The old man let out a bloodcurdling scream and fainted dead away.
His eyeball had been gouged cleanly out, rolling about inside Zhongsun Mou's spoon, entirely intact.
Zhongsun Mou casually grabbed a cup, poured water over the eyeball to wash it clean, and held it up to the light for a closer look.
"Just as I thought." He picked a tiny, red wormlike creature from the eyeball. It fell onto the table and squirmed. "An eye mite."
The bug was harmless to humans, and the old man had not even known it had been planted in him. It served as a conduit, allowing its user to share the host's field of vision.
Because the eye mite was merely a parasite, the guards' earlier examination of the old man for traces of divine abilities or spells had yielded nothing. However, this creature adjusted its coloration when lighting abruptly changed, and it was precisely that flaw Zhongsun Mou had seized upon.
Without question, it was Mr. Mai who had tampered with the old man's eyes.
In other words, whatever the gatekeeping old man saw, Mr. Mai saw as well, with no need to show his face in person.
Zhongsun Mou was briefly startled upon seeing the eye mite, but his shock quickly turned to delight rather than anger. "An eye mite cannot be too far from its master, or the link fails." He ordered his guards, "Dispatch more men and intensify the search. That scoundrel is very likely still hiding in town!"
His men hurried off to carry out the order, dragging the old man away as they went, then fetched fresh water to wash the bloodstains from the floor.
Zhongsun Mou walked over to the window and took a long, deep breath.
The target of the investigation was cunning indeed. None of these arrangements could have been improvised, least of all this trick with the eye mite.
Which meant that the moment the gatekeeper entered the courtyard, Mr. Mai had seen everything in it clear as day through the man's eyes.
How many men were pursuing him, what they looked like, and how they related to one another—all of this information had been easily obtained by the other side.
***
Half an hour later, the guards returned to report:
The local authorities were fully cooperative. Bounty notices had already been posted throughout the streets and alleys of Shuanglu Town, Mr. Mai's portrait affixed to the walls while heralds loudly proclaimed the reward beside them. Anyone who could report Mr. Mai's whereabouts would receive fifteen taels of silver. Such a hefty sum drew crowds of onlookers from among the townsfolk.
Some clicked their tongues in wonder, saying Mr. Mai had seemed like a decent man and they never expected him to be an imperial fugitive on the run—truly, one could know a person's face but not their heart.
Zhongsun Mou's men had promptly questioned them, and the townsfolk confirmed that Mr. Mai indeed looked like that. What was more, several merchants in town purchased goods from him to do business.
The gatekeeper's description had been remarkably accurate.
Naturally, those merchants had now been taken in for questioning.
Zhongsun Mou listened to the report with half-closed eyes, then suddenly asked, "By the way, what about that party under the surname He?"
"They have already left Mr. Mai's house and returned to the inn."
"They didn't go anywhere else?"
"No. Straight back to the inn, without lingering anywhere else."
Zhongsun Mou gave a low chuckle. "And here I thought they had some special talent." Turned out they were nothing more than this.
"However, after you left, they remained at Mr. Mai's house for over two quarters of an hour."
"Doing what?"
"Unclear. Two wind-boring beasts guarded the doorway, so we couldn't get in. We only know they gathered in the study talking, and seemed to be looking over something together."
Zhongsun Mou's expression darkened slightly, but he soon reasoned it out. "They arrived a step ahead of me. Their search may have yielded something, but they were unwilling to share it with me. Furthermore, what is this He fellow's background? Any word from the County Magistrate of Baishi?"
"The County Magistrate of Baishi was also meeting him for the first time. He only heard from Guard Jiao that the special envoy is not from Chiyan Kingdom, and that the Crown Prince treats him with considerable respect."
"Not from Chiyan?" Zhongsun Mou was greatly surprised. "Fu Shanyue actually found a foreigner to serve as his special envoy?"
To this question, the guard once again had no answer.
A special envoy was not merely a title; it came with corresponding authority.
Entrusting such power to a foreigner—was Fu Shanyue simply careless, or did he place extraordinary trust in this man?
Zhongsun Mou understood Chiyan's Eldest Young Master better than most. For someone as arrogant and fierce as Fu Shanyue to respect him, the man had to possess real skill.
Yet his grudge had previously spilled over to anyone associated with Fu Shanyue, leaving him with no warm feelings toward the man named He.
Just then, another guard spoke up:
"My lord, the chewing tobacco has been identified. It indeed comes from Qizhou in Chiyan Kingdom."
A half-cylinder of chewing tobacco hidden in Mr. Mai's desk had also been brought back for analysis.
Zhongsun Mou scoffed. "Did they even need to identify it? Only chewing tobacco from Qizhou uses white-skinned bamboo canisters, which impart a citrus-like fragrance."
Not only did Beijia's various vassal demon kingdoms produce their own tobacco, but even within a single kingdom, the chewing tobacco varied by region.
Just as each land nurtured its own people, the folk of each region grew accustomed to their own tobacco.
Zhongsun Mou knew that many nobles and merchants took their local chewing tobacco with them when traveling; switching brands never sat right with them.
"Th-there are also the clothes brought back from the chests in Mr. Mai's bedroom."
"What of them?"
"We brought back twelve garments, two of which are made of Yanghu White fabric," the man said. "Yanghu White is an established brand from Qizhou, a specialty of Baishaqu deeply loved by the locals. Both pieces have been worn for a time; they are not brand-new."
If they had been worn in daily life, they had not been placed there deliberately to mislead anyone.
Zhongsun Mou murmured slowly, "Baishaqu in Qizhou?"
That place lay close to Chiyan's northern border. Travel another hundred li or so north, and one would reach the territory of Lingxu City.
After another moment, a guard reported again:
"My lord, the analysis of Mr. Mai's ledgers is complete."
They had practically stripped Mr. Mai's study bare, taking every single document and leaving not a scrap of paper for He Lingchuan.
Although these papers might well have been a front erected by Mr. Mai, Zhongsun Mou still deemed them valuable.
For these businesses truly existed.
Whatever exists inevitably leaves a trace.
With plenty of hands at his disposal, the results of the analysis were produced in short order:
Mr. Mai dealt primarily in herbs and oils, but these were modest operations, at most lower-middle scale in Shuanglu Town—hardly drawing any attention.
Yet such fragmented business could not possibly have been sustained by him alone, especially when Mr. Mai came to Shuanglu Town only three or four times a year.
Business required liaisons and face-to-face discussions, unless...
"He has a local warehouse in Shuanglu Town. Inbound and outbound shipments give him no trouble; whenever customers want to buy goods, they go there to sign receipts and collect them."
"In that case, he is merely a distributor?" Zhongsun Mou's expression grew solemn. "He has a supplier above him!"
"Yes. We also traced his source of goods. It is very likely in—"
Zhongsun Mou cut him off. "Near Baishaqu in Qizhou?"
"Ah, no. It is in Qizhou, but at Fengchao Mountain," the subordinate hurried to clarify. "Probably twenty to thirty li from Baishaqu."
Zhongsun Mou nodded. "A cunning rabbit does not eat the grass by its burrow. He wouldn't expose his home base directly."
Just then, a soft knock came at the guest room door.
The guard opened the door to find an old post station clerk holding up an oiled-paper parcel.
"Someone outside delivered a letter and asked us to hand it to the lord staying here."
Not daring to bring the paper parcel directly before Zhongsun Mou, the guard opened it by the doorway.
Wrapped inside was a book.
Zhongsun Mou took one look and let out an exclamation. "Who sent this?"
***
After returning to the inn, He Lingchuan first filled his belly, then returned to his room to regulate his breathing.
Others assumed he was completely at ease; even the impatient General Ling had not pressed him with questions.
In fact, through the vision of the eyeball spider, he had taken in everything happening on Zhongsun Mou's end.
His own companions were all demon beasts—formidable in combat, but when it came to perusing documents and parsing data, it took humans to get the job done. With limited manpower, he might as well reap the fruits of Zhongsun Mou's labor.
That was why he had let Zhongsun Mou sweep away all the documents earlier—after all, he couldn't have seized much at the time anyway.
"In other words, all the clues point toward the vicinity of Baishaqu in Qizhou? This Mr. Mai seems shrewd enough; would he leave such obvious clues behind?"
Just then, a gentle rapping sounded on the door.
He Lingchuan opened the door. Standing outside was the inn attendant, who held out an oiled-paper parcel.
"Sir, someone asked that this be given specifically to you."
The tiger, which had been lying on the daybed grooming its fur, raised its head at the sound.
He Lingchuan snatched the parcel. "What did that person look like? Which way did they go?"
"It... it was brought over by the lame beggar from the back alley."
He Lingchuan wasted no more words. Leaping down from the upper floor, he caught up to the beggar outside the inn in two strides.
A cripple could not walk fast.
He fished out two copper coins and flashed them before the beggar. "The person who had you deliver this—which way did they go?"
The beggar pointed west.
Just then, Jiao Yu came bounding out at the commotion. He Lingchuan had it sniff the scent on the oiled-paper parcel. "Pursue!"
This was treating a tiger like a hound. Jiao Yu had no time to grumble; catching a faint trace of scent, it darted forward.
Only then did He Lingchuan ask the beggar at his leisure, "What did that person look like?"
"Tall, in a gray cloak of fine fabric, but the brim of the hood covered his face, so I couldn't see what he looked like."
He Lingchuan tossed him the coins and went back upstairs.
About the time it took to drink a cup of tea, the tiger returned.
Seeing it return empty-handed, He Lingchuan comforted it, "No matter. It took that cripple plenty of time just to walk to the inn—more than enough for Mr. Mai to make a leisurely getaway."
Why else would he pick a cripple?
"The scent vanished halfway," Jiao Yu said, shaking its head. "He used spells to mask himself. What's in the parcel?"
Just as it said that, a rhythmic clatter of hooves echoed from the floorboards outside, followed by a knock at the door.
The knocking had a distinctive cadence; He Lingchuan knew immediately that General Ling had arrived.
Opening the door, he saw that the old ram had shrunk to the size of an ordinary sheep, gazing up at him eagerly. "I heard a commotion over here!"
"You certainly got here fast." He Lingchuan knew General Ling had probably kept an ear trained on this room all along, not letting the slightest rustle slip past.
In truth, whether human or beast, such devotion to one's kind commanded respect.
He let the ram in, brought out the oiled-paper parcel, and opened it before the two beasts.
Inside was wrapped a book—strictly speaking, a personal notebook of only seventy or eighty pages, but its cover was crisp and stiff, clearly brand new.
Jiao Yu was astonished. "Huh, isn't this... Records of Reverence for the Gods?"
This notable work was a notebook written in the later years of Wu Chen, the former Demon Emperor of Beijia, owned by the nobles of Lingxu City and every vassal demon king.
Of course, ordinary households in Lingxu City and the capitals of the various demon kingdoms might well have copies in their collections as well.
Naturally, both Jiao Yu and General Ling had read this book. "Who would send you this?"
Chapter 462