We searched the entire Qingyin Cemetery—every corner, every crooked path—and found absolutely nothing. With no clues and the sky going dark, we had no choice but to head back. The inn was already bright with lanterns; the waiter was running around like a headless chicken and only managed to wave at us from afar.

  Lian and Hua went upstairs to rest.

  Me? My stomach was staging a rebellion.

  So I slipped into the kitchen, hoping luck would bless me with a midnight snack.

  The kitchen door was half-open, pots clinking inside. When I pushed it open, there was no cook by the stove—only an old man in the corner, face folded like a dried walnut, puffing on a pipe while feeding wood into the fire.

  He glanced at me through the smoke and squinted.

  “Well now, kid… your brow’s dark, your eye circles are blue. Looks like something spooky’s been hanging off you.”

  I froze. “Huh?”

  “Scared?” He blew a lazy smoke ring. “Tell me—did you go walking around at night yesterday?”

  My grip slipped; I nearly raised the spatula like a dagger. “Sir… please don’t mess with me. You know something?”

  I rushed over and whispered urgently, “Have you heard of the demon dog? I swear I saw one last night—a yellow dog! It talked! It even led me down a road!”

  The old man raised a brow. “Ah, you mean the Dog Lord of Luoyan City. Aye, that old tale’s been around.”

  He took another drag, eyes going strangely sharp.

  “They say the former Prefect once heard weeping late at night—really miserable stuff. Then the sobbing turned into begging for mercy. Four words clear as day: ‘Dog Lord, spare me.’”

  I leaned forward. “And then?”

  “He put on his robe and went out to see.” The old man tapped his pipe. “And what did he find? A monster—two men tall, yellow fur, dog head, human body, holding a chain. And right in front of him, it chopped off someone’s head.”

  I swallowed. “Whose?”

  “The Prefect’s.” The old man exhaled another smoke ring. “Next morning the Prefect woke with a stiff neck, thought he slept wrong. He even took leave from the government office. But a few days later, he was arrested for corruption and executed.” He drew a line across his throat. “Beheaded and whole estate confiscated.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  I yelped, grabbed a handful of buns, and sprinted out of the kitchen.

  Back in our room, I stuffed buns into my mouth while retelling everything to Lian and Hua.

  “Is that true?” Hua snapped his fan shut, thoughtful.

  “It’s been passed around,” the deputy envoy of West Altar said. “No hard proof, but plenty of people swear to it.”

  “And who’s the current Prefect?” Lian asked.

  “Surname Li. New arrival from the capital. Less than three months in office,” the deputy envoy replied. “We don’t know his temperament yet.”

  My blood ran cold. “So the previous Prefect saw the demon dog, and then—off with his head! We can’t ignore this!”

  “It is suspicious,” Hua admitted. Then he shot me a look. “But why is it always you who encounters these things? Demon dogs, ghost banquets…Are you some kind of supernatural magnet?”

  “Hey! Not my fault!” I protested. “I only went out last night because I was—uh—taking a peaceful walk!”

  I glanced at them. They didn’t even look at me.

  But something in their expressions… wasn’t right.

  My suspicion grew. I slammed the table. “Alright, enough. How much crap are you hiding from me?”

  Lian said nothing. Hua chuckled.

  “Well… this isn’t something we can just say openly.”

  I snorted. “Secrets come in two types: romance or treasures. Throughout history, anything labeled ‘secret’ was either under the bed or buried in a cellar. What else could you possibly show me?”

  My system chimed in:

  【Correction: secret categories also include politics, cult rituals, forbidden—】

  “Shut it,” I muttered.

  Hua tapped me with his fan. “You sure your ancestors didn’t write the Compendium of Scandals?”

  I was about to fire back when Lian finally spoke, voice cool as a winter river.

  “…Since you’ve guessed this much, I’ll share a little.”

  I immediately leaned forward.

  “Have you ever heard of the former master of West Altar—Shangguan Fengliu?”

  “The name already screams trouble,” I said.

  “It is trouble,” Hua added.

  Lian continued, “He loved moonlit nights—always sat under the eaves, playing the zither. One night he heard soft footsteps. He asked, ‘Who’s there?’”

  A woman’s voice answered:

  ‘I live down the mountain. Whenever you play, I listen. Even the yellow dog at home enjoys it.’

  I nodded knowingly. “Classic flirtation.”

  “Don’t interrupt,” Hua warned.

  Lian went on. “The lady claimed she’d snuck out. No one home except her—and the yellow dog, which had gone missing in the night. She begged Shangguan Fengliu to help.”

  “And he believed her,” I said. “Because lust, obviously.”

  “After that, they grew close. Met in secret. Every night she came, and before dawn she left. He feared she might never return, so when she accidentally left a pair of blue felt shoes beside the bed, he locked away one as a keepsake.”

  I paused. “This is going somewhere bad, isn’t it?”

  “He refused to return the shoe,” Lian said. “Ignored her crying. Went back to sleep. Next morning he smelled blood. Followed the trail to the cabinet. Opened it. The shoe… had turned into a pig’s hoof.”

  “WHAT.”

  “The search party followed the blood trail to a home in the village.”

  “Let me guess—pigsty?”

  “Yes,” Lian nodded. “A massive sow lay in the corner, blood fresh, one hind hoof missing.”

  I covered my face. “Unbelievable…”

  “Shangguan Fengliu went mad, shot the pig dead with a single arrow, and afterwards fell into delirium. Eventually he was expelled. No one has seen him since.”

  The deputy envoy nodded vigorously.

  I stared at all of them. “Your West Altar… produces some real champions.”

  Hua closed his fan. “And now you know why we hesitated to tell you. Someone like you might faint.”

  I gulped air. “So… what you’re investigating now… is the pig’s… origins?”