Chapter 13: The Faceless Corpse Part 2

“Unless the person in the shadows isn’t from the Sun Chasing Cult at all,” Sang Chencao sneered.

Feng Yun’ai said calmly, “The Sun Chasing Cult rarely uses needles. The Spirit-Awakening Powder likely reached Lin Yaoyao along with the needles. If we’re talking about needles, I can only think of one person.”

As soon as she spoke, someone immediately responded.

“Wen Lanxin!”

That name had been mentioned before. Wen Lanxin of the Soul-Shattering Needle from Yellow Sand Cliff—a master of both needles and poisons.

However, no one had ever linked Wen Lanxin to the Sun Chasing Cult before.

At the mention of that name, Sang Chencao’s expression turned cold. Even her voice seemed to carry a layer of frost. “Where would Wen Lanxin get Spirit-Awakening Powder?”

“The Jianghu Records state that Wen Lanxin is a first-rate poison master. Even if she only has a trace of a substance, she can recreate it perfectly,” Feng Yun’ai mused.

“Back in the day, Wen Lanxin was an equal to Feng Rong. If she hadn’t strayed from the righteous path, she would surely have had many followers,” someone lamented. “Later, it was the Hantian Alliance that became the world’s number one organization, and it was Feng Rong who took charge of martial world affairs. Wen Lanxin must have been consumed by envy and hatred.”

Note: Feng Rong is the former leader of the Hantian Alliance.

“In that case, why not go to Yellow Sand Cliff and ask Wen Lanxin yourself?” Sang Chencao let out a mocking laugh.

Someone in the crowd stopped them. “I advise you all not to act impulsively. I won’t be going to Yellow Sand Cliff. I’m heading to Cloud City to leave this matter to the Hantian Alliance’s judgment.”

Another added, “That’s right. If it really is Wen Lanxin, since she could kill Hu Cheng, she could certainly take our lives from the shadows.”

The kneeling maid understood nothing of these martial world affairs. She only knew she had lost her sister, and she sobbed until her voice was gone.

Feng Yun’ai stared at Sang Chencao for a long time, wondering what caused her sudden shift into such a dark mood.

But in an instant, Sang Chencao seemed to lose her temper entirely. She was mercurial and unpredictable. With a small smile, she said, “Fine. Things have come to this, and we can’t dig anything else out of Innkeeper Lin. We might as well let her rest in peace.”

Feng Yun’ai was still conflicted. She reached out to test the pulse at the side of Lin Yaoyao’s neck.

Innkeeper Lin’s death was too strange, too sudden.

The moment her fingers pressed down, she sensed something wrong. The texture under her fingertips…

It felt strange.

Feng Yun’ai turned her head sharply, staring straight at the woman in indigo. A flash of realization crossed her eyes.

Sang Chencao couldn’t see her expression, but she walked over curiously. When she reached out to feel for herself, she understood what the woman in white meant.

This was a Disguise Art. The person who died wasn’t Lin Yaoyao at all.

“What’s wrong with my sister?” the maid asked through her tears.

Sang Chencao rubbed the fake skin for a moment before letting out a light laugh. “Nothing.”

Feng Yun’ai was stunned. She didn’t understand why this woman wouldn’t just speak the truth.

“Pitiful,” Sang Chencao said, withdrawing her hand.

“How is a murderer pitiful?” someone at the door asked.

Sang Chencao tilted her chin toward the girl on the floor. Her voice was light and airy. “I was talking about the girl.”

The Daoist who had come to the inn never expected he would have to perform another funeral rite so soon—this time for the innkeeper who had hired him.

Because of the nature of the death, they couldn’t keep the body for long. After burning spirit money, the corpse that had replaced Lin Yaoyao was carried away from the inn.

Most of the day passed. Both bodies were buried, and the skeletal remains poured from the wine vats were interred beneath the yellow sands.

The inn’s workers pooled their money to pay the Daoist extra. He didn’t dare accept it; he simply waved them off and left.

Back at the inn, the maid stood helplessly. Suddenly, someone shoved an abacus and a ledger into her arms. The workers clearly intended for her to take over the establishment.

In that short span of time, guests were checking out one after another. Even martial artists with high skills didn’t dare linger at Yao Yao Inn.

Fortunately, the wind and sand had lessened that day. It was time to leave.

Yao Yao Inn grew silent in an instant. As twilight approached, it felt inexplicably eerie.

At that moment, Feng Yun’ai was sitting in Sang Chencao’s room. Her long hair fell loosely beneath her veiled hat. She held a length of white silk in her hand, clearly intending to lead the indigo-clad woman away.

“Still suspect me?” Sang Chencao asked while packing her bags.

“Why didn’t you speak up about Innkeeper Lin’s fake death?” Feng Yun’ai asked coldly.

Sang Chencao smiled. “Did you see that girl? If Lin Yaoyao were truly dead, she might have felt a bit better. Instead, Lin Yaoyao faked her death and abandoned her to fly far away.”

Feng Yun’ai frowned slightly, not believing this woman was being so kind-hearted.

“As long as Lin Yaoyao is alive, she’s bound to show her face again. For now, let her believe she’s fooled everyone. It will make her lower her guard,” Sang Chencao whispered.

There was some logic to it. Feng Yun’ai accepted the explanation for now. She shifted her focus: “What is your relationship with Wen Lanxin?”

“I told you once, but you didn’t believe me. Asking again won’t change it.” Sang Chencao spoke leisurely. “My intention was to ask her to be my master. What other relationship could there be?”

“I am going to Yellow Sand Cliff.” Feng Yun’ai stepped closer, holding the white silk ribbon from her hair.

“And your point is?” Sang Chencao asked, perfectly composed.

“You are coming too,” Feng Yun’ai said.