Roaring Dragon-Chapter 73: A Weary Bird Returns Home

The group trotted through the busy streets and dismounted at the gates of Wanan County Office.

Seeing the familiar layout and streets, Xie Jinhuan felt a flicker of nostalgia rise in his chest. Before he could greet a few familiar faces nearby, Meiqiu had already launched itself up onto the roof, peering around inquisitively.

“Gugugu?”

In the courtyard, County Deputy Fei Ji had been in the middle of discussing case matters. He looked up, spotted the fat, scruffy bird, and blinked—then hurried out, his little mustache perking up like it had a life of its own.

“Well, well! Jinhuan, you’ve grown a lot since I last saw you! Even more handsome than your old man, I’d say...”

“Uncle Fei hasn’t changed a bit—still sharp as ever.”

“Still got that honeyed tongue, I see. Heard you cracked a big case down in Danyang? Like father, like son!”

“Only because Uncle Fei taught me well. Remember when you had me watching autopsies at age three? Heart, liver, spleen, lungs, kidneys—you flipped through them one by one. Burned it into my memory!”

...

Linghu Qingmo, having never been to Wanan County Office before, watched the familiar banter with curiosity.

“Who’s this?”

Yang Dabiao, who’d once worked several years here, felt right at home.

“This is Lord Fei Ji, styled Ji Bei—my old boss. Used to be Deputy under Lord Xie. Man’s a legend at solving cases, especially the romantic murder-cheating type. One glance, and he can tell you the exact position they were in...”

“Huh? He’s a monk?”

“Nope. Jinhuan just kept mispronouncing his name as ‘Fei Ji Bei’ as a kid, so the nickname stuck.”

Yang Dabiao swaggered up the steps.

“Lord Ji Bei, come see who’s here.”

Fei Ji, who was still gripping Xie Jinhuan’s shoulders, turned to look—and his mustache immediately drooped.

“Hey! It’s you again, you little bastard? I ain’t got silver on me. Go freeload somewhere else.”

“Pfft—”

Little Wang, the junior constable, couldn’t help but snort.

Even Linghu Qingmo nearly broke character but quickly forced her face into a stern expression befitting a proper Daoist heroine.

Yang Dabiao scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

“See? That’s what you call brotherhood.”

“Is it...?”

...

While they were catching up, a yamen runner arrived from the back courtyard.

“Lord Fei, Magistrate Wu says to go straight to the morgue.”

Xie Jinhuan, treating the place like his own backyard, headed toward the west wing.

“Uncle Fei, what’s the story with this ‘Dry Corpse’ case?”

Fei Ji rested a hand on the hilt at his waist, his expression grim.

“Sigh... Some demon freak’s killing people to cultivate. Starting around the New Year, dry corpses have been turning up all over Wanan and Changle counties. Same killer, it looks like. But slippery as a ghost—not a single witness, not even a damn hair left behind.”

Yang Dabiao stroked his chin.

“What, you think it’s a monk?”

“Can’t rule that out.”

Fei Ji gestured toward the outer city.

“You remember Escort Chief Li of Yangwei Escort Agency? The one who got his ass kicked for messing with someone’s concubine? Real sixth-rank martial artist. Went whoring one night and turned up dead in an alley—hadn’t even drawn his blade. Dabiao, now that you’re in the capital, better watch your ass.”

“What am I watching for? I don’t go to places like that...”

“Oh yeah? Who was it who used to toss and turn all night, then sneak over and whisper, ‘Is there a brothel around here?’”

“Shh! Shhh—!”

...

As they chatted about the case, the group reached the morgue.

Fei Ji opened the doors and had a runner light the lamps. Seventeen corpses lay on the tables, lined up in a row and nearly filling the room wall-to-wall.

“For convenience, we brought them all here. They’re arranged by time of death—left to right. Have a look.”

Xie Jinhuan had seen his father handle plenty of cases, but one involving seventeen victims? Even in the capital, that was rare.

He pulled back the white cloth to inspect. These corpses had been dead over eight months, yet showed no signs of rot. The flesh had shriveled into blackened husks clinging to the bone—completely drained of moisture. Some even bore frozen expressions of terror.

Linghu Qingmo lifted a few more sheets and examined them thoughtfully.

“Technically, dried corpses don’t rot even underground. But these are different from the skeletal remains we saw in Danyang.”

Xie Jinhuan agreed. Then Fei Ji handed him a cranial cap. He and the others scrutinized the ‘blood traces’ inside—fine lines faintly visible. Compared to the ones in Danyang, they were nearly identical.

These marks were so minuscule that most people could only discern general patterns. To really zoom in on the detail? That required an ‘A-Piao Brand Microscope™’—a.k.a., ghost-wife vision.

Xie Jinhuan examined it for a while but didn’t spot anything special. He placed a hand on the Zhenglun Sword and mentally called out for help.

Ye Hongshang had been observing silently. Her voice drifted into his ear:

“This is a case within a case. There are two murderers.”

Huh?

Xie Jinhuan was about to ask for more when footsteps echoed outside the room.

Step, step, step— freeweɓnøvel.com

He looked up ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) to see Magistrate Wu Yuanhua entering with a red-robed Chilin Guard following behind.

Xie Jinhuan had some old beef with the Guard. His brow furrowed slightly, but he kept his composure and bowed.

“Magistrate Wu.”

Wu Yuanhua had once been Xie Wen’s superior, so he recognized Jinhuan, though they weren’t close.

But now, Jinhuan had become a hero in Danyang—commended by the Dan Prince, rising like a meteor. Wu dared not show even a hint of disrespect. He strode up, smiling like a long-lost uncle.

“Jinhuan, it’s been years! I heard you got injured in Danyang—are you alright?”

“Nothing serious. Just a scratch.”

After the formal greeting, Xie Jinhuan glanced toward the two men behind him.

“These gentlemen are...?”

Wu Yuanhua gestured.

“This is Master Jingkong from the Astronomical Bureau, and Centurion Lu Qian of the Chilin Guard. They’re here to assist with the Dry Corpse case.”

Lu Qian wasn’t here to investigate—he suspected Xie Jinhuan might be connected to Zhou He’s death. This case was just a convenient excuse to get close.

But outwardly, he remained polite and offered a bow.

“I’ve heard the tales—your martial skill and investigative prowess are unmatched. The magistrate’s office has been baffled by this case for months. I wonder, does Young Master Xie have any insights?”

Magistrate Wu, having been chewed out by his superiors, looked at Xie Jinhuan with open hope.

Xie Jinhuan knew his ghost-wife could probably spot some hidden clue—but with too many people present, he didn’t want to risk anything. And he definitely didn’t want to get too friendly with the Chilin Guard. He smiled and shook his head.

“If the yamen’s been chasing this for months without leads, how could I crack it in a day? I’ll need time to investigate.”

Linghu Qingmo, ever the workaholic, jumped in.

“Any leads at all?”

Fei Ji, as lead officer, explained:

“No hard evidence yet. But based on the locations and victim profiles, both the Chilin Guard and the Bureau suspect the killer is a fourth-rank demon cultivator. Likely owns a magical device that can scan a hundred-meter radius, or has a powerful bodyguard.

“And since the corpses in Danyang died similarly, the current theory is that this is the Dark God Sect training new disciples.”

“Oh...”

Fei Ji gave a quick rundown, then added:

“Whoever it is, they’re slippery as hell. Without ten days or more, we’re not catching anyone.

“It’s late, you folks just got in, and the road’s been rough. Rest for the night—tomorrow morning we’ll all sit down and go over the case properly.”

Xie Jinhuan didn’t protest. He said his goodbyes to the old hands and led his group out of the yamen.

Magistrate Wu had been full of high hopes. Seeing Xie Jinhuan leave so soon, his smile faded to a sigh. Hands behind his back, he muttered:

“They said in Danyang he solved crimes before the witnesses could report them... Looks like they exaggerated.”

Monk Jingkong interjected mildly:

“Investigating cases takes patience and persistence. Surely Lord Wu doesn’t expect him to solve it overnight?”

Wu chuckled ruefully.

“You’re right. I’m just anxious. We caught Taishu Dan in seven days. This case’s been dragging for over half a year... How could he catch the killer his first day here?”

—

Later that night, Xianyun Alley

Xie Jinhuan and his party arrived at the far end of the alley. Meiqiu, who’d grown up here, zipped off ahead and darted into a familiar courtyard.

The residence, tucked away behind mossy walls, was a bit bigger than the place they’d rented from the landlady. But it had clearly been in the family for generations—and had seen better days.

After three years without a soul inside, the house had lost its warmth. Weeds grew waist-high in the yard. Tiles had cracked.

Meiqiu, spotting the absence of its old redwood birdhouse, squatted sadly on the wall, eyes filled with loss.

Even a tired bird knows to return home—how could a person not feel the same?

Xie Jinhuan had lived in that house for sixteen years. Staring at it now, memories came flooding back—maids, bootlickers, and his father’s strict six-to-nine routine.

But now, his father’s life was uncertain. And he had a ghost bride who would literally explode out of her grave in twenty-some days. The days of peace? Long gone.

Linghu Qingmo followed him in and, seeing the desolate state of the home, felt a pang in her heart. How could someone like Xie Jinhuan face such unfairness...

She noticed a flicker of melancholy in his expression and wanted to comfort him—but wasn’t sure how.

She’d heard some crazy heiresses say the best way to console a man was to put your hair up... but she didn’t really get what that meant.

After a brief pause, Linghu Qingmo said gently:

“Don’t dwell on it. You have to look forward. I’ll help clean the place up over the next few days. Once you settle down and start your own household, it’ll thrive again.”

Seeing how sincere she was, some of the heaviness in Xie Jinhuan’s heart lifted.

“You can’t clean this place by yourself. Once I finish my business, we’ll do it together. You can stay in the west wing—right next to me. That’ll make things easier.”

Linghu Qingmo nodded instinctively, then paused.

“Why would I stay in your house?”

We’ve already kissed and you still think you’re getting away?

Xie Jinhuan chuckled, careful not to get zapped.

“With our relationship, you’re really gonna stay in an inn instead of here?”

Linghu Qingmo figured he had a point. But if Lin the Physician moved in later, and she lived right next door... wouldn’t Lin be standing at the door holding a baby, glaring daggers at her?

Also... would Lin be jealous if she knew Qingmo had secretly followed Jinhuan to the capital?

...

Xie Jinhuan didn’t linger in this house full of ghosts and memories. After a final glance around, he called out:

“Meiqiu, let’s go.”

“Guji!”

Meiqiu was not happy. It flopped onto his shoulder, muttering bitterly—probably cursing the thief who stole the redwood birdhouse Papa Xie had built for it.