Chapter 16: Burying the Body

Li Po remained unflustered.

The refugee camp was, in truth, a closed world—outsiders were reluctant to enter, and those inside had no hope of leaving.

There were no heroes stepping in to right wrongs, nor idle onlookers meddling in affairs.

So, he quickly surveyed the half-collapsed thatched hut, then approached and dragged the tall, gaunt corpse over, stacking it atop the crippled man’s body.

He took hold of the cripple’s arm and looped it around the tall man’s neck.

A simple internal strife leading to mutual destruction—a crime scene arranged accordingly.

Of course, this would not withstand the scrutiny of an experienced investigator, but who would expend effort over the lives of two refugees?

After a cursory setup, Li Po bent down to pick up the cripple’s short knife, drew it out, and examined it.

It was an unusual weapon.

Quite short—from handle to tip, barely about three feet—roughly a foot shorter than the standard issue blade of the Sui army.

Its craftsmanship was crude, yet far superior to the short blade he had brought back from the steppes, which attested to the Sui dynasty’s superior forging techniques—something the nomadic tribes could not hope to match.

This was only natural; regardless of the era the Central Plains empire was in, its craftwork overwhelmingly outclassed that of the northern tribes.

This was a privately forged short knife. Li Po had seen and used several old soldiers’ weapons in the camp, their blades all bearing the smith’s name and the official government stamp.

Such privately made weapons, naturally, could not match the quality of the Sui army’s standard blades.

Yet these two refugees carried sharp blades, indicating that privately forged weapons had become widespread in the Sui realm.

Li Po gave it a brief appraisal, then sheathed the knife and slipped it into his belt.

He searched the hut a bit longer. Since these two scoundrels ran such a trade, they certainly had money.

Though the interior was pitch-dark, Li Po soon located their hidden stash beneath their bedding—the soil was soft there.

He didn’t linger; it was not the time to dig. He would wait until later to quietly retrieve any treasure once the situation settled.

Li Po calmly slipped back into his own thatched hut, awaiting dawn.

Li Chun was still awake and, seeing Li Po return wrapped against the cold wind, immediately sprang up and rushed over, wrapping his arms around Li Po’s waist.

“Big brother, you’re back…”

Li Po rubbed his head. “Enough talk. Come inside and sleep.”

The night passed silently. Early the next morning, after drinking the thin porridge unique to Mayi City, Li Po found no developments and grew somewhat impatient. The heavy bureaucratic atmosphere in Mayi was stifling—two people dead, yet no sign of action even now.

This was far from what he had imagined.

In fact, it wasn’t until afternoon that Luo San arrived at the refugee camp.

Poor kid—he seemed to have been assigned the grim task of digging graves.

No officials came to investigate the scene; Luo San alone circled the half-ruined hut and declared it a simple case of two men battling each other to death during the night.

What frustrated Li Po was that Luo San, as a friend, insisted he join in digging the graves.

Not only that, Luo San proudly unearthed two jars filled with copper coins from the hut. With this unexpected windfall, he kept rambling about buying Li Po drinks in a few days.

Li Po inwardly wished he could knock some sense into the boy.

Still, this marked Li Po’s first time leaving Mayi City since arriving.

He also got a glimpse of the soldiers guarding the city gates.

A motley bunch of five men made up the unit, one spot vacant. Two watched from the city walls atop the arrow towers, two stood below by the gate, and together with the bearded man, five in all.

The bearded man’s surname was Wei; the squad leader was named Yuchi.

That squad leader’s name struck a chord with Li Po.

Yuchi Gong, styled Jingde, was likely of Xianbei descent—or perhaps a Han who adopted a Xianbei surname; no one could say for sure.

One day, he would rise to duke and marquis, but for now, he was a weary gate guard, bossed around by Luo Shixin with no temper to speak of.

Li Po was not surprised. Mayi’s county magistrate was still Li Jing, so who was Yuchi Gong to him?

In times of upheaval, these men would seize opportunities to rise, but for now, they were mere petty players in a sordid game.

Li Po had no inclination for such ambitions. The biting winter wind had nearly extinguished all his enthusiasm; he only wished for spring to arrive sooner.

Since two had died, Squad Leader Yuchi gathered his few pitiful men, ordering them firmly: deaths were done and dusted, especially since the victims were mere refugees. They must not let word spread outside.

As for Li Po, Yuchi simply ignored him.

Though only a squad leader, Yuchi regarded a refugee as less than a dog.

Yet Li Po sensed something odd in Yuchi’s grave admonitions.

Later, after asking Luo San, he learned that since the county magistrate took office, Mayi had enforced a strict rule: deaths by illness, starvation, or freezing were all acceptable, but no murders.

Any death caused by blade or weapon prompted a thorough investigation.

Thus, over the years, street killings had nearly vanished. Even the fiercest swordsmen only dared to brandish their blades in threat; no one dared kill openly.

These two deaths clearly qualified as a murder case.

But, as always, where there are rules, there are countermeasures. Since the dead were refugees, the case did not need reporting.

Moreover, the patrol officers under the magistrate hadn’t caught anyone, so burying the bodies was enough. As long as no one spread rumors, there would be no trouble.

Li Po felt relieved. Though he was the killer, he did not wish to live in chaos.

The graves lay in a grove north of the city—a mass burial site for refugees, the nameless and helpless buried there, and even poor families who could not afford proper funerals simply wrapped their dead and left them there.

The place was gloomy and desolate, shrouded in a deathly aura that made one uneasy.

Li Po and Luo San dug a shallow pit and hastily covered the two corpses.

Killing and burying—this could be called destroying the evidence, perhaps.

Li Po chuckled to himself, glancing at Luo San and thinking that such a friend might prove indispensable in the future.