Inside the dilapidated temple, the sound of rustling lasted for a long time before finally stopping.

Honghong burped, a satisfied expression appearing on her face.

So this was what having friends was like—they were absolutely delicious. Their skin was delicate, their meat tender, far better than candied haws. But the best part? The soft, succulent organs, the most exquisite delicacy in the world...

Staring at the stripped-clean skeleton before her, she pouted unhappily. It had been devoured too quickly.

What a shame. If not for her parents constantly warning her to keep a low profile, she would have indulged more. After all, there were friends everywhere.

Honghong was a clever girl. She always remembered her parents’ teachings, so she only ate the small ones and took great care to hide her tracks, ensuring no one would discover her.

After finishing her meal, she pulled her black robe over her small frame once more and stepped out of the ruined temple.

Time to find her next friend.

……

The old beggar was in high spirits today. Just before noon, a handsome young man had generously given him two silver ingots.

Two whole ingots! Enough for him and his grandson to live comfortably for months.

He had wanted to kneel and bow in gratitude, but the young master had simply waved it off and left. It all felt like a dream—such kindness truly existed in this world?

The old beggar sighed.

Once the benefactor left, he carefully tucked the silver ingots into his pocket.

He knew better than to flaunt wealth, especially in Changqing County, where beggars were many and jealous eyes lurked everywhere.

Who knew if someone might try to rob him?

Time to head back to the temple and find Gou Wa!

No more plain steamed buns today. He would take his grandson to a proper restaurant for a good meal!

…No, wait. That would be too extravagant. Better to settle for two bowls of wontons from a street stall. That was still a feast compared to their usual fare.

With these thoughts, the old beggar left the city, eagerly making his way to the ruined temple.

But as soon as he reached the entrance, a thick, nauseating stench of blood filled his nostrils.

The joyful expression on his face vanished instantly. His brows furrowed as he hurried inside.

The temple was empty, but the scent of blood only grew stronger. The old beggar shuffled forward, following the trail until he reached the back of the statue.

There, he saw it.

A bloodstained skeleton lay on the ground.

Boom!

It felt like something had struck the old beggar’s head. His mind went blank, his vision swaying as he nearly lost his footing.

No, no… He mustn’t think like that. This skeleton couldn’t be Gou Wa’s…

Gou Wa had just gone out to find him. This had to be someone else’s remains. It had to be!

He repeated the thought frantically in his mind, but the tears had already begun streaming down his face.

The skeleton was small.

Too small.

And beside it, a tattered linen cloth lay in a heap. The old beggar’s breath caught—those were the clothes he had painstakingly mended, stitch by stitch, with his own hands.

Faced with the brutal reality, the old beggar collapsed to his knees and let out a heart-wrenching wail.

……

The magistrate’s office remained brightly lit through the night.

The atmosphere was suffocating, thick with tension, like the ominous stillness before a storm.

Trembling, Secretary Shang knelt before the grim figure seated behind the desk, his voice shaky as he reported:

"Sir… From yesterday afternoon until now, I have led searches throughout the city, scouring every corner for Chen Zhou… but there is still no trace of him."

Zhao Shuanghe did not respond.

He remained motionless, his eyes shut, his expression unreadable.

After a long silence, Shang swallowed hard and forced himself to continue. "Based on the circumstances, our best option is to wait for reinforcements from Guanghan Palace. They will surely send experts to handle the criminal…"

At these words, Zhao Shuanghe finally moved.

His bloodshot eyes snapped open, fixing a piercing stare on Shang Wenshu.

The sheer weight of that gaze made Shang’s scalp tingle with fear. Just as he thought he might faint, Zhao Shuanghe sighed deeply.

"Lao Shang, you’ve been with me for ten years, haven’t you?"

Wait—wasn’t this the line people used before executing their subordinates?

Shang Wenshu’s body tensed. Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees and pleaded, "Sir, please don’t be angry! We have done everything we can, but the criminal is too elusive!"

"Moreover, he has slaughtered multiple elite warriors in the county, survived being shot in the head with a crossbow, and is practically inhuman! There’s nothing we can do against such a monster!"

"Jing’er’s death is a great loss… I have watched the young master grow since childhood. He was like my own son. Please, take care of your health…"

"Take care of your health?" Zhao Shuanghe sneered, then suddenly exploded in rage. "To hell with your condolences!"

He grabbed the inkstand from his desk and hurled it at Shang’s head.

Smack!

Blood trickled down Shang’s face, but he didn’t dare move. He simply knelt there, trembling.

Zhao Shuanghe’s face twisted in fury. "Stop your empty words! It’s easy for you to say—your son isn’t dead! If I killed your son right now, would you tell yourself to ‘take care of your health’?!"

Shang’s heart nearly stopped.

He knew Zhao Shuanghe’s temperament. This was a man capable of anything.

Most of his son’s twisted personality had been inherited directly from his father.

Panicked, Shang began furiously kowtowing, his forehead striking the ground over and over. "I was wrong! I was wrong! Please forgive me!"

Blood pooled beneath him, but he didn’t stop.

Because he knew—this was the price to pay for his son’s life.

Zhao Shuanghe watched him grovel, eyes cold and detached, as though considering whether or not to follow through with his threat.

Only when Shang’s vision blurred from blood loss did Zhao Shuanghe finally wave a hand dismissively.

"Enough. Get up. Stop making a disgrace of yourself."

"Thank you, sir… Thank you, sir…"

Shang staggered to his feet, clutching his bleeding forehead.

But then, he noticed something—and his heart nearly stopped.

Two figures stood at the study’s entrance.

Not people.

Demons.

Both were draped in identical black robes. The one on the left was built like a fortress, thick with bulging muscles and sleek black fur.

The one on the right was petite, her soft orange fur gleaming under the lantern light, her feline eyes glinting with quiet amusement.

They weren’t just demons.

They were cat demons.

And they had entered the magistrate’s office openly, as if they belonged there.

The male cat demon met Shang’s gaze. Just one look sent a deep chill down his spine.

It was the gaze of a predator.

The gaze of something that saw him as prey.

"Why are you still here? Get out!" Zhao Shuanghe snapped.

Shang Wenshu flinched, then quickly lowered his head and scurried past the demons, not daring to make eye contact.

He only dared to breathe again once he reached the courtyard.

He had just walked out of hell itself.

Zhao Shuanghe… was completely mad.

In his quest for revenge, he had chosen to collude with demons.

Shang shuddered.

What was he supposed to do now?

Just then, a sudden, thunderous sound rang out from the front gate.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Suddenly, a deep, resonant drumbeat echoed from outside, making Shang Wenshu, already on edge, jump in fright.

But he quickly recognized the sound—it was the drum of justice at the yamen’s entrance.

"Who… Who is striking the drum?!" Shang Wenshu demanded as he strode forward.

A yamen runner hurried up to report, but as he approached, his eyes widened at the sight of blood streaming down Shang Wenshu’s forehead. "Sir, your head…"

"Forget about my head!" Shang Wenshu snapped, waving him off impatiently. "Tell me—who’s causing this commotion?"

"It’s a beggar, sir. He says his grandson was murdered!" the runner reported.

"Throw that beggar out!" Shang Wenshu ordered in irritation. "The master just lost his son—does he look like he has time to worry about some beggar’s grandson?!"

Zhao Shuanghe was already losing his mind. If this beggar kept making a scene, not only would his grandson remain dead, but he might end up losing his own life as well!

However, the yamen runner hesitated, his face pale with unease. "Sir… the old beggar didn’t come alone. He brought his grandson’s remains."

Shang Wenshu frowned. "And? Just another corpse—what’s so strange about that?"

The runner swallowed hard. "Sir… only the bones are left. The rest of the flesh has been completely stripped away… picked clean."

A chill crept up Shang Wenshu’s spine.

"Judging by the remains…" The runner’s voice dropped to a fearful whisper. "It looks like the boy was eaten by some kind of monster."

Silence fell between them.

Shang Wenshu’s breath caught in his throat.

Monsters…

His gaze flicked toward the magistrate’s office, where two black-robed figures had just entered moments ago.

Weren’t there already monsters inside the yamen?