Not long after burning the corpses, Ren Qing; who had finally found some free time was summoned to the Public Trial Hall.
It wasn't because their midnight corpse-moving had been exposed.
The reason was far more pressing: the county magistrate had issued an order mobilizing all Constables, and the entire western district's Yamen Runners were stirred into action.
From what Ren Qing gathered, such a large-scale operation had to be at least somewhat related to the supernatural.
The meeting room inside the Public Trial Hall wasn't spacious. Wooden chairs filled the space, occupied by the Corpse Burner Constables in charge of various blocks across Sanxiang City.
Most were over thirty years old, with many already graying; making Ren Qing, who wasn't even twenty, stand out starkly.
The room was dead silent. Ren Qing sat near the door, taking the chance to observe everyone.
Before long, a clerk walked in, his expression grim.
This clerk, surnamed Zhao, oversaw the western district's Yamen Runners. Outwardly, he looked more like a shrewd merchant than an official.
"Let's keep this brief. You've all heard about the situation in the eastern district's prison, haven't you?"
Ren Qing glanced around. The other Constables' faces darkened; only he was completely in the dark.
Clerk Zhao continued, "It's now a restricted zone. Once the Restraint Officers finish their work, your teams will be responsible for cleaning the prison. Each block must provide five men. Pick the sharpest ones you have."
The Constables agreed reluctantly. Though they weren't taking the risk themselves, losing too many subordinates would erode their authority.
Ren Qing sighed inwardly. The four from Tan Street would undoubtedly be drafted.
Still, his curiosity burned. Why was the prison such a priority for the Yamen? And what exactly was a restricted zone?
Could it involve ghosts or deities…?
"Once inside the prison, ensure not a single patch of skin is exposed. Clean every inch thoroughly; leave not even a speck of debris behind."
Clerk Zhao launched into a lengthy list of precautions. Yet, the Constables listened with utmost seriousness, some even jotting down notes.
The atmosphere grew heavier by the minute.
Ren Qing could see the naked fear in their eyes.
Logically, these men had handled thousands of corpses combined. Why were they so shaken now?
"Go back and prepare. Have the drafted runners settle their affairs."
Clerk Zhao waved his hand dismissively and left the meeting hall.
After his departure, the Constables erupted into loud arguments, nearly coming to blows; their anxiety was palpable.
Ren Qing approached a middle-aged Corpse Burner lingering in a corner and asked, "Pardon me, but what exactly happened in the prison?"
The Corpse Burner froze momentarily before replying, "Oh, no wonder you're clueless; you're from Tan Street..."
"That prison is in the eastern district of the Yamen. They say the prisoners slaughtered each other until none were left alive. But two groups of runners have already gone in these past few days. The eastern district's short on hands, so now it's our turn."
Ren Qing pressed further, "Then what's a restricted zone?"
"When a place sees mass unexplained deaths, it becomes a restricted zone."
The middle-aged Corpse Burner hurried off after that, as did the others.
Ren Qing mulled over the clerk's words. Were those seemingly absurd rules actually warnings?
Upon returning to the Corpse Burners' Hall, he immediately relayed the details to Li Mian and the others.
The Li brothers exchanged uneasy glances. Li Mian gulped and said, "I've heard old-timers in the Yamen say this; entering a restricted zone means nine deaths out of ten..."
Xiao Wu stumbled backward in fright, though the trials of recent days had toughened him somewhat. At least he didn't collapse outright.
Ren Qing rubbed his temples. "We can't avoid this. Better prepare thoroughly to minimize mistakes."
"Right. We'll follow the Runner's lead."
The three had grown to trust Ren Qing, their panic gradually subsiding.
After eating their fill, they covered every inch of their skin as instructed, donning two thick layers of clothing. For extra caution, they even carried short daggers.
Only their eyes remained exposed.
Ren Qing prepared some pig's eyes, wrapped in oiled paper, and swallowed a few preemptively. A steady warmth surged through his body.
As they waited in nervous silence, the sun dipped below the horizon.
A gong rang out from somewhere in the Yamen.
The four stepped out of the courtyard. Ren Qing gave a final reminder: "Stick close to me. If I don't touch something, don't make any unnecessary moves."
"Understood, Runner."
Wordlessly, they followed the gong's sound to an open area in the western district.
A team of over a hundred Yamen Runners stood ready.
Ren Qing noted his own attire wasn't the most extreme; most had armored themselves as if their lives depended on it.
Once assembled, Clerk Zhao seemed to hesitate, but ultimately said nothing. He turned and led the way toward the eastern district.
Constables, they passed along the road stopped and watched, their gazes unreadable.
By the time they reached the prison, the moon hung high.
The prison appeared modest from the outside, but its true scale lay underground; three levels deep, capable of holding over a thousand prisoners.
The path to the prison was cordoned off by guards. A few Restraint Officers in light armor and bamboo hats stood beneath a nearby tree.
Ren Qing's eyes lingered on one of them.
He'd seen this man days earlier while cleaning bloodstains. Back then, the officer had been holding what looked like an old piece of writhing human skin.
At the time, Ren Qing assumed it was related to some cultivation technique. Now, he wondered if it was connected to the prison's horrors.
Clerk Zhao shouted, "Runners, retrieve the corpses of the second-level runners first. Then deal with the rest."
Ren Qing silently reviewed every detail before following the crowd into the prison.
Beyond the iron gates, the air was thick with dampness. Even through two layers of cloth, the stench of rot and blood clung to his nostrils.
The ground level served as quarters for jailers. Aside from drag marks left by corpses, nothing seemed amiss.
But the underground first level was another story.
The walls were coated in a thick layer of congealed blood, strewn with fragments of flesh; a complete hellscape.
The empty cells bore deep claw marks on their wooden bars, testifying to the prisoners' agonized deaths.
Yamen Runners scattered lime to cleanse the area, while Corpse Burners descended further.
Ren Qing noticed Xiao Wu trembling, his breaths ragged. A reassuring pat on the head steadied him.
On the second underground level, most corpses had already been cleared by earlier Corpse Burners. Still, the group combed through meticulously, ensuring nothing was missed.
Near the stairs to the lowest level, they found the dead Corpse Burners.
Their bodies were twisted in strange angles and their clothes shredded while their faces were frozen in terror.
Ren Qing naturally guessed they'd fled from the third level.
What had they encountered down there?
As they carried the corpses away, something darted past the stairwell; a fleeting shadow, no larger than a palm.
Only Ren Qing saw it.
Was that.. a tattered piece of human skin?