Chapter 78: Chapter 78

After a round of urgent reports, Shen Xiuhan finally pieced together what had happened.

Madam Shi, the cook in the inner-court kitchen, had been in the middle of preparing lunch when a family member came running and wailing with the news: her youngest son had been playing at the street corner when he vanished in the blink of an eye.

The neighbors were all abuzz.

Everyone feared it was those child snatchers, back at their old tricks.

Madam Shi had fainted on the spot.

When she came to, she collapsed on the ground and dissolved into hysterics — weeping, screaming, utterly inconsolable.

Mei Shuangfeng’s temperament ran cold on the outside, warm within.

Were it not so, she would never have kept a cook of middling skill like Madam Shi in the kitchen for years on end.

She issued her orders at once, her voice hard.

“Ding Qing — take a few of the fastest outer-court disciples and search the streets!”

“Yes, Master!”

Ding Qing didn’t dare delay. She saluted and was gone.

Child snatchers. Stealing young children…

Shen Xiuhan’s brows drew tight.

The Bai family!

This was the Bai family’s doing — no question.

The last time, he’d inadvertently stirred up bad blood between the Bai family and Tongbei Martial Hall, and the snatching had gone quiet for a while.

He hadn’t expected those beasts to crawl back out the moment the heat died down.

A cold light entered Shen Xiuhan’s eyes. He clasped his fists toward Mei Shuangfeng.

“Master, your disciple believes the child-snatching cases from recent weeks and today’s incident are the work of the same group — and they most likely have a powerful clan backing them.”

Mei Shuangfeng’s hands paused. She looked up at him.

“What are you thinking?”

Shen Xiuhan drew a deep breath and recounted the full story of how Bai Fufeng had brought men to Xiaojing Bay to snatch Shen Momo by force, holding nothing back.

He went on to point out that although the county yamen had posted bounties for the child snatchers, the effort had always been thunder with no rain — a big show that quietly fizzled out after a while.

And the Bai family and County Magistrate Luo’s clan had been in-laws for years…

When he finished, Mei Shuangfeng’s brows were knotted tight.

“Based on this alone, it’s not enough to conclude that the Bai family is behind it.”

She rose to her feet, her gaze heavy as it settled on Shen Xiuhan.

“The Bai family is one of the Five Great Families. They have a Transforming Strength master holding the fort, and their roots run deep. These waters are too murky. For the time being, pretend you know nothing. Don’t act rashly and bring trouble on yourself… Let me look into this quietly first.”

Shen Xiuhan lowered his head and clasped his fists.

“Your disciple understands!”

Leaving the main residence, he made his way to the inner-court kitchen.

Vegetables lay half-chopped on the cutting board. The kindling in the stove was still crackling away.

Madam Shi had panicked herself senseless and run off into the streets to search for her child. The kitchen stood empty.

Shen Xiuhan rolled up his sleeves and took over.

The outer-court disciples’ meal was easy enough to manage.

He stoked the fire, steamed two trays of white flour buns until they were done, then called a few outer-court disciples over to carry the steamers out and distribute them.

Master and Senior Sister’s lunch, however, deserved better than that.

Shen Xiuhan picked out two fresh fish, scaled and gutted them, heated the wok with oil, and fried up scallions and ginger until the fragrance bloomed. The fish hit the pan with a sizzling hiss, and white steam billowed upward.

Before long, a pot of rich, milky-white fish soup was ready.

He followed it with a quick toss of the wok, stir-frying two dishes of bright, colorful greens.

One portion went to Master. The rest he kept warm on the stove for Ding Qing, who had yet to return.

He grabbed a few bites for himself, cleaned up the kitchen, and headed out of the hall.

The sun had already passed mid-afternoon. Autumn light slanted westward, casting the streets and lanes in a wash of pale gold.

Shen Xiuhan was about to head home when he rounded a corner and walked straight into a squad of over a dozen powerfully built men.

Every one of them wore grey martial attire, sleeves rolled high to bare thick, corded forearms. Their faces were grim and serious.

They moved in clusters of three to five, fanning out in small teams. The leaders held freshly inked portrait sketches — the ink still wet — and were stopping every vendor and passerby for questioning, turning the entire street upside down.

‘Tongbei Martial Hall’s people…’

Shen Xiuhan’s gaze shifted slightly.

“You there!”

A tall, burly man strode over and planted himself in Shen Xiuhan’s path without a shred of courtesy. He shoved a sketch in his face and barked, “Tongbei Martial Hall! Looking for a man! Take a good look — you seen this bastard?”

Shen Xiuhan frowned slightly. His eyes dropped to the sketch, and a jolt of recognition hit him.

The portrait showed a man in a blue scholar’s robe, face covered by a black cloth, only his eyes visible.

The features visible above the mask were strikingly unremarkable — perhaps capturing only half the man’s true likeness.

But in a flash, the image of a figure he’d seen that very morning sprang into Shen Xiuhan’s mind…

No mistake.

The man in the sketch was absolutely Han Li.

“Erhu, this is one of my own. I’ll handle the questioning.”

Before Shen Xiuhan could respond, a familiar voice cut in from the side.

Shen Xiuhan looked up, caught off guard.

“Chen An?”

“Han’er…”

The newcomer was none other than his childhood friend, Chen An.

He too wore grey house colors, a thick-spined saber hanging at his hip. He approached, and as his gaze took in Shen Xiuhan — the composure, the bearing, deep and steady as still water — the corner of his mouth twitched into a dry, strained half-smile. His expression was a tangle of things hard to name.

Wonder.

Envy.

And buried beneath it all, a thread of quiet loneliness.

“Han’er, I’ve heard all about what’s happened to you — the neighbors can’t stop talking.”

Chen An rubbed his hands together, breaking into a grin.

“Sixteen days to awaken your qi-blood, accepted into Mei Hall’s inner court, and on top of that you’ve connected with the Ji clan — one of the Five Great Families — got yourself posted as Patrol Envoy on Yunyi Island. Even Auntie Zheng has set up in the inner city and opened a little eatery…”

He trailed off, shaking his head with feeling.

“Xiaojing Bay in the outer city… really did produce a true dragon after all!”

“Knock it off!”

Shen Xiuhan rolled his eyes and gave him an exasperated punch on the arm. “Tell me — what’s all this commotion about?”

The punch didn’t bother Chen An in the slightest. He grinned, and with that, most of the awkward distance between them dissolved, as though they’d slipped back into the way things used to be.

But the grin faded fast. He threw a wary look in both directions. Seeing no one paying attention, he leaned in and dropped his voice.

“I don’t know much myself… Word is, early this morning somebody broke into the hall while my master and mistress were away. The attacker was vicious — beat my First Senior Brother half to death, then broke two prisoners out of the secret dungeon. People who’d been locked up for years!”

“About an hour ago, Master and Mistress came home, found First Senior Brother unconscious and the dungeon empty. They went absolutely berserk.”

“They sent Senior Brothers Feng and Ma straight out with a squad of inner and outer-court disciples to blockade the inner-city gate and the West Market wharf. Then they scattered all of us — the ones who normally run security — out into the streets to search door to door…”

Here Chen An gave a helpless shake of his head and pursed his lips.

“The lads have been saying amongst themselves — the break-in happened this morning, and over four hours have passed. The bastard’s long gone back to the outer city by now. What’s the point of searching the inner city?”

Shen Xiuhan’s expression shifted.

Deep in his mind, a piece of intelligence he had once read flickered to the surface.

Tongbei Hall Master Yan Xiao, corrupted by his wife Song Yanrong, poisoned his own father-in-law. Song Huatang and Madam Han were imprisoned in a secret chamber while the couple tortured them for the location of the Tongbei Stance’s original Transforming Strength manual…

…

The outer city.

West Hill Village. The Han clan estate.

A young man knelt in the mud, hair wild and tangled, eyes blazing with the look of a man driven past the brink of madness.

His ragged shirt was soaked through with bloody water. Through the shredded fabric, the skin beneath was visible — covered in an impossibly dense web of knife scars, layered like fish scales, each one curling back from the flesh.

Further down, of the ten toes on his feet, seven had been hacked off.

His face must once have been handsome. Now it was unrecognizable.

His nose had been shaved flat against his cheek, pared clean to the root, leaving two horrifying bloody cavities. Every breath rattled through them with a wet, wheezing rasp.

His right eye socket gaped — a hollow, sunken pit.

Only the left eye remained, bloodshot and bulging, burning with a hatred carved into the very marrow of his bones.

“Song Yanrong…”

“Yan Xiao…”

The young man’s fingers clawed into the mud. A sound like a wounded beast tore from his throat — raw, ragged, drenched in anguish.

“Treacherous scum! Adulterous whore!”

“WAIT FOR DEATH!!!”