Chapter 61: The Village That Robs Together

"A whole village of bandits and road thieves?"

Tan Wenbin found it hard to believe. Although his family had been in law enforcement for generations, his father Tan Yunlong rarely discussed work at home, and every region faced different challenges.

Xue Liangliang explained, "It’s uncommon for an entire village to engage in organized crime, but it’s not unheard of.

Take this mountain village, for instance. It's fairly isolated, with limited external contact. The villagers' activities are confined, and family ties are strong. Under such conditions, it's easy for a small-scale criminal syndicate to form."

"But… hasn't anyone reported them?"

Xue Liangliang looked at Tan Wenbin and countered, "Would you report your deskmate for cheating on an exam?"

"That's different. Cheating and killing are not the same."

"That's because you can see the difference.

But why did you try smoking, even though you knew it was harmful?

You saw your father smoke, and your peers smoke, so subconsciously you thought it wasn't a big deal. When a whole village is engaged in crime, those within it start to think it's no big deal either."

Tan Wenbin nodded thoughtfully, then turned to look at Zhu Yang with a trace of sorrow.

"He’s got a wife and kids at home..."

Zhu Yang was a fellow townsman, but more importantly, he was a genuinely decent person—warm, honest, and fond of reading novels. He even threw in the occasional poetic quip during conversations.

He once said he hated being a truck driver, but did it for his family.

Now, he was trapped here.

Xue Liangliang turned to Li Zhuiyuan. "Xiao Yuan, if that little girl hadn’t shown up, would we all be dead right now?"

Runsheng knocked his steel pipe against his chest with a dull clang.

The message was clear—he was still here.

Xue Liangliang shrugged. "Runsheng, I know you're tough, but what if they had shotguns?"

Runsheng frowned, unable to argue.

That’s why he now preferred watching wuxia shows over cop dramas—because the latter had guns.

Li Zhuiyuan said, "It's reasonable to think that way, but it doesn’t change much. The girl didn’t show up to save us. You three had genuine death auras on your faces. She came to harvest your remaining lifespan. It was just a case of multiple evils canceling each other out."

Xue Liangliang added, "That mechanic played the good guy, saying the bandits ahead had shotguns, just to lure us into this village."

"Could’ve been testing us too. If we weren’t scared and kept going, they might’ve thought we were armed as well."

"That’s pretty deep-level scheming."

"It is. Because I didn’t see any signs of him lying."

"Xiao Yuan, don’t take all the blame. None of us saw through it either."

Li Zhuiyuan shook his head. Ever since he studied the Comprehensive Treatise on Yin-Yang Physiognomy, he could usually tell when a normal person was lying.

But that mechanic had no tells—no microexpressions. Which meant he had nerves of steel and was highly experienced.

"Liangliang-ge, that mechanic might actually be the ringleader here." Li Zhuiyuan waved his hand. "Let’s go around and check inside the ancestral hall."

The water wasn’t deep. Even Li Zhuiyuan could wade through it easily, though passing by the dense ring of corpses was stifling.

Thankfully, none of the bodies showed any unnatural signs. The four of them passed safely.

Under the main hall of the ancestral shrine, Li Zhuiyuan suddenly looked up. Hanging from the eaves were copper coins and swords—some new, some old—probably maintained regularly.

He placed his palm on a pillar. It wasn’t cold—in fact, it radiated a faint warmth.

Scanning the other corners of the hall, he grew serious.

"What is it, Xiao Yuan?"

"Liangliang-ge, the person who built this shrine was a true master. Though small, the layout forms a closed-loop dragon-summoning formation. Combined with the land’s feng shui, it’s like creating a minor blessing site within a major one."

"Suggesting the ancestors were once rich?"

"More than just rich. This kind of craftsmanship was reserved for imperial tombs in ancient times."

"That’s impressive. When I was interning, an old professor said that ancient tomb architects ranked higher than today’s top-tier real estate moguls in Beijing."

"Interesting comparison."

Xue Liangliang sighed. "Yet their descendants still ended up this degraded."

Inside the hall, all the memorial tablets bore the surname "Wang."

"Liangliang-ge, don’t you think the tablets are a bit... few?"

"Hmm?"

"Given the shrine’s age and quality, there should be more tablets."

"Some families have strict requirements for adding names. That’s how it is in my hometown."

Li Zhuiyuan jumped up and grabbed the highest tablet to examine it closely.

"Liangliang-ge, even the oldest one isn’t that old."

"Really?" Xue Liangliang took it and examined it. "I can’t tell. How do you know?"

"I happened to research tablets recently."

"What are you suspecting, Xiao Yuan?"

"Hard to say yet. But a family with this heritage wouldn’t hire that kind of Taoist or monk to do ritual work at the village entrance."

He circled the inner hall. The walls weren’t brick, but pebbled stone, polished and arranged harmoniously.

Xue Liangliang tossed the tablet aside. Ancestors like these weren’t worth honoring.

Then he ducked under the altar’s curtain to search for an exit.

Runsheng and Tan Wenbin, though not assigned tasks, knocked and stomped around, hoping to uncover something.

Li Zhuiyuan finished circling and paused, then repeated the route with eyes closed, thinking.

He’d noticed it the first time: the pebbles on the walls were parts of a huge, scrambled jigsaw puzzle.

Most people wouldn’t catch it—they’d just think the layout was dignified and beautiful. He wouldn’t have noticed either, if not for the blind chess games he played with Ah Li.

Coincidentally, he used to play three games at once, mirroring the three walls.

Eyes shut, he began mentally solving the puzzle.

Words emerged. Soon, the first line came clear:

“Ancestral Teachings of the Qi Clan?”

But all the tablets bore the surname Wang.

Li Zhuiyuan considered the possibility: this village was originally a Qi branch family, but at some point in modern times, the Wangs had taken over.

This wasn’t a decline. It was a full-on usurpation—name, blood, and legacy.

The missing signboard on the shrine wasn’t just shame from the ancestors—it was because there were no true descendants left.

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