“This is Chang’an’s ancient river channel.” Xiang Xian watched Xiao Kun’s back, pondering what new trick he could play on him.
He did not know when it started, but Xiang Xian found that he quite liked Xiao Kun. He always wanted to pat him, ruffle his hair, drape an arm over his shoulders, or punch his back a few times. Xiao Kun often protested verbally against these intimate touches but never truly resisted, which only made Xiang Xian want to tease him more, to draw out even clearer reactions.
The night before, when Xiao Kun had pinned him down, Xiang Xian’s face had flushed red. For some reason, he had secretly hoped Xiao Kun would lean down and kiss him, even though Xiao Kun’s face had been smeared with ridiculous ink drawings at the time.
After his master Shen Kuo passed away, Xiang Xian had investigated cases alone, a solitary shadow. No matter how beautiful the scenery, there was no one to share it with, and no one to discuss matters with.
Now, with Xiao Kun as his companion, it was truly wonderful—Xiang Xian often thought this. Ever since meeting Xiao Kun, he no longer had to be like before. Xiang Xian wanted to keep him by his side forever; he never wanted to return to the days at the Exorcism Division when he was the only one there.
Their relationship was not quite superior and subordinate, nor exactly comrades-in-arms; it felt more like kindred spirits. Xiang Xian’s explanation was simple: people needed a companion, a confidant, or life would be too dull.
Of course, Xiang Xian was not sure if Xiao Kun saw him as a confidant, but that did not stop him from teasing Xiao Kun every few days. Seeing him get angry yet helpless against it seemed to prove that Xiao Kun cared about him too.
“Stop fooling around!” Xiao Kun shoved Xiang Xian’s arm away. Xiang Xian was in high spirits and treating him like a punching bag to practice his Taizu Long Fist.
Xiao Kun asked, “How did you know this is the ancient Chang’an waterway?”
“My ancestor had a book that recorded it,” Xiang Xian replied.
“Who is your ancestor?” Xiao Kun glanced around the dark surroundings and snapped his fingers. The Cold Jiao Inner Core rose up, illuminating the area, only to be snatched away by Xiang Xian moments later.
“My ancestor was named Su Song.” Xiang Xian released a golden-red Fire Feather to replace the Inner Core for light.
“Both remarkable figures.” Xiao Kun knew of Su Song, who had been Ouyang Xiu’s disciple and an unparalleled master of magic treasures and artifacts.
“After the Tian Bao Chaos,” Xiang Xian said more seriously, “Chang’an gradually fell into ruin year by year. The once-famous sight of ‘eight rivers encircling Chang’an’ sank over generations. After the underground rivers dried up, they became ruins over centuries. We’re now inside the Chang’an river channel from three hundred years ago.”
“Follow the footprints.” Xiao Kun noticed a trail of footprints leading into the distance. In one area, there was a wooden ladder, clearly set up in recent years.
The two climbed the ladder and found themselves under a bridge in the western part of the city.
Xiang Xian: “?”
Xiang Xian spotted footprints in the mud under the bridge too. Such places were rarely visited, and with snow covering the bridge surface, the tracks could last for months unless disturbed.
“There was another person,” Xiao Kun said, nearing the solution to the case. “See? The other footprints are much larger— a man’s.”
“Mm.” Xiang Xian responded, “Wang Chao Ying’s concubine, a maid, or someone else came out from the well and met a man outside.”
“Very likely Wan Xiang.” Xiao Kun swiftly pulled the correct thread from the tangled clues. “At night, she sneaked out for a rendezvous. Midway, she saw something frightening, panicked, and fled back to the Wang Family Mansion.”
“Oh!” Xiang Xian suddenly understood, as if waking from a dream. He could have deduced it alone, but with Xiao Kun there, he did not even want to think. “Lord Xiao is brilliant!”
Hearing Xiang Xian’s tone, Xiao Kun felt it was more mockery than praise. “Let’s go further down. We’re very close to the truth now.”
Back in the underground waterway, they saw chaotic footprints nearby. Xiang Xian spotted bloodstains and disturbed mud on a bluestone slab, as if a ferocious beast had appeared there, confirming their guess.
“She encountered a monster here,” Xiang Xian said. “She hit the stone, fell, crawled onward, and fled back along the original path.”
Xiao Kun and Xiang Xian followed the dry underground river channel forward until they reached an open area, like the confluence of several rivers. A cold wind blew, and the demon beast hidden beneath Chang’an must be in some region at the end.
“Do you suspect Wan Xiang stumbled upon the monster, which chased her to the Wang Family Mansion and slaughtered everyone to silence them?” Xiang Xian reminded him. “I feel like we still need to investigate carefully.”
“Not easy to judge.” Xiao Kun said, “The extermination case is definitely connected to this demon. Even if it did not strike directly, it likely knows the inside story.”
“This thing is too hard to track,” Xiang Xian said helplessly. “No footprints, and A Huang is not here.”
Xiao Kun pondered for a moment and asked, “How did you track monsters before? All relying on A Huang?”
