Chapter 17: The Truth Hidden Behind History

Ning Xiu only felt a faint warmth rising from his lower abdomen. This gentle heat coursed through his body along fixed meridians, unceasingly opening and refining the vital acupoints throughout his form.

“Congratulations, host, you have acquired the Nine Suns Divine Skill. System evaluation: Novice level.”

As the system prompt echoed in his mind, the circulation path of the Nine Suns Divine Skill was already deeply etched into Ning Xiu’s memory. He didn’t stop there; instead, he focused intently on the new surge of inner energy within him. Following the prescribed route, he circulated it again and again, only opening his eyes slowly after several cycles.

He could clearly sense his strength had increased. Confidently, he thought that if he confronted the One-Eyed Dragon again, his opponent wouldn’t last ten moves in his hands.

When he returned to the residence arranged for him by Ning Mingfeng in Lingnan, Ning Xiu noticed a familiar figure. If he remembered correctly, this should be a servant from his household, likely named Little Zhou.

“Young Master Xiu, I’ve finally found you! Where have you been these days?” Little Zhou asked as soon as he saw Ning Xiu.

“I’ve been out exploring the mountains and rivers with some new friends. Did something happen at home?” Ning Xiu replied with a smile.

“This is a letter from the master for you. I must return and report now, I’ve already been delayed here for several days.” As he spoke, Little Zhou produced a letter sealed with red wax from his chest, handed it to Ning Xiu, bowed, and hurried off.

Ning Xiu raised the yellow envelope with its red wax seal, watching Little Zhou’s figure recede into the distance, his eyes narrowing slightly.

His grandfather was becoming more and more inscrutable.

...

It was a letter summoning Ning Xiu home, yet not long ago, Ning Mingfeng had specifically instructed him to stay in Lingnan County for the time being, telling him there was no need to return soon. Now, barely a month later, his attitude had made a complete about-face.

Ning Xiu pondered for a moment and decided to go back after all. There were some matters he wanted to verify with Ning Mingfeng.

He wasted no time on the journey home. Traveling alone, he was much faster than when he first came. In just a few days, he had already crossed into the territory of Shouchun.

Before he reached the city proper, when still outside the gates, he saw a long, snake-like procession blocking the blue stone road.

Ning Xiu looked up, his brow furrowing deeply.

He saw several dozen robust men in tattered cotton clothes bearing more than twenty coffins, walking straight out from within the city. Their clothes were worn, but the coffins they carried were all brand new—some so fresh that the lacquer hadn’t even been applied, clearly made in haste.

Ning Xiu recalled that Old Zhong’s coffin shop in the west of the city was quite large, and Old Zhong himself was known for his exacting standards. Such a situation would never arise unless there had been a recent surge of deaths in Shouchun, so many that coffins could not be made fast enough.

The last time Ning Xiu had seen so many coffins in a single funeral was when the Wu family had been slaughtered by the mountain bandits from Blackwind Fortress. Could it be that those bandits had come to Shouchun to commit mayhem again?

Once might be an accident, but for these bandits to succeed repeatedly, what were the constables in the county office even doing?

Ning Xiu’s expression darkened as he rode around the crowd and entered the city.

...

“Young Master Xiu has returned!” The gatekeeper spotted Ning Xiu and hurried out to meet him, reaching for his horse’s reins.

After the incident with Zhao Si, everyone in the household knew their young master was not to be trifled with, so they treated him with great respect.

Ning Xiu nodded and asked, “Is grandfather at home?”

“The master was called to the yamen early this morning for a meeting with the county magistrate. The Dai and Chen families’ representatives also went along,” the old gatekeeper replied. “It must be about the Sun family massacre from a few days ago. The master instructed that if you returned, you should wait for him in the study.”

“I understand.”

Handing his horse over, Ning Xiu walked straight toward Ning Mingfeng’s study. Along the way, he encountered many servants and retainers, all with their heads bowed, faces drawn with worry. Clearly, the Sun family’s extermination had cast a pall over everyone.

Unlike the small Wu family, the Suns weren’t one of Shouchun’s three great clans, but their strength was nearly on par. Their household also maintained a large staff of martial instructors, yet even so, they had been wiped out without explanation.

How could people not be afraid? Who could say which family might be next?

Ning Mingfeng’s study was considered a forbidden area in the Ning household, off-limits to ordinary servants. Even Ning Xiu himself seldom entered, especially when his grandfather wasn’t present. If he recalled correctly, this was the first time he had ever entered alone.

Ning Xiu paused before the door, then reached out and pushed it open.

The study was silent and dim. The crimson bookshelves, shrouded in darkness, appeared even more solemn—almost like dark, congealed blood...

Yet there was a faint fragrance in the air, which reassured him that he hadn’t come to the wrong place.

He waited for a while, and when Ning Mingfeng did not return, he walked alone to the shelves and began to browse the books.

Since Ning Mingfeng had passed the imperial exams in his youth, many of the books were literary works, but there were even more on medicinal herbs and medicine—unsurprising, as the Ning family had made its fortune in the medicinal trade.

Ning Xiu’s eyes skimmed over the spines until he paused at a yellowed volume. He drew it out and saw the title: “County Annals of Shouchun.”

It appeared to be a chronicle of Shouchun, and judging by the yellowed pages, it was quite old. The book recorded all manner of local events in great detail. Ning Xiu read quickly, soon finishing it and noting several entries that struck him as odd.

“In the sixty-eighth year of Great Qian, for seven days straight, a man drowned each day in Clear Water Brook on the southern outskirts—all adult males, not a single child.”

“In the seventy-fifth year of Great Qian, the county magistrate, only seven days into his term, suddenly died. According to the constables present, he claimed to hear a woman weeping every night. Months later, his successor unearthed a woman’s corpse in the rear garden of the yamen residence.”

“In the seventy-ninth year of Great Qian, dozens of beggars vanished without a trace overnight from the ruined temple west of town.”

“In the eighty-third year of Great Qian, amid the busy market, a man suddenly died from his body bursting open—cause unknown.”

...

Each event seemed explicable on the surface, yet now, to Ning Xiu, they all appeared bizarre.

If he remembered correctly, the Clear Water Brook outside the south gate was barely half a meter deep—how could it drown a grown man? And for it to happen seven days in a row, always in the same spot?

Then there was the man whose body exploded in the marketplace—a detail that conjured up unpleasant memories.

“It seems these monsters have always been here, merely hidden behind the veil of history...” Ning Xiu closed the book and murmured softly to himself.