Chapter 182: Oh My Great Uncle

Seeing how directly Master Zhang answered, Yin Mao pondered for a moment and felt that what the man said did not seem to be a lie.

"Then, how was your first wife's relationship with the other wives during her lifetime?"

"My third, fourth, and fifth wives only entered the Zhang household after my first wife passed away, so she never had any dealings with them."

At this, Yin Mao had more or less sorted out the relationships involved.

Master Zhang’s late first wife had been dead for sixteen years, and perhaps, due to some reason, had become a powerful malevolent spirit. Because she had borne a grudge against the second wife during her life, she had now returned and cruelly murdered the second wife.

As for why the first wife had appeared outside Master Zhang’s room last night, but did not enter or harm him, Yin Mao had also more or less figured it out. Perhaps it was because of the deep affection between husband and wife; as Master Zhang had just said, they were childhood sweethearts, and for someone she had loved so deeply, how could she bear to harm him?

That was the only explanation. With these thoughts in mind, Yin Mao patted the trembling Master Zhang on the shoulder and said, "Enough. Since you speak the truth, I will do my best to help you resolve the troubles in your household."

Having said this, he let Master Zhang lead him to the tomb of the first wife.

To the west of Turtle County stood a small hill, and halfway up, the trees grew thick and lush. Amidst them was a low wall built of earth bricks, neatly arranged, and covered with moss. Inside the wall, the ground was paved evenly with gravel, and at the edges, moss and a few tiny wild grasses sprouted from the cracks. It was clear the place was occasionally tended, for only a few stray blades of grass grew among the stones.

The scene before them was peculiar, for at the foot and elsewhere on the hill, snow had piled thickly, yet around this grave, none was to be found—a strange sight indeed.

Yin Mao found it odd, but not shocking. Master Zhang, however, who had accompanied him up the hill, was dumbstruck with fear at the sight.

He followed Yin Mao to the gate of the graveyard but did not enter, standing instead at the threshold, terror-stricken.

In the center of the graveyard's clearing stood a small, square tomb mound, half a man's height, built of brick and stone, with a tombstone beside it.

Yin Mao entered alone, hands clasped behind his back, and circled the mound. His eyes, however, were not on the grave but on the tall trees surrounding the cemetery.

Judging by the sun’s path from east to west and the dense trees, sunlight could not possibly reach the cemetery, yet above the grave, the treetops were spaced wide apart, so why had no snow fallen here either?

The absence of snow was odd enough, but as he circled the mound, Yin Mao sensed a faint trace of ghostly energy.

After inspecting the graveyard halfway up the hill, Yin Mao and Master Zhang descended together.

When the two returned to the Zhang residence, a middle-aged man in fine clothes approached them, his face brimming with anger.

"Zhang Zhiming, what exactly happened to my sister and my nephew and niece? If you don’t give me an explanation today, I won’t let you off easily!"

From his words, Yin Mao surmised the man’s identity—he was clearly the younger brother of Master Zhang’s deceased second wife.

"Tianling, please don’t be angry. I am devastated by the sudden loss of Tianxiang and the twins, Huawen and Huajuan."

"Bull! If you’re so heartbroken, why weren’t you by their side? And why have only my sister and her children come to harm while no one else in your family is affected? How do you explain that? Let me make myself clear: if you can’t give me a satisfactory answer today, I’ll use my power to wipe out your entire Zhang household as a blood sacrifice for my poor sister and her children!"

As Master Zhang and his brother-in-law argued, Yin Mao seated himself in the hall, unconcerned, on a wooden chair.

From their conversation, he learned not only that the finely dressed man was Master Zhang’s brother-in-law, but also that he was a military officer of some rank.

"Oh, my good brother-in-law, could you be a little less rash? Give me a chance to explain. If you’re set on venting your anger over your sister’s death on me, then just stab me with your sword and have done with it!"

Master Zhang sighed bitterly and, face full of sorrow, sat down beside Yin Mao.

Hearing his brother-in-law’s lament, the man named Tianling snorted coldly, then strode over, saying, "Fine, I’ll give you time for half an incense stick. If you can’t explain yourself by then, don’t blame me for being merciless."

Relieved that his brother-in-law had relented, Zhang Zhiming rose and helped him to a seat in the hall, and then recounted all that had happened in the household.

When he finished, he let out a long sigh, his eyes clouded as he gazed at some distant point in the hall, murmuring, "Such a sin..."

"Nonsense! Are you saying my sister and her children were killed by a malevolent spirit? And that the spirit that took their lives was your wife who’s been dead sixteen years?"

"That’s the truth, Tianling. If I utter a single falsehood, may heaven strike me down with thunder."

Swearing a deadly oath before his brother-in-law, Master Zhang then looked to Yin Mao, and added, "This is Master Yin, known to all in our county. He can testify to these events. If you don’t believe me, you can check with the magistrate’s office—I reported the deaths there this morning."

Having explained the entire situation, Master Zhang’s face changed, and he bowed his head in grief.

"Master Yin? More like a charlatan, I say! Zhang Zhiming, you killed my sister and now you conspire with outsiders to deceive me? Do you take me for a child?"

With a cold shout, Tianling strode up to Yin Mao and, raising his hand, aimed a slap at his face.

But how could Yin Mao, sitting calmly on his chair, allow himself to be struck so easily? With a single finger, he tapped Tianling’s wrist when the hand was still half a foot from his face. Tianling cried out in pain, stumbling back two steps and falling to the floor.

As for this minor military officer, Yin Mao paid him no heed at all, for in the martial world of Tang, few could match him. Even when he was a bandit in Wolf Howl Mountain, his skills were already formidable. Later, after apprenticing under Zhou Qing and learning the art of Floating Cloud Step, and after ten years of diligent practice, his prowess needed no further proof.