Chapter 190 Patricide
Time rewinds to a quarter of an hour ago—
Auntie Zhang stood at the door of Auntie Wang's house, clutching a half-embroidered handkerchief in her hand, her knuckles white.
Unlike the other neighbors, she knew her old sister very well. Unless she was gravely ill, it was absolutely impossible for her not to set up her stall.
So, she took advantage of her lunch break to come over and see what had happened.
"Sister Wang—" she called out twice from the doorway.
Her old sister's door was ajar, but for some reason, she always felt wisps of cold air seeping through the crack.
She hesitated for a moment, but ultimately pushed the door open with a little force—
"Sister Wang? Sister Wang, are you in? Why didn't I see you at your stall today..."
Her voice abruptly stopped.
Auntie Zhang's pupils suddenly contracted, and the handkerchief in her hand silently fell to the ground.
—Auntie Wang was slumped beside her own stove, her face ashen purple, a trace of black blood congealed at the corner of her mouth, her eyes wide open, as if she could not believe what she was seeing even in death.
In her hand, she still tightly clutched a coarse porcelain tea bowl, with a few drops of dark red tea residue at the bottom.
"Ah—!!"
A shrill scream tore through the tranquility of Ping'an Square.
...
After the fall of the Great Zhou Dynasty, although the City of Immortal Spirits stood independent from the world, due to City Lord Ji Lingxiu, it still adopted many of the old dynasty's laws and systems.
Among the most important of these was "Immortal and Mortal Under One Law"—both cultivators and mortals were bound by the same set of laws, and violators would be prosecuted without fail.
The ones responsible for maintaining order in the city were the City Guard.
In the City of Immortal Spirits, the City Guard was directly under the Lord's Mansion, wielding great power and responsible for apprehending criminals, judging cases, maintaining order, and enforcing the law.
Therefore, in less than half an hour, the sound of the City Guard's iron boots echoed within the square.
The City Guard captain in the lead was named Zhao, a middle-aged man with a stern face and a knife scar on his brow, making him appear particularly fierce.
He strode into the tofu shop, and the soldiers behind him quickly sealed off the area.
Captain Zhao squatted down, put on leather gloves, and carefully examined Auntie Wang's body. His fingers gently pried open her eyelids, then he dipped a finger in the black blood at the corner of her mouth and brought it to his nose to sniff. His brow immediately furrowed.
"Poisoned to death," he said coldly.
The neighbors in the square had already gathered around, and upon hearing this, they erupted into an uproar—
"Poisoned to death?! Who did it?!"
"Auntie Wang was always kind to others. Who would harm her?"
The discussions came one after another, some with shock and suspicion, some with anger, and more with disbelief.
Captain Zhao first asked Auntie Zhang in detail about how she discovered the body, then questioned the nearby neighbors one by one, and soon learned about the recent events in Ping'an Square.
He stood up, scanned his surroundings, his gaze like a knife: "Where is Wang Shouzhi?"
It was only then that everyone realized—Wang Shouzhi was gone.
The neighbors began to speculate.
Old Man Li, who sold sugar figurines, stammered, "La-last night, I even saw that boy Shouzhi bring his mother tea..."
Hearing this, Auntie Zhang's head snapped up: "Tea? What tea?"
Old Man Li swallowed. "It, it was a bowl of reddish-brown tea. Shouzhi said it was spiritual tea brought back from the immortal sect, specially to honor his mother..."
The crowd instantly burst into an uproar!
"Spiritual tea?!"
"How could a mortal casually drink something from a cultivator?!"
"Shouzhi... didn't he know?"
Chen Chang'an stood at the edge of the crowd, his expression grim. He stared at the residue in the tea bowl, his fingertips turning cold.
Captain Zhao sneered: "He didn't know?"
He picked up the tea bowl and examined it closely. "The poison in this tea is called 'Blood Spirit Grass.' It's a low-grade spirit herb. For cultivators, taking it can invigorate blood and resolve stasis, but for mortals—"
He gently set down the tea bowl.
"It is a virulent poison that cuts through the bowels!"
Captain Zhao's voice crashed down on everyone's heart like cold iron:
"Wang Shouzhi is a cultivator. How could he not know the toxicity of Blood Spirit Grass to mortals?"
"According to the information provided by the neighbors just now, he suddenly returned a few days ago, and today Auntie Wang died a sudden death, while he himself has disappeared without a trace—"
"If this is not premeditated murder, what is?!"
The neighbors completely exploded!
"You beast! Auntie Wang raised him for twenty years, and this is how he repays her?!"
"He cultivated until he lost his humanity!"
"No wonder he was suddenly so filial these past few days. It was all for the sake of poisoning!"
Auntie Zhang slumped to the ground, her face streaming with tears: "Sister Wang... Sister Wang was just telling me yesterday that Shouzhi had become sensible, and that her life was worth it..."
Chen Chang'an closed his eyes. He had thought that with Wang Shouzhi's strength, he could not cause much trouble in the City of Immortal Spirits, but he never imagined that Wang Shouzhi would be incited by that monk, that he would lay a hand on the mother who had painstakingly raised him!
Captain Zhao waved a hand: "Issue a city-wide warrant for Wang Shouzhi! We want him alive, or if dead, we want his body!"
The soldiers responded in unison and immediately split up to leave.
The neighbors dispersed in twos and threes, each person's face filled with anger, fear, and disbelief.
...
That night.
Thirty li outside the City of Immortal Spirits, the common graveyard.
A waning moon hung like a hook, its cold light shining eerily on a field of crooked tombstones.
The night wind howled through the withered trees, kicking up a few tattered pieces of paper money. They swirled in the air, then drifted down to land beside a pair of hands caked in mud.
Wang Shouzhi knelt on the ground, his ten fingers dug deep into the soil.
"What... what have I done..."
He stared fixedly at his own hands, his knuckles trembling spasmodically. These hands had once pushed the millstone, rubbed her shoulders, and wiped away her sweat for his mother... But just a few hours ago, these hands had steadily held a bowl of poisoned tea and passed it to the woman who had raised him for twenty years.
—"Son, in this life... Mother's life is worth it."
In his memory, the smile on Auntie Wang's face as she held the tea bowl was like a dull knife, scraping away at his heart and lungs inch by inch. The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes had smoothed out, her cloudy eyes filled with relief, even with a hint of the frightened flattery of one who felt undeserving. She sipped the tea her son had "honored" her with, completely unaware that every sip was swallowing a virulent poison!
"Ahhh—!!"
Wang Shouzhi suddenly lunged forward, smashing his forehead hard against a large tree!
"Thud!"
The sound of splitting flesh mixed with the dull thud of bone. Warm blood trickled down his brow bone, covering his right eye. But this pain was insignificant compared to the torment in his heart!
"Why... why!!"
He smashed into the tree again, this time even harder, as if he wanted to knock his brains out. Splinters of wood flew, and a crack opened in the large tree. His frontal bone was already showing a ghastly white, but he still did not stop, as if only this could slightly alleviate the soul-devouring regret.
"I clearly... I clearly wanted to honor her!"
He roared, but his voice was as hoarse as a broken gong. Fragments of memory tumbled in his mind—the high monk's lotus brand burning on his shoulder, the phrase "This is true compassion" from his dream like a bone-eating sore, but when he woke this morning, he was clutching an empty poisoned tea packet, and on the stove... was his mother's ashen-purple corpse!
"Beast... I'm worse than a beast..."
He grabbed a handful of grave soil and stuffed it into his mouth. His teeth ground the sand and rocks, and the smell of blood mixed with the earthy odor exploded in his mouth. This filthy taste was a perfect match for his filthy skin!
"Amitabha."
A Buddhist chant suddenly sounded.
Under the moonlight, Monk Miaosi walked over the paper money scattered on the ground.
His snow-white monk shoes were free of dust, and his golden-red cassock did not stir in the night wind, as if even the wind did not dare to blaspheme this holy monk. But as he drew closer, Wang Shouzhi discovered with horror—
The monk's shadow was actually a twisted skeleton!
"Patron," Monk Miaosi said, looking down at him with a smile, his voice as gentle as if coaxing a child, "The pain of patricide, it hurts, doesn't it?"
...
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