[To Become a River of Stars] Dong Xiange - Chapter 59

Madam Pang’s eyes welled with tears, her emotions clearly stirred, yet she swallowed her bitterness and replied politely, “I don’t know why the young master would say such things, but this is a family matter. I must ask you to leave.”

It seemed she still couldn’t bear to tarnish the reputation of the students her late husband had devoted his life to, preferring to keep such grievances to herself.

But Li Xuanci had no patience for gentle persuasion. He went straight to the point, employing both coercion and temptation. “Your current stance is solely out of fear of damaging the reputations of innocent students. But have you considered that your husband was exposed in the courtyard, dead with unclosed eyes? Can you truly rest easy like this? Here’s my offer: I’ll help you find the culprit, and you tell me everything. How about that?”

Although not everyone knew the details of Mr. Pang’s suspicious death, Jin Zhan’s inquiries had uncovered the truth: the old gentleman had been struck on the head while getting up at night, then discarded in the courtyard, only discovered the next morning in a tragic state.

He framed this matter of clear right and wrong as a straightforward transaction, yet it struck a chord in Madam Pang’s heart. Just as her expression wavered with hesitation, Li Xuanci shot a glance at Jin Zhan, who understood immediately and went out to summon the group of disciples inside.

The disciples, thinking their teacher’s wife had forgiven them, rushed into the hall. Seeing them enter, Madam Pang could only hesitate and remain silent.

Li Xuanci pulled Shiliu—who had been clinging to his sleeve and hiding behind him—out into the open. He lifted his chin slightly toward the group, using Shiliu like a hunting hound to sniff out his prey.

Unfortunately, Shiliu didn’t understand. She still clung to his sleeve, refusing to let go, and asked bluntly, “What are we doing, brother?”

Li Xuanci couldn’t even be bothered to speak. He directly pressed his hand against her round head, turning it toward the group of disciples, and asked, “Among those people, who did you smell something strange on?”

With her head immobilized, Shiliu’s eyes darted over the group of men. Finally fulfilling her duty as a good hound, she raised a chubby finger, pointed at one of them, and said, “That one, just that one. He stinks so much Shiliu can’t stand it.”

She didn’t forget to sneak in a complaint.

Her words caused some confusion among the disciples as they looked toward the man she indicated. His hair bun was somewhat disheveled, his clothing thin, and the inner garment visible under the hem of his outer robe showed faint mud stains as he moved. He wasn’t exactly presentable.

Hearing this, the disciple’s face flushed red, and he stammered, “Upon suddenly hearing of our teacher’s passing, although I changed into plain clothes, I didn’t have time to bathe. I apologize for my disrespectful appearance.”

His words salvaged some dignity, as standing outside all night for their teacher’s death meant some dishevelment was understandable.

But Li Xuanci inexplicably curled his lips into a smile and said leisurely, “Think carefully. Did you change these clothes just before coming here? Once you speak, you can’t take it back.”

The man looked somewhat startled and suspicious but refused to back down, insisting, “That is indeed the case.”

Li Xuanci looked like he was watching prey fall into a trap, a pleasant resentment surging in his eyes as he uttered two words, “You’re lying.”

“This student did not. This student merely stood guard all night and sweats more easily than my fellow disciples…” the man argued anxiously.

“What are you so guilty about?” Li Xuanci interrupted him, enjoying his struggle and luring him step by step toward losing control.

“You… I don’t know what you’re implying, but this is before our teacher’s spirit. We should show some respect,” the disciple clearly grew agitated, forgetting to refer to himself as “this student” and switching to “you” and “I.”

“If your teacher’s spirit is present, the first one it should strike dead is you,” Li Xuanci said without mincing words, his thin lips barely moving.

“You claim you changed your clothes before coming, yet the hem of your inner garment has mud stains,” he slightly raised his tone at the end, leaving the suspicion hanging.

“I splashed that on the way here,” the disciple retorted.

“The mud stains on your inner garment are red clay. This area has unusual terrain, mostly yellow soil. Only a mountain to the west has red soil. You’ve probably buried yourself in books until you’ve become a fool, debating me without even knowing the local terrain.”

Li Xuanci had always been thoroughly familiar with mountains and landforms, as they related to important matters of geomancy, but he hadn’t expected it to be useful in such a situation.

“Don’t try to argue that it’s from before, either. The path to that mountain had a rockslide recently and was only roughly cleared by the evening before last. Even if you’re slovenly, you wouldn’t go dozens of days without changing clothes.” This was information Li Xuanci had seen in the reports gathered by the shadow guards.

“So, the only possibility is that you went to the western mountain the night before last. After returning, you encountered people coming to inform you of the funeral, had no time to change, and could only hastily throw on your outer robe before coming over.”

Li Xuanci’s gaze was dismissive, yet his words cut like knives. The looks from those around the man shifted from disbelief to hesitant belief, especially Madam Pang, whose expression was extremely complex.

“You’re slandering me! I just accidentally splashed mud from somewhere, and you falsely accuse me based on that!” The disciple grew increasingly frantic.

“Fool, that’s not just mud. There are bloodstains too. It’s just that after drying, it looks dark red. To an amateur who doesn’t understand killing, it looks like mud.”

But to an expert like him, who knew killing, the difference between mud and blood was clear at a glance.

Sure enough, after hearing this, the disciple tried to cover up by using his outer robe to hide his inner garment, then realized how conspicuous this action was and abruptly let go, saying, “This is blood from killing a chicken for soup at home. I didn’t notice it.”

“Chicken soup? I’m afraid you can’t handle hot chicken soup, can you?” Li Xuanci’s words were sarcastic and sharp as blades.

“With a body hollowed out by cold-eating powder, can you endure hot soup?” he asked maliciously, watching as the man’s face turned despairing at this secret being revealed.

“You keep a long nail only on your pinky finger, presumably using it to take the cold-eating powder. Those who regularly consume cold-eating powder can’t stand any heat. That’s why you only wore your inner garments when you went to the western mountain at night, even though it’s just early spring. And now, having to wear your outer robe and stand all night, you can’t withstand the heat building up inside, so you’ve sweat more than others and stink worse.”

By the end, Li Xuanci’s tone even held a note of amused mockery. But the accused disciple wasn’t as relaxed; sweat poured from his forehead, his face pale, as he weakly argued, “You… what evidence do you have? Besides, our teacher treated us like sons. Why would I do such a thing?”

Li Xuanci sneered and turned to Madam Pang. “The deal I mentioned earlier—does it still stand?”

Seeing him halt at the critical moment, Madam Pang knew he was forcing her to agree. But with her husband’s murderer on the verge of being convicted, how could she let it go now? She had no choice but to harden her heart and nod in agreement.

“The Pang family often struggled financially due to supporting disciples, but recently paid off all previous debts and exchanged grain for a lot of silver. Without additional income, they suddenly became wealthy yet kept it secret. Naturally, it must be ill-gotten gains. Madam Pang, am I right?”

Facing Madam Pang, Li Xuanci’s words were less a request for confirmation and more a display of his overwhelming, repressive power. Madam Pang froze for a moment, then finally gritted her teeth and nodded.

Satisfied, Li Xuanci turned back to the man. “And as disciples, you could naturally glimpse this secret better than outsiders. You consume cold-eating powder—that’s not something an ordinary family can afford.”

“Let me guess: the night before last, your addiction flared up, you were unbearably restless and hot, so you wearing only your inner garments sneaked into your teacher’s house to steal the treasure that could bring wealth. But Mr. Pang discovered you, so you killed him, dumped his body in the courtyard, then went to the western mountain to bury the treasure, planning to dig it up after things settled down. After returning, before you could change clothes, you were summoned here and couldn’t get away.”

“Just have the bloodstains on your inner garment tested by a coroner, and look for freshly dug traces on the western mountain, and it will be clear. Besides, there might still be mud under your nails right now.” His last sentence was meaningful. The man instantly clenched his hands, practically admitting guilt without being pressed.

Madam Pang could no longer restrain herself. She rushed forward, beating him and crying, “You damned bastard! My husband was so good to you, and you treated him like this? You ungrateful monster!”

The man silently endured her blows but sneered and replied, “He was good to me? He was just a hypocrite seeking fame.”