031 The Little Monk Is Actually the Young Maid

Chapter Title: 031 The Young Monk Is Actually the Young Maid

Prefect Yin let out a shrill, desperate scream; the others inhaled sharply in terror. For at that moment, what Prefect Yin was grasping was not what he believed to be a human arm, but the neck of a certain corpse.

Moments before Prefect Yin had stumbled, Fang Rulai—who was nearest—had pulled the rolling corpse forward at just the right instant. Prefect Yin, searching for something to steady himself, happened to clutch the neck with the gaping wound. The blood on that neck had long since dried, and after an entire day and night, the corpse was naturally rigid. In his agitation, Yin misjudged the circumference of the neck for that of an arm, his thumb plunging into the hole, his fingers closing around it.

As Yin turned, still not releasing the corpse, Fang Rulai seized its hand and waved it amicably. “No need to thank me, Your Excellency.”

Prefect Yin’s scream rose eightfold in pitch. For a moment, the hall rang with a sound as piercing as that of a eunuch after cleansing rituals.

Truth be told, Prefect Yin had weathered many storms to attain his position. In over a decade of office, the number of people who had died by his orders numbered in the hundreds, if not a thousand. Corpses had become as commonplace to him as meals, and never had they disturbed his appetite or sleep.

Today was different. The corpse before him was someone he had seen just yesterday. Yesterday, while orchestrating Fang Rulai’s poisoning in the inner residence, Yin had taken others directly to the prison where San Fengzi was held. Both he and San Fengzi served the Crown Prince, and the man he brought with him was none other than the deputy abbot of the temple—the very corpse whose neck he now held.

Yesterday, he had arrogantly pressured that man, saying, “Be swift and thorough. Only a visible corpse will count as mission accomplished.” Yet today, he was the one “seeing the corpse.” How could he not be shaken? The dead eyes staring back at him had, just yesterday, boasted, “Rest assured, the corpse will be delivered to you first.” Now, the man had delivered himself. Was this a curse he had cast upon himself? Or had his words hastened the man’s demise?

Prefect Yin had ordered many deaths, but never stained his own hands with blood. Now, unable to endure the horror of his hand through the corpse’s neck, his scream abruptly ceased; his head lolled, his body went limp, and he collapsed in a faint.

“Your Excellency!” the secretary cried, rushing forward with others. Some pinched his philtrum, others splashed cold water. As Fang Rulai began to regret, “Did I go too far? If he’s truly traumatized, who will play his part in the drama?” Prefect Yin let out a breath and regained consciousness.

Fang Rulai dropped the corpse and strode forward, bumping the secretary aside, then crouched before Prefect Yin with concern. “Are you alright, Your Excellency? You mustn’t die just like this!”

This time, her concern was genuine. All her plans hinged on the peculiarities of Prefect Yin’s character. If he truly couldn’t handle it and a superior replaced him, her plans would need to be rewritten.

Unfortunately, Yin saw her concern as a second blow, as cruel as pushing him into a well and dropping a massive stone after him. Too inhumane! His eyes rolled, and he nearly fainted again.

The secretary, understanding his master, scrambled up and ordered, “Court is adjourned for now! Quickly, help His Excellency to the side hall to rest. This case—” he shot Fang Rulai a glare, “—will be tried later.”

Without waiting for reactions, he beckoned the bailiffs to support Yin and led him through the rear door.

At the entrance to the side hall, a figure in black appeared within. Prefect Yin’s gaze cleared. “You are all dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.” The crowd withdrew; the secretary closed the door.

Only then did Prefect Yin speak, his tone displeased. “How could you come out now? Do you know how tense things are outside? Didn’t I tell you yesterday? Without my permission, you’d better stay in the cell!”

The man in black turned—San Fengzi.

“My permission? It appears that, before the Crown Prince, your status is little higher than mine. When have I ever needed your permission to act?” San Fengzi retorted coldly. “Still, it’s fortunate I came out, or else who would have guessed that a dignified prefect could be frightened senseless by a mere young monk!”

A trace of embarrassment flickered in Yin’s eyes, quickly replaced by composure. “Hmph, I have always aspired to the court, keeping my distance from the world of martial arts. Such a brutal scene suddenly before me—my inability to endure is understandable. But you? In early March, you snatched the task of eliminating Fahua Temple from me, and not only have you failed, now I must clean up your mess. Is this your so-called competence?”

“You—” San Fengzi’s face changed, about to protest.

Yin waved him off. “Enough. The enemy is not yet vanquished. There’s no point in infighting now. Our priority is to figure out how to deal with that young monk waiting in the hall.”

San Fengzi understood. The Fahua Temple affair remained unresolved; any further delay, and the Crown Prince would first hold him accountable.

They exchanged glances, reaching a tentative agreement to cooperate.

San Fengzi asked, “Are you certain those people were ours, sent out yesterday?”

“I saw for myself.”

“The monk claims they fell into traps and died on their way back, after completing their task?”

“Yes, that’s what he said.”

“Did the corpses he brought include that young maid’s body?”

“Hm, apparently not.” Only now did Yin recall that all the corpses seemed to be theirs, yet Fang Rulai kept mentioning the maid who was hunted to death, but her body was never seen.

Why was that?

“That’s our first breakthrough,” San Fengzi said, his gaze sharp. “Second, I know my men. Once they succeed, they never linger; they return immediately. Falling into traps? Impossible! They may not be top experts, but avoiding ordinary hunters’ traps is well within their skill.”

Yin slapped his thigh. Of course! To ordinary eyes, traps that could snare large beasts might seem dangerous, but for skilled assassins, they shouldn’t pose a threat.

“Hmph. They pursued the young maid to the back mountain, but encountered the young monk. And the third pursued the young monk to the cliff, but ended up chasing the maid.”

San Fengzi and Yin exchanged glances and spoke in unison, “Could the young monk actually be the young maid?”

Thank you, dear friends, for your encouragement!

As for the mention of fewer words, I’d like to clarify. I usually write with a rough outline and update daily, but writing ten thousand words a day seems beyond my current ability. My habit is to increase gradually, starting with three thousand words per update, then four thousand, and so on. Today I’ve arranged my schedule with the goal of increasing after the busy season, perhaps starting from New Year’s Day with three thousand per update.

Although I have no strong feelings about VIP updates, I deeply admire those authors who can write ten thousand daily! I’ll strive toward that goal, but with little confidence—so let’s adapt and increase slowly.

This book is published first here.