This strand of long hair clearly did not belong to Yue Wugou.
He wore his hair in a high topknot, secured with a jade crown, the ends sharp as if cut by a blade, the roots neatly aligned like fish scales—not a single strand out of place. If one fell, it would leave a noticeable gap.
As Li Zhaoye would say, this was the kind of hairstyle that "once tied, stays untouched for twenty years—typical old man fashion."
Moreover, Yue Wugou’s hair was as stiff as hardened ink, while the strand the fair-faced youth had found on him was fine, soft, and deep brown.
Yue Wugou frowned. "I know nothing of this."
The fair-faced youth clicked his tongue silently. "Now that’s just no fun, my fair-faced brother."
The hair was lodged in a rather telling—and untelling—spot. It was deeply embedded in the folds of his robe near his lower abdomen, partly pressed beneath the jade buckle of his waist sash.
It was all too easy to imagine a woman nuzzling her head against Yue Wugou’s stomach.
What had happened here?
One of the elders instinctively glanced at the corpse on the bed.
The victim’s face was twisted, frozen in a final scream of agony, her jaw nearly dislocated.
"We haven’t examined this yet," the elder said, stepping forward. He pulled out a transparent needle-like artifact and carefully probed the corpse’s gaping mouth, inspecting the lips, tongue, teeth, and throat.
Yue Wugou’s brow furrowed slightly as he glanced at Yue Ranchen.
A moment later, the needle glowed faintly, and the elder exhaled in quiet relief. "No traces of a man’s presence inside."
Yue Ranchen cast a flippant look at the sheet-covered lower half of the corpse. "And ‘down there’?"
The elder shook his head. "Same as last night’s victim. It appears to be assault, but no evidence of a man’s touch. The mess below was made by a blade."
Just hearing it sent a chill down the spine.
The knife was still embedded in the corpse’s chest—an ordinary fish-cleaning knife, single-edged and short. The handle was slick with blood, smeared with chaotic fingerprints—all the victim’s own.
Yue Ranchen grinned. "Then I’ve got it! These women must’ve been infatuated with my brother, the heartless saint. When they failed to climb into his bed, they flew into a rage and stabbed themselves!"
At these words, the old man slumped nearby nearly burst with fury, clenching his fists as if ready to charge.
But he slipped on his daughter’s blood, his coarse cloth shoes skidding, and with a sharp squeak, he toppled face-first toward the ground.
Master Lingxue remained expressionless, flicking a thread of spiritual energy from his sleeve to steady the old man—and then sent him straight toward Yue Ranchen.
The old man swung his arm and—smack!—landed a resounding slap across Yue Ranchen’s face, sending him stumbling back into a copper stool.
"Hey—!" True Lord Pangyue was too late to stop it. Seeing the deed done, he could only scold his younger son sternly. "One more reckless word, and even I won’t spare you!"
Yue Ranchen braced himself against the table behind him, spat out a mouthful of blood, and wiped his lips. His snake-like gaze fixed on the old man as he smirked. "Fine, fine. I’ll remember this."
Yue Wugou stepped forward to steady him.
Lowering his eyes, he asked coolly, "Where were you earlier?"
Yue Ranchen glared. "I was with Miss Gu Meng—what of it?"
Yue Wugou’s frown deepened slightly. "Nothing."
True Lord Pangyue nearly laughed in frustration. "You’re worrying about your brother now? What about yourself? Explain—where were you when the murder happened?"
Yue Wugou repeated, "Resting by the window."
True Lord Pangyue fumed. "A woman died screaming in your bed, and you claim you noticed nothing?"
Yue Wugou nodded. "I noticed nothing."
His father clutched his chest in exasperation.
With that settled, Yue Wugou turned to the fair-faced youth, who was studying the strand of hair against the light. "May I ask your name?"
The youth tilted his half-lifeless face. "Li Zhaoye."
Hearing the name, Master Lingxue’s eye twitched, and he shot Luo Luo a disapproving look.
Luo Luo: "...Oh ho ho ho."
"Li Zhaoye," Yue Wugou said. "Have you found anything?"
The fair-faced youth gasped in mock horror. "Why’s the murderer fishing for clues?"
He spun around, shielding the hair from Yue Wugou’s view.
Yue Wugou: "..."
Luo Luo circled to the other side of the bed, plucked a strand from the corpse’s head, and joined Li Zhaoye by the window to compare the two.
"Lustrous, elastic, well-nourished, meticulously cared for," Li Zhaoye remarked—this was the strand from Yue Wugou.
"Dry, scaly, malnourished," Luo Luo noted—this was the victim’s.
They exchanged a glance.
"Not the same person."
Luo Luo took the strand from him and sniffed lightly. "A hint of gardenia."
So the hair on Yue Wugou belonged to a pampered woman who wore gardenia fragrance. Not the victim.
Who was she?
Could she be… the next victim?
Luo Luo called over the pair of junior sect brothers. "Did your little sister smell of gardenias?"
The two exchanged awkward glances. One muttered, "How would I know? Who gets close enough to sniff their shimei?"
The other hastily waved his hands. "Yeah, decent people don’t do that!"
Luo Luo: "..."
She tried not to blush, but her ears burned furiously.
Li Zhaoye had once lifted her hair to sniff it, utterly shameless, and even ordered her, "What do you wash your hair with? Get me some."
Baffled, she replied, "Just the sect’s soap pods. You have them too."
He sniffed her again. "Doesn’t smell the same."
Frustrated, she dragged him to the small waterfall behind Liuguang Pavilion to show him her soap. "See? It’s the same."
"Let’s test it," he said, swiping her soap without a second thought.
Back then, she’d genuinely worried he thought she was hoarding better supplies.
Now she knew better.
Li Zhaoye was just a dog.
He’d exposed himself on the massive jade bed in the divine palace—leaning in to sniff her and muttering something obscene!
"What’s this scent on you? Makes me want to—"
Luo Luo’s ears burned hotter. She swore smoke was rising from her scalp.
Damn it.
She mentally blasted a song, loud and off-key.
The fair-faced youth sidled up, eyeing her like she’d grown a second head. "Stop singing."
First, she used to cry in her head nonstop. Now it was singing.
Couldn’t she just be normal?
Luo Luo took a deep breath, ignoring him, and turned back to business. "Yue Wugou, where are the two people you detained last night?"
Those two had been unlucky—merely speaking the truth at the first crime scene before getting swept up in this mess.
Luo Luo hadn’t expected much, but Yue Wugou’s reaction was telling. His expression tightened, and he averted his gaze, voice strained. "They’ve been sent away."
The shift was too obvious.
"Did you kill them?" Luo Luo pressed.
"No." A vein pulsed at Yue Wugou’s temple beneath the moon-white headband.
Luo Luo hurried to Master Lingxue's side and loudly reported, "Sect Leader Uncle, after last night's murder, someone publicly questioned Yue Wugou and was taken away by him—their fate remains unknown!"
Master Lingxue glared, while True Lord Pangyue's face turned ashen. Stomping his foot, he exclaimed, "My dear son! What is the meaning of this?!"
Being a hands-off sect leader for too long had its drawbacks—his son deemed certain matters unnecessary to share, leaving him completely in the dark.
Yue Wugou replied calmly, "Father, the person has indeed been sent away from Jianmu."
"Sent where?"
Yue Wugou pressed his thin lips together, unwilling to answer.
"Speak! If you won't say it—" True Lord Pangyue rolled up his sleeves. "Fine! Bring over the two most capable subordinates of the Young Sect Leader. We'll interrogate them under—"
Yue Wugou cut him off. "Southeast. No more than a hundred li away."
A Nascent Soul cultivator at full speed soon caught up with the group.
As they landed, Luo Luo felt slightly dazed.
Master Lingxue and Qing Xu shared the same master, and being teleported by her suddenly reminded Luo Luo of her own teacher.
It had been a long time since she had actively thought of that person.
Shaking off the thought, she focused ahead.
The group was carrying a coffin.
Master Lingxue erupted in fury. "How dare you claim no one was harmed?!"
True Lord Pangyue sucked in sharp breaths one after another, clearly distressed beyond measure.
Yue Wugou was his life's greatest hope!
He raised a plump finger, pointing shakily. "Stop… stop them. Question… question them properly."
Luo Luo, however, immediately spotted the two individuals from last night.
The pair hung their heads, dragging their feet like frost-bitten eggplants—utterly wilted but otherwise unharmed.
If that was the case, why had Yue Wugou been so evasive?
Moments later, a composed young cultivator stepped forward and addressed True Lord Pangyue's group. "We are from Qinglin Sect. The deceased in the coffin is our shimu (master's wife). We are returning her to our sect for burial."
"Qinglin Sect…?" True Lord Pangyue gasped. "Isn’t that our in-laws?!"
Yue Wugou’s late wife had been the only daughter of Qinglin Sect’s leader and his wife.
So they were from Qinglin Sect.
Qinglin Sect was a minor, low-ranking sect—this marriage had been a mismatch from the start, but Yue Wugou had insisted on it.
The Qinglin Sect, however, had pride. After the wedding, they barely interacted with their wealthy in-laws and never accepted any resources from their son-in-law.
True Lord Pangyue discreetly scanned the coffin with his divine sense and confirmed the corpse was indeed his seldom-seen in-law, dead for about a day.
"This… how could our in-law…?" True Lord Pangyue lamented. "How could this happen?!"
"Shimu had always been frail," the Qinglin cultivator replied. "After our shimei’s tragic death and our shixiong being falsely accused, stripped of his golden core, and exiled to the Nether Prison, the successive blows worsened her condition. She exhausted her last breath. She had hoped to meet Young Sect Leader Yue to discuss shimei’s past… but alas…"
His voice cracked slightly. "She didn’t make it."
Behind him, two others could no longer suppress their fury and shouted, "Now the whole world knows our shixiong wasn’t the real killer! The murderer is Yue Wugou!"
"Otherwise, why would another woman die in his bed? Yue Wugou is the true wife-killer!"
True Lord Pangyue hastily waved his hands. "The truth is not yet clear, the truth is not yet clear."
The leading cultivator turned to silence his juniors before calmly stating, "Regardless of who the real culprit is, it certainly wasn’t our shixiong. Since he died unjustly, shouldn’t your sect clear his name and restore his honor?"
They knew better than to expect the mighty Heavenly Dao Sect to turn on its own.
That Yue Wugou had "magnanimously" released the two troublemakers was already an act of mercy.
True Lord Pangyue nodded. "Naturally. Once the true culprit is uncovered, we will announce it to the world."
The cultivator gave a bitter smile and bowed. "Then we take our leave. Thank you, Sect Leader and Young Sect Leader, for your leniency in overlooking my juniors’ rash words."
The group lifted the coffin and continued on their way, gradually fading from sight.
"Ah," True Lord Pangyue sighed. "This marriage was good while it lasted. Our daughter-in-law was gentle, and the in-laws were sensible. What a pity."
Master Lingxue asked, "Was there anything unusual about the corpse?"
She had also inspected it.
True Lord Pangyue shook his head. "She truly exhausted her lifespan. Likely took many life-extending medicines—some residual yin and baleful energy in the corpse is normal."
Master Lingxue gave a slight nod.
"Wugou… truly loved his wife," True Lord Pangyue murmured. "That child keeps everything locked inside. He just didn’t want to bring this up."
Anyone could see the deceased shimu hadn’t come to Yue Wugou for a friendly chat.
Had she lived, she likely would have tried to kill him—avenging her daughter and disciple.
True Lord Pangyue sighed deeply. "I swear on my life, my son could never have killed his wife—our Yue clan men are devoted lovers…"
Luo Luo voiced her doubt. "Your younger son doesn’t seem the type."
True Lord Pangyue: "…Except him!"
Master Lingxue added, "Didn’t you take a concubine yourself?"
True Lord Pangyue puffed up in indignation.
These two women were clearly here to torment him!
Lowering his voice, he grumbled, "My first wife has been gone for years. Remarrying isn’t a crime, is it?"
At his age, with no hope of reaching the Dao Union realm, wasn’t it natural to pamper a young, pretty wife and enjoy his twilight years?
The fair-faced man left Yue Wugou’s quarters and strolled leisurely under the sun, idly twirling a strand of long hair between his fingers.
Passing a bronze statue, he lowered his hand—now empty.
A breeze swept by, carrying away a few specks of dust.
The violent, sealed malice beneath devoured the strand, its inky tendrils threading into the wind. In moments, it detected a faint resonance.
Close by.
He arched a brow and strode toward a courtyard on Jianmu’s northern branch.
The door creaked open, revealing a young woman in sheer gauze, flanked by two maids.
The fair-faced man’s gaze sharpened.
Found her—the owner of the hair.
The woman stood on tiptoe, anxiously wringing a handkerchief. "Still no news from my husband? How could a murder happen? How?!"
The maid on her left giggled, patting her arm. "Why fret, madam? If the Young Sect Leader is implicated, wouldn’t that be… favorable for us?"
The right maid coughed warningly. "Mind your words!"
The left one pouted. "I didn’t say much. Madam may be a second wife, but she’s the rightful mistress. Once she bears a son, who knows who’ll rule here someday?"
Neither noticed their mistress was on the verge of fainting from distress.
The fair-faced man smirked. "Tsk."
So the hair belonged to Yue Wugou’s stepmother.
When True Lord Pangyue’s group returned to Jianmu, they were stunned to find an extra person at the crime scene.
There, his new wife collapsed on the floor, covering her face with a handkerchief, weeping as if her heart would break.
True Lord Pangyue felt his entire body go numb. "Ah, my dear wife! What in the world is going on now?"
Luo Luo glanced at the pretty-faced young man leaning against the pillar with his arms crossed. Their eyes met, and understanding passed between them. "Gardenia scent?"
He raised a brow in confirmation.
The gardenia-haired woman had likely frightened herself half to death already. When he dragged her over, she barely needed any further intimidation—she crumbled on her own.
The moment she saw True Lord Pangyue, she flung herself forward, wrapping her arms around his legs in a desperate plea. "Husband, spare me! He forced me! I didn’t consent! He’s my stepson—how could I ever willingly… But he threatened me, coerced me! He said if I dared tell you, he’d slaughter my entire family!"
Her trembling gaze shifted toward Yue Wugou by the window.
In that instant, everyone seemed to hear a thunderous crack—as if lightning had struck True Lord Pangyue’s head.
True Lord Pangyue: "Wh-wh-what? What are you saying?!"
The young wife lifted her tearful eyes to his stunned, disbelieving face and gasped. "Husband… you didn’t know?"
She whipped her head around, glaring at the pretty-faced man by the pillar.
"He… he said… that you already knew about me and Yue Wugou…"
The pretty-faced man shrugged innocently. "I just took a wild guess. Who knew you’d be so honest?"
"Ah! My life is over!" The sect master’s wife fainted right onto her husband’s pillow-like feet.
The crowd stood in dazed silence, struggling to process the revelation.
So… when the murder occurred, Yue Wugou wasn’t actually present—he’d been with his… stepmother.
No wonder he refused to talk.
The pretty-faced man, now thoroughly pleased with himself, tilted his head and beckoned Luo Luo over.
"Well?"
His expression was smug, eyes slightly narrowed, chin lifted—every inch of him screaming, "Hurry up and worship me."
Luo Luo nodded.
She gave him a very earnest compliment: "With a nose that sharp, you really are like a dog."
The pretty-faced man: "……???"
