Under The Lake

4. In Which Wangji Goes Treasure Hunting

The mushy leaves squelched unsatisfyingly under Wangji's feet as they stuck to his boots.

January was by far the worst month in Wangji's opinion. Everything just seemed to be damp and dreary, and it always brought a faint smell of decay with it no matter where you were.

BiLing Lake shone with a bleak light as a lone red-crested crane flew over the water, gently dipping its beak into the lake as it flew.

The weeping willows bent their branches in the firm wind, as though they had suffered a devastating defeat and hung their heads in shame, their hair covering non-existent faces.

They slowly swayed with a ghostliness about them, as though invisible creatures were climbing up the viridian pinnate-leaved cords that hung down.

Usually, the lake was always a place of peace and sanctuary for Wangji, but today it was filled with eeriness.

He flitted around the lake's edge, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Whether it was due to cold or nerves, he didn't know. Although if he had to take an educated guess, he would assume it was the latter.

Retracing his steps, he came across the scene of the crime. Or at least what he assumed to be the scene of the crime. In all honesty, he had no idea whether this was the same place. He was simply going off his gut feeling at this point.

He rummaged around in the dip, revealing the hard and icy ground with his bare hands.

Under here? No.

Perhaps just underneath this part? No

Maybe if I dig further to the left? No

To the right? Nothing.

Starting to lose hope, Wangji started frantically digging in random places.

He was about to give up when he quickly recoiled his hand in pain. His finger was bleeding a shiny red ink that looked far too vibrant to be natural. What was even stranger was that it started to freeze on the ends of his fingertips before his very eyes, displaying an unusual but pretty sort of pattern that one would associate with snowflakes.

Ah, yes. Mermaids blood. At times, he forgot about his scaly little problem.

Looking down at the ground, his eyes lit up as he caught sight of the very tip of the arrowhead.

Being extra careful this time, he cautiously unearthed the arrow. Despite the fletching being stained a putrid reddish brown, it was in perfect condition.

After taking a proper look at it, his face began to darken in seriousness.

The arrow shaft was wrapped tightly with thin silver wire, which both reinforced it and made it less susceptible to breaking.

The arrowhead looked more deadly up close, it was more like a miniature harpoon than an arrowhead, and its jagged spikes looked too precise to be an accident.

On the crest was a small symbol, neatly carved into it and filled in with what may have been once gold leaf.

Holding it close to his face, he saw that it was a small flame pattern, that looked like a family motif or a sect emblem.

These weren't ordinary arrows, any fool could figure that out.

But arrows like this had to be made exclusively by one person. And judging by the emblem, it was most likely made for one person or a group of people.

There was something bigger going on here. And Wangji wasn't altogether sure if he wanted to get involved.

Staring down, he watched the woodlice scuttle about near his feet.

He hung his head low with the willows.

He was being a coward, he knew that. he seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

He was faced with a choice.

He could throw the arrow in the lake right here and nobody would know, and he could get on with his already difficult life. the woman's secret would be buried, just like the arrow.

But the woman's face, her face marred with fright and anger, would haunt him forever.

sitting up as straight as the arrow he was contemplating to destroy, he steeled his nerves.

He was a Lan and Lans were not cowards. moreover, he was a cultivator. it was his duty and responsibility to find the woman's killer or killers. Regardless of personal reasons.

Ah, there's probably going to be more than one person, he thought as he hopped on his sword and headed for Caiyi town.

He stiffly glided through Caiyi Town with an air of indifference. To most people, it looked as though he was on a routine patrol with no particular destination in mind.

But in actuality, this was far from the truth. Nobody seemed to notice the way he ever so subtly lingered outside the blacksmith's shop and peered at the collections of arrows, scrutinizing every detail.

Or how his eyes darted towards every person who walked in and out, observing them with the diligence of a hawk.

But after an hour, his efforts seemed all for nought. there wasn't a single thing that was suspicious. he never thought he'd wish for it, but he was desperate for something to happen.

He was about to give up but paused when a man whom he had never seen before sauntered past him towards the small eatery by the riverside.

He was about fifty, fifty-five with a goatee, and dressed in a burgundy and deep brown hanfu. The sleeves were delicately embroidered with great detail. He wore four layers, each one looked as though it was made of a different type of fabric, each one more expensive than the last, with the outer layer being of the finest satin.

He had his hair in a severely tight topknot that he assumed he used to hide the appearance of forehead wrinkles by stretching his skin to the extremum.

A technique used by his uncle quite often.

The way he sat down on the bench conveyed an air of nobleness. It was the infinitesimal details.

The way his fingers glided over the wooden table as if searching for signs of uncleanliness. The slight twitch of his eye when the poorly dressed waitress walked past him with a shoddy basket full of unwashed greens in her hands. The constant care of which he placed his robes down.

"A cup of tea." He requested in a grandiloquent manner, but it was more like a command. It was clear he was used to having people at his beck and call.

Wangji watched the man's every move, putting together a sort of portfolio in his head as he crossed his arms, sword in hand.

His tea came, and he didn't bother thanking the woman. He picked up the tea with his left hand, and Wangji's gaze went towards his blood-jade thumb ring.

The flame emblem was conveniently carved on it for Wangji to see plain as day.