Roaring Dragon-Chapter 105: Lawless and Insane!

Songhe Bay.

The bamboo grove by the riverside was lit up brightly. Nearly a hundred Chilin Guards were scouring the area for any clues.

Inside the Zhou Family estate, the place was packed to the brim. Chilin Guards and officials from the Astronomical Bureau were all busy inspecting the scene.

Li Gongpu stood in the study, looking up at the body hanging from the beam. His face was ashen as he questioned:

“A whole living person suddenly hangs himself inside a room, and you didn’t hear a thing?”

Gongsun Duan was completely stunned. With other government officials present, sweat dripped down his face as he responded:

“Your Excellency, I was down by the river fishing with my men all night. Truly, we noticed nothing. And comparing handwriting samples, that confession letter really was written by Zhou Ming’an...”

The Chilin Guard’s Intendant, Cao Huaian, had also rushed over, now holding the confession in his hands. He scanned the crossed-out list of dozens of names and nodded slightly:

“For a man to have the sense to cross out names before ‘dying’... this thing’s most likely legit.”

Gongsun Duan understood immediately—tampering with the evidence would only confirm the confession’s authenticity.

But the names had to be blotted out. His, Li Gongpu’s, and countless other high-ranking elites from the capital were all on that list. If this ended up on the Emperor’s desk, it wouldn’t just be Zhou Ming’an’s head on the line.

They couldn’t just hide the letter, either. Gongsun Duan had to let experts confirm the handwriting was authentic, to maintain plausible deniability.

And now, with both the Astronomical Bureau and Chilin Guard confirming the letter was indeed penned by Zhou Ming’an, even Li Gongpu—who was skilled in calligraphy—reluctantly accepted it as genuine.

Looking at Zhou Ming’an’s bitter hatred between the lines of his final words, Li Gongpu began to suspect the man had indeed realized he was being used as a disposable pawn and decided to die with dignity, knowing there was no way out tonight.

After pondering carefully, Li Gongpu turned to Jingkong, the Celestial Monk, and Daoist Jing Wuniang, who had come to spectate:

“You two are cultivators. Is there any mystical method to determine the cause of death?”

Monk Jingkong shook his head, his voice as pleasing as always:

“Those who die unjustly carry heavy resentment. Their souls linger and ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ may become vengeful spirits—but to become such a ghost requires extremely rare conditions: yin hours, yin days, and death in ominous grounds.

“The feng shui here is excellent. If Lord Zhou followed the proper process after death, he might already be reborn. Even if not into a wealthy household, being reincarnated into the nest of a bird or beast is still better than the treacherous world of men.”

“Birds and beasts” referred to the animal realm. Monk Jingkong clearly understood everything, but was simply being tactful.

Daoist Jing Wuniang, of the Xuanhu Temple, also nodded and said:

“When a person dies, the lamp is extinguished, the breath gone, the soul dispersed. Even corpse-cultivating shamans and ghost summoners use the living to refine their spells. A thoroughly dead person can only serve as fertilizer. If the dead could speak, we wouldn’t have so many unsolved grievances in this world.”

Seeing Li Gongpu’s clear dissatisfaction, Cao Huaian offered dryly:

“Lord Li, don’t be too suspicious. If Zhou Ming’an was murdered, what you should be worrying about right now isn’t catching the killer, but your own safety.

“If you end up hanging in here next, the Chilin Guard may want to investigate—but without proof, we can’t just go around executing loyal officials.”

Li Gongpu really wanted to pin this on Xie Jinhuan, but every department had concluded it was suicide. Not a single trace of foul play had been found. To insist it was Xie Jinhuan would be pure nonsense.

With the conclusions finalized, Li Gongpu flung his sleeves and left the estate.

His retainer Du Mushan had been waiting outside. As soon as Li Gongpu stepped onto the carriage, Du frowned and said:

“My Lord, if you ask me, Zhou Ming’an probably really did kill himself. No matter how crafty Xie Jinhuan is, he couldn’t have staged a crime scene so flawless that no one found a single problem...”

Li Gongpu’s eyes darkened:

“You think I don’t know what kind of man Zhou Ming’an was? Even with his whole family’s lives on the line, he’d still be thinking ‘where there’s life, there’s hope.’

“But this trap left him no way out. It's not impossible he realized that and chose to die with some dignity.

“Since we can’t find any proof, then start with Xie Jinhuan. Find out where he was tonight.”

Du Mushan sighed and shook his head. “Probably at the Dan Prince’s Mansion. If we post a spy near the Heir Apparent’s quarters, we might get slapped with a charge of ‘conspiring to assassinate the royal family.’ Given what Xie Jinhuan’s shown so far, he’d detect surveillance easily...”

“Then bribe someone from the inside. I refuse to believe every person in the Dan Prince’s Mansion is a loyal death-defying warrior...”

——

As the two talked, the convoy slowly returned to their inner city residence.

With servants surrounding him, Li Gongpu climbed the stairs, still thinking about how to take down this dragon hatchling as slippery as a mud eel.

Du Mushan, acting as both bodyguard and strategist, made a final suggestion, thinking as a man of the Jianghu:

“Xie Jinhuan’s too slippery. Doing things by the book won’t work. What if we go off-script and just take him out in secret—”

He drew a line across his neck.

Li Gongpu clasped one hand behind his back, contemplating seriously:

“The capital isn’t the Jianghu. Unless we’re desperate, we can’t leave any handle for people to grab. If you could make it as clean as Songhe Bay, then sure—take him out right now...”

Creaaak—

A servant walking ahead opened the door.

Li Gongpu stepped one foot over the threshold—then froze mid-sentence at the unfamiliar sight before him.

...???

The room was so strange that he backed up and looked around the courtyard, double-checking he hadn’t entered the wrong place. Confirming the location, he peered inside again, eyes full of confusion.

Du Mushan, still bowing as he spoke, noticed the odd reaction and turned toward the room—his eyes instantly widening in disbelief!

Li Gongpu’s former study had been dazzling, magnificent—filled with so many priceless items he couldn’t even keep track.

But now, it was practically bare. All that remained were four blank walls and a couple of large furnishings too heavy to move.

No antiques, no calligraphy, not even a brush holder or ink stand. Just a naked desk next to the window.

“Huh? Did someone just clean the room?”

The retainer in charge of guarding the yard finally arrived, glanced inside—and was just as dumbfounded:

“No one cleaned it, sir! Wait—could it have been a burglary?!”

Chirp chirp chirp~

Crickets echoed through the vast courtyard. The dozen or so servants and guards were dead silent.

After all, for the main courtyard of a Deputy Minister's estate to get cleaned out just from stepping out for a walk—this was probably the first time in imperial history.

Li Gongpu scanned the room, now reduced to a big empty vase, a bare shelf, and a lonely desk. At first he thought the Chilin Guard had come secretly to seize assets.

But once he realized it had been done by a roaming outlaw with a code of honor, his left hand behind his back began to tremble slightly. His lips opened and closed—then his body went limp, collapsing backward!

“H-Hey! Lord Li?! Lord Li?!”

“Call a doctor!”

“Call your mother’s doctor! All of you—go find them! The emperor’s gifted scrolls—if they’re not recovered, I’ll take your heads off! Even my old exam brush from when I passed the imperial exam—who the hell steals that?! Worth a few damn coins?! Absolutely insane—lawless—madmen! Go!!”

Li Gongpu beat his chest and howled, hurling curses until his eyes rolled back and he fainted from rage.

His retinue scattered like headless chickens, frantically turning the estate upside down...

——

Meanwhile, at the Carefree Den.

The night had deepened, and the chaotic marketplace swelled with riffraff from every corner of society.

Bu Hanying, Branch Lord of Missing Moon Manor, stood as usual with a tea mug in hand, staring at the Moonrise Over the River painting, a rare pang of homesickness in his heart for the rugged lands of the southern frontier.

The southern regions might not compare to the Central Plains in prosperity, but Missing Moon Manor was still one of the top powers in the vast southern wilderness. As a direct-line branch lord, he could command a retinue of flunkies and be considered a small elder.

But here in Luojing, it was different. As a reviled heretic of the Witch Sect, he had to live like a rat, hiding by day and skulking by night. Even someone like Xie Jinhuan, half one of their own, had come knocking to scare him—life was truly on edge.

Just as he was lost in these brooding thoughts, a raspy voice sounded behind him:

“Colors swirl and dazzle the eyes, brushwork worthy of a king. This painting—was it made by the Manor Lord himself?”

Bu Hanying froze. Even the tea mug in his hand trembled slightly. After a moment of silence, he dared not turn around:

“Indeed. May I ask which senior I’m speaking with?”

Thud.

Xie Jinhuan, wearing a straw hat and cloaked in shadow, dropped a giant bundle onto the ground:

“Bai Zhan, the Saint of Thieves. Picked up some trinkets. Looking to trade for travel funds.”

“Saint of Thieves... Bai Zhan?”

Bu Hanying had never heard the name, but the meaning was clear—an underworld master here to fence stolen goods.

His mission in the capital was to recruit disciples and sell restricted drugs. Fencing wasn’t his main trade.

But once someone reached his back, refusing business meant inviting death.

After a bit of hesitation, he set down the tea and crouched beside the bundle, not even glancing up at the figure:

“Missing Moon Manor has its channels. Since you’ve come to us... h-huh?!”

He gasped before he could finish.

The multicolored glazed lamp alone was easily worth three thousand taels—definitely from a high-ranking noble’s residence.

And half the bundle was full of antiques, paintings, fine calligraphy, and writing tools. The lamp was probably one of the cheaper items.

The most valuable item was a string of bodhi prayer beads.

Taken from the sacred Bodhi tree of Tiantai Temple, thirty-six perfectly shaped beads—any one of which could be forged into a ghost-repelling artifact. Left untouched, they were raw materials, and as a display piece, extravagantly wasteful. At a golden tower auction, each could fetch over a thousand taels.

Bu Hanying, no stranger to the world despite his elite background, had never seen so many rare treasures piled together. In disbelief, he muttered:

“No wonder you dare call yourself the Saint of Thieves... Did you empty the Imperial Library?!”

Xie Jinhuan rasped: “Not quite. These came from Li Gongpu’s study. Will you take them?”

“...Li Gongpu...”

Bu Hanying was skeptical—until he found a scroll of the Luojing Rhapsody, a copy by Fan Li of the famed “Two Sages” calligraphy of Ye Ci. Though far less valuable than the original, Fan Li’s artistry was widely admired.

The story was known in the capital—Li Gongpu loved calligraphy and begged Fan Li for a piece. Fan refused, but the Emperor gifted him a copy instead. The incident had stirred some gossip, and Bu Hanying had heard of it. If that scroll was here, then it almost certainly came from Li Gongpu’s collection.

Li Gongpu was famously greedy, milking his imperial favor for wealth. But he had no roots in the cultivation world, and his clan was merely a branch of the Danyang Li family.

Losing these treasures would be devastating—but to avoid backlash from clean-fingered officials, Li Gongpu wouldn’t dare publicize an inventory, nor did he have the clout to call for a cult-wide manhunt.

So these items weren’t actually that “hot.” After a moment’s calculation, Bu Hanying replied:

“Sir is certainly capable. This is a legitimate business—of course we’ll take them. However, the goods are a bit spicy... we typically pay thirty percent market price for contraband.”

“These aren’t ordinary goods. Quick turnaround, guaranteed profits. Sixty percent market rate—or I’ll take them to Chilong Den. They’ll definitely bite.”

“Sixty...”

That price was steep. Even selling them out of town, they’d barely net twenty percent profit after risks and costs.

But two percent was still a lot—and more importantly, he couldn’t let Chilong Den gain the advantage!

Seeing this man wasn’t backing down, Bu Hanying thought for a moment and finally chuckled bitterly:

“Since you’re here, and it’s our first deal, I’ll extend you a courtesy. But the amount’s huge. I can’t gather that much silver immediately. And I’ll need a few days to verify the source...”

“No problem. Leave the goods here. You can start selling. I’ll return in a few days for the silver.”

“...Huh?”

Bu Hanying was stunned. He looked at the bundle of treasures:

“Sir Bai... you trust me that much?”

Xie Jinhuan had left his “glasses girl” behind—why would he be afraid of Missing Moon Manor fleeing? He answered:

“You can run, but the temple stays. Missing Moon Manor rules all of the South. Surely it wouldn’t stain its name over some petty silver.”

Bu Hanying understood: whether this man was here to trap him or simply didn’t fear being cheated, he had to get this man out alive first.

He nodded slightly:

“Sir Bai is refreshingly forthright. I’ll do my best to gather the funds within five days. You may return then to collect.”

Xie Jinhuan said nothing more—vanishing quietly into the shadows.