Chapter Forty-seven: The East Window Exposed

A Middle Eastern-style estate by the sea in Guanhai Town was the residence of Xiao Guowei, and as evening fell, the area had already been cordoned off.

Upon receiving the news of Xiao Guowei's death at noon, the police rushed over immediately, sealing the scene without disturbing anything. Shortly after, the forensic team arrived carrying their silver cases and began to examine the premises.

Xiao Guowei's death was of immense significance to the Xiao family. Over the past decade, direct descendants within the clan had died one after another, and now, his demise once again touched the family’s fragile nerves, even inciting panic—everyone feared for their own safety.

At this rate, no one knew who would be next.

Given the gravity of the situation, Xiao Fusheng had to come in person to inspect the scene.

He stood at the entrance to the second floor, his face dark and brooding as he watched the investigators bustling about. Two years had passed since the last death in the family, and Xiao Fusheng was well aware of Xiao Guowei’s strength. Without reaching the pinnacle of refined power, it would have been impossible to kill him. Who could have done this?

He could not imagine anyone with such a motive.

After three hours of meticulous investigation, the team finally completed their analysis.

Xiao Fusheng approached, frowning as he glanced at the corpse on the ground, then asked the investigators, “What are your findings?”

“The situation is rather complicated,” replied the lead investigator, glancing up at Xiao Fusheng. “After our discussion, we believe the events likely unfolded as follows: The assailant somehow entered the villa—there’s no sign of forced entry, as if they appeared out of thin air. Based on the timeline, Xiao Guowei was on the phone with someone when he noticed the intruder, which led to a fierce struggle.

“During the fight, Xiao Guowei’s weapon was broken by the attacker. He was wounded, but managed to leap onto the spiral staircase and fire his gun at the assailant. The attacker was hit, but survived and subsequently killed Xiao Guowei.”

Xiao Fusheng nodded as he listened. “That seems accurate. Did you find any other clues?”

The lead investigator nodded. “We did notice some peculiarities. There’s absolutely no trace of stealth—the killer appeared as if from nowhere, which we cannot explain. Also, Xiao Guowei’s weapon was severed. These two knives were made of a rare depleted uranium titanium alloy, an extremely hard metal, yet they were sliced cleanly by some sharp implement. The cut is smooth, clearly done in one stroke. I’ve never heard of anything capable of cutting through such alloy.

“The cause of death is odd as well. When we opened the chest cavity, we found a bullet inside. That bullet couldn’t have been fired by the assailant’s gun—it was as though it had been thrown inside. We checked the surroundings and found that the reinforced glass window had been pierced by some sharp object. Searching outside, we found a blade.”

The investigator paused, catching his breath, and handed over the blade. The scene was so bizarre that he could scarcely believe his own eyes, had he not witnessed it himself.

A weapon capable of slicing through depleted uranium titanium alloy was remarkable enough, but for the assailant to appear out of nowhere—how was it possible? It was far beyond his understanding.

—

Having heard the investigator’s account, Xiao Fusheng took the blade and frowned. It was an ordinary-looking throwing knife, hard as steel yet not quite steel, and with his discerning eye, he could tell it was a spiritual weapon forged by a cultivator using true energy.

What preoccupied Xiao Fusheng was not the knife itself, but the inscription along its edge—“Little Li’s Mother’s Throwing Knife.”

“…”

Could it be the work of the Li family? But the Li family had always had good relations with the Xiao clan, and there were no masters among them who used throwing knives. Or perhaps someone was trying to frame the Li family? Yet the method seemed clumsy.

Xiao Fusheng pondered for a long time without reaching any conclusion.

He could never have guessed that the inscription had been a mischievous spur-of-the-moment joke by Xiao Cheng, meant to amuse himself and nothing more.

“Is there any way to identify the perpetrator?” Xiao Fusheng asked. This was what concerned him most. Spiritual weapons, blades, and such mattered little to him—he could easily cut through depleted uranium titanium alloy with a flying sword, and even more efficiently. As for appearing out of nowhere, though strange, it wasn’t too difficult for a cultivator.

“There's no way to be certain yet, though the killer did suffer a severe gunshot wound. The Desert Eagle's power is extraordinary, and there are bloodstains on the floor. We could test for DNA…”

Before the investigator could finish, Xiao Fusheng interrupted impatiently, “Just tell me—can you find the killer or not?”

“The chances are slim. Even if we obtain DNA, it would be hard to match it to a suspect unless we could identify everyone wounded by gunfire today and check them one by one…”

Xiao Fusheng waved his hand, unwilling to listen further. The investigator’s long explanation amounted to a single sentence—they couldn’t identify the killer. He did not blame them, as this was clearly the work of a cultivator, and it was only natural they couldn’t solve it.

Based on the scene, Xiao Fusheng had formed a rough idea of the killer’s strength—at least innate cultivation, otherwise he could never have killed Xiao Guowei. Yet he couldn’t understand why, having attained such skill, the killer would not use a flying sword instead of such a cumbersome method.

Shaking his head, unable to make sense of it, Xiao Fusheng turned, intending to ask Wang Qiyi for his opinion, but found that Fang Yujia had somehow arrived at the doorway, apparently overhearing much of the investigator’s report.

“Yujia, what do you think of all this? You were closest to Guowei here.”

Today, Fang Yujia wore her usual unremarkable professional attire, untouched by makeup, her face bare, yet she remained strikingly beautiful.

She stood staring dazedly at the corpse. Yesterday, her fourth uncle had been pounding the table at her; today, he was a cold body. She had always disliked him, but seeing his corpse, her feelings were inevitably complicated.

“I didn’t notice much, only that fourth uncle’s expression before death was rather strange.”

—

Fang Yujia gazed at Xiao Guowei’s stiff, mocking grin, feeling somewhat nauseous. She was, after all, an ordinary woman, and this was her first time witnessing such a scene. She had done remarkably well to maintain her composure thus far.

“Oh?” Xiao Fusheng had merely asked out of habit, not expecting Fang Yujia to notice anything he himself had overlooked.

He examined the corpse carefully. Sure enough, Xiao Guowei’s expression was odd—a mixture of terror, relief, and self-mockery. What had transpired to evoke such conflicting emotions in him before death?

Could it be that Xiao Guowei’s killer was someone he knew? That alone would explain his final expression. Someone familiar with Xiao Guowei, possessing the ability and motivation to kill him—who could it be?

For an instant, Xiao Fusheng sifted through countless faces in his mind, only to shake his head helplessly, unable to settle on anyone.

At the same moment, Fang Yujia considered the same possibility, her heart suddenly skipping a beat. Could it have been her young uncle? The thought made her breath quicken, her chest heaving.

Xiao Fusheng could never have connected this murder to Xiao Cheng, for in his eyes, Xiao Cheng was merely an inept black sheep, incapable of killing Xiao Guowei.

But Fang Yujia found the connection easily, for Xiao Cheng had told her, “Don’t worry about the company affairs. Leave everything to me.” She had no clear sense of their respective strengths, only knowing that neither was ordinary, and so Xiao Cheng was the first person she thought of.

Recalling her young uncle’s nonchalant yet resolute expression that night, and noticing his recent odd behavior, her suspicions deepened. Was Xiao Guowei’s killer truly her young uncle?

“Yujia, what’s wrong?” Xiao Fusheng noticed her changes and was puzzled.

“Nothing, just feeling sad seeing fourth uncle like this.” Fang Yujia hurried to explain, for she could never let Xiao Fusheng know her suspicions.

—

[Apologies for the late chapter—some matters delayed me, truly sorry!]

Thank you for visiting and reading. The latest, fastest, and hottest serialized works are all here! Mobile users, please visit m.reading.