Chapter 233
Zhou hadn’t considered this question. He paused, then answered hesitantly: “Villagers sometimes go to the woods to pick wild vegetables, but young people rarely do… Still, Xiao Chen had no family. I asked a few villagers, and no one saw him leave with anyone.”
So, while he now suspected someone lured Xiao Chen out, there was no evidence. They couldn’t call in a truth-revealing Ability user for a case like this—those were in high demand, too busy for anything less than a major case, unless they could earn a lot of money.
“Could a Nightmare Beast have taken him to the woods and killed him?” Zhou quickly suggested.
It was possible. Nightmare Beasts with teleportation or charm abilities weren’t uncommon. They didn’t dwell on it, as Xiao Chen’s house met Jiang Tianming’s need for a quiet place to discuss other victims.
In the past month, three people died. Besides Xiao Chen, the others were elderly. One’s family had already held their funeral; the other, recently deceased, was still in the mourning hall.
Tomorrow was the last day before burial.
All three died by bleeding out, and curiously, their deaths occurred in the village’s exact east, south, and north, each with blood pooling everywhere.
This made them exchange glances, all thinking the same word—sacrifice.
Blood was a common medium for sacrifices and arrays. In the Tri-School Competition, Black Flash used human blood to create an array, summoning Cyril and Li Xiang past the Ability Government’s defenses.The specific directions were also a key part of sacrificial rituals.
“I have a question,” Li Shu said after hearing about the victims. “You said the villagers didn’t want to tell you about the deaths, right?”
Zhou nodded: “Correct.”
“You finding out about Xiao Chen makes sense, but how did you learn about the other two?” Li Shu asked, staring into his eyes.
They quickly grasped his logic. The villagers’ reluctance to speak suggested they thought they could handle it or shared a rural aversion to “making it a big deal.”
Even if Zhou found out about Xiao Chen, they wouldn’t necessarily reveal the other deaths. Compared to three deaths a month, one drew far less attention. If it was just one, Zhou might not have called them in.
The other two were elderly—Zhou could’ve been told they died naturally. How did he know the truth?
Zhou thought for a moment, understanding Li Shu’s point with Jiang Tianming’s explanation, and said helplessly: “I knew they weren’t natural deaths because our village’s elders are famously long-lived.”
The unexpected answer surprised them. Seeing their expressions, Zhou smiled: “Ask around, and you’ll hear our village is called the ‘Centenarian Village.’ We’ve got several people over a hundred.”
Not waiting for a response, he continued: “Maybe it’s the feng shui here. Young people from our village are sturdy, and elders in their seventies and eighties move like they’re young. Those two elders were only in their sixties and seventies, dying in the same month. I didn’t buy that it was natural.”
“Wow,” Su Bei let out an ambiguous exclamation. “Longevity Town, living up to its name.”
“Hahaha!” Zhou didn’t catch any sarcasm, scratching his head. “Actually, we changed the name a few years ago because the elders were so sprightly. It used to be Zhou Family Village.”
Jiang Tianming caught a hint: “A few years ago?”
“About a decade or so…” Zhou wasn’t sure, but he quickly realized Jiang Tianming’s point. “You think it’s related to the recent cases? That was ages ago. No need to be paranoid, right?”
Jiang Tianming agreed, but Su Bei had called Longevity Town’s name “interesting” before arriving and emphasized it again after hearing about the elders’ longevity. Knowing Su Bei wasn’t one to speak without reason, the name might hold a secret.
But as Zhou said, something from over ten years ago seemed unrelated in normal eyes. Pressing further would seem unreasonable, so he shifted: “Do the two elders still have family?”
Zhou nodded, warning them: “Yes, their families still live here. I can take you to them, but since they lost loved ones, they might not be welcoming.”
Having asked enough, it was past 2 p.m. Villagers were usually up from naps by now. They headed out, with Zhou saying they needed to report to the village head first.
Unlike before, they met many villagers this time. In a small village, everyone knew each other. Seeing strangers, the villagers were highly wary.
With so many people, Su Bei naturally used his Ability. One glance, and he felt numb. Every single person’s large pointer was in the lower half of their Destiny Compass.
They were all going to die!
Su Bei: “…”
His face darkened instantly, wanting to leave this cursed place. An entire village dying unnaturally meant something huge was coming.
What could wipe out a whole village?
Su Bei came up with two possibilities—
First, the Life Stone’s aura was exposed, and Nightmare Beasts razed the village.
If a Life Stone was here, this was plausible. Their month-long frenzy showed how much they valued it. Once found, they wouldn’t hold back—they’d slaughter everyone.
But there was a problem. With Jiang Tianming and the others here, how could they let a village-destroying crisis slide?
The second possibility was that the village’s fate was tied to the deaths. As mentioned, their positions and methods suggested a sacrifice. If someone was using the entire village as a sacrificial offering, it could kill them all.
But again, why wouldn’t Jiang Tianming and the others act? In a comic, the protagonists would surely resolve the crisis and save everyone.
What was going wrong?
“Xiao Jian, are these your friends?” A plainly dressed auntie approached, smiling and eyeing Su Bei and the others.
Facing a villager who’d known him since childhood, Zhou let his guard down: “Yeah, they’re…”
Before he finished, he felt a tug on his sleeve. Turning, he saw Jiang Tianming clutching his stomach: “Old Zhou, my stomach’s acting up. Can I use a bathroom later?”
The stomach excuse was something he’d learned from Su Bei—a handy one.
“Huh? Oh, sure,” Zhou said, momentarily thrown not by the request but by being called “Old Zhou.” They’d all called him “Officer Zhou” before.
As a cop, he was sharp. The change in address clued him in—Jiang Tianming didn’t want him to tell the truth. Understandable. If he said they were investigating Xiao Chen’s death, the superstitious villagers might obstruct them. A white lie would help.
So, Zhou continued to the auntie: “This is my high school teacher, and these are my junior schoolmates. The school’s doing a research trip, and I thought our village’s scenery was perfect, so I invited them. If they enjoy it, maybe the school will make our village a regular trip spot, bringing in money for everyone!”
His lie wouldn’t hold up outside—high schools don’t send teachers and students to scout research sites. But in this isolated village, with Zhou as their only college grad, the villagers bought it.
Hearing the village could profit if Jiang Tianming and the others had fun, the auntie’s eyes lit up: “Oh, we gotta treat them well! Got a place to stay? I’ve got a spare room!”
Other villagers chimed in, offering rooms to keep the “big spenders.” Su Bei and the others looked wealthy—staying at their homes could mean hefty fees.
Zhou stepped in: “We’ll report to the village head first. Aren’t there a couple of empty houses? No need to trouble everyone.”
“Those are dead people’s houses. Not good for guests, right?” the auntie said, unwilling to lose the chance to earn.
Su Bei’s brow twitched. Two houses? Of the three victims, only Xiao Chen’s house was empty. Whose was the other?
After shaking off the villagers, Jiang Tianming asked: “The auntie mentioned ‘two dead people’s houses.’ One’s Xiao Chen’s. Whose is the other?”
“It’s Old Ancestor’s,” Zhou said, a flash of sadness in his eyes. “Old Ancestor was over a hundred and fifty, he passed away a month ago. Since it was natural, I didn’t mention it.”
A key figure emerged. Even dead, Old Ancestor felt extraordinary. Living to a hundred and fifty was impressive enough.
And his death was recent. Though natural, it raised suspicions about a connection to the other deaths.
“Tell us about Old Ancestor,” Jiang Tianming said decisively.
Zhou thought for a bit, his memories fuzzy from years away: “Old Ancestor was the village’s most respected elder, living alone in a house at the east end. He rarely appeared, but any big village matter went through him. His status was above even the village head’s.”
He added his personal tie: “After junior high, the villagers didn’t want me to continue school. Old Ancestor stepped in, insisted I go, and made it happen. When I got into the police bureau, I wanted to bring him to live with me, but he refused, saying he hoped I’d return when I was older. I worked hard outside to save for retirement here, but before I could, he…”
Su Bei spoke up: “We’d like to stay in Old Ancestor’s house. Could you mention it to the village head?”
Old Ancestor likely held clues to the Life Stone. His house might have answers. If the village head agreed, great. If not, it’d confirm something was up.
The request was fine—everyone agreed. But they were surprised Su Bei spoke up. He wasn’t usually proactive about clues.
Noticing their looks, Su Bei pretended not to see. He knew what they were wondering but couldn’t say. He’d spoken because this event likely tied to the Life Stone.
Among known characters, Old Ancestor was the most likely to have Life Stone clues. Su Bei had to seize the chance to check his house. Even if he didn’t, someone else probably would. But with one sentence, not too out-of-character, he’d rather control his fate.
If they found the Life Stone in Old Ancestor’s house, his suggestion would look like foresight to readers.
Most crucially, finding the Life Stone’s whereabouts let him leave this dangerous village. He couldn’t take the village’s Life Stone—Nightmare Beasts would catch him before he reached the Academy.
But who said he needed to take it? He just needed proof he’d handled a Life Stone. Otherwise, pulling one out would raise suspicions. He had his own fragment, enough for Wu Mingbai to verify.
At the village head’s house, opera music drifted out, mixed with an old, slightly off-key voice—likely the village head singing along.
“Knock knock knock!”
The music stopped. A rural woman in floral clothes opened the door, wiping wet hands on her apron, looking puzzled: “Xiao Jian, what brings you here?”
Zhou nodded: “Sis, I’m here for the village head.”
“Xiao Jian’s here? Let him in!” the village head’s voice called.
They entered, seeing a lean old man in a white tank top on a rocking chair, smoking a pipe. He looked fifty or sixty, full of energy, more vibrant than most youngsters.
Hearing multiple footsteps, he sensed something off. Turning, he saw strangers with Zhou, paused, and set down his pipe: “Xiao Jian, who are these folks?”
Zhou repeated his story about the teacher and schoolmates, smiling: “So, I’m here to register with you, Village Head. Please look after my schoolmates these next few days.”
“No problem! If it brings profit to the village, I’m all for it,” the village head said, eyeing Jiang Tianming and the others like they were fat sheep. Like the others, he didn’t doubt Zhou’s story.
Their age was a big advantage. No one would guess these students were here to solve a case. And suspecting Brother Wang made no sense—if he was investigating, why bring kids? That’d be a hassle.
As village head, he welcomed anything that could enrich the village. Only when the villagers thrived could he.
Recalling Su Bei’s request, Zhou tested: “You know my place is small and hasn’t been cleaned in ages—not great for them. Aren’t there two empty houses? How about letting them stay there?”
The village had a fixed number of houses, rarely built anew. Zhou’s “two empty houses” were obviously those.
“Those two houses…” the village head hesitated, looking troubled. “Both had deaths. Not suitable for guests, right?”
“They don’t mind,” Zhou said quickly.
But the village head refused: “There are other houses. Plenty of villagers have spare rooms. I’ll talk to them and arrange something. Don’t worry about those two houses—no one puts guests in places like that.”
His stance was firm, so Zhou didn’t push: “We’ll head out then. We’ll visit later.”
Leaving, Zhou shrugged helplessly: “I tried, but you saw his attitude.”
“No big deal. Any house works,” Jiang Tianming said politely, but they all thought: if they won’t let us investigate openly, we’ll do it discreetly.
With time to spare, the six split into two teams to check the two elders’ homes. At Jiang Tianming’s insistence, Su Bei and Li Shu, with Brother Wang, went to Grandma Wang’s house.
Grandma Wang was one of the victims.
Zhou, going with the other team, briefed them on Grandma Wang’s family. She had two and a half people left—her son and pregnant daughter-in-law, the pregnancy counting as half.
Grandma Wang lost her husband early, raising her son alone and seeing him marry. But before she could enjoy life, tragedy struck.
Following Zhou’s directions, they reached Grandma Wang’s house, marked by white mourning cloth, obvious in the row of houses.
A thin man opened the door. News spread fast in the village, so he knew of their arrival.
Seeing them, he assumed they were the rich guests, grinning like a flower: “You’re the new visitors, right? Just two kids? Come in, come in!”
He called into the house: “Wife! Guests! Make dinner for three extra!”
“What guests?” A thin woman with a large pregnant belly emerged from the kitchen. Seeing Su Bei’s group, her eyes lit up, and she grew enthusiastic: “Got it! I’ll start cooking. Let them sit, dinner’s soon.”
“No need for trouble. We’re just here to look around,” Su Bei said, not correcting their misunderstanding but playing along.
On the sofa, Su Bei lounged, ready to slack off, saying nothing. Li Shu shot him a fake smile before speaking: “This house looks nice, but we heard an elder passed recently?”
It was nonsense—the house was far from nice, a dilapidated mud-brick place with a leaky roof, long unmaintained. But Su Bei noticed something odd: the cigarette pack on the table was a pricey brand his dad used to smoke. And the wife’s makeup looked natural—the kind Su Bei knew was expensive.
For a seemingly poor family, why the luxury items? And only in small doses?
Su Bei was sure something was off.
Hearing Li Shu, the man froze, then hurried: “The mourning period’s over. We’re taking down the white cloth soon. Worried? I’ll pull it down now and scatter sticky rice at the door—guaranteed to ward off evil.”