the others lying on the ground.

Their fate was unknown.