Chapter Forty-Five: The Dragonhead Tree

“It isn’t difficult to figure out what this person is after,” I said calmly.

“Do you have a way to find out?” Hu Zhiwen asked urgently.

“From the moment I noticed the red thread on Officer Fang’s head until the incident happened to her, my accidental appearance almost put her in danger, but this person saved her instead. That means he had been waiting for an opportunity. At the very least, whatever he’s after wasn’t at the station the day before the incident.”

Fang Yanan seemed to understand and nodded, looking at Hu Zhiwen. “He was waiting for something that wasn’t yet at the station. So, on the very day I had my accident, whatever he wanted must have arrived!”

“The day you got hurt…” Hu Zhiwen bowed his head in thought. “Afterward, I checked with the evidence room. Nothing was missing, but they mentioned a batch of evidence meant to be delivered that day. Because of a last-minute change, the delivery was delayed.”

“When was this evidence originally scheduled to arrive?” Fang Yanan asked sharply.

Hu Zhiwen thought for a moment, then slapped his thigh in realization. “It was the very day of your accident!”

“So what he wanted must be among those items. Since the delivery was delayed, nothing was stolen—explaining why the evidence room was broken into but nothing was taken.”

Fang Yanan nodded, growing more anxious. “Think carefully—what exactly was in that delayed delivery?”

“Nothing of particular importance. That case was one you solved last year—the gang that was trafficking artifacts,” Hu Zhiwen replied after a moment.

“You mean the group we caught at Qingcheng Mountain last year?”

He nodded. The mention of Qingcheng Mountain immediately caught my attention. The clues from Qingyang Palace suggested a connection between the Ming Fourteen Tombs and Qingcheng Mountain, and now Fang Yanan brought it up again—this was no coincidence.

“What happened at Qingcheng Mountain last year?” Yue Qianling and I exchanged glances before she asked casually.

“It wasn’t a major case at first. Someone reported an illegal excavation gang at Qingcheng Mountain. We investigated for nearly three weeks, tracking their movements. I arranged an ambush and finally spotted them near Master’s Cave, apparently digging for something. When we moved in, the gang fought back with guns—real American M19 pistols, not replicas. We had overwhelming numbers, but if we hadn’t, they might have escaped. Four were killed in the shootout, five captured.” Hu Zhiwen still remembered every detail.

“Yes, that’s the one. I even shot one of them myself—my first time firing a gun. That memory is still vivid,” Fang Yanan said coolly.

“So the evidence that was delayed was from that bust?” I asked nonchalantly.

Hu Zhiwen nodded, thinking back. “There wasn’t much at the scene—besides the guns, which were all real M19s, not imitations. The only other things were digging tools, a wooden block carved with a dragon’s head, and some destroyed items.”

“A dragon-head wood?” My eyes lit up and I interrupted Fang Yanan. “What did it look like?”

“Just an ordinary piece of wood, about twenty centimeters long. One end was carved into a dragon’s head, the other was oddly uneven. The wood was hollow, running from the dragon’s mouth straight through. It didn’t look like an artifact, but the gang fought desperately, as if to protect it.”

I took a sip of tea and asked, “You caught five people. Did they say anything during interrogation?”

“We couldn’t get a word out of them,” Fang Yanan replied regretfully.

“What do you mean? You had them in custody—how could you get nothing?” Yue Qianling was incredulous.

“They were utterly tight-lipped, stone-faced and unyielding. We had no choice but to keep them in isolation,” Hu Zhiwen’s face grew unsettled. “But the next day… the officers found all five dead in their cells!”

“Dead?!” Yue Qianling stared, dumbfounded. “What were you police doing, letting someone sneak in to silence them?”

“No one killed them,” Fang Yanan replied, her tone steady. “They were all strangled.”

“You’re contradicting yourself. First you say it wasn’t homicide, then you say they were strangled. Did they strangle themselves?” Yue Qianling pressed.

“Forensic examination confirmed it—they really did strangle themselves,” Hu Zhiwen said, still shaken. “I was there. Each of them used their left hand to choke themselves until they died. When we found them, their hands were locked so tightly on their throats that we had to dislocate their fingers to pry them off. No other traces were found.”

Yue Qianling was speechless, a chill running down her spine at the thought of such a gruesome sight.

“We checked the surveillance footage from that night. No one could believe what we saw,” Fang Yanan’s face had grown ashen. “All five were sleeping until midnight. Then, at the stroke of twelve, they all sat up, stumbling around as if sleepwalking, grinning foolishly, banging their heads on the walls, and finally strangling themselves. There was no pain on their faces, only satisfaction and joy. When we found them in the morning, every corpse was smiling.”

“The Devouring Shade Soul Powder,” I said quietly, sipping my tea. “These five were already under a spell—just like Officer Fang. Whoever orchestrated this is far more formidable than I imagined. Killing them was to preserve the secret. All this was to get at that batch of evidence—there must be something crucial among it.”

“I’ll have the evidence sealed and start a full investigation right away,” Hu Zhiwen declared.

After dinner, Fang Yanan and Hu Zhiwen hurried back to the station. Yue Qianling, restless, had wanted to thank me over a meal, but the afternoon had been spent discussing matters that left her thoroughly unnerved. The very thought of it still unsettled her.

Once Fang Yanan and Hu Zhiwen left, I grew silent and somber. Yue Qianling, having barely touched her food, insisted I eat, but I was determined to go home, leaving her behind, disgruntled.

When I entered, I found Yue Leiting changing the water in Yue Qianling’s large fish tank. I hurried over and asked, “Brother Ting, have you told anyone else about the Ming Fourteen Tombs?”

Yue Leiting was startled, wiping his hands as he answered firmly, “Am I crazy? That’s a matter of enormous importance—I’d never tell anyone else… what’s wrong?”

I frowned and sat heavily on the sofa. “We’re not the only ones who know about the Ming Fourteen Tombs.”

“Someone else knows?!” Yue Leiting cried out, nearly dropping the goldfish in his hand, rushing over in a panic. “Impossible! The Golden Dragon Tortoise and Luo Xuan Divine Plan are both in our possession. How could anyone else know?”

“Not only do they know, but they know far more than we do,” I said gravely. “The person who set up Fang Yanan’s ordeal is a master of rare and formidable power—not the sort to dabble in artifact smuggling. If he wanted money, he could have it with a snap of his fingers. Yet he went digging at Qingcheng Mountain. That means there’s a connection between the Ming Fourteen Tombs and Qingcheng Mountain. This person not only knows the tombs exist but also understands the clues tying the two places together.”

“You mean that piece of dragon-head wood?” Yue Qianling interjected.

I nodded, my tone calm. “All this trouble was for that wooden block. It’s no ordinary piece, but for now, it’s in the police’s hands and safe for the moment. That he wants it back so desperately means he can’t proceed without it. That gives us some time.”

“But we don’t have the dragon-head wood,” Yue Leiting said, confused.

“We don’t yet know its use, but we must first find clues about the Ming Fourteen Tombs at Qingcheng Mountain. Then we can plan our next steps.”

After I spoke, I fell silent, breathing deeply. It was clear that this person was also searching for the Ming Fourteen Tombs. For most people, the tomb’s legendary wealth would be the greatest lure. I cared little for riches, and I sensed that this person did not either.

What truly drew him was the treasure within the tombs:

The Nine Heavens Hidden Dragon Manual.

This person’s mastery of Taoist arts was deep and sinister, his heart anything but upright. For such a man to obtain the Nine Heavens Hidden Dragon Manual would be a catastrophe, dragging countless innocents into disaster. Fang Yanan’s ordeal was only the beginning—it would not be the end.