Chapter 19: The Ten Killers Flower (1)

After Sister Li and Zhang Quande were drowned in the river, that very night, the village began to experience strange occurrences. Many villagers claimed to hear Sister Li’s mournful cries—”wailing, wailing”—emanating from the pitch-black darkness, from places where not even a hand could be seen, and echoing from all directions. Even those with unshakable courage and no fear of ghosts found themselves unable to sleep, tormented by the incessant sound.

The next day, the threshold of Shopkeeper Meng’s inn was nearly broken by the flood of villagers seeking Zhong Xu’s protection. However, at this moment, Zhong Xu could barely take care of himself—how could he spare time for such baseless rumors?

“I don’t sense any vengeful spirits; you’re just scaring yourselves,” Zhong Xu curtly remarked before shutting his door tightly. No matter how much they knocked, he refused to open it—except for Di Jiang.

Of course, Zhong Xu didn’t particularly want to see her either, but Di Jiang had sneaked over through the neighboring window while he wasn’t paying attention. By the time he realized what had happened, she was already sitting by his bedside. With a casual swipe of her left hand, she picked up some bloodstains from inside his bed and held them out to him, shaking her head as she clicked her tongue: “Daoist Zhong, how did you get injured?”

“It’s none of your business.” Zhong Xu’s tone was indifferent.

“How can you become so distant again after just two days? I thought we were already good friends!” Di Jiang widened her eyes, visibly exasperated and struggling to catch her breath.

Seeing her reaction, Zhong Xu grew worried that she might faint. He hesitated to help her calm down due to propriety concerns about physical contact between men and women, leaving him flustered and awkward. Eventually, he shook his head repeatedly and consoled her: “No, what I meant was, this minor injury isn’t serious.”

“Ah… So that’s what you meant!” Di Jiang regained her composure and asked again: “How did you get hurt?”

“It’s complicated to explain; ordinary people wouldn’t understand.” Zhong Xu scratched his head, patiently trying to clarify. However, such an evasive response couldn’t satisfy Di Jiang. She persisted, leaning closer, grabbing Zhong Xu’s hand, and checking his pulse.

Zhong Xu felt uncomfortable and coughed twice, his ears turning red.

“The pulse seems normal; there doesn’t appear to be any illness. But this blood…” As Di Jiang spoke, she stood up and began to remove Zhong Xu’s clothes.

Zhong Xu was startled and pushed her away awkwardly, saying: “What are you doing?!”

“I just wanted to check if you had any external injuries—nothing more.” Di Jiang looked innocent, genuinely puzzled by his exaggerated reaction.

“I’m not injured!” Zhong Xu pushed her away, straightened his clothing, and then ushered Di Jiang toward the door: “I’m fine. Shopkeeper Di, why don’t you go check on the villagers outside—they’re the ones who are truly sick.”

“What sickness?” Di Jiang blinked, surprised.

“Hysteria.”

“Hmm… Are you sure there’s no lingering resentment?” Di Jiang probed.

Zhong Xu firmly shook his head: “None!”

“Then I can rest assured. Take care and rest well—I’ll leave now.” With that, Di Jiang reopened the window.

“Why don’t you use the main door?” Zhong Xu asked, confused.

“Your door is completely blocked by villagers—I dare not go out that way.” Di Jiang shrugged, then leaped through the window like a clumsy bear, clawing her way back into the neighboring room. Zhong Xu watched her awkward movements nervously, fearing she might fall and force him to rescue her.

Fortunately, she managed to steady herself. Zhong Xu let out a sigh of relief, closed the window, and secured the latch.

After returning to her room, Di Jiang exhaled deeply and turned to Shu Xiang and Wen Yao with excitement: “It seems Daoist Zhong won’t intervene in this matter anytime soon. You two can keep causing disturbances for another couple of days until the villagers can’t take it anymore. Then we’ll proceed with the next step. Also, make sure to keep the magistrate in Zhuangyuan Village!”

“Got it!” Shu Xiang and Wen Yao nodded.

Whenever Di Jiang gave an order, Shu Xiang obeyed without question. As for Wen Yao, her compliance this time stemmed entirely from her concern for Pan Yuelang. She feared he would be left alone and despised by others, which was why she was determined to overturn Sister Li’s conviction. At the very least, she didn’t want him to bear the stigma of being the son of a murderer. How could he hold his head high in public under such circumstances? That wasn’t something he deserved to endure.

Previously, she hadn’t considered these things deeply, thinking that avenging Old Pan was the most important task. But when both of his parents passed away, leaving only Pan Yuelang behind, she realized that the living might suffer even more than the dead. She didn’t want Pan Yuelang’s future to be overshadowed by his parents’ legacy. Therefore, when Di Jiang proposed overturning Sister Li’s case, Wen Yao immediately supported it without hesitation. Regardless of the truth, she cared only about the outcome.

That night, the villagers no longer heard Sister Li’s mournful cries. Just as everyone breathed a sigh of relief, thinking they could finally sleep peacefully, the wicked soul of Sister Li and Zhang Quande appeared at every household’s windows. They did nothing but stare fixedly at the people inside.

Sister Li and Zhang Quande’s eyes were wide open, tears of blood streaming from the corners. Their bodies, bloated from the river water, turned a ghastly shade of blue, making them even more horrifying.

That night, many villagers fainted from fright, while others directly moved their bedding to sleep outside Zhong Xu’s door. The constant footsteps and chanting in the hallway disturbed Di Jiang, preventing her from sleeping.

“I can’t take it anymore!” Di Jiang threw off her blanket and stormed out of her room before Shu Xiang and Wen Yao returned. Pretending to be frightened, she exclaimed: “Sister Li must have died unjustly! We need to find the real murderer and clear her and Zhang Quande’s names!”

The villagers in the hallway paused momentarily before one by one voicing their agreement: “Yes! It must be true—the murderer must be someone else!”

This development was two days earlier than Di Jiang’s original plan. They had intended to carry out a series of frightening activities, but after only two tricks, the villagers were already complaining bitterly, convinced in their hearts that Sister Li was indeed innocent.

Di Jiang gathered the villagers in the ancestral hall and sent for the village head, the township leader, and the magistrate. Shu Xiang and Wen Yao also rushed over upon hearing the news. When their eyes met, all three exchanged subtle smiles.

This was human nature—if something didn’t concern them personally, they remained detached, freely speculating and talking. But when it touched their own fears, it became a matter of utmost importance, dealt with swiftly and decisively, almost too fast to react.

At the hour of Yin, when everyone should have been asleep, no one rested peacefully. Holding torches, they assembled in front of the ancestral hall, surrounding the magistrate and his entourage.

The magistrate, who had never encountered such a scene, hid behind several bailiffs, peeking out timidly. He exclaimed: “Why are you surrounding me? I didn’t kill Old Pan! Besides, Sister Li confessed to murdering her husband herself—how dare she come back to haunt me?!” The magistrate’s face was flushed with anger, his words accompanied by flying spittle, completely disregarding his dignity.

At this moment, no one paid attention to his appearance. They found his words somewhat reasonable—since Sister Li had confessed, how could she now claim injustice? The crowd exchanged glances, unsure who to hold accountable.

“Alright, we may not know what happened in the past, but the real murderer cannot escape justice,” Di Jiang cleared her throat and announced: “I possess a treasure that can identify the true culprit.”

“What kind of treasure?”

“Is there really such a miraculous thing?”

The villagers, who had never heard of such a thing, were all curious and sincerely hoped that Di Jiang’s words weren’t false—their peaceful lives now depended entirely on her!

“Wen Yao, bring it forward.”

“Yes.”

Wen Yao took out a blood-red stone from her bosom and proudly thrust out her chest as she addressed the magistrate: “This stone is a divine relic. Whoever the murderer is will be revealed the moment they touch it.”

“How do you know?”

“This stone is imbued with Sister Li’s resentment. If the true culprit touches it, their fingers will turn bright red, like they’re covered in blood.”

“Really?” The magistrate looked skeptical.

Wen Yao held the stone out to him: “If you don’t believe me, try it yourself.”

The magistrate narrowed his eyes, examining it for a while before turning to the villagers: “Line up! One by one!”

The crowd exchanged glances, hesitating.

At first, no one dared step forward voluntarily. It wasn’t until a few elderly women, who had been close to Old Pan, stepped up and touched the stone that everyone saw their hands stained crimson. Only then did the rest of the villagers begin to approach one by one. Soon, the entire village’s fingertips were dripping with vivid red.

Seeing this, the magistrate seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and smiled at Wen Yao: “I know this trick of yours—it’s meant to fool children. Your stone is coated with red paint, so anyone who touches it will have their fingers stained red. A guilty person, fearing exposure, would avoid touching it. Therefore, whoever doesn’t have red-stained fingers is the culprit, right?”

“In theory, yes,” Wen Yao replied with a faint smile but said nothing further.

At this point, everyone finally understood. They began to inspect each other, realizing that all several hundred villagers’ hands were stained with red paint—there was no difference among them. Consequently, they cast scornful looks at Wen Yao, accusing her method of being childish and unreliable.

The villagers’ reproaches grew louder and harsher. Many remained silent out of respect for Di Jiang’s reputation as a divine physician, but others, mostly women, became increasingly agitated. They had long disapproved of Sister Li’s behavior and were thoroughly disgusted by Di Jiang and her companions’ attempts to exonerate her.

“You’re really looking down on us!”

“How dare you play tricks on us like we’re three-year-olds?!”

“You’re accomplices! Ever since you arrived, misfortunes have piled up for the Pan family!”

Di Jiang was speechless, inwardly marveling at the villagers’ boundless imagination.

“Everyone, please calm down—” the magistrate coughed, clearing his throat, and chuckled: “Since everyone has already tried, I can’t stay out of it either. Although I’m not from Zhuangyuan Village, I’ll join in this little game.” Saying this, he reached into the box, then extended his right hand, showing three blood-red fingers to the crowd: “Look, my fingers are red too. Now, can you tell me who the real murderer is?”

Everyone widened their eyes, eagerly waiting for Wen Yao’s answer. Seeing the crowd’s fierce demeanor, Wen Yao panicked and slowly retreated behind Di Jiang, anxiously whispering: “Boss, what should we do now?”

“Everyone, please remain calm. The results will be known by morning.”

“Morning?” The magistrate, accompanied by a few others, approached Di Jiang and her group suspiciously. “What if you run away tonight?”

“Don’t joke around—we won’t run! If the boss says the results will come tomorrow, just wait two hours!” Wen Yao placed her hands on her hips and scolded them fiercely. However, the bailiffs weren’t pushovers. Seeing Wen Yao’s fiery temper, two of them immediately grabbed her arms—one on each side—while another pulled out a rope and tied her hands together.

“You’re being quite impolite,” Di Jiang coldly remarked as she watched the magistrate.

The magistrate shrugged, feigning helplessness: “Sorry, but I can’t let everyone suffer unjustly. Who told Sister Li to deserve her fate?”

“It’s not your place to decide whether she deserves it or not. All will be clear by dawn!” Di Jiang maintained a calm expression and smiled faintly: “If you’re truly uneasy, we’ll leave our luggage here.”

“What’s our luggage worth? I now suspect you’re accomplices too! You’ll stay put in the ancestral hall and go nowhere! Men—tie them up as well!” The clerk gestured, and four or five more men rushed forward, quickly pouncing on Di Jiang and Shu Xiang.

A burly man forcefully twisted Di Jiang’s shoulder, causing her to cry out instinctively from the dull pain: “It hurts!”

“Boss!” Seeing Di Jiang in distress, Wen Yao’s fury caused her eyes to redden.

Di Jiang, witnessing Wen Yao’s state, felt a chill run through her mind.

For her, compared to the roughness of ordinary people, an enraged Wen Yao was far more terrifying. She’d rather spend the night in the ancestral hall than clean up after Wen Yao’s wrath!