A shadow flitted by in a flash, swiftly vanishing into the dappled silhouettes cast by the moonlight, moving so fast it seemed almost an illusion. A gleam of silver arced through the night sky—then, a muffled groan. A guard collapsed without a sound. Another, resting with eyes closed, stirred at the strange noise, barely opened his eyes, and before he could register the intruder's presence, a sharp pain pierced his neck and he fell unconscious, the world around him swallowed in darkness.
The black-clad figure deftly dragged the two guards into the courtyard and gently closed the door behind them. With a light leap, they entered the house and began an intense search. No corner was left untouched; drawers, shelves, and closets were turned inside out. But it seemed the object of their pursuit remained elusive. A flicker of cold resolve passed through their eyes as they seized an iron hoe from the corner, prying into the stove, digging around the walls. Before long, dust clouded the air.
"He's not seriously planning to tear the place down, is he?" A faint, teasing female voice echoed through the dark room.
"Quite possibly," came a second, clearer voice, laced with amusement.
In the silent night, their leisurely banter sounded strangely eerie.
Startled, the intruder whirled around. His eyes narrowed like blades of frost, fixing on the direction of the voices. The iron hoe clattered to the ground as his hand flew to the sword at his waist, the blade already drawn, casting a cold, silvery glare under the moonlight.
The once pitch-black room suddenly burst into light as torches flared, revealing every inch of the interior. Surrounding the small tiled house were dozens of guards, while in the courtyard stood a group of figures—among them, Shan Yulan and Gu Yun.
Once the initial shock faded, the black-clad intruder calmly took in the encirclement. Steadying his breath, his gaze turned sharp and wary, long sword gripped tightly.
"Madam Yang, surrender. There's nowhere left for you to run," Gu Yun stepped forward, only to be stopped by Shan Yulan. She waved him off with an air of indifference and continued toward the house.
Shan Yulan's expression darkened. He knew how capable she was in interrogations, but if she were taken hostage, the consequences could be dire. Just as he was about to intervene, a gentle tug at his sleeve made him pause. He turned to find Zhuo Qing shaking her head, signaling him to remain calm. If even she wasn't concerned, then perhaps Qing Mo had a plan. He signaled to the archers hidden in the shadows—at once, arrows were drawn, aimed squarely at the intruder. Should she make even the slightest move, she would be turned into a human pincushion.
Gu Yun, unarmed and composed, stepped into the room and studied the intruder calmly. The black-clad figure hesitated, then with a swift motion, tore off her face covering. In the flickering firelight, a delicate but pallid face was revealed—it was none other than the frail, gentle Madam Yang.
Her cold eyes bore into Gu Yun as she asked in a frigid voice, "How did you know it was me?"
To her credit, Madam Yang had played her part to near perfection—docile, soft-spoken, unassuming. Who would have thought that beneath the gentle makeup lay someone so deadly?
In contrast to her tension, Gu Yun remained lighthearted. She smiled. "The second time I visited the Yang residence, I noticed your lie. Your expression betrayed that you knew exactly where Yang Lu's wealth came from—and you clearly despised it. At first, I suspected an affair with Li Zhi, conspiring to murder Yang Lu and frame Qian Jing. But after meeting Li Zhi, I ruled that out."
There were at least a dozen archers outside. They couldn't all be perfect shots—if even a few arrows went astray, she'd be skewered. Gu Yun edged subtly along the wall toward a narrow alcove before continuing, "Among those present that day, once Li Zhi and Qian Jing were excluded, the most likely culprit left was you. But how could a 'delicate woman' commit murder? So I suspected an accomplice—someone who did the killing, and you helped by hiding the weapon in Li Zhi's home. Once he was captured, fearing he might possess proof of his innocence, you poisoned him."
A fleeting sneer crossed Yang's face, confirming Gu Yun's theory. She smiled again. "But everything changed after I saw you this afternoon. I realized—you didn't need an accomplice. You're a master yourself, simply hiding in plain sight."
Yang's brows furrowed. "What makes you say that?"
She was certain she'd shown no flaw today.
Gu Yun chuckled softly. "Do you recall that beautiful flower stand in your home? It had four tiers—eight pots on the first, seven on the second, six on the third, and nine on the top, thirty in total. When Qing Ling bumped into it, you steadied her and then went inside. But something didn't add up—the top tier was missing a pot, while the second tier had an extra one."
Yang's face turned pale. Outside, Shan Yulan frowned in confusion. "What does that prove?"
"Only that Qing Mo has a remarkable memory," someone muttered.
"No," Gu Yun went on. "When Qing Ling bumped into the stand, the pot from the edge of the top tier fell. You, a lover of flowers, instinctively caught it. You supported Qing Ling with one hand, while your other hand held the pot. Afraid I'd see, you placed it on the nearest second tier—correct?"
Yang's hand trembled involuntarily. Qing Mo had barely glanced at the stand—how had she known the exact number of pots? She remembered seeing Qing Mo only begin to turn around just as she was setting the fallen pot back in place. There was no way she could've seen—but her words were precise, down to the last detail.
Yang's breath grew unsteady. She took a deep breath and replied coolly, "An impressive deduction. But it's still conjecture. What proof do you have that I'm the killer? Just because I know martial arts and appeared in Li Zhi's home at night doesn't make me the murderer."
Gu Yun nodded solemnly. "True. That alone doesn't prove you killed Yang Lu."
Yang let out a faint breath of relief—only for Gu Yun's calm voice to continue:
"But perhaps you can explain why you were dressed in nightclothes, armed with a sword, sneaking into Li Zhi's house in the dead of night? Looking for something, weren't you, Madam Yang? Or should I call you… Qu Xin?"
At the sound of that name, Yang's eyes widened in shock, blood running cold. A moment later, she burst into laughter. "I thought I had hidden myself well. Seems I was wrong."
Shan Yulan sighed inwardly. So that's why Qing Mo had asked him for Qu Ze's file.
By now, the others could piece together the case. Ye Mei and Ao Tian exchanged a look of admiration—never before had they seen someone with such sharp observation and flawless deduction.
Inside the house, Gu Yun noticed Qu Xin's grip on the sword had loosened slightly. She took a cautious step closer, though she dared not let her guard down.
"Once I knew you were skilled in martial arts," she said, "I suspected you. But I couldn't fathom your motive. If it was for Yang Lu's money, he was already dead—why go to such lengths to frame Li Zhi? Then I discovered Qu Ze had a sister—accused of conspiring with rebels and stealing from the treasury. That sister—was you. And ever since, you've been a fugitive."
Qu Xin either didn't notice Gu Yun's approach or chose not to react. After a moment of silence, she sighed, nodded, and confessed, "I am Qu Xin."
She hadn't spoken that name in three years. Ever since her brother's death, her life had been consumed by a thirst for vengeance. Looking at the woman before her—who seemed to see through everything—Qu Xin drew a deep breath and said in a voice like cold steel:
"You're right. I killed Yang Lu. At first, I framed Qian Jing because if it weren't for him, my brother would've escaped that day…"