Chapter 7: Night Exploration of White Horse Town

There were no longer any civilians gathered outside Baima Town, but the number of soldiers guarding the perimeter seemed to have increased.

The mountain bandits who had committed the atrocities were beheaded in public as a warning to others, and the victims could finally rest in peace. Mo Zheng squinted toward the foot of the mountain in the distance, where many new graves had appeared.

"Hurry it up!" a government official shouted, pointing his blade at the newly arrived laborers. "Clear away the wood and stone debris, and sort through the remains."

As the shouting continued, the laborers were driven into lines and issued baskets and iron rakes.

Mo Zheng tucked his bamboo pole into his waistband and reached out to take a basket and an iron shovel. A soldier handing out the tools noticed and warned, "Sticks are useless."

Mo Zheng put on a fawning smile. "It’s my livelihood; I can't bear to throw it away."

The soldier saw two other men behind him also carrying sticks. Recognizing them as beggars from the city and knowing their habits—that they were too weak from hunger to walk without support and used the sticks to fend off wild dogs when fighting for food—he didn't ask any further questions.

"If you lose your basket, shovel, or rope, you will be treated as a thief," the soldier warned coldly.

Mo Zheng replied in the affirmative, took his things, and walked away. He heard a laborer behind him mutter, "They even want these back? I was thinking of taking them to sell for a few coins when I left."

Mo Zheng smiled, turned back, and whispered, "Then work hard and wear them out."

The two laborers laughed, thinking this young man was sharp-witted, and hurried to catch up with him. "Let's work together, brother."

The sound of galloping hooves rang out as several officials rode up. They jumped off their horses and, seeing the empty tents, asked hurriedly, "Where is Inspector Ji?"

The guards pointed toward the town. "The Inspector is at the east end of the town."

The officials exchanged glances. "He’s guarding it personally?" "Surely not, it’s just..." "Let's head over quickly." They whispered among themselves and hurried inside.

Mo Zheng shoveled up a pile of charred stones and, under the guise of wiping his sweat, looked in the direction they had gone.

That was where Yang Luo had said her home was.

"No slacking off!"

The supervising officials had sharp eyes and cracked their whips with a loud *snap*.

Mo Zheng withdrew his gaze and focused on his work.

Working as a laborer meant three meals a day, but it was truly exhausting. They weren't allowed to rest until the torches were lit and they could no longer see clearly.

They rested right where they worked; each person was issued a blanket, which they wrapped around themselves before lying down on the ground and falling asleep instantly.

In the night, the ruins of Baima Town were shrouded in darkness.

However, besides the lights where the officials and guards were resting at the town entrance, there were also flickering lights at the east end of the town.

Compared to other areas, the damage here was more severe. It had been burned almost to the ground, and the original layout of the residence was barely recognizable; there was no need for laborers to clear it.

At this moment, torches were stuck in the ground here, and a tent with hanging curtains had been erected. Two officials sat outside on guard, though both were nodding off with their heads hanging low.

Mo Zheng’s footsteps were silent, approaching like a cat.

One official’s head jerked, and he woke up with a start, instinctively looking behind him. The night wind blew, causing the hanging curtains to sway slightly. A corner lifted, revealing the lidless coffin inside.

The official shivered.

The official next to him was also startled awake.

"What is it?" he asked.

The first official rubbed his arms, unwilling to admit he was a bit scared. He just said, "What kind of family is this? Everyone else has been buried, why haven't they?"

All other victims were buried as quickly as possible to prevent the spread of disease. Only this family had their master placed in an ice coffin, with a tent erected and guards posted.

The other official yawned. "They said they found out who their relatives were and sent someone to the capital to ask. We're just waiting for word."

"The capital? That's too far away," the first official muttered, reaching up to cover his nose and mouth. "And they have to make us guard it. How long will this take? The body is already starting to stink."

The other official yawned again. "Stop complaining. The relatives must be someone important; Inspector Ji even came to guard it himself during the day." He glanced at the coffin. "It’s a pity, really. A mother and daughter burned to death while holding each other tight. Their bodies couldn't even be separated."

The first official rubbed his arms again, unwilling to imagine the sight of people burning to death. "Stop talking, stop talking. Let's get some sleep." With that, he closed his eyes.

The other official stretched, found a more comfortable position, and closed his eyes as well.

Soon, both were asleep again.

The figure that had moved away now approached the coffin silently. The shadow stretched and elongated before the coffin.

Mo Zheng stood up straight, his brow furrowed.

A mother and daughter burned to death?

Mother and daughter?

Yang Luo hadn't mentioned any sisters. She was still alive, so how could there be a daughter in this coffin?

Mo Zheng leaned over to look inside. The body was surrounded by ice, with various spices packed in to prevent decay, and a white cloth covered the remains.

Mo Zheng reached out and lifted the cloth. It was burned beyond recognition, but it was clear that it was indeed two people embracing—one adult-sized, one in their teens.

This...

Mo Zheng’s expression shifted. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed as he looked toward the town entrance.

...

...

Countless torches lit up at the town entrance, as if a great fire had been rekindled. Within the fire, there seemed to be a dark, heavy cloud that blurred his vision.

The sound of hooves thundered, and there was a great commotion.

The laborers who had been sleeping were all jolted awake, staring blankly into the firelight.

"What's going on?" Mo Zheng asked the person beside him.

The man seemed startled. He turned to see a young boy. Although he had only arrived today, the boy was efficient at his work and even taught them how to slack off without being noticed, so they all knew him.

"A group of people arrived. I don't know who they are," the man said, then asked with confusion, "Ah Sheng, where were you just now?"

He didn't seem to have seen him a moment ago.

Mo Zheng pointed to the pile of scrap wood not far away. "I was sleeping over there, out of the wind."

The kid certainly knew how to enjoy himself. The man grunted and stopped asking, following Mo Zheng’s gaze toward the town entrance.

"They must be high-ranking officials," Mo Zheng said, squinting. "Look, even the Inspector has run out to greet them."

However, the Inspector looked furious, shouting, "...What are you people doing here!"

The group approached. They weren't wearing official robes or military uniforms, but black garments embroidered with colorful silk threads, carrying swords and blades—magnificent yet chilling.

"We of the Embroidered Uniform Guard are, of course, acting on imperial decree to investigate," said the man in the lead.

The Inspector sneered. "Investigate whom? Me? Who wants to investigate me? His Majesty, or Wei Jiao!"

A voice drifted from the dark cloud, drowning out the Inspector's voice and carrying clearly on the night wind to the ears of the laborers.

"Ji Ying, as the saying goes, if you do no evil in the daylight, you need not fear a ghost knocking at your door at midnight. Why are you making such a fuss?"

The voice was pleasant, cool and clear.

As the voice spoke, someone urged their horse forward.

It was a young man, around twenty years old, with deep-set eyes and a pale complexion—even his lips lacked color.

At first glance, he appeared to be wearing black, but upon closer inspection, the lining was deep red. As the horse moved, his robes fluttered gently, like a flower slowly blooming.

Mo Zheng heard the man beside him gasp. "He really looks like a ghost."

A rather gorgeous ghost, Mo Zheng added to himself, watching the young man: Wei Jiao.