The newcomer stepped out from the shadow of the coffin, wearing a grey short coat that was easy to move in. His hand was pressed against the hilt of the saber at his waist, his expression incredibly solemn.
“You shouldn't have come,” he warned.
Lu Ji looked at him, not replying immediately.
The man in grey was also looking at him.
The lamps in the room were dim. Although Lu Ji's vision kept fading to black, he did not dare miss a single detail.
The fact that the man spoke a warning meant he had no immediate intention of killing him.
Keeping his hand on the saber without drawing it showed he still had reservations.
If this man truly wanted to strike, with Lu Ji's current half-dead state, he probably wouldn't even survive a second blow.
The good news was that the other party was still willing to speak.
The bad news was that someone willing to speak was not necessarily trustworthy.
After a moment, as if finally realizing that the person before him would not back down because of a single warning, the man in grey slowly spoke, “I will not hurt you.”
Lu Ji felt a dull pain in his chest, but he did not let it show on his face. He simply asked in a calm voice, “Your name.”
The man in grey was silent for a breath.
“Wei Cen.”
Lu Ji ran the name through his mind, but he still did not let his guard down. “Who sent you to follow me?”
Wei Cen avoided the question, only saying, “Entrusted by an old friend.”
An old friend.
These words lightly struck Lu Ji's heart.
His master's face—the one that always found him a nuisance—immediately flashed through his mind, but he quickly suppressed the thought.
The more something looked like the answer, the more likely it was a trap.
Lu Ji's fingers, hidden in his sleeve, curled slightly. “My master?”
Wei Cen's eyes flickered imperceptibly.
Lu Ji saw it. Keeping his hand on the edge of the coffin, he smiled, though the smile did not reach his eyes.
“It seems I've guessed half of it right.”
Wei Cen stared at him, his gaze complex. “The people sent by the Grand Tutor's Residence are likely already outside. You know too much now. It won't do you any good.”
Lu Ji did not look at him again, merely continuing, “Someone planted clues on the pursuers, fearing I wouldn't come. You clearly could have stopped me, yet you only showed yourself after I stepped into the mortuary, fearing I would die in the wrong place.”
The flame of the oil lamp flickered gently, casting a distinct, cold light in his eyes.
Very well.
The people outside did not want him to know certain things, while the person beside him left many hints wanting him to know things. It made him, a half-dead man, seem like the busiest of all.
“Wei Cen, the ones pushing me here aren't just from one faction.”
Wei Cen's fingers around his saber tightened slightly.
Having followed him all this way, he had initially thought Lu Ji was merely a weakling forced into the game. Only now did he realize that the other man's sharpness had never been in his blade.
Lu Ji took out the broken half of the Meridian-Sealing Needle from his sleeve, his thumb brushing over the fine patterns on its tail.
As the icy silver needle pressed against his skin, he actually felt a bit clearer.
“You said you wouldn't hurt me. I'll believe half of that for now.”
Wei Cen frowned. “Half?”
Lu Ji ignored his question. “Since you want to follow me, we must agree on three conditions.”
He could not defeat Wei Cen right now, nor could he outrun the people outside.
Since he lacked the advantage in physical force, he could only lay down his terms first.
When it came to taking the initiative, every little bit counted.
Wei Cen watched him in silence.
Lu Ji said word by word, “First, you are not allowed to decide where I go. Second, you are not allowed to interfere with what I do. Third, if something you know will get me killed, you must tell me in advance.”
Wei Cen said coldly, “There are some things that, if you know them now, will only make you die faster.”
“Then only tell me to the extent that it won't kill me immediately.”
Lu Ji turned his back to Wei Cen and the seven flimsy coffins.
This movement looked leisurely, but in truth, only he knew that the motion had pulled at his wounds again, causing his vision to darken with pain.
He almost couldn't stop himself from swearing.
They said a physician could not cure himself. Right now, even if he wanted to treat himself, he had to survive long enough to sit down and write a prescription.
But he could not collapse in front of Wei Cen, at least not now.
“As for what your purpose is, I can ask about that later.”
Wei Cen stared at his back. Only after a long while did he say, “I agree.”
Lu Ji did not turn around. He only exhaled a slow breath in his mind.
Although this trip was risky, it could be considered a success.
“It seems the other faction also wants to use my hands to uncover something.”
As Lu Ji spoke, he waited for his breathing to stabilize slightly before turning sideways and reaching out to pull back the white cloth over the first corpse.
The deceased's face was an ashen grey. There was no obvious wound on his chest, but his limbs were twisted at extremely unnatural angles.
His bones and muscles seemed to have been shattered inch by inch, leaving the entire body limp and shapeless.
Lu Ji's brow furrowed slightly. He reached out and gently pressed down on the corpse's shoulder bone.
A very faint trace of Zhuo Martial Arts energy remained inside the deceased's body, but beneath the shoulder bone lay a curved old scar where a piece of flesh had been forcibly carved out.
Lu Ji's fingertips paused. From the inner edge of the coffin, he picked up a strand of dark silver thread caught on a wooden splinter.
The pattern of the silver thread was identical to the dark embroidery remaining on the cuffs of the pursuers from Medicine Valley.
It seemed that behind this group of people, the shadow of the Grand Tutor's Residence was always present.
Lu Ji withdrew his hand, his face turning a shade paler.
Wei Cen reached out in time to support him, asking in a low voice, “What did you find?”
Lu Ji did not push him away, merely using the support to steady his stance as he whispered, “This isn't a simple silencing.”
Forcing himself forward, Lu Ji walked toward the other coffins.
He pulled back the collar of the second corpse, and as expected, he found a very shallow old wound beneath the collarbone, looking as though a small piece of flesh had been carved away.
He went on to check the third and fourth in succession.
With every white cloth he pulled back, the coldness in his eyes deepened by a fraction.
Without exception, the position and curvature of the carved scars were strikingly consistent, with lingering traces of Zhuo Martial Arts energy covering them.
“It's the half-moon pattern.”
Lu Ji's voice was laced with frost, his fingers tightening against the edge of the white cloth. “At least these few corpses originally had the half-moon pattern on them. Someone carved out the marks first, then used Zhuo Martial Arts to shatter their bones and muscles, disguising them as these strange corpses. It must have been to cover up their identities.”
Just then, a sudden flurry of footsteps echoed outside the mortuary.
Over a dozen men in black blocked the only exit.
The leader wore a hideous iron half-mask. His cold, dark gaze bypassed Wei Cen and landed directly on Lu Ji.
“Dr. Lu,” the iron-masked man spoke, his voice grating like scraping metal. “My master had me bring a message to you.”
“Some old, dust-laden cases... those who attempt to dig them up usually do not live to see the dawn.”
With a sharp clank, Wei Cen drew his saber from its sheath, his muscles tensing as he shielded Lu Ji behind him.
But Lu Ji raised his hand, gently pressing down on Wei Cen's wrist.
Was he afraid?
Of course he was.
Right now, he had to rely on a single breath of determination just to stand steady, yet over a dozen people who wanted his life had arrived outside.
Put anyone in his shoes, who wouldn't be afraid?
But fear was one thing. If he didn't say certain things now, he would likely never get another chance to say them.
Facing the murderous aura of the crowd outside, he looked at the iron-masked man, a cold smirk curling on his lips.
“Go back and tell Xie Wuheng,” his voice sounded weak and powerless due to his injuries, but everyone present was a martial artist and could hear him clearly. “I take this case.”
“And from this day forward, whoever wants to bury this old case back into the dirt, I will make them stand under the bright, clear sun first, so the world can see exactly what kind of trash they are.”
A silence fell over the area outside the door, the murderous intent in the iron-masked man's eyes surging wildly.
At the same time, from the deepest part of the mortuary, a distinct, soft sound suddenly came from the seventh coffin, which had remained untouched the entire time.
It was as if something inside had moved against the coffin board.
“Cut!”
He Chuan's voice came from behind the monitor.
Jiang Yue was still holding his pose. Hearing this, he slowly relaxed his posture.
The props team immediately went forward to check the mechanism of the seventh coffin. The staff member responsible for making the noise inside poked half of his head out from behind the compartment. He first glanced at the director, then at Jiang Yue, and asked as if seeking credit, “Director He, was the sound of the mechanism just now loud enough?”
Many people on set laughed at the question.
He Chuan also laughed and scolded, “Loud enough. Any louder and the coffin lid would look like it was about to fly off.”
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