Chapter Twenty-One: Heaven's Wrath of the Five Elements

With the skills of those from Beiting, finding Li Qiumao was not difficult. Yet the increasingly ominous feeling proved true—they discovered only Li Qiumao’s corpse.

His death was horrifying to behold. Li Fuyu was so terrified that he collapsed onto the ground, trembling uncontrollably. Li Qihuai, too, drew a sharp breath, tears streaming down his face in an instant.

Just minutes earlier, the group had parted the grass and the thorns laid over it, revealing a dark opening beneath, about two meters in diameter—a typical animal trap. Wanyongkun shone his flashlight down. The sky was cloudless, the light harsh, and in that instant, a nightmare unfolded before their eyes—

Li Qiumao lay on his back, staring wide-eyed at the sky, limbs suspended in midair, his entire weight bizarrely concentrated at his head: a sharpened bamboo stake had pierced miraculously from the back of his skull, exiting through his mouth. The bamboo was fixed to the bottom of the pit, stained all over with viscous streaks of red and white, as if silently screaming at the heavens!

How could a limp neck support the weight of a dead man? It was beyond comprehension.

A deathly silence fell. All present were stunned by the uncanny scene. The two women covered their mouths, hardly daring to breathe, standing far from the pit, unwilling to come closer.

Suddenly, Li Fuyu scrambled away, yelling, “Heaven’s punishment! Heaven’s punishment…” His eyes were glassy, drool dribbling from his mouth, as if in a fit of madness.

“Damn fool!” Li Qihuai cursed, but could only let Li Fuyu flee. Though he had seen much in his life, never had he encountered such a thing, and he was at a loss.

Chen Tianyu remained calm, stopping Li Qihuai and the women from approaching. He and Li Yiting, Wanyongkun, and Kuang Suo examined the pit from four directions, but could discern nothing unusual.

The light flickered and danced, earth dust hung in the air. Li Qiumao’s body truly floated, supine, suspended in the invisible air, as if the atmosphere within the trap had thickened to a liquid, buoying this hundred-pound corpse.

The four men were shaken beyond words. They exchanged glances, each feeling a profound dread.

Chen Tianyu was the first to speak. “Jiudao, you know all sorts of mysterious arts. Can you tell what’s happening here?”

Kuang Suo shook his head in bewilderment. “Perhaps it’s an illusion... using distance and the background to deceive our eyes, giving us this anti-physical illusion.”

Chen Tianyu nodded. “That makes some sense… Yiting, what do you think?”

Li Yiting did not reply. His judgment clouded by emotion, he preferred to say nothing. Instead, he sat heavily on the ground, brooding as he smoked.

Chen Tianyu sighed inwardly, but quickly made a decision. “Yongkun, are you willing to go down and take a look? Any illusion, when observed up close, will be revealed. I believe this is no exception.”

Wanyongkun’s eyes flared with determination. “No problem. I’ll prepare a vine rope right away—”

“Wait!” Li Qihuai stepped forward to stop him. “Don’t be reckless. It could be dangerous to go down without caution.”

Seeing no one object, he added, “If anyone is to go down, it should be me. You youngsters lack experience. Let’s not invite more trouble.”

Li Yiting suddenly spoke. “Dad, Fourth Uncle, let’s all calm down. Look, this pit is four or five meters deep—not the sort of thing hunters here would set. And setting a bamboo stake upright at the bottom is beyond strange… I recommend that, until we understand what’s going on, no one makes any rash moves.”

Wanyongkun protested, “How can we understand anything just standing here? Master, trust me, I know these mountains—nothing here can stump me.”

Li Yiting still shook his head. “We can’t take that risk. Let’s discuss it further…” An inexplicable dread had crept over him; he couldn’t say where this subconscious fear came from.

Suddenly, Liu Zichen said, “Tianyu, someone’s coming. Let’s wait a moment.”

Shen Mingyue pointed to the foot of the distant mountain. Sure enough, a group of a dozen or so approached in a grand procession. Though they were still far off, sharp eyes quickly recognized the man at their head: the clan chief, Li Qisi.

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An elder of Li Village, his face ashen but his eyes shrewd, now stood with trembling lips.

“Qisi, Qiumao must have incurred heaven’s wrath... What a sin!”

Li Qisi frowned impatiently. “Uncle Jiu, you’re nearly eighty, yet you repeat such nonsense? You believe that kid Fuyu’s wild talk?”

Called Uncle Jiu, the old man must have been nearly ninety and was one of the last elders in Li Village—clearly dragged here by Li Fuyu. Apart from the eldest uncle, only Uncle Jiu’s word carried weight in the village. The eldest uncle was known for his hard heart and indifference to his own kin, but though Li Fuyu amounted to little, he knew how to find support.

Sure enough, Uncle Jiu blinked and spoke earnestly, “Qisi, I don’t mean to preach, but this is no simple matter. When Qiwen died, I wanted to warn you—heaven’s will must not be defied. We should try to make amends… Our village has been peaceful all these years thanks to sincere hearts. You wouldn’t listen, and now Qiumao is gone too. You brothers can’t keep being so stubborn…”

Usually slow to speak, today Uncle Jiu poured out a long string of admonitions, white flecks of spittle gathering at his lips.

Li Qisi’s face darkened. He snapped, “Uncle Jiu, you’re just stirring up trouble. In the end, Qiwen lost the Guanyin statue because someone stole it—what’s that got to do with our family? Besides, Qiwen was a man of integrity; he paid for it with his life. That settles the matter. What does it have to do with Qiumao?”

Uncle Jiu, leaning on his cane, struck the ground hard. “Qisi, if things weren’t in such chaos, I’d spare my words. You brothers have bullied the village long enough, stubborn to the end. If you want to make trouble, do it, but don’t drag the whole village to ruin…”

Li Qisi was unmoved. Coldly, he said, “Uncle Jiu, you’re hinting at something—why not just say it plainly?”

“Fine!” Uncle Jiu waved his hand at the onlookers, speaking with righteous indignation. “Our ancestors left us these words: If any household commits an unforgivable crime, they will surely face the harsh punishment of the five elements—burned by fire, pierced by wood, drowned by water, buried by earth, or cut by blades. Two of these have already come to pass. Can you still claim you’ve done nothing shameful?”

Li Qisi’s eyes bulged in rage. “You doddering old man, always sowing panic! Just what heinous crimes have we committed? Name a few! Can’t? I refuse to believe in such superstition—what can it possibly do?!”

“You! You!” Uncle Jiu’s lips quivered with fury. “You’re determined to go all the way to ruin, dooming yourself and others…”

Seeing he could not sway Li Qisi, Uncle Jiu trembled to his feet, muttering as he shuffled away, “Unfilial descendants will suffer heaven’s wrath… Heaven’s wrath, indeed…”

The others had not dared say a word. Once Uncle Jiu left, they began to buzz among themselves. Clearly, quite a few supported his view. Li Fuyu, cowering in their midst, seemed indifferent to his father’s death.

With everyone talking at once, he quickly came to accept the idea of divine retribution. By that logic, he too was in the scope of heaven’s punishment—how could he not be afraid?

His father was dead, beyond saving; now, his own life and death was what concerned him.

Chen Tianyu watched coolly. Li Yiting burned with anger, about to erupt, when someone yanked his arm.

He turned—it was Liu Zichen.

“Yiting, hold your temper.”

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Qiu Xi was examining every detail of the pit with his flashlight. When Li Fuyu ran back, breathless with news, Qiu Xi had been speaking with Li Qisi, probing indirectly into the circumstances of Li Qiwen’s death.

Li Qisi stuck to his story that Qiwen died of depression. Qiu Xi could not understand—what was this man trying to hide?

Just then, Li Fuyu tumbled in, blurting that his father had met with another accident. Qiu Xi noticed Li Qisi’s face go pale—his first glimpse of panic in the man, confirming his suspicion that Li Qisi knew something vital.

Li Qiumao’s death was a crucial turning point; whether he could pry the truth from this tight-lipped man would depend on the art of the interrogation to come.

He swept his flashlight inch by inch. Suddenly, he noticed something strange—Li Qiumao’s right foot was touching the ground!

Could Li Qiumao have revived? Qiu Xi sucked in a breath, suppressing his terror, and illuminated the right foot again and again, estimating the distance from heel to earth.

Good heavens, it was indeed touching.

What was going on? Qiu Xi dared not make a fuss, nor act rashly. He waited in silence, then finally called out, “Fourth Brother… come have a look. Something’s changed in the pit.”

The others gathered around at once. Soon, they all saw that both of Li Qiumao’s feet now rested on the ground.

Kuang Suo muttered, “How odd—the corpse seems to be sinking. Will it burrow into the earth next?” He shivered. “What if it vanishes underground?”

Wanyongkun, nervous, said, “Jiudao, don’t scare me. I’m not brave.”

Kuang Suo shot him a look. “If you’d gone down earlier, maybe you’d be dragged in too.”

Wanyongkun shrank back in silence.

Chen Tianyu waved dismissively. “Jiudao, enough nonsense. Don’t spook yourself.”

Under all their eyes, after half an hour, Li Qiumao’s body settled fully onto the ground, though his head had not shifted an inch.

Just as everyone breathed a sigh of relief, a chill swept their necks. Chen Tianyu looked up—a sudden downpour burst from a single dark cloud overhead, pelting the startled crowd.

Mountain storms come as they please and don’t care to leave. When the rain finally lessened, Wanyongkun, Qiu Xi, and Kuang Suo led a few young men to haul Li Qiumao’s body from the pit, covering it with grass and leaves to spare others the fright. By now, water had begun pooling at the bottom of the trap.

They gathered to discuss next steps. Qiu Xi proposed calling the police. This time, Li Qisi said nothing, but villagers whispered among themselves.

“What use is the police? Can they handle heaven’s business?”

“Better to do more good deeds—it’s obvious what’s going on here. I doubt any investigation will find a thing…”

“When heaven’s wrath descends, no one can help!”

“Let’s do a proper ritual for old Li and beg heaven for mercy…”

The whispers soon turned to a clamor, drowning out the rain. Li Qisi tried to speak several times, but only lowered his head and smoked in silence.

Li Yiting suddenly leapt up, shouting, “Enough! Officer Qiu, let the detectives handle this.”

The noise continued, but Qiu Xi nodded, found a spot sheltered from the rain, and took out his soaked phone to call the homicide team.

He described the situation in detail, repeating himself several times before hanging up.

He approached Li Yiting and said in a low voice, “The detectives will come up the mountain tomorrow for an autopsy… They can’t make it today. We need to preserve the scene.”

Li Yiting frowned. “Why can’t they come today?” He was anxious—the rain showed no sign of stopping, and who knew what clues would remain by tomorrow.

Qiu Xi could only reply, “They have to come from the city, it’s a long way… And today’s the first day of the New Year, they’re short-staffed, I’ve already pleaded with them repeatedly. Besides…”

He didn’t say it, but his colleague on the homicide team (who had been his classmate) felt, from Qiu Xi’s description, that this seemed more like an accident than a murder. Out of courtesy, they agreed to send someone.

Chen Tianyu patted Li Yiting’s shoulder. “Yiting, let’s not lose our heads. Remember what I told you?”

A jolt ran through Li Yiting, and he immediately regained his composure.