Chapter 4: A Quarter of an Hour

By The Talking Elbow

Alas, a fleeting colt through a crevice, a spark from stone, a body in a dream...

Amidst an inexplicable echoing, Chen Ji had no idea how long he had wandered in the darkness. It felt as though he had trudged through a glacier for a century, forever unable to part the mists before his eyes. Yet, this darkness also seemed to last only a fleeting moment, as brief as a spark from striking stones.

Chen Ji had no control over his body; he could only listen. The sound of wind, the patter of rain, and even the splash of oars stroking water—it was as if someone carried him in a small boat, navigating him through a sea of black clouds. Chen Ji wished to break free from the darkness, but everything around him felt as viscous as glue, trapping him.

From outside the darkness, a relaxed voice suddenly spoke, "Lord Zhou, we wouldn't have come personally without absolute certainty. The moment you see us, you have two choices: either you cooperate fully and reveal the Jing Dynasty's spies in Luocheng, or we'll make your life a living hell. There is no other option."

A middle-aged man, however, retorted in outrage, "What crime have I committed to warrant two individuals slaughtering people in my residence? I know nothing of any Jing Dynasty spies!"

The relaxed voice continued, "On the twenty-seventh of last month, you hosted Lord Li of the Ministry of Works for drinks at Mingzhu Garden in Baiyi Lane, East Market. During the banquet, you redeemed Miss Cuihuan from Mingzhu Garden and presented her to him. As it happens, Miss Cuihuan is a Jing Dynasty spy, and she has already implicated you... I needn't go on, need I?"

"What does Miss Cuihuan being a spy have to do with me? I've had no dealings with her before!"

"You want proof?"

"Yes!"

Inside the room, a girl laughed. "Since when did my Secret Service need proof to eliminate a spy?"

Lord Zhou, who was being interrogated, fell silent. The room became quiet, save for his heavy, ragged breathing.

Inside the room, porcelain lay shattered across the floor, and the display shelf for ornaments was broken, leaving the space resembling a ruin. Among the debris, seven or eight twisted bodies lay strewn. Only one middle-aged man remained, slumped on the ground, his hair disheveled and appearance utterly defeated. Opposite him, a young man in a sharp black suit looked relaxed and amused. Not far away, a slender girl in black squatted on a grand armchair, observing the scene. These two individuals, dressed in black, appeared to be barely in their twenties, yet they had slaughtered everyone in the room.

In the darkness, Chen Ji suddenly felt as if these voices were a hand, seizing him as he sank into an abyss, dragging him back from hell into the world of the living.

"Lord Zhou, who are your other associates in Luocheng? It's perfectly fine if you don't want to tell the truth right now; we have an entire night to spare," the young man said with a smile. "Just a moment. We'll bring in your family, whom you've hidden in Chaimu Alley, and then we'll see if you're more willing to talk..."

The next moment, one of the corpses in the room suddenly sat upright!

Chen Ji gasped, inhaling deeply as if a drowning man had suddenly resurfaced, breathing greedily. His ragged gasps were jarringly loud in the silence, shattering the oppressive atmosphere in the room.

Chen Ji sat up from the floor, his head throbbing. He instinctively reached for the knife wound at his waist, only to find nothing.

The girl squatting on the grand armchair whipped her head around. "Huh, Yunyang, your technique's gotten rusty. How can you not even kill someone cleanly?"

Yunyang countered, "Impossible! His heart must be misplaced!"

"So you missed. Can't you admit it?"

"So what now?"

"Kill him again."

At this moment, Chen Ji's mind was flooded with questions: Why had he been reborn, and where? Could he ever find his way home? If something as miraculous as rebirth could happen, then could he perhaps reunite with his family? He opened his eyes. "Wait, I have something to say..."

As his words faded, footsteps sounded from outside, drawing everyone's attention. Over a dozen men in identical black combat attire entered the courtyard, escorting seven or eight people, including two children, a boy and a girl, both around eight or nine years old.

Seizing the opportunity, Chen Ji quickly assessed his surroundings: the room was not large, with a mahogany desk to the left, and two grand armchairs and a table in the center. Books, brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones lay scattered, creating a chaotic mess on the floor.

Had he transmigrated? Was this the dream world Li Qingniao had mentioned? He appeared to have transmigrated into the body of someone who had just died, though he had no idea of the deceased's identity. Chen Ji desperately wanted to pause and consider his predicament, but the immediate crisis unfolded too quickly, affording him no such opportunity.

As he pondered, over a dozen men in black combat attire forced Lord Zhou's family members to their knees on the ground. One of them clasped his fists and reported, "All of Zhou Chengyi's hidden family members have been brought. This woman was redeemed by him from Baiyi Lane ten years ago, and the two children, a boy and a girl, are their flesh and blood. The others are the housekeeper and maids." These dozen or so men in black had resolute expressions, and sheathed long blades hung at their waists.

Yunyang smiled as he squatted before the woman. "Madam, are you aware that Lord Zhou is a Jing Dynasty spy?"

The woman clutched the small boy tightly to her chest, shaking her head in terror. "I don't know! We don't know anything!"

Yunyang drew a slender silver needle from his sleeve and, with lightning speed, pricked the woman's chest. The woman couldn't utter a sound before slumping to the ground. She was dead.

A chorus of wails erupted in the room. The housekeeper cried out hoarsely, "Master, what's happening, Master?!"

Zhou Chengyi, however, remained silent, simply watching the scene with a grim expression.

Yunyang glanced at him, then squatted before a maid. "Is there anything you wish to tell me?"

The maid stammered, "My... my master only visits two or three times a month. We... we barely ever get to see him."

Yunyang thrust the silver needle forward. The maid tried to dodge, but it was too fast; she could only watch helplessly as it pierced her chest.

Chen Ji instinctively touched his own chest.

Yunyang continued his methodical killing until he reached the small boy. He squatted down with a smile, but his gaze was fixed not on the child, but on Zhou Chengyi. "Child, has your father told you anything?"

Zhou Chengyi's face twitched. "Your Ning Dynasty was founded on the principles of literature and courtesy, yet you would torture and murder a child?"

Yunyang sneered. "This spring, how many innocent people of my Ning Dynasty did the Jing Dynasty cavalry slaughter when they rode south? Do I need to lecture you on poetry, books, and etiquette? Moreover, last year you bought a ten-year-old girl to keep in your home, and then later gifted her to the Governor of Luocheng. Was she not a child? Lord Zhou, if you don't confess, your child will die."

"Father, save me!"

Zhou Chengyi, however, merely turned his head slightly, ignoring his child's desperate plea.

Yunyang let out a whistle. "Such a cruel heart. It seems we've caught a major spy, at least Haidongqing level. To think you've been lying dormant right under our noses for so many years—it's truly shameful."

The boy gasped his last breath and collapsed. Chen Ji watched in silence. The child's eyes, wide and unclosed, stared directly at him. A vein throbbed on Zhou Chengyi's forehead.

At that moment, the girl named Jiaotu approached the little girl, squatting down to whisper, "Just now, your mother only held your brother. Did you see that?"

The little girl nodded, terrified.

Jiaotu continued, "If you're willing to come with me and call me 'Sister,' I won't kill you." But the little girl did not agree. Instead, she looked at her father, bewildered, helpless, and afraid.

"In this world, weak girls suffer greatly," Jiaotu said with a smile, pulling the little girl into her embrace. "Don't be afraid. It will be quick." She withdrew a silver needle, identical to Yunyang's, from her hair and personally plunged it into the back of the little girl's neck. The child instantly went limp in Jiaotu's arms, utterly silent.

Chen Ji's pupils constricted.

Yunyang watched the scene with complete indifference. He approached the sole remaining housekeeper and Chen Ji. "Young man, you were incredibly lucky just now. Since you miraculously survived, I'll give you another chance. Let's play a game: whoever speaks first and provides information gets to live."

The housekeeper immediately scrambled forward on his knees, weeping profusely. "Sirs, I'll speak! I'll tell you everything you want to know! Just let me live!"

Yunyang chuckled. "I do love this drama of betraying one's master for a chance at glory!"

From the side, Chen Ji also spoke. "I don't have the information, but give me half an hour, and I'll find it for you."

The housekeeper hastily explained, "He's just a junior apprentice from a medical clinic. What information could he possibly know? Please listen to me!"

Yunyang looked at Chen Ji with an earnest expression. "For your information, I'd have to wait half an hour, and it's not even certain if you have anything. So, I'm very sorry... agh!"

As he was jesting, Chen Ji suddenly lunged at the housekeeper, pinning him to the ground. In an instant, a shard of porcelain, somehow concealed in Chen Ji's hand, sliced across the housekeeper's neck. Unfortunately, Chen Ji lacked experience in killing, and his first attempt missed the main artery. Neither Yunyang nor Jiaotu made any move to stop him.

In a panicked frenzy, the housekeeper thrashed on the ground, desperately punching Chen Ji's face. But Chen Ji didn't flinch or dodge, instead tightening his grip on the porcelain shard and cutting down again. With that second cut to the throat, the main artery in the housekeeper's neck was finally severed, and blood spurted out like a fountain.

The housekeeper was dead.

Chen Ji slowly rose. The corner of his eye was bruised from the housekeeper's blows, and his palm was cut from gripping the porcelain shard too tightly, blood dripping onto the floor.

Jiaotu's eyes gleamed.

Yunyang, too, found his interest piqued. "You truly want to live?"

Chen Ji gasped, "I don't have the information, but give me half an hour, and I'll find it for you."

"Oh?" Yunyang raised an eyebrow. "Deal, but I'll only give you fifteen minutes."