The acrid smell of ozone and burnt incense still hung in the air of Wen Yuhan's workshop. Chenwei stood in stiff, resentful silence, his mind still reeling from the casual negotiation with a denizen of Hell. He had been ordered to assist in the investigation, and so he would, but every fiber of his being screamed that this entire endeavor was a perversion of justice.
Wen ignored him, his attention focused on a small, smooth plank of peach wood. With a fine-tipped carving knife, he began to meticulously engrave a series of characters onto its surface. Chenwei recognized the name of the murdered handmaiden, Liu Yan, but the symbols that followed were a complex astrological chart of stars and constellations. It was the girl's birth chart, a map of her soul's celestial signature. Chenwei watched, his suspicion a cold knot in his stomach. A simple object with a spiritual scent should have been sufficient for a tracking rite. This level of detail was needlessly ornate, the work of a man who took an unnerving pleasure in the esoteric mechanics of his craft.
Once finished, Wen performed the summoning rite again, though this time it was a smaller, more contained affair. The obsidian claw token given by the demon Huang glowed, and the hulking form of the hell-hound, Little Zha, coalesced from the shadows at the center of the room. It was a creature of shifting smoke and barely-contained malice, its multiple eyes blinking out of sync.
Chenwei instinctively took a half-step back.
Wen, however, knelt down, completely at ease. He held out the engraved plank to the creature. "Here you go, Zha," he said, his voice the soft, encouraging tone one might use with a prized hunting falcon. "A new toy for you. Who's a good boy? Can you find this person for me? Fetch."
The shadow-hound sniffed the plank once, its form quivering with a low, gravelly whine of excitement. It then looked up at Wen, its smoky tail giving a single, eager wag. Wen smiled, took hold of the spectral leash that connected to the hound's collar, and stood. As the summoner, the responsibility for the creature was his. A small mercy, Chenwei thought, though the relief was soured by the sight of Wen Yuhan preparing to take a demon for a walk as if it were a common hound from the village kennels.
The trail led them out of the workshop and away from the main sect compound, into the dense, ancient woods that bordered their lands. Little Zha pulled eagerly at the leash, its shadowy nose pressed to the ground as it followed a trail completely invisible to Chenwei. The silence between the two men was thick and hostile. Chenwei was a reluctant bodyguard, his presence an order to be endured. Wen, for his part, seemed entirely focused on his demonic pet, occasionally murmuring soft words of encouragement.
They had been walking for nearly an hour when Little Zha suddenly froze, its head snapping up. It let out a low, hungry growl, its form quivering as it stared intently into a thicket of trees.
"What is it?" Chenwei asked, his hand immediately going to his sword.
Wen calmly but firmly yanked the leash. "Zha! Leave it!"
A moment later, a small boy, no older than ten, emerged from the thicket, a woven basket in his hands. He was dressed in simple village clothes and jumped in fright at the sight of them, his eyes wide as he took in Little Zha's monstrous form.
"My apologies for startling you," Wen said, his voice surprisingly gentle as he maneuvered himself to block the boy's view of the hound. "It is not always safe in these woods. What are you doing out here alone?"
The boy, intimidated but resolute, held up his basket. "Looking for herbs, Honored Cultivator. My grandmother… she has a fever that won't break."
Wen's expression softened. He knelt down to the boy's level. "A noble effort. But many herbs look alike. The difference between medicine and poison is often just a single leaf. It is best not to guess." He paused. "Go home to your grandmother. I will be by your village before nightfall to see her myself and ensure she has the proper care."
Chenwei stiffened. "Senior Brother Wen," he said, his voice low and sharp. "We have a mission. We cannot be delayed by every sick villager we happen upon."
Wen rose and turned to him, his eyes unreadable. "Our mission is to find a killer who uses profane magic. A sudden sickness in a nearby village could be related. Or it could not. To leave it un-investigated would be incompetent. Are you advocating for incompetence, Junior Brother?"
Before Chenwei could form a retort, Wen smiled, a thin, sardonic expression that did not reach his eyes. "Besides, why so glum, Chenwei? We have just performed a heroic act—saving an innocent child from a flesh-eating demon. You should be happier about it."
The mockery was so blatant, so dismissive of the gravity of their situation, that it left Chenwei speechless with fury. He finally found his voice, the words coming out cold and dead. "It does not count when we summoned the demon."
Wen's smile widened slightly, and he turned back to the path, pulling the reluctant Little Zha along.
The trail continued for another hour, leading them away from the abandoned shrines and creepy caves Chenwei might have expected. Instead, it led them to a place of surprising beauty. It was a secluded clearing dappled with late afternoon sunlight, filled with wildflowers, and overlooking a small, peaceful stream. Chenwei recognized the geography; it was near the estate of Xinyi's family. A place one might arrange a romantic tryst. The bitter irony of it made his skin crawl.
But something was wrong. Despite the beauty, a patch of grass in the center of the clearing was blighted and black, the leaves on the ground withered and dead. Little Zha, ignoring the flowers and the stream, ran directly to this spot. It began to dig frantically, its smoky claws tearing at the corrupted earth.
The hound soon unearthed something dark and splintered. It was a piece of bone, rotted and pitted as if by some powerful acid. It was all that was left. The assassin had used her plague spirits to dissolve the body, but she had missed a piece.
Little Zha, having done its job, sat back on its haunches, its tail wagging expectantly. It looked up at Wen, panting a noiseless, smoky breath.
Wen knelt, his face showing no horror at the grim discovery. His attention was solely on the hound. He reached out and gave the creature a vigorous, proper belly rub, scratching behind its spectral ears. The demon hound responded with a low, contented rumble, its shadowy form quivering with pleasure.
Wen looked up at Chenwei, who was staring at the rotted bone, his stomach churning. There was a look of genuine, uncomplicated satisfaction on Wen's face. With a serene sincerity that was perhaps the most horrifying thing Chenwei had seen all day, he said:
"See? What did I tell you? Little Zha is the best dog."