Shadowbreaker of the Dafeng Dynasty

The moment he stepped into the chamber, three pairs of sharp eyes pinned him down.

The crimson-robed one must be the Magistrate—cloud-and-goose embroidery, so fourth-rank... The silver-gong guy? A Shadowbreaker, damn... And this girl—whoa, that face could launch ships! Married yet? A glance at her chest sobered him up fast. He ducked his head, adopting a meek stance.

Magistrate Chen loomed from his high seat, voice dripping judicial ice. "Xu Qi'an, during your interrogation three days ago, you mentioned no 'critical leads.' Do you grasp the penalty for withholding evidence?"

A bureaucratic veteran—even desperate, he led with psychological pressure, not questions.

Halfway there. Xu Qi'an kept his cool. "My Lord, Xu Xinnian visited me earlier. I requested the case files from him."

Honesty first. All three knew Xu Xinnian—not for fame, but as Xu Pingzhi's son, a subject of their scrutiny.

"And how does that relate to your so-called leads?"

"I deduced the truth from those files—"

"Hold." The Magistrate leaned forward. "From the files?" Not what he'd expected.

"I've solved the case." Xu Qi'an nodded. 

Magistrate Chen suppressed the urge to have this brat dragged back to the dungeons. His voice turned glacial: "Speak. But know this—if your words prove false, two hundred lashes will flay the flesh from your bones."

"The tax silver wasn't stolen by demons," Xu Qi'an declared. "It was an inside job."

A single sentence—and three faces paled.

"Nonsense!" The Magistrate slammed the table. "Guards! Two hundred lashes, now!"

Demons stealing the silver was their consensus, their certainty. Any hope for Xu Qi'an's usefulness shattered—this was just a desperate fool's ravings.

But the middle-aged man's eyes gleamed. He waved off the advancing guards. "Patience, Magistrate Chen." His gaze locked onto Xu Qi'an, sharp as a blade. "Explain."

This Magistrate's temper is explosive... Xu Qi'an straightened. Time to perform.

"The city gate guards testified my uncle entered at Mǎo hour, two marks. By Chén hour, one mark, the convoy reached Guangnan Street—then the gale struck, spooking the horses into the river." He kept his tone measured, each word deliberate to bolster credibility.

Magistrate Chen nodded impatiently. "Precisely why we concluded demons lurked in the river, awaiting their chance."

"No!" Xu Qi'an countered. "The gale and explosion were misdirection—to hide one fatal flaw."

"What flaw?!" the Magistrate demanded.

The Shadowbreaker leaned forward. The girl paused mid-chew, her luminous eyes alight with intrigue.

They had pored over the case files repeatedly, memorizing every detail—yet none had spotted the flaw.

"My uncle escorted 150,000 taels of silver. Tell me, honored officials—how many jin does that weigh?"

The middle-aged man stiffened. The girl in yellow tilted her head, forgetting to straighten it. Magistrate Chen scowled. "Out with it—no riddles."

Xu Qi'an had hoped to guide them to the answer, but clearly, these ancient minds lacked... basic arithmetic.

"Nine thousand, three hundred seventy-five jin," he stated flatly. (1 jin = 16 taels in this world.)

The Shadowbreaker's brow furrowed—a glimmer of realization. The girl blinked. "What's that supposed to prove?" Her voice chimed like silver bells.

That you're not the sharpest sword in the armory.

"From the city gates to Guangnan Street—how far?" Xu Qi'an pressed.

"Thirty li," the man replied.

"How many marketplaces along the way?"

"...Four."

"And the draft horses' pace?"

"Draft horses—" The Shadowbreaker's eyes bulged. He shot to his feet, thunderstruck. So that's it!

Three days of chasing demons had yielded nothing. Now, the truth glared at him—they'd been on the wrong trail all along.

Magistrate Chen's scalp prickled. He still didn't get it, and hated feeling outmatched. (A glance at the equally clueless girl restored some ego.)

"Where's the flaw?" she huffed.

"The timing," the Shadowbreaker breathed. "Thirty li through four crowded markets? Draft horses couldn't cover that from Mǎo to Chén hour!"

"But witnesses saw the silver plunge into the river at Chén hour," the girl countered.

"Then it wasn't silver," Xu Qi'an declared.

"Preposterous!" The Magistrate brandished the files. "Your uncle, the guards, dozens of civilians—all saw 'white glitter' in the water!"

"Eyes deceive." Xu Qi'an gestured to the desk. "With your leave, I'll demonstrate."

At Magistrate Chen's nod, he shuffled over in chains, ground ink, and began writing—his strokes clumsy but deliberate.

"Prepare these items per my list." He offered the paper.

The Magistrate scanned it. "What sorcery is this?"

The girl snatched the page, her delicate fingers tracing the characters. "...Huh?"

Li Yuchun peeked, smoothed a folded corner with poker-faced dignity, and handed it back.

 quarter-hour later, two yamen runners returned with the requested items, arranging them in the chamber. The three officials eyed the odd assortment, then turned to Xu Qi'an.

Magistrate Chen's voice had lost some of its edge. "You have your tools. Now deliver your 'proof.'"

In that quarter-hour, the fourth-rank official had racked his brain. Reluctantly, he admitted Xu Qi'an's logic held water—yet puzzles remained. If the silver never reached the river, why did witnesses see it sink? The deeper trickery eluded him.

"If I help crack this case," Xu Qi'an said, kneeling before the items, "will you petition the Emperor to pardon the Xu family?"

In the Dafeng Dynasty, sins flowed down bloodlines—but so could redemption.

"Sure." The Magistrate dipped his chin.

Satisfied, Xu Qi'an focused on his props: a candle, salt, a porcelain cup, and iron wire.

His plan was simple—a high school chemistry stunt: extract sodium metal.

In ancient times, this would've been impossible. Two barriers stood firm: electricity and salt's melting point.

But in this world?

Xu Qi'an knew one profession could crack it:

The Sixth-Rank Alchemists of the Directorate of Celestial Observation.

Alchemists were household names in the Dafeng Dynasty. Their inventions—from waterproof ink to self-heating pots—permeated daily life.

Was the exploded tax silver actually sodium? Unlikely. But that wasn't the point.

The point was redirecting their gaze.

In investigations, bold hypotheses came first—then rigorous verification. He remembered a modern murder case where cops brainstormed wild theories overnight, only to discard them one by one.

The silver might not be sodium. But if alchemists could fake it, that was the thread to pull.

With the right direction, following the trail to uncover the mastermind wouldn't be difficult. But if they remained trapped in the "demonic mischief" mindset, the case would never be solved—and by the time it was, he'd already be exiled a thousand li away by the court!

He dissolved coarse salt in water, stirred it, then covered the cup's mouth with raw xuan paper, slowly pouring the brine through. After filtering, he placed the porcelain cup over the candle flame, stirring continuously with a bamboo stick.

Before long, the brine evaporated, leaving behind purified sodium chloride crystals.

Magistrate Chen, the middle-aged man, and the strikingly beautiful girl in yellow gathered around, watching intently.

Xu Qi'an looked up and flashed a grin at the girl. "You're a disciple of the Directorate of Celestial Observation, aren't you?" He'd noticed the Feng Shui compass at her waist—only a Directorate disciple would carry such a thing.

The girl gave a breezy "Mhm," then added cheerfully, "My teacher is the Grand Astrologer himself."

Her face was an exquisite oval, smooth as a peeled egg—flawlessly fair. A Grand Astrologer's disciple... Who cares about her bosom now?

Xu Qi'an softened his voice. "Sister, could you melt these crystals for me?" (Sodium chloride's melting point: ~800°C.)

The girl pouted. "Fire manipulation is an alchemist's skill. I'm just a geomancer."

"But—" She brightened, unclipping her Feng Shui compass. Jade fingers danced across its surface, channeling qi until the character for "Fire" glowed. "Stand back!"

Xu Qi'an barely leaped away before a searing tongue of flame engulfed the cup.

"Stop!" He jabbed two iron wires into the molten salt. "Now... lightning! Control the voltage—this step's tricky. Might take tries."

She spun the compass, tapping "Thunder." Arcs lashed from the air to the wires—

Zzzzt!

The electrolysis erupted in violent reaction.

"Enough!" Xu Qi'an held his breath, peering inside.

A lump of silvery metal gleamed amid residual crystals.

One try. Perfect voltage.

In his past life, extracting sodium required 6–15 volts. He'd braced for failures.

Yet today—The Goddess of Fortune rode with him.

Magistrate Chen and the middle-aged man practically shoved their heads over the cup, staring at the lump of silvery metal. At first glance, it looked exactly like silver.

The Magistrate's pupils contracted—this changed everything.

Li Yuchun clenched his fists, thunderstruck. It was as if lightning had cleaved through the fog in his mind.

"Observe, my lords." Xu Qi'an poured out the sodium, wrapped it in paper, and tossed it lightly in his palm. "This is far lighter than silver, yet nearly identical in appearance. If someone swapped it for real tax silver, could they fool the eye?"

He handed the sodium to Magistrate Chen. By now, its luster had dulled—a perfect mimic of tarnished silver.

Li Yuchun took it next, hefting it with widening eyes. "It is lighter! If this was the cargo, the timeline makes sense!"

"Caiwei, your turn."

The girl in yellow took the metal, weighed it in her palm, then fixed Xu Qi'an with a suspicious stare. "You... are you an alchemist?"

No, just a humble porter of chemistry.

Magistrate Chen's initial excitement faded as his scholar's mind raced ahead. "Wait—even if the silver was swapped, what about the explosion? Without demons in the river, why would fake silver explode?"

Without a word, Xu Qi'an retrieved the sodium, walked to the desk, and dropped it into the brush-washing jar.

A searing flash erupted, followed by billowing smoke.

BOOM!

The sodium's violent reaction cracked the jar with a spiderweb of fissures.

"This... this..." Magistrate Chen gaped.

"This 'fake silver' explodes in water," Xu Qi'an explained. "That's why the river detonated."

The Shadowbreaker's voice was hushed. "We were misled from the start. The mastermind used the explosion and gale to frame demons—diverting our investigation."

"No wonder the Directorate's qi-observation found nothing," Xu Qi'an added. "The 1,215 taels recovered? Probably just a top-layer decoy."

Every anomaly snapped into place.

"Xu Qi'an." The man's eyes gleamed with approval. "Well done"

Then his brow furrowed—noticing Xu Qi'an's crooked collar. With a clap on the shoulder, Li Yuchun discreetly straightened it.

Such favor from a high-ranking official? Xu Qi'an is nearly short-circuited.

Magistrate Chen frowned. "If the silver was fake, where's the real shipment?"

The girl in yellow's playful demeanor vanished. "Tax silver passes through countless hands before reaching the capital. Prosecuting everyone would jail half the bureaucracy. Recovering it? Needles in a ocean. And this..." She grimaced. "This is beyond our pay grade. The Emperor must decide."

The Magistrate nodded—precisely his concern.

But the Shadowbreaker cut in, voice gravel-dark: "If the silver was swapped en route, someone would've noticed. The switch had to be recent."

Magistrate Chen's eyes blazed. That narrowed the suspects to a handful.

"Prepare my palanquin—now!" He bolted from the chamber, the Shadowbreaker on his heels.

Xu Qi'an shouted after them: "My Lord! Don't forget your promise!"