Investigation(2)

  The scent of dried herbs thickened the air as Guanglin stepped into the warehouse behind Xia Ling. Bundles of herbs, medicinal plants, animal parts that are medicinal hung from rafters in neat rows, each marked with dyed threads, paper tags, or carved sigils. Small glass jars glinted under the dim lantern light, and shelves with dried roots, powders, crushed bark, and rolled leaves.

  "Most of these are categorized by region, they are found in." Xia said, leading him toward the rear. "Here—this rack is what we gathered from the Cliff-side pond." She pulled out a small wooden tray and set it down. The aroma changed subtly: damp soil, a hint of mineral, soft musk.

  She pointed to a bundle of pale green stalks. "Carp-Dwelling herb. A natural dilutor—good for extending potency in tonics or weakening strong infusions."

  Next, she picked up a sliver of dark wood. "Bark of Vera. It doesn’t just store well—it enhances the shelf life of mixtures and can draw out moisture from wounds."

  Then her fingers brushed over a swatch of moss pressed into parchment. "Moss of Xirin. We use it as bandaging—mildly healing and anti-inflammatory. Not strong, but good in emergencies."

  She went on to explain a few other herbs found along the riverbanks, including Frog-root—a detoxifier that was mildly numbing—and Sun-nib leaves, used to treat light fevers. As Xia moved from one rack to another, Guanglin followed closely behind her, observing keenly as she showed him more. As Xia continued on to the next rack, Guanglin’s gaze caught on a cluster of Yellow Clover tucked among the bundles. He lingered, suspicion stirring within him. Leaning closer, nostrils flaring, he inhaled deeply. The peculiar scent from earlier teased him, familiar yet subtly marred, as if some hidden strand of something else wove itself through the known, unseen and elusive, altering the whole——as though a lone wild herb, unseen, had bent the entire brew toward another fate.

  He furrowed his brow. "These smell close... but it’s not exact. There’s something else in that smell, than." and said,

  Xia, noticing Guanglin observing The Yellow Clover's, she came near," These do smell peculiar, arcid and bitter. Well, the fish loves it, we mainly use it for Repelling, insects when mixed with Frog root and Carp dwelling plant, they do smell deeply pungent." and said," We should have some left, from the previous batch, wait a minute." Xia dashed of to the side of the rack, where the Jars are kept. And, brought a greenish color Jar. And, presented it too Guanglin.

  Guanglin, opened the Jar, took the smell.

  "Was it this?" Xia inquired.

  Guanglin, shakes his head, "No, it wasn't." as, he again takes a whiff of the mixture to make sure.

  Xia tapped her chin thoughtfully. "We sometimes gather from the outer banks, where the runoff from the mountain streams collects. It’s wilder there. Unpredictable. Maybe the scent you remember came from something from there."

  Guanglin nodded slowly, storing the thought away. "Could it be something rare or maybe even not from this region?"

  Xia tilted her head. "Possibly. We do get some exotic herbs from traders. My father used to barter with peddlers from the southern routes. I’ll check the older records."

  Before Guanglin could reply, a voice echoed from outside. "Xia! Guanglin!"

  Xia moved to the door. "We’re in the warehouse!"

  Moments later, a young boy passed by, waving, but not stopping. Just after him came a breathless Yan Shun, jogging in with a sheen of sweat on his brow. He gave them a short nod. "News! Half of Zhang’s lackeys were with him when he left I think. As Not one of them is in their home. When I asked, the rest. They informed that they went out with one of the vagabonds—Cao Feiyu."

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  Guanglin’s expression darkened. "Has anyone seen Cao in the village?"

  Yan shook his head. "No sightings since morning."

  The three fell into a tense silence.

  Xia folded her arms. "Could they have been attacked?"

  "Or lost in the woods," Yan offered. "Maybe they went training and overestimated themselves."

  Guanglin’s voice was flat. "Or maybe it was sabotage gone wrong. Zhang wouldn’t be above trying to disrupt the competition."

  "Still," Xia murmured, "Why would Cao Feiyu get involved? Specially some one like Zhang, he isn't that talented."

  Guanglin didn’t voice the darker thought gnawing at the edge of his mind. Unless he’s not just a vagabond. Demonic cultivator. Schemer. Maybe Something else entirely. But he said nothing.

  He straightened. "Let’s not jump to conclusions. Whatever it is. Be on your guard. If anything feels strange—anything—run. Don’t try to be heroes."

  He looked at Xia. "That means you too. No brave acts."

  Xia smirked faintly. "I’ll scream like a banshee if it helps."

  Guanglin turned to Yan, his tone calm but firm. "Don’t go poking around on your own. I know you're curious, but this isn't the time to chase shadows. We regroup tomorrow and check things together, carefully. No lone ventures—understood?"

  They exchanged quick nods before parting ways. As the others left, Guanglin made his way to the village headman’s house. He spoke in low tones, requesting that a couple of the village watch quietly keep an eye near Xia’s home, and another pair sweep the surrounding woods. Given that Xia’s family had long served as one of the village’s trusted apothecaries, it seemed wise to be cautious should the situation escalate.

  Only when the arrangements were complete did he head home.

  His older brother Jiehao greeted Guanglin from the courtyard, seated on the porch with a sickle in hand, its curved edge glinting faintly as he ran a whetstone along its edge with slow, deliberate strokes.

  "Heard you carried the brat on your back," Jiehao said, not looking up. There was a sharpness to his tone—more than just surprise, though not quite anger either. He set down the sickle for a moment, meeting Guanglin’s gaze. "You know what kind of person Zhang is. Always throwing his weight around, acting like the village owes him respect. I just don’t want you sticking your neck out for someone like that."

  Guanglin nodded slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don’t like him either. But leaving him there didn’t sit right. He wasn’t found in the woods, Jiehao—he made a run for it and collapsed near the village outskirts. That alone means something spooked him bad enough to flee. And besides... I need to know what really happened. If there’s danger creeping toward the village, we should know before it’s too late."

  Jiehao sighed and shook his head. "I hear it from folks around the village talking. They say Zhang was seen with a vagabond. No one’s sure. Some say the vagabond’s been hanging near the selection grounds, watching people."

  Guanglin grunted. "Or something worse."

  Their mother’s voice rang out from the doorway. "Dinner’s ready. Wash up, both of you."

  Inside, as the family gathered around the low table, Meiyun, their mother, served the last of the stew with a worried glance toward her sons. "What’s going on with that Zhang boy? Half the village’s talking about it."

  Mierong, their younger sister, peered curiously at Guanglin. "Is he really hurt bad?"

  Guanglin forced a small smile and shrugged, keeping his tone casual. "He bit off more than he could chew, that’s all. Probably tried showing off and got lost. Nothing serious."

  Jiehao didn’t seem convinced, his gaze flickering briefly toward his brother, but he stayed quiet. Mierong, satisfied enough with the answer, turned her attention to her bowl.

  The conversation drifted then, lighter and more mundane—remarks about the weather, Mierong’s misadventure with a goose earlier in the day, and the chatter of the village preparing for the upcoming festival. Meiyun mentioned how she and Xianglan were planning to set up a stall during the event, selling some of Guanglin’s old wooden crafts from the workshop and fresh produce from their farm. Mierong perked up at the thought of helping, while Jiehao mused aloud about how the family might finally get rid of the dusty stack of carving boards cluttering the shed. The warmth of food and flickering lanterns pushed back the tension—for now, weaving the family briefly into the comfort of ordinary life amidst uncertainty.

  Their father, Zhieqiang, set down his bowl with a sigh, eyes narrowing as he rubbed his calloused fingers together. "Cattle’s are going missing. Pasture's in the south—west of it lies the forest. Not the first time either. Tracks are a mess—could be a wildcat, or something nastier stirring in the dark. Might be nothing—but I don’t like the feel of it. Normally, I wouldn’t have thought much of it—animals straying wasn’t unheard of near the forest's edge. But after what happened with Zhang earlier, unease gnawed at my chest. So, be careful these days."

  Guanglin’s brows drew together.

  Jiehao gave a slow nod. "Could be coincidence. Could be something stirring."

  Guanglin didn’t answer. He just took a long breath, eyes distant.

  Tomorrow would bring answers—or more questions.

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