Roaring Dragon-Chapter 100: Old Wounds, Old Records

Buzheng Street, Wanan County Yamen.

In the early morning, the third patrol team had already been dispatched to continue the search for the second perpetrator behind the mummified corpse case.

Inside the west barracks of the yamen, County Deputy Fei Ji stood at the desk, speaking in a somber tone:

“Three years ago, it was your father sitting here. But now the seat’s mine. From a feng shui perspective, this is called the ‘wheel of fortune turning’...”

“Gugu~”

Meiqiu was squatting in the grand chair of the county deputy. Though he couldn’t speak, his eyes seemed to say—You standing in front of the desk just feels more natural...

Nearby, at the tea table, Linghu Qingmo sat in a white dress, sword beside her. Though her expression was cold and elegant, exuding a sense of stern formality, her inner thoughts were anything but:

To err is human. Aside from being a little shameless when it comes to women, he’s really done nothing wrong...

Don’t be mad, don’t be mad...

He kissed me and then ran straight to Doctor Lin’s house and didn’t come back all night. Hmph...

It’s almost midday now. Don’t tell me he’s still draped over her?

A gentle woman’s embrace is the grave of heroes... that saying might really be true...

A woman who only knows how to warm a man’s bed is just a concubine...

...

Yang Dabiao stood at the doorway with his massive arms crossed, peering out anxiously, muttering:

“Compassionate Fei, you think Jinhuan ran off to slay another demon? If he comes back later with the other killer’s head...”

“Then Lord Wu’s definitely getting exiled to Lingnan!”

Fei Ji, unable to coax Meiqiu from the chair, clasped his hands behind his back and approached:

“But this one’s hard to crack. Yesterday, the fact that someone from the Underworld God Sect could ambush Jinhuan means the second killer is from that cult.”

“These kinds of demonic sects hide deep. Even the Astronomical Bureau and the Chilin Guard are digging, and they’ve found zilch...”

After a few idle exchanges, Fei Ji noticed that Linghu Qingmo seemed distracted.

With his worldly experience, just one glance was enough for Fei Ji to guess that the girl was experiencing first love. He leaned in and quietly asked:

“You and Jinhuan...”

Yang Dabiao, afraid of getting hit, quickly made a vague face and whispered:

“Keep it to yourself. Don’t ask.”

Smack—

Linghu Qingmo snapped out of it, slamming her palm on the tea table with her brows sharply raised, startling Meiqiu off the chair.

Before she could come up with an explanation, a figure dropped swiftly at the door.

Whoosh—

Seeing Xie Jinhuan arrive, Fei Ji immediately stepped forward, concerned:

“Jinhuan! How’d you sleep last night? Your wounds okay?”

Xie Jinhuan had enjoyed a cozy night hugged by the bespectacled lady—very nourishing. But obviously, that wasn’t something to say aloud. He simply replied with a smile:

“All good. Sorry I’m late, Uncle Fei.”

“Now now, don’t say it like that. Even if you’d shown up at midnight, I’d know you had your reasons. Come, come. This here’s Lord Wu’s prized ‘Silver-Tip Before Rain’ tea. I snuck out two taels and haven’t dared touch it...”

As he spoke, Fei Ji reached into the tea cabinet and pulled out a small bamboo tube to start brewing.

Seeing this, Yang Dabiao immediately dumped his own coarse tea out the door.

“Heh! I knew something was off with that cabinet—just leaves and twigs! So the good stuff was hidden all along, huh? You little fraud...”

“You? Drink good tea? I’m already being generous not handing you mop water...”

...

Back in his father’s old office, Xie Jinhuan saw the familiar faces squabbling just like before and couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia. Spotting Meiqiu still parked in the grand chair, he asked:

“What are you doing up there?”

“Gugu~”

Meiqiu bounced twice—seemed like he meant carrying on the family business, saving your seat.

Xie Jinhuan found it endearing. But he had no interest in becoming some workhorse county deputy. Taking the teacup from Uncle Fei, he sat down at the table, glancing at the cold beauty next to him.

Linghu Qingmo had spent the whole night tossing after being pecked on the lips. She definitely wasn’t about to talk to him first—she just sat there, playing the part of the aloof female constable.

Fei Ji served her a cup of the good tea too, then pulled out a dossier from his robe and handed it to Xie Jinhuan:

“This was sent from Magistrate Chen’s office. Over the years, I’ve tried to quietly dig into things too. If anything’s unclear, just ask me.”

Xie Jinhuan opened the dossier and saw it contained the Haunted Palace Case and the Xie Wen Assault Case in full. From the official seals, it had just been pulled from the prefectural archive.

Yang Dabiao snuck himself a good cup of tea and shuffled closer behind the chairs.

“Lord Xie taught both me and Jinhuan. He couldn’t possibly have been a corrupt official. There had to be something fishy about that case three years ago...”

Since this was about Jinhuan’s past injustice, even Linghu Qingmo leaned in to take a look and added:

“Yang Dabiao aside, any father who raised a son like you couldn’t possibly have been a crooked man...”

Fei Ji sipped the floating tea leaves in his cup. Though his face showed amusement, he didn’t comment.

He was Xie Wen’s childhood friend. They studied and served together for decades—he knew Xie Wen better than anyone, even Jinhuan.

Thanks to Xie Jinhuan’s recent achievements, Xie Wen’s posthumous reputation had improved. Many who never met him assumed he was a “just official,” a “stern father,” a “capable minister.”

But the truth? He and Fei Ji were both nobodies hustling their way through the capital. Grade eight or nine civil officials at best, barely enough to count as “officials” in the eyes of the court.

Fei Ji had a silver tongue, always flattering others. He’d play up when there were bribes to earn, and keep his hands clean when there weren’t. All he wanted was to do his job, feed his family, and enjoy the occasional drink at a brothel.

Xie Wen was the same—dutiful when needed, slacked off when he could. No major mistakes, but no great achievements either. Just a low-ranking county constable who clawed his way up.

And because he was too ordinary, with no powerful backers, when security failed at the emperor’s traveling palace, the Chilin Guard needed someone to take the fall—Xie Wen became the scapegoat.

Three years ago, when it all went down, Xie Jinhuan didn’t know the details. But Fei Ji knew it all.

The Haunted Palace Case began in the fifth year of Jingning, third month. Emperor Qian, along with his concubines and crown prince, was spring-plowing per ancestral tradition on Mount Yugeng, staying in a traveling palace.

On the night of the fifth day, yin energy suddenly surged. Several palace maids reported seeing ghosts. The emperor, concubines, crown prince, and even the Empress Dowager’s brother were frightened. Yet the spiritual officers found no culprit.

At the time, Han Jingchuan led the Chilin Guard at the palace. Xie Wen was maintaining order on the mountain below.

With no results from multiple investigations, blame shifted. Han Jingchuan accused Xie Wen of drinking on duty, allowing a breach in the rear of the palace that demons exploited.

Xie Wen was almost certainly framed. Several yamen runners testified to him drinking, and even physical evidence was found.

Then, Judicial Deputy Zhou Ming’an concluded that Xie Wen had colluded with demons and plotted to assassinate the emperor.

That was a capital crime punishable by the extermination of nine generations. Obviously, such a charge couldn’t be made lightly. The heads of the High Court, Censorate, Ministry of Justice—even his direct superior, Magistrate Chen Ping—all rejected it for “insufficient evidence.”

But Zhou Ming’an insisted again—claiming negligence that startled the emperor’s concubines. He demanded immediate execution to “set an example.” Several others agreed.

Still, the High Judge Hou Jiye—famous for his integrity—rejected it again, citing lack of proof.

However, there was eyewitness and physical evidence of Xie Wen drinking while on duty. And he couldn’t provide a clear alibi—he just said he had a stomach ache and went to the latrine.

When the imperial household is spooked, heads must roll. Under such pressure, the charge was reduced to dereliction of duty. He was demoted to Nanning in Ruizhou. Emperor Qian approved.

And that was that. The haunted palace case was closed. The cause never uncovered.

Fei Ji knew Xie Wen enjoyed a drink or two. But whether he’d slipped away that night for a swig, he really couldn’t say. All he knew was—there was a fifteen-minute window when Xie Wen vanished.

Since the sentence was only a demotion, Xie Wen accepted it without argument.

No one expected that just a few days after leaving the capital, Xie Wen and his son would be ambushed at Sancha Ridge in Weizhou—and vanish completely.

Fei Ji knew something was up. He wanted justice for his friend’s family, but his rank was too low to investigate. All he could do was make quiet inquiries.

What he learned: only a few remains were found at Sancha Ridge. No trace of Xie Wen, his son, or any demon was ever recovered. The centurions and spiritual officers on the case found nothing and ultimately ruled it “heroic death in battle with demons.”

Afterward, the court posthumously honored him as “Valiant Martial Lieutenant” and gave him a cenotaph in the Martyrs’ Garden outside the city, with full seasonal rites alongside other fallen soldiers.

Most of this was recorded in the dossier.

After carefully reading it all, Xie Jinhuan found the whole affair absurd. Someone had clearly pulled strings behind the scenes.

As for the final sentence—he had no complaints.

There were witnesses who said his father drank. They even found bottles.

And all his father could say was that he’d had a bad stomach and disappeared for a while. Too vague. Impossible to prove innocence.

The palace was spooked. Heads had to roll. Even if he was framed, the fact that his father—with no connections, no backing—was only demoted rather than executed already meant he’d received leniency.

But this Zhou Ming’an... what’s his deal?

Linghu Qingmo frowned after reading the file and asked:

“Did Zhou Ming’an have some personal grudge with Uncle Xie? He kept pushing for harsher punishment—extermination, execution—even after the High Judge rejected him twice. Why was he so insistent?”

Xie Jinhuan had no issue with an advocate pushing hard. That was their job.

But Zhou Ming’an wasn’t a lawyer—he was the judge. Twisting the law to kill his dad? That was suspicious as hell. He looked over at Fei Ji.

Since the room was full of trusted people, Fei Ji didn’t hold back.

“Someone had to take the fall. If Xie Daren didn’t bear it, then Han Jingchuan would’ve had to. But Han didn’t have power over the court—so strings were pulled.”

Linghu Qingmo clenched her fists in outrage:

“These corrupt officials—taking bribes to ruin an innocent man’s life, trying to exterminate his family—they deserve death a hundred times over!”

“Shh!”

Fei Ji glanced outside and whispered:

“Don’t say things like that. This is the yamen. Everything must follow Da Qian law. Without proof, we can’t go around accusing people of bribery. Even if we did prove it, all that would happen is Zhou Ming’an losing his job—while we’d run ourselves into the ground chasing it.”

Linghu Qingmo knew how hard °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° things were in the capital. She turned to Xie Jinhuan:

“Should I ask the Prince’s Mansion to intervene...?” 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

Xie Jinhuan stared at Zhou Ming’an’s name, then shook his head.

“Old cases are tough to reopen. Let’s wait until things calm down.”

Fei Ji had investigated enough to know what a motivator avenging one’s father could be—especially now that Jinhuan had the strength to do something about it. He cautioned:

“Jinhuan, you’ve been in the capital for years. You know how the yamen works. If you get any ideas, talk to us first. By the way... wasn’t it weird how Han Jingchuan died yesterday?”

Two unrelated comments—yet the message was clear.

If you’re going to kill someone, do it by the book. Don’t give them a reason to retaliate.

Xie Jinhuan understood. Fei Uncle truly meant well.

After chatting a while longer, he got up to continue hunting for leads on the Underworld God Sect.

Fei Ji felt a bit sentimental... until he suddenly noticed something strange.

In a flash, he sprang up and blocked Yang Dabiao at the door, snatching the bamboo tube from his belt:

“You little shit! That was my last two taels of tea—trying to steal it, were you?!”

Yang Dabiao froze. “Hey? Your eyes have gotten sharper! I remember back in the day I could make it to the door before you even noticed!”

“Out, out, OUT!”