Captain Carter said calmly, “We’ll know once we go in and take a look.”

　　Adam Cooper admired, “Captain Carter makes a good point.”

　　The two of them started walking, and as soon as they reached the temple gate, they saw a Jinyiwei standing guard, his expression icy cold, not even bothering to greet them. Seeing his colleague like this, Adam Cooper became even more certain that something earth-shattering had happened at Qingshou Temple, and couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Captain Carter, however, looked as calm as ever, having just swallowed the last bite of his steamed bun.

　　Qingshou Temple was originally built during the Jin dynasty, renovated in the Yuan, and now, in the Ming, it served as the Imperial Protectorate Temple, highly valued by the emperor. Ordinary people had no chance of even stepping inside.

　　Inside Qingshou Temple, the atmosphere was chilling. Some monks stood around hesitantly, not daring to move about, while the Jinyiwei blocked all the main passages, their stern and cold expressions making it clear that something extraordinary had happened.

　　A Jinyiwei hurried over to Captain Carter, speaking with a hint of displeasure: “Brian Carter, the Commander wants to see you.” This Jinyiwei had a short, bristly beard under his chin, each hair stiff as a needle, and his gaze was just as piercing as he stared at Captain Carter, yet he didn’t move.

　　Brian Carter nodded and walked toward the nine-story pagoda not far away.

　　The short-bearded Jinyiwei looked a bit surprised and challenged, “Where are you going?”

　　Brian Carter smiled, “Since the Commander is here, of course he’ll pay his respects to the Master. If the Commander is looking for me, naturally I should go to where the Master is, shouldn’t I?”

　　The short-bearded Jinyiwei frowned, his fist clenching and relaxing, then forced a smile and said, “Brian Carter, you’ve been favored by the Commander lately. If you make it big in the future, don’t forget your brothers.”

　　Brian Carter shot him a sidelong glance and also smiled, “Of course, of course.”

　　The short-bearded Jinyiwei didn’t understand exactly what Brian Carter meant, but didn’t press the issue, and led Brian Carter into the pagoda. The two of them went up to the second floor, where the space was wide. A monk in a black Daoist robe sat cross-legged by the window with his back to them, unmoving even as he heard footsteps approach.

　　There were other monks and Jinyiwei in the tower as well, including Mr. Sullivan, whose brow bore a scar like a knife wound. But as soon as Brian Carter entered, his eyes were drawn to the monk in the black Daoist robe.

　　Why would a monk wear a Daoist robe?

　　At first glance, the monk seemed inexplicable, but no one could deny that he was, in essence, a monk—his head was shaved, with incense scars on his scalp. Just as a Jinyiwei without his flying fish uniform is still a Jinyiwei, a monk in a Daoist robe is still a monk.

　　The monk sat motionless in the tower. If not for the cold wind blowing in and stirring his robes, one might have thought he was a wooden statue.

　　The tower was dim, and the monk looked extremely lonely and desolate, not even casting a shadow...

　　When Brian Carter saw Mr. Sullivan looking over, he withdrew his gaze, clasped his fists, and saluted, “Commander, may I ask why you summoned me?” As he spoke, his eyes had already glanced toward the center of the tower.

　　There, a corpse was laid out in plain sight!

　　The corpse’s head was bald—a monk, lying on his back, upper body bare. There was a bloody, mangled wound on his chest, but a strange, bitter smile lingered at the corner of his mouth.

　　It seemed that, at the moment of death, this man had felt a certain satisfaction.

　　A breeze mixed with fine rain blew into the tower. Seeing the smile on the corpse’s face, Brian Carter felt a chill down his spine.

　　So there had been a murder at Qingshou Temple—no wonder the bell had sounded and Mr. Sullivan was so tense. As Brian Carter thought of this, he was puzzled. This was the Imperial Protectorate Temple—who would dare risk killing a monk here? And why had the monk died in such a bizarre way?

　　Mr. Sullivan looked at Brian Carter, a glimmer of hope flashing in his cold eyes, and whispered, “Captain Carter, you’ve come at just the right time. Take a look at how this man died.” Seeing Brian Carter glance again at the monk in black, Mr. Sullivan lowered his voice further, “The dead monk was a young attendant to the Master here at Qingshou Temple, named Ethan Reed. The body was discovered by another attendant, Logan Reed. When Logan Reed saw Ethan Reed was dead, he hurried to ring the bell. When I arrived, the Master was already sitting here...” Sneaking a glance at the monk in black, Mr. Sullivan said cautiously, “The Master seems to be grieving over Ethan Reed’s death and hasn’t said anything. I didn’t want to disturb him.”

　　He kept referring to the monk in black as the Master, and there was a trace of fear in his attitude.

　　As Mr. Sullivan spoke, Brian Carter crouched beside the corpse, frowning slightly, “Mr. Sullivan, examining the body is really the coroner’s job...”

　　Mr. Sullivan snorted coldly, “Don’t you know, if we go through official channels, it’ll definitely alert the Five Armies Command...” After a pause, Mr. Sullivan’s eyes shifted, and he added, “I’ve heard His Majesty is preparing to send troops north again, and the Command is needed for preparations. For these minor matters, let’s not trouble the Command and risk hindering His Majesty’s plans.”

　　Brian Carter looked at the corpse and said, “Mr. Sullivan, you always put His Majesty first—it’s no wonder His Majesty is so fond of you.”

　　A faint smile appeared on Mr. Sullivan’s face, “It’s simply my duty as a minister. By the way, the person I asked you to check outside the temple—do you think he’s a suspect?”

　　Brian Carter shook his head, “I looked into it thoroughly. That person is just an ordinary peddler, definitely not the culprit.”

　　Ever since seeing Brian Carter, the short-bearded Jinyiwei had been unfriendly. Now he sneered, “Captain Carter was only outside the temple for the time it takes an incense stick to burn—how could he have checked anything thoroughly? I think he’s just trying to brush off Mr. Sullivan!”