Chapter 1: Dead in the Night Rain

The rain over Jinjiang Wharf fell in thick, relentless sheets, like thousands of fine blades scraping silently across the bluestone. Jiang Wanzhou stood at the bow of the black-canopied boat, watching a pale shape rise from the murky water. Rainwater trickled down from the brim of his dark official hat, drumming a dull rhythm against the ship’s side. The corpse was tethered with rough hemp rope, bobbing helplessly with the current. Its original shape was long since lost to the water; only a streak of rigid, pale flesh remained, glaring starkly against the pitch-black night.

“Magistrate Jiang,” came a voice from behind—Shen Yan’s, calm and measured, though tinged with genuine concern. The overseer of the Lu Clan Accounting Office stood at the stern, the edge of his umbrella hiding half his face. His brow was furrowed, clearly calculating something. “Old rules. Once we check the body, if we can’t figure out who it is, we treat it as a nameless corpse. We hand it off to the City God Temple for burial.”

Jiang Wanzhou didn’t answer. He simply withdrew a short blade from his sleeve. The silver-handled knife was thin as a cicada’s wing, glinting with a cold, pale blue light through the rain curtain. He ignored Shen Yan, his gaze locked onto the corpse. Rain lashed against the dead man’s face, washing away the mud and filth to reveal a twisted, deformed mask of a face.

“Steward Shen,” Jiang Wanzhou spoke up. His voice was sliced up by the rain, fragmented but unyieldingly cold. “You’re precise with your books, I know. But tell me—if an old debt has been sitting uncollected for fifteen years, and someone suddenly shows up today to settle it... would you be relieved, or would you be terrified?”

Shen Yan’s grip on his umbrella handle tightened slightly, his eyes flashing with sudden sharpness before smoothing back into that warm, trustworthy veneer. “You joke, Magistrate. The Lu Clan Accounting Office doesn’t let debts go stale. But this corpse... if you’re right that there’s something suspicious here, you’d better show the official examiner yourself.”

“I don’t trust coroners’ confessions. I only trust what the body tells me.” Jiang Wanzhou said coldly. “If Senior Advisor Nie is still on shore, have him bring the lanterns. This rain is too heavy; I can’t see the embroidery on that cuff.”

On the shore not far away, Nie Yunzhou walked over, lantern in hand. He was the Chengdu Prefecture’s senior coroner. At forty, he was thin and worn, his expression restrained, carrying the chill that comes from a lifetime of working with the dead. He took the fire starter Jiang Wanzhou handed him and lit a windproof iron lantern. The dim yellow light struggled to carve out a small space in the wall of rain.

“Captain Jiang,” Nie Yunzhou crouched down, his fingers gently probing the side of the corpse’s neck, his movements as delicate as handling a piece of fragile porcelain. “The body is stiff. Death must have happened within two hours. The water is too cold; the blood didn’t drain before the current swept it away. This is a body dumped after death, not a drowning.”

“I’ve already looked.” Jiang Wanzhou cut in. His gaze was like burning torches, fixed on the right wrist of the corpse. “The rain is heavy, but the water flows along the fabric’s weave, and it can’t wash away the gold thread underneath. Senior Advisor Nie, you’ve been doing this for twenty years. Have you ever seen this kind of stitching?”

Nie Yunzhou squinted, leaning in to inspect the cuff under the lantern light. The embroidery wasn’t the standard flat stitch used by ordinary craftsmen. It was an extremely fine locking stitch, with hidden loops between the rows of stitches, looking like a chain of tightly interlocked fish scales. He was silent for a moment, his brow knotted, as if flipping through thick volumes of old records in his head.

“It’s a variation of the ‘Swallow’ pattern,” Nie Yunzhou said slowly. His voice was low, but there was a chilling certainty to it. “Fifteen years ago, every high-value shipment Jinghong Escort Agency guarded had this specific marker sewn into the end of the package. If the goods were stolen or damaged, the escort would rip off this corner as proof to seek revenge or claim the ransom.”

A jolt shot through Jiang Wanzhou’s chest, like a cold iron needle had just stabbed him. He hadn’t expected this nameless corpse to carry memories of that blood-soaked debt from fifteen years. Back then, Jinghong Escort Agency vanished overnight. All the escorts disappeared like steam into the mountains outside Chengdu. The government opened cases, but they all went nowhere.

“Chu Hanyi...” Jiang Wanzhou murmured the name, complex emotions flashing in his eyes. “That man was an old acquaintance of mine. Fifteen years ago, he owed me a life. I was the one who saved him. I still owe him. Now, this corpse is the first brick in paying that debt back.”

“Magistrate Jiang,” Nie Yunzhou stood up. Rain ran down the brim of his official hat, soaking his pale face. “This body isn’t just marked. Look at the abdomen. The incision is clean, but there’s a ring of faint blue-purple bruising around the edges. That’s a mark from being cut while alive. The killer took what he wanted, then deliberately sutured the wound before throwing it in the river. He wanted to ensure the victim died without being able to testify, thinking the river would wash away all the clues.”

Jiang Wanzhou didn’t speak. He leaned over and lightly traced his fingers along the corpse’s abdomen. Just as Nie Yunzhou had said, the sutures were extremely fine, almost blending into the skin. If the victim hadn’t suffered severe stress before death, which would cause the blood vessels to constrict, these marks would have been invisible.

“What did he take?” Jiang Wanzhou asked.

“I don’t know,” Nie Yunzhou shook his head, a hint of frustration in his eyes. “The body is waterlogged, and the organs have shifted. I can’t tell which one is missing. But based on the location of the incision, he most likely took something from deep within the abdominal cavity. It could be a keepsake... or it could be... a ledger.”

Just then, a faint splashing broke the quiet of the rainy night. It wasn’t the rain; it was the sharp sound of something slicing through the surface of the water, like a blade cutting through the rain curtain. Jiang Wanzhou’s pupils constricted. Instinctively, he stepped back and thrust his short blade out to block himself.

“Who’s there?”

From the darkness, two black shadows shot out from the reeds upstream like ghosts, lunging straight for the wharf. The rain was too thick to make out human shapes, but that killing intent hit like ice water, sending a shiver down Jiang Wanzhou’s spine.

“Sharp eyes, Captain Jiang.” A raspy voice came from the darkness, sounding like sandpaper scrubbing against wood. “Thanks for finding that ‘brick’ for us.”

Before the words finished, one of the figures leaped out of the reeds, a long sword in hand, swinging in a heavy arc aimed right at Jiang Wanzhou’s face. Jiang Wanzhou didn’t block it head-on. Instead, he leaned back, tapped his toe against the deck for leverage, and slid three feet away. The long sword cut through the air with a piercing shriek, severing one of the mooring ropes behind Jiang Wanzhou.

“Steward Shen, get back!” Jiang Wanzhou barked, flipping his short blade to a reverse grip.

Shen Yan’s face turned pale. He snapped his umbrella open to shield himself and nimbly retreated, ducking under the cover of an empty boat moored nearby. He was a man of the Lu Clan; he knew this situation was lethal, but he also knew Jiang Wanzhou wouldn’t let him get dragged into a life-or-death melee.

The black-clad assassin was relentless, his swordplay vicious, every strike aimed at vital points. Jiang Wanzhou maneuvered on the narrow deck, blades crossing in the rain. Splashing water mixed with mist, blinding them both instantly.

“Senior Advisor Nie, watch the corpse!” Jiang Wanzhou roared. He used his body to shield himself from the frontal attacks, dodging the second slash, but his left arm took a graze. Blood seeped out, staining his sleeve red.

Nie Yunzhou didn’t move. He stood his ground, his eyes fixed on the assassins’ feet and their escape routes. Rain hammered his body, but he didn’t notice. His mind was entirely focused on the connection between the corpse and the assassins’ movements.

One of the assassins looked surprised. Jiang Wanzhou was managing to hold his own despite the terrible conditions and the assassin’s rapid, consecutive sword attacks. A flash of cruelty appeared in the assassin’s eyes. His sword swings grew faster, trying to use brute force to push Jiang Wanzhou back.

But Jiang Wanzhou had already figured out their pattern. He thought to himself: *Fake on the left, real on the right. They want to make me lose my footing and fall into the water.*

Just as the assassin’s third swing was coming down, Jiang Wanzhou stopped defending. Instead, he charged straight into the blade. His body grazed the edge of the sword, but his right hand didn’t swing. Instead, he lashed out and clamped firmly onto the assassin’s wrist that was holding the sword.

*Snap!*

A crisp sound, like a dry branch breaking. The assassin flinched in pain, his long sword slipping from his grasp. Jiang Wanzhou followed up with a brutal elbow strike to the man’s chest bone, pinning him to the ship’s side.

The other assassin was shocked, turning to run. But just as he planted his foot, his ankle felt a sudden tightness, and he was yanked violently backward.

“You thought you could escape from here?” Jiang Wanzhou stood at the bow, holding not a blade, but a thick, wet mooring rope.

During the scuffle, Jiang Wanzhou hadn’t lost his balance completely. Using his sliding maneuver, he had expertly looped the severed mooring rope in an arc, snagging the other assassin’s ankle with precision. This was a skill Jiang Wanzhou had honed during his patrols at the wharf; he had an incredible intuition for the feel and tension of ropes.

The assassin tried to break free, but Jiang Wanzhou yanked hard. Using his own weight and leverage, he dragged the assassin into the water. Splashes flew. The man sank beneath the waves and never resurfaced.

The rain began to ease. Jiang Wanzhou shook the water off his arm and walked up to the assassin pinned against the ship’s side. He pressed the tip of his short blade against the man’s throat, the tip trembling slightly, still covered in wet blood.

“Who was pulling the strings behind Jinghong Escort fifteen years ago?” Jiang Wanzhou’s voice was as cold as the winter waters of Jinjiang.

The assassin let out a bitter laugh, his throat bobbing. “You’re asking the wrong people. We’re just nails on the ‘Boat.’ That Half Bronze Seal is the key. You think you took the key? No. You just picked up some trash someone else threw away.”

Jiang Wanzhou’s gaze sharpened. “The Seal?”

“Go check. Look inside that corpse’s stomach. See if the other half is still hiding in there.” With that, the assassin closed his eyes and stopped struggling.

Jiang Wanzhou released his grip. The tip of his blade rested on the assassin’s carotid artery, but he didn’t push. He turned to look at Nie Yunzhou on the shore.

“Senior Advisor Nie. Autopsy.”

Nie Yunzhou nodded and walked to the corpse. He took out the small silver knife he always carried, his movements brisk and professional. As the blade slit open the abdomen, a wave of stale, decayed stench mixed with the smell of blood hit them.

Deep in the abdominal cavity, Nie Yunzhou’s hand closed around a hard object. He carefully extracted it and placed it in the palm of his hand.

It was a black iron shard, not copper.

Jiang Wanzhou stepped closer, taking the shard and examining it carefully under the lantern light. It had complex patterns engraved on it, with a concave circular hole in the center. It certainly looked like the impression of a boat’s seal, but the material was cast iron, not the copper he remembered.

“This isn’t the Bronze Boat Seal,” Jiang Wanzhou frowned, his brow knotting up. “It’s a fake. Or... it’s bait. The real Bronze Boat Seal should have been stolen fifteen years ago. Why is this in a nameless corpse today?”

Nie Yunzhou inspected the edge of the iron shard and found a very fine scratch, as if a sharp tool had forcibly pried it open.

“Magistrate Jiang, look at this mark.” Nie Yunzhou pointed to the edge of the shard. “If it had just been cast, it wouldn’t have this kind of stress mark. This means the iron piece has been used, even damaged. The killer deliberately sewed it into the corpse to mislead us. They wanted us to think we’d found important evidence, so we’d let our guard down.”

A chill rose in Jiang Wanzhou’s heart. This wasn’t just a simple silencing. It was a carefully planned decoy. Someone had deliberately arranged for him to examine the body here, to see the marks, even to fight the assassins. It was all to confirm if he still held the key to certain clues.

“Chu Hanyi...” Jiang Wanzhou whispered the name, his eyes growing deep. “If you’re really looking for your missing family, then this fake iron piece might be the guide to your next move. They want you to go somewhere, but it’s not the wharf. It’s...”

He didn’t finish the sentence. Suddenly, a long, solemn toll rang out from the distance across the river. The sound was low and desolate, piercing through the rain and echoing along both banks of Jinjiang.

“It’s the evening bell from South Zen Temple,” Nie Yunzhou said. “But South Zen Temple burned down years ago. Why is it ringing today?”

Jiang Wanzhou didn’t answer. He simply tucked the fake iron piece into his robe, his gaze passing through the rain curtain toward the faintly visible isolated island in the middle of the river. It had been silent and empty, but now a faint red glow emanated from it, like an eye opening in hell.

“Steward Shen,” Jiang Wanzhou finally spoke, his voice returning to its usual calm. “Check the entry and exit records for the abandoned docks in the south of the city for the last three months. I want to know who pushed that boat into the river’s center before this rainy night.”

Why did the Bronze Boat Seal appear in today’s corpse? If it was just bait, where was the real truth hidden? And who had personally buried it at the bottom of this cold river?