Chapter Seven: The Art of Human Mutilation

A shrill, blood-curdling scream erupted from the dark, damp dungeon, a sound that shattered his final shred of restraint.

"I confess! I confess everything!"

The jailer licked his lips and withdrew the red-hot iron brush from his hand. The entire dungeon reeked of the nauseating stench of charred flesh mixed with blood.

"We first lured young children with poisoned fruit cakes, then abducted them. Once they were a bit older, we would rape the ones with decent looks and sell them to brothels. As for the ugly ones, we simply broke their limbs and blinded them to make them look pathetic for begging."

"Damn you, you heartless monsters! What else? Speak the truth, now!"

Unable to bear the torture, the villain spilled everything like beans from a bamboo tube: "If they were boys, we fed them mute-inducing medicine and pricked their bodies all over with needles. While the blood was still hot, we would drape freshly peeled bear or dog skins over them. The human and animal blood would mix and congeal, making it impossible to separate the skin from the flesh. We would then teach them circus tricks to perform on the streets..."

Even the hardened jailers were horrified by these crimes. Word of these atrocities was quickly relayed to the main hall of the yamen.

In the yamen’s main hall, Yang Lin was leisurely sipping tea when a bailiff walked in, holding a signed confession.

"I thought I was just here to identify a petty thief? Bring him up quickly; I have matters to attend to at home."

Chief Constable Zhou, his expression grave, presented the confession before him and said, "Master Yang, see for yourself..."

*Crack!* Yang Lin smashed his teacup to pieces.

He had expected to handle a simple theft case and identify a minor crook; he never imagined he would inadvertently stumble upon such appalling evil. Every hair on his body seemed to stand on end.

Stifling his rage, Yang Lin spoke calmly: "The thief has confessed that his accomplices are at a dilapidated temple on the outskirts of the city. If we don't act now, they might realize something is wrong and flee. Brother Zhou, I suggest we set off immediately and round up these animals."

The title "Brother Zhou" made the Chief Constable feel flattered. He rose, grabbed his blade, and said firmly, "Gather the men. We go now to purge these heartless beasts."

This was the first time Yang Lin had felt such intense fury. The sheer scale of this evil made him tremble; he could hardly imagine that humans could sink to such depths of depravity.

"I will go with you."

Chief Constable Zhou hesitated. "Master Yang, such a filthy place..."

"It is of no consequence."

***

Inside the dilapidated temple on the outskirts, the remaining three thieves began to feel that something was wrong.

"Old Third has been gone for so long. Why hasn't he returned?"

"Could it be that the loot is so valuable he’s run off behind our backs?"

The eldest, named Sikong Du, lowered his head and mused, "I fear he’s been caught by the authorities."

The group huddled to discuss, growing more panicked as they spoke. They knew their fate; if caught, there would be no mercy.

"Bah! I say the world is vast; there’s no shortage of ruined temples to hide in. Why don't we move elsewhere? Since the time of Yang Xingmi in the Tang Dynasty, Yangzhou has lagged far behind Hangzhou. Let’s go to Hangzhou."

"Better safe than sorry. The second brother is right."

The youngest, his eyes cold and vicious, wiped his brow and said, "We must take these little things with us, or they’ll raise suspicion."

"Just slaughter them. There are plenty of children in Hangzhou. Just keep the pair of thieves—the older sister and her brother. That little girl is obedient for her brother’s sake; she’s our cash cow."

All three were heartless beasts who cared nothing for brotherhood. Abandoning the missing Old Third, they prepared to flee.

They set to work immediately: the eldest gathered the gold and silver they had hoarded over the years; the second brother took a blade to kill all the children; the third went to fetch the sister and brother.

The door creaked open. The little "beast-children" whimpered in terror as they tried to hide. Ma Dequan, the second brother, walked in with a grin. In his eyes, these children were no more than chickens or dogs.

The blade glinted blindingly in the sunlight. The children, who had been kept in a dark room and never allowed to go out to earn money, were excited—even joyful—at the sight of the sunlight.

They were only five or six years old, seven at most—the age when children should be most playful. This should have been the time for them to discover the world with curiosity, a nature that had not been fully extinguished even by such inhuman suffering.

Maudequan approached slowly, let out a grim laugh, and raised his butcher's knife. Blood splattered across the floor...

***

A little beast-child’s face was covered in fresh blood. The strange, metallic smell made him nauseous. Warm blood sprayed from Ma Dequan’s chest as a blade tip pierced through his back.

Standing at the doorway, Yang Lin shouted, "Well struck, Chief Constable Zhou!"

Seeing the critical situation, Chief Constable Zhou had focused his strength and thrown his blade horizontally. It had struck Ma Dequan perfectly in the back.

Looking at the room full of beast-children, everyone present fell silent. Today, they had witnessed an unimaginable level of evil. Yang Lin felt a tightness in his chest. Since arriving in the Song Dynasty, he had been preoccupied with his own career and changing the grand trajectory of the Han and Hu peoples, leaving him no time to truly understand the depths of this era.

This was a man-eating age. Behind a polished exterior lay countless horrors and ugly exploitations. These depraved human traffickers had taught him a harsh lesson.

Chief Constable Zhou ordered his men to carry the children out of that lightless, ruined house. The other two thieves were captured on the spot.

When the men began counting the wealth Sikong Du had gathered, Yang Lin walked away to check on the children. Sometimes these officials needed a little extra money, and the funds would be confiscated anyway.

If he blocked every channel of profit, the officials would never exert themselves to catch thieves. Having crawled his way up from the bottom, Yang Lin understood that "water that is too clear has no fish"—a philosophy diametrically opposed to the original owner of this body.

The children were unaccustomed to the sunlight; their eyes stung so much they could barely keep them open. These newly abducted children had not yet been sent out to earn money; they had lived in the dark room for years, and when they died, they were simply carried out and buried.

Yang Lin approached slowly. The children huddled together, looking terrified. As he watched them, his heart ached. Soon, a bailiff brought four more children.

These were different; they were older, the ones who had been sent out to work.

One of the slightly older ones had shifty eyes and lowered her head the moment she saw Yang Lin.

She recognized him—he was the man who had given her and her brother a piece of beef. The little girl was terrified that these people had come to settle scores.

Chief Constable Zhou emerged from the main hall of the temple, his expression slightly eased. It was evident they had finished dividing the spoils. Out of gratitude for Yang Lin’s discretion, his tone was filled with even greater respect: "Master Yang, thank you for your trouble in coming here with us. It has been confirmed that there were four of these thieves, all engaged in the trade of 'abduction and mutilation'—a crime that truly invites the wrath of heaven and men. We shall take these people back to be dealt with by the Prefect. Shall we return together, Young Master?"