Chapter Sixty-Two: The Real and the False Culprit

“Who died?” Zhou Qian pressed anxiously.

“Mouse!” Yi Xie Die answered, his face grim.

“Damn it!” Zhou Qian cursed, unable to hold back, and hurried away.

Mouse’s corpse lay on the ground, his face frozen in shock. His body bore two wounds; his chest was sunken, several ribs broken, his throat smashed, blood frothing from the corner of his mouth. When Zhou Qian arrived, Lou Yuxiao, Mo Shaoguan, and others were already gathered around, their expressions hostile as they saw him.

“Yesterday Mouse identified the killer, and today he is dead. The murderer must be retaliating or covering something up!” Lou Yuxiao hesitated, choosing his words carefully.

“Hmph! First the bones were broken, then the throat was slit. Even someone as skilled in lightness technique as Mouse was caught off guard. The killer’s palm technique and agility must be highly advanced, and moreover, someone none of us would suspect. Otherwise, even with Mouse's precautions, I could not have killed him in one blow!” Fei Yue said with the voice of experience.

“Was Mouse killed in the corridor? Who found him?” Zhou Qian pressed.

“It was me and Old Iron,” Shi Si answered with a troubled look. “I was injured and Old Iron and the others watched over me all night, which made me uncomfortable. So I asked Old Iron to go downstairs with me to find Old Hu for a drink. Who would have thought that as soon as we got downstairs, we’d see Mouse’s corpse at the doorway?”

“Miss Feng, you practice medicine. Please help me examine the body,” Zhou Qian sighed, turning to the Green-robed Medicine Immortal, Feng Xian’er.

“The blood retains a trace of warmth; he’s been dead less than half an hour. His pupils are dilated, clearly agitated in his final moments—either terrified or surprised.”

Mouse was a renowned assassin, long accustomed to death. So, was it surprise? What kind of killer could shock him so profoundly before death? Zhou Qian pondered silently.

“Brother Wu Zhang, as far as I know, after Lady Hu’s death, you assigned guards every five steps, sentries every ten. Did any of them notice anything?” Zhou Qian suddenly turned and asked.

“No sign of the killer, but two people came to the second floor,” Wu Zhang answered hesitantly.

“Who?” Lou Yuxiao asked quickly.

“Wei Guang, the Tang Sect's young master, and Miss Sun,” Wu Zhang replied, his expression peculiar.

“Hm?”

“The two entered Sun’s room together. Half an hour ago, Wei Guang left.”

A young man and woman alone together in a room? Even in the martial world, that's bold. And Mouse was killed just after Wei Guang left—could there be a connection? Those with sharp minds began to speculate.

“Mr. Fei?” Zhou Qian said, rubbing his temples. This young master always brings trouble wherever he goes.

“I believe the young master will give everyone an explanation,” Fei Yue said, his face darkening.

“Then let’s—” Zhou Qian began, but suddenly felt dizzy. A surge of hot blood rushed up from his chest, spilling from his lips, his face turning waxen as he collapsed backward.

“Zhou Qian!”

“Brother Zhou?!”

“Hero Zhou!!”

A chorus of alarm rang out on the ship. This crowd of unruly heroes had mostly been invited by Zhou Xun and the four Tang Sect elders, and many owed Zhou Qian favors or had risked their lives alongside him. With Zhou Qian’s fall, chaos erupted as if the anchor had been cut.

“Everyone, please, let Miss Feng examine Hero Zhou’s pulse first,” Lou Yuxiao, respected by all, calmed the crowd with a single phrase, though he cast a dissatisfied glance at Fei Yue, who seemed more interested in the spectacle than in helping.

“His pulse is feeble and weak—blood and energy depleted, mind exhausted. Brother Zhou has fought fierce battles one after another; his body is likely exhausted and needs rest and peace,” Feng Xian’er said, her face clouded with worry.

“Why now, of all times!” Lou Yuxiao sighed helplessly. “Let’s carry him back to his room first.”

“One dead yesterday, another today. Who knows who’ll die tomorrow? Even the leader has fallen—what a miserable business!” Fang Feifei said with a mocking sneer.

“Shut up!” It was Seven Tricks’ voice.

Zhou Qian was carried to his bed, and after a long while, he finally managed to open his eyes weakly. The first thing he saw was Feng Xian’er’s anxious, tired face.

“Ah! Brother Zhou, you’re awake!” Feng Xian’er’s face was plain, but her smile bloomed like a hundred flowers, radiating a joy from deep within that immediately lifted one’s spirits. No wonder she was known as the Medicine Immortal.

“What... what time is it?” Zhou Qian tried to rise but struggled in vain. Fortunately, Feng Xian’er quickly helped him up and placed a pillow behind him. Inevitably, their hands brushed, making Zhou Qian feel awkward.

“Haha, Brother Zhou is shy!” Feng Xian’er giggled.

“Ahem!” Zhou Qian changed the subject. “Miss Feng, you’re a young lady—why join this world of violence? You don’t seem the type to chase fame or fortune.”

“Hehe, don’t say I’m useless, Brother Zhou! It was my treatment that healed your wounds!” Feng Xian’er replied playfully.

“Actually, I wasn’t supposed to come,” Feng Xian’er said softly. “Master Pudu originally wanted the Southern Saint Hand, Elder Lu Xu, to come. But he was suddenly called away, so I took his place. While my medical skills can’t match his, when it comes to healing, I’m second to none!”

“Oh?” Zhou Qian’s interest was piqued. “You’re here to heal, but what about the other heroines on the ship?”

“Haha! Brother Zhou, you like to gossip about ladies, do you?” Feng Xian’er laughed. “There aren’t that many of us here anyway! Seven Tricks wants to make a fortune so she can do whatever she pleases. Miss Sun says there are plenty of handsome heroes on this Sandbird Tower ship, and she’s determined to find a rich husband—she’s shameless, really! Then there’s Lady Hu, she...”

Her tone dropped; Lady Hu was dead, and that was a fact.

“But I believe you’ll catch the killer and avenge Sister Hu!” Feng Xian’er forced herself to sound cheerful. “Oh, I almost forgot—I have medicine simmering, thanks to all the herbs on board.”

Zhou Qian looked at the pale green medicinal soup, then said, “Let me handle it.” His hands trembled as he took the porcelain bowl, sipped, and said, “Miss Feng, please leave me alone for now. I need to rest after I finish.”

“Alright, Brother Zhou. Take care,” Feng Xian’er nodded.

After she left, Zhou Qian stared at the medicinal soup. Somehow, a colorless bead had appeared in it—the Hundred Poison Pearl, a treasure he’d acquired during his wanderings. It could test any poison. The bead had not turned blue, so the soup was safe.

“It shouldn’t be her,” Zhou Qian murmured. “But then, who?”

He used his internal immortal energy to protect his organs and force out his external wounds. Weakness was real, but it wasn’t the main issue—the main issue was that the snake should soon appear.

By dusk, a second visitor arrived: Zhou Qian’s sworn brother, Wang Hu.

“Things are getting chaotic outside!” Wang Hu shook his head with a bitter smile.

Zhou Qian coughed, clearly exhausted, his voice hoarse. “What’s happening?”

“With you gone, the two Tang Sect uncles and nephew immediately started stirring things up—making alliances, fanning the flames, complaining that the killer hasn’t been caught, questioning your abilities. As if they could do any better!” Wang Hu said angrily.

“What about the others?” Zhou Qian asked.

“You know how stubborn martial artists are—many hate the killer fiercely, and with him hiding among us, the tension is palpable. Just now there were three fights, though Lou Yuxiao and the other respected elders managed to keep things calm. If the killer strikes again, it’ll be like dropping a spark in boiling oil—an explosion!” Wang Hu said, uneasy.

“Brother, why did you come down the stairs only after Lady Hu died? You should have been at the banquet—especially since you love a drink. It doesn’t make sense,” Zhou Qian said suddenly.

“Third Brother, you—” Wang Hu looked bewildered.

“Mouse met a man in black that night. His palm technique was fierce and domineering; it must rival the Surging Wave Palm you inherited from Elder Tu Yong, right?”

Wang Hu suddenly stood, shouting, “Third Brother, just say what you mean! We’re brothers, no need to play games!”

“You were the man in black that night!” Zhou Qian stared intensely.

“Third Brother, you—” Wang Hu’s expression grew panicked.

“You are the killer!”

“No, Third Brother, listen to me—”

“No, Big Brother, you are the killer!” Zhou Qian repeated firmly.