Chapter 20: Murder at the Inn (Part One)

“How satisfying, truly satisfying!” Fang Yue scraped the last grains of white rice from his bowl, set it down, let out a loud belch, and patted his bulging stomach with contentment.

The table was a scene of utter devastation—every plate and dish was wiped clean, and even the two buckets of white rice had been emptied.

“Is there something you all need?”

Fang Yue turned to find himself surrounded by a circle of people—there was the old innkeeper, the waiters, the kitchen staff, and even a few guests, all staring at him in stunned silence.

“Well done!”

Someone called out in praise, and then, to his astonishment, the whole group broke into applause.

Fang Yue’s face darkened. Did these people take him for some kind of sideshow attraction?

Maintaining a blank expression, he stood up and said, “Innkeeper, would you please send some hot water to my room later? I’d like to take a proper bath.”

“Of course, of course! Xiao Gui, hurry to the kitchen and prepare some hot water for Scholar Fang,” the innkeeper answered quickly, instructing a young waiter to see to it.

“Right away!” The waiter dashed off toward the kitchen.

Fang Yue made his way outside, and the crowd parted to clear a path for him.

After a few steps, he heard the old innkeeper’s voice behind him:

“Did you see that? Don’t let Scholar Fang’s pale face and slim build fool you—he can eat! That was enough food for seven or eight people, and he finished it all in one sitting without blinking. What does that mean? It means he’s strong. And a strong man is good in a fight. With Scholar Fang staying here in our inn, what demon or ghost would dare cause trouble? You can all rest easy.”

Fang Yue stumbled at the nonsensical logic, but he understood. The incident with the woman in red at the Wang family compound had caused a stir in town, spreading fear everywhere. Townsfolk who lived here had nowhere to run, forced to sit in anxious uncertainty.

But the inn’s guests weren’t locals—they could leave at any time. If the panic continued to spread, all the inns in Ping’an County would soon be empty.

So the innkeeper, desperate to reassure everyone, had seized on any excuse to calm his patrons. Whether they believed it or not, Fang Yue couldn’t say—but he certainly didn’t.

...

He climbed the stairs to the second floor and stopped in front of his room, just about to open the door when he paused, catching a faint, peculiar scent on the air.

He tried to identify it, but it vanished almost immediately. With the strong odors clinging to his own body, it was easy for anything else to be masked.

“It seems to be coming from over there.” Fang Yue frowned and glanced toward the room marked with the character for “Dragon.” Its door was tightly shut, and that odd scent seemed to drift from within.

He recalled the noises he’d heard last night, shook his head, and pushed open his own door.

“The story about the monster at Guangyuan Temple eating people doesn’t seem to have gotten out yet. Maybe the county authorities have managed to keep it under wraps. But that won’t last long—after all, it’s one of the most popular temples around.”

“If word does spread, the panic will be unimaginable.”

“But that’s not even the worst of it. The real danger is if that great monster from Guangyuan Temple decides to come into town to hunt. Unlike ghosts, monsters can move freely.”

“Besides, this is only the beginning. If the nightmare I had before arriving in this world is any guide, there are far worse horrors to come.”

“Where is the extraordinary power of humanity in this world? Why hasn’t it shown itself yet?”

Fang Yue was certain that humans must possess the means to resist these monsters and ghosts. Otherwise, the twenty-seven provinces of this land wouldn’t be the cradle of humanity—they’d have become haunted wastelands long ago.

A knock came at the door.

“Sir, your hot water is here.”

Fang Yue pulled himself from his thoughts, walked to the door, and opened it to find the young waiter struggling to lift a wooden bucket, steam billowing from within.

Taking the bucket with one hand, Fang Yue saw the waiter’s surprise. “You really are strong, sir! Our innkeeper said you eat a lot and are strong. He wasn’t exaggerating.”

Fang Yue had no interest in continuing the topic. Instead, he asked, “Waiter, those traveling merchants in the Dragon room—are they still there?”

The waiter winked. “Still there. Haven’t gone out, and it’s already midday. Looks like they won’t have the energy for any more wild carousing tonight, so you don’t need to worry about being disturbed.”

“And the courtesans they brought in? Have they left, or are they still inside?”

“Haven’t paid much attention, but I think they’re still there. Haven’t seen them leave. If you’re worried about being disturbed tonight, you could move to the Winter room. The guest there checked out this morning, and it’s far from the Dragon room.”

In fact, the guest in the Winter room had planned to stay several days, but fled early due to the ghost rumors. Several others had left for the same reason, leaving the inn with plenty of vacancies.

Fang Yue just nodded. “We’ll see. This hot water isn’t enough; please bring another bucket in about half a quarter of an hour.”

“Right away,” the waiter replied, and left.

The inn’s facilities were limited—there was no large wooden tub for a comfortable soak, just a bucket of hot water, a copper basin, and a towel for washing.

Fang Yue untied the ribbon from his hair. After becoming accustomed to modern short hair, he found it odd that men here had to grow their hair long.

He soaked his hair in hot water, rubbed in the soap provided by the inn, and washed out the oil and grime. The soap produced little lather and wasn’t very effective—at least not by the standards of someone used to modern toiletries. He found himself considering how to make real soap.

Whether to practice martial arts or to accumulate merit for “spreading good,” he’d need plenty of silver. Once his current affairs were in order, he’d have to find a way to earn some money.

After two more buckets of hot water, Fang Yue finally scrubbed himself clean, washing away all the impurities from his training, and changed into fresh clothes.

“Much better.”

Standing in his room, he idly worked through a few rounds of fist forms to loosen up, feeling clear-headed and refreshed.

He eyed the wooden bucket sitting in the room, and, not wanting to trouble the waiter, decided to carry it down himself. He opened the door and stepped out.

Just then, the door to the Dragon room creaked open beside him, and a wave of pungent odor rolled out—a strange mix of sweet and foul, tinged with the scent of blood, so harsh that Fang Yue sneezed twice.

“What on earth is that smell?”

He turned to look. From within the open doorway, a burly, stubbled man poked out his head, glared at Fang Yue with a hostile look, then ducked back inside and slammed the door shut with a bang.

“What was that about?” Fang Yue muttered, bewildered, and carried the bucket downstairs.

When he returned to the main hall from the kitchen, he saw four burly men descending the stairs in haste, heading straight outside.

Fang Yue recognized one of them as the stubbled brute who’d glared at him from the Dragon room.

“So those four are the traveling merchants staying in the Dragon room. But judging by their bearing, they seem more like bandits than merchants.”

Lost in thought, Fang Yue turned and climbed back up the stairs.