In the dimly lit, barracks-like room arranged in a herringbone pattern, Chen Ji stood calmly beside the bed. Holding an oil residue lamp, he bent over to observe, only to find that blood tears were flowing from everyone's eyes.
The blood tears were not running down the tear ducts, but instead flowing to the sides, over the Taiyang acupoints to the temples, indicating that these people had died lying in their beds, during sleep.
Chen Ji raised the oil residue lamp in his hand and looked up at the roof beams.
No one was hiding there, and the assassin could not be found.
The sudden footsteps in the corridor had come and vanished abruptly, as if a wronged soul was trapped in this inn, having killed dozens of people.
The maids and servants of the Chen family, a total of thirty-four people from the two barracks-like rooms, had been overjoyed at the prospect of going to the Imperial Capital just over ten days ago, yet today they met their mysterious end in Guyuan.
