However, the Six Paths Division possesses immortal arts for transmitting messages over a thousand miles, so contacting the immediate family of Samuel Clark is absolutely no problem for them.

……

Half a quarter of an hour later, Henry Thompson was sitting imposingly in the main hall of the Moon-Gazing Pavilion, watching as the yamen runners from Ying Tian Prefecture questioned everyone related to the Moon-Gazing Pavilion.

He had absolutely no trust in these public officials under Edward Sutton, so he could only supervise in person.

Henry Thompson was especially focused on Edward Sutton. To save time, he divided everyone into ten groups, with Edward Sutton personally in charge of one group—this group consisted of those who had direct contact with Samuel Clark.

“Speak. Where were you around the Chou hour last night? Do you have any witnesses?”

The first person Edward Sutton questioned was a student from the Nanjing Imperial Academy, staying in Room Jia on the third floor, who had come together with Samuel Clark.

“I returned to my room with the young lady at the second watch (around 9:30 PM), and after that, I didn’t see Samuel Clark again. Miss Lily can vouch for me—we were together the whole time.”

Edward Sutton continued, “Did you hear anything unusual outside during the night?”

The student frowned. “Does someone snoring all night count? From the end of the Hai hour until dawn, it was like thunder, never stopping. It was right next door to me, in Room Yi on the third floor. I don’t know which heartless bastard it was, but it left me exhausted all night!”

Thomas Bolton had been listening with a cheerful expression, but when he heard “Room Yi on the third floor,” his gaze instantly darkened, and he glared fiercely at the student.

Next was Miss Lily, who shared the room. Her voice was soft and weak: “I also didn’t leave the room after the second watch. Mr. Carter is right—the snoring lasted all night, and I didn’t hear anything unusual outside.”

Then it was the turn of those in Room Yi on the third floor: William Bolton and Thomas Bolton. “I should have returned to my room at the end of the Hai hour. I was inside all night. Miss Moore and her maid can vouch for me.”

Edward Sutton rolled his eyes. “End of the Hai hour? So you were sleeping and snoring all night?”

“How could that be?”

Thomas Bolton protested indignantly, “They’re slandering me!”

Edward Sutton simply turned to the woman beside him, known by the courtesan name ‘Emily Moore’: “What were you doing last night?”

Emily Moore lazily glanced at Thomas Bolton and shrugged nonchalantly. “Snoring. Sleeping!”

She had a lovely name and was a beautiful, charming woman. She covered her lips with a round fan, smiling with a hint of mockery and self-deprecation: “I must lack charm. As soon as Mr. Bolton entered the room, he fell asleep right away. His snoring was so loud that I had no choice but to spend the night in the side room with my maid.”

Henry Thompson couldn’t help but be a little stunned, and Richard Palmer beside him was even more dumbfounded. “He slept all night? That’s such a waste—he’s even worse than you, Robert. This Miss Moore is still young, but she’s sure to become the leading courtesan of the Moon-Gazing Pavilion in the future.”

“Tut! So this is what they call ‘nine times in one night’.”

Henry Thompson gave a cold, emotionless chuckle. “So full of vigor!”

But then he noticed that after Richard Palmer finished marveling, his expression seemed a bit off, so he asked curiously, “What’s wrong with you? Why are you sweating so much? Don’t tell me you’re exaggerating too?”

“How could that be?”

Richard Palmer instinctively denied it, but then mumbled, “It’s just not as many as seven times, that’s all. I’m still pretty impressive.”

About half a cup of tea’s time later, all eight people who had stayed on the third floor and had contact with the deceased had been questioned by Edward Sutton.

Next was a woman of stunning beauty, gentle temperament, and graceful bearing—she was Sarah WalkerHead Walker, the top courtesan of the Moon-Gazing Pavilion, who resided permanently in the “Poetic Abode” on the fourth floor.

All the rooms in the Moon-Gazing Pavilion were named after the Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches, except for Sarah Walker’s residence, which had the elegant name “Poetic Abode.”

“In the evening, I was with Mr. Palmer. Yes, we never left the room, and I didn’t notice anything unusual. However, my maid did go out twice at my request, around the Chou hour, to fetch us some water.”

“Fetch water? For what reason?” Edward Sutton looked across in confusion.

Sarah Walker hesitated for a moment, then glanced apologetically at Richard Palmer, who seemed to realize something and immediately blushed deep red.

“Mr. Palmer seemed rather weak. He went to bed as soon as he came in, and he was sweating all night—maybe because it was hot. So I asked Anna to get some ice.”

Richard Palmer immediately slumped, holding his forehead, not wanting to speak.

Henry Thompson suddenly understood. “So he’s a ‘seven times a night’ man!”

Thomas Bolton, who had been unable to lift his head around them, perked up and seized the chance to add insult to injury. “Now this is a real courtesan! What did someone say before? ‘Slender and curvy, perfectly proportioned, feels amazing, greatly increases combat power, tut tut tut…’”

He even proudly flexed his biceps at Richard Palmer. He might not have managed nine times in one night, but at least he wasn’t weak.

Richard Palmer looked ashen, wishing he could dig a hole and bury himself. After Sarah Walker, it was his turn to be questioned, but under the astonished, mocking, and disdainful gazes of those around him, Richard Palmer realized this was going to be a social death.