Chapter 58: East City Glamour Corpse (Part 3): My Little Disciple is Inexperienced in the World Part 1

Regardless of whether it was a fierce corpse or a ghost, those with savage temperaments often acted without any strategy when on the move, relying solely on their bloodthirsty instincts to tear and kill, and they would never use weapons to murder someone. These wounds from sharp blades crisscrossed in a terrifying manner, as if made in a fit of rage, more like the work of a deranged madman than a vicious ghost.

Jiang Yuanqi had already examined every wound, but his gaze did not shift away. Instead, he carefully measured the width of the wounds with his hand, even flipping them open to look inside. The smile on his face seemed to darken slightly, carrying a hint of gloom.

Though Shang Shan had not seen many fierce corpses or ghosts in person, she had read about them in books and understood his meaning. She said, “Then, is it possible that a person did this?”

Jiang Yuanqi replied, “We can’t rule it out. However, if it really was a person’s doing, then the rumors about the ‘glamour corpse’ were probably spread by them too, to muddy the waters and clear their own name.”

Shang Shan clenched her fists. “Killing might stem from grudges, but slaughtering several people in a row can’t all be about revenge, right? Stirring up such panic among the people—what could this person’s goal even be?”

Jiang Yuanqi said, “Hard to say if there’s a goal or not; maybe there is, maybe there isn’t. But Miss Shang probably hasn’t seen it much—some people do evil not for any reason, but simply for the pleasure of toying with others. They get satisfaction from seeing fear and terror in others, and those who aren’t satisfied with that even take action themselves. They love killing and revel in it, treating human lives as worthless.”

It was as if she had been struck on the head with a stick. Shang Shan was stunned and shook her head. “I… I didn’t know there were people like that in the world.”

Jiang Yuanqi smiled, looking every bit like a caring big brother. “If you came to the immortal path from the mortal world, you’ll see it gradually in time. Immortals aren’t any more detached or refined than mortals—in fact, the darker ones are everywhere. The good are exceedingly good, the evil exceedingly evil. Power only amplifies a person’s true nature. The kind I just described aren’t rare at all. So Miss Shang, you must be careful when wandering the jianghu.”

Shang Shan seemed unable to accept it. After a long moment, she sighed. “Got it. Thanks for telling me these things. There are so many bad people in the world—I’ll be careful.”

Mu Qian Tan stood just outside the door, and every word from inside drifted into her ears. Hearing this thanks, she rolled her eyes.

She had deceived this Brain-Damaged White-Eyed Dragon so many times, done plenty of vicious things and nasty deeds, and even given some advice both openly and covertly. Yet in the end, she was still that heartless, innocent, and naive type. How was it that when the Male Protagonist said such words, she immediately took them to heart? Learned to grow a brain?

So only words from her future lover were the most effective, huh.

Only love could drive character growth, and only love would work in these romance novels… What kind of bullshit settings were those…

Seeing that he was still focused on the shape of the wounds, seemingly deep in thought, Shang Shan asked, “Why do you keep staring at the wounds? Did you find something else?”

Jiang Yuanqi paused slightly and covered the flipped-open clothing. “No.”

Shang Shan didn’t think much of it. After hearing those words earlier, her mind was still reeling, and glancing at the gruesome corpse, she frowned with furrowed brows. In a soft voice, she asked, “Grandma, could you tell me… how he was killed? How did he end up like this?”

The old lady had already cried until she was limp all over and slumped into Shang Shan’s arms. Hearing the question, she wiped her tears. She tried to speak, but her advanced age had muddled her memories, so her account came out jumbled. Shang Shan listened several times before piecing it together.

It turned out that this mother and son were not locals from East City but had come from a poor little village nearby.

It was a family of three, but the father had died long ago. The mother suffered from a chronic illness with no medicine available in the village, and she was on the verge of death. To get treatment for her, the son carried her on his back to the more prosperous East City to seek doctors and extend her life.

However, he only knew that big towns had better conditions and hadn’t realized how hard it would be to survive here.

Their family had been poor for generations in the village. Even after emptying all their money for medicine and food, they had nothing left and even owed debts. So he could only bring his mother to live in this remote mud hut and took on several jobs. He rose at the crack of dawn and returned in the dead of night, working himself to the bone just to scrape by.

In recent months, something had happened in the city. Though the mother never left the house, she had heard rumors of unrest outside from her son and refused to let him go out anymore.

At first, this worked since they still had some stored grain. But after half a month at home, the medicine and food ran out. The son couldn’t hold out any longer and had to go out, though he promised his mother he would return before dark.

Unable to stop him, the mother could only guard the door every day, waiting for her son to return in the last rays of daylight.

This went on until a couple of days ago. The son prepared a full day’s food for his mother and went to work at the wealthy Wen Family merchant house in the city as usual. But that night, he did not return on time.

Dragging her sickly body, the mother waited and waited until exhaustion overtook her, and she fell asleep leaning against the door. When she woke, it was pitch black outside, but her son still hadn’t returned. Panic gripped her heart. Her eyesight was poor even in daylight, let alone at night, but she still groped her way out the door, stumbling step by step along the alley.

In the dead of night, she felt her way along the wall, trudging over the muddy ground her son had walked a thousand times. She hadn’t gone far when she tripped over something sticky. As she tried to get up, she accidentally touched it and realized it seemed to be a person.

A terrible suspicion formed in her mind. Kneeling on the ground, she fearfully and carefully felt upward from the tattered chest to the face—those features were more familiar to her than her own. It was her son.

Just a short distance from their home, her son had died.

She mustered all her strength and finally dragged the child back into the house. She wiped his face and hands clean, but he would never wake again.

She sat there despondently until daylight, then tremblingly went to the Wen Family to demand an explanation.

Her son had left perfectly fine that morning—how had he ended up cold and stiff, dead just like that? But the Wen Family refused to listen and drove her away, telling her to scram.

With no other choice, she groped her way to the government office. The big city’s officials were so distant and noisy that they couldn’t make out what this old woman was saying. She shouted herself hoarse, repeating over and over that her son was a good child, but such a child had suddenly vanished. In the end, she only got perfunctory dismissal.

So she refused to leave the government office, crying, shouting, and making a scene, becoming an “old shrew” in others’ mouths.

After two days of this, fearing she might die there and cause trouble, they finally told her the truth.

It turned out the thing causing chaos outside was a ghost. During this special time, the government had already ordered a curfew, forbidding people from going out at night to avoid its clutches. They said her son had insisted on wandering around at that hour—it was his own fault, inviting disaster upon himself.

She returned home in a daze and kept vigil by her son’s corpse. Looking at this child who had grown from a tiny infant into the man who now supported the family, she knew he wouldn’t cut off her food or medicine. To prolong the life of his mother, who should have been in the ground long ago, he had chosen to go out even in such danger. Every time she thought of it, she wanted to smash her head and die.

After hearing the whole story, fury etched across Shang Shan’s face. Even through her mask, the oppressive aura was palpable.

She looked around the room. There was only a narrow, small window on the wall, letting in no sunlight, which made the interior pitch black. The floor was yellow mud but dry and clean, clearly showing that the homeowner was diligent with chores and hardworking.

In the corner against the wall sat a medicine stove, flanked by two chipped bowls. One held freshly decocted medicine, the other some rice that had sat for two days, starting to sour. They must have been prepared by the son before he left.

Shang Shan could no longer hold back. She slammed the ground hard, steadied the old lady, and sat her down properly. “That’s too much!”

New Year’s Money paced over to the corpse and sniffed at the sleeve. Jiang Yuanqi followed the scent, reached in, and pinched out a few scraps of red paper. He brought them to his nose. “Firecrackers.”

Shang Shan said, “Firecrackers? Were the Wen Family people setting them off?”

Jiang Yuanqi tossed the red paper away. “Probably. Grandma, did your son say anything before heading out that day?”

Faced with the immortal’s question, the old lady racked her brains and said uncertainly, “He did… I think he said the Wen Family had some joyous event that day…”

“I get it!” Shang Shan exclaimed loudly. “They were holding a celebration banquet, and it must have dragged on late! That’s why he returned so late and met with disaster!”

Jiang Yuanqi said, “Very possible.”