Chapter 271: Mass Grave

Chapter 271: The Mass Grave

"Pah! Drag him away, bad luck!" The guard captain spat on the man, then kicked him in disgust, as if kicking a dead dog.

Two guards stepped forward, each grabbing one of the man's legs, and roughly dragged him toward the ravine. The man's head kept hitting the gravel, with a sickening thud, leaving a bloody trail behind.

Cheng Ge's eyes narrowed. He signaled, and the three of them, hidden by the night and the underbrush, silently followed.

As they approached, a nauseating stench of decay hit them—the sickly sweet stench of rotting flesh.

In the huge pit, dozens of bodies lay piled haphazardly. Some had rotted to the bone, while others looked recently deceased.

Swearing under their breath, the guards threw a few shovelfuls of dirt over him, and then quickly left, holding their noses.

Once sure the guards were gone, Cheng Ge hissed, "Quick!"

Wufeng and Jiyue immediately stepped forward, digging through the loose dirt with their bare hands. Cheng Ge crouched down, holding his breath against the stench as he helped clear the soil.

Beneath the dirt, the man's blood-smeared face gradually emerged. His lips trembled slightly, as if he was trying to speak.

Cheng Ge quickly took out a waterskin and carefully dripped a few drops of water onto his lips.

When the cool water touched his cracked, parched lips, the injured man let out a groan that was almost a whimper.

His previously vacant pupils focused slightly, and his survival instinct drove him to swallow greedily. Clear water, mixed with traces of blood, dripped from the corners of his mouth.

"We must find a doctor as soon as possible," Cheng Ge decided on the spot, his voice low but brooking no refusal. "Wufeng, carry him on your back. Jiyue, keep watch. We'll take the small paths."

Wufeng crouched down steadily, carefully lifting the injured man onto his back, avoiding the hideous wounds on his back.

The three quickly disappeared into the forest. The sound of broken twigs under their feet was especially clear in the silence.

But before they had gone far, Cheng Ge suddenly stopped, his brows furrowed.

"Young Master?" Jiyue looked back in confusion, his hand always resting on the short blade at his waist.

Cheng Ge looked toward the direction of the mass grave. After a moment of thought, he turned to Wufeng and said, "Wufeng, take him to the bamboo grove ahead and wait there. Stay hidden. We'll be back shortly."

With that, Cheng Ge and Jiyue turned back to the mass grave.

The closer they got to the pit, the stronger the sickly sweet stench of decay became, almost solid, clinging stubbornly to the nasal passages.

Cheng Ge forced down the nausea churning in his stomach as he and Jiyue quickly refilled the dirt they had just dug out.

The moonlight was as pale as frost, and skeletal remains lay twisted and piled on top of each other.

A few fresher corpses were already bloated and rotting, with white maggots writhing in the pale flesh.

A night breeze passed, bringing the rustling sound of dead leaves, and a few wolf howls came from deep in the mountains.

Cheng Ge's face turned green. He turned away abruptly, dry-heaving, but only managed to spit out some bile.

He took a deep breath, straightened his disheveled robes, and solemnly kowtowed three times toward the nameless souls.

Then, he resolutely turned around, his robes fluttering in the wind as he and Jiyue quickly disappeared into the thick night.

Half an hour later, outside a crude medical clinic in the west of Weixian County.

The moon was veiled by thin clouds, and the entire street was deep in sleep.

......

"Thump, thump, thump—" An urgent knocking abruptly broke the silence, startling a cat resting under the eaves.

Hushed footsteps came from inside the courtyard, followed by a hoarse voice thick with sleepiness and caution: "Who is it? In the middle of the night..."

Outside the door, Cheng Ge covered his stomach, his voice weak and pained: "Doctor, please be kind. I've eaten something bad, and the pain is twisting me up. I beg some medicine..."

The old doctor, not suspecting anything, muttered "At this late hour" and tremblingly slid open the door bolt.

As soon as the wooden door cracked open, three figures shot in like lightning!

Doctor: "!!!"

"You...!" The old doctor was terrified, his soul almost fleeing his body. Before he could cry out, his mouth was firmly covered by Wufeng's calloused hand. He was lifted up with ease and carried straight into the inner room.

"Mmph! Mmph!" The old doctor trembled all over, his white beard quivering, his murky eyes filled with terror.

Cheng Ge immediately lit the oil lamp on the table. The flickering flames illuminated his sincere face.

"Old sir, please do not be afraid. We are not bandits. There is an injured man at death's door. We had no choice but to resort to this. We implore you to save him."

As he spoke, he signaled Wufeng to gently lay the injured man on the examination bed.

Under the lamplight, the horrific condition of the injured man made the old doctor gasp.

The man was covered in blood, with multiple fractures, his breath as faint as a gossamer thread. It was obvious that he had been tortured.

"H-How did this happen?" the old doctor asked in a trembling voice, the sound leaking through his fingers.

Cheng Ge placed a heavy silver ingot on the table: "Please save him first. This matter concerns many lives. I beg you to keep it secret."

Seeing the pitiful state of the injured man and Cheng Ge's sincere attitude, the old doctor calmed down.

Wufeng slowly released his hand. The old doctor took a few deep breaths and finally nodded.

"Quick, help me prepare hot water, scissors, and clean cloth. Bring my medicine box—yes, the camphorwood box in the corner."

The inner room soon became busy. The old doctor skillfully cut open the injured man's torn clothes, revealing the lacerated wounds underneath.

When he saw the overlapping old and new whip marks on the man's back, his hand hesitated for a moment, a complex expression flashing in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Cheng Ge stood by the window, using his fingertip to lift a corner of the curtain, warily watching the empty street outside.

The night was deep, and a few dog barks could be heard in the distance.

...

Now, ever since Censor Cheng from the capital attended the poetry gathering, it was as if he had sunk like a stone into the sea. He had not appeared in public again.

This silence stirred undercurrents in the Weixian officialdom. Everyone was speculating about Lord Censor's intentions.

He had accepted the "gift," so he should at least make some gesture. Why was he not even leaving his door now?

Several groups of officials had come with generous gifts to probe, only to be politely turned away at the gate of the Censorate.

"Forgive me, my lords. Our lord caught a chill at the poetry gathering and is gravely ill. It is truly inconvenient to receive guests."

The doorman's excuses were watertight, leaving the probing officials to return disgruntled.

One afternoon, Zhao Yuanliang's sedan chair stopped at the gate of the Censorate. Holding a gift box, he walked toward the main entrance with an expression of deep concern.

"Lord Zhao, please stop," the doorman hurried forward to block him. "My master has not yet recovered from his illness and is still not receiving guests today."

Zhao Yuanliang's smile was warm, but his tone brooked no refusal: "I have heard that Lord Cheng is seriously ill, so I have specially sought out a fine wild ginseng root.

As fellow Imperial Officials, we should look out for one another. I'll just go in for a brief visit to put Lord Cheng's mind at ease and absolutely will not disturb him."

With these words, he ignored the doorman's attempts to stop him and strode straight into the courtyard.

The doorman could only watch helplessly as Zhao barged into the Censorate.