Di Renjie Investigates: The Mist-Hidden Rakshasa

In winter, the morning mist draped over the Great Zhou capital of Luoyang like thick silk, veiling the city. Distant mountains appeared and vanished, and the streets and alleys blurred into the haze. A bell rang out from the direction of the palace, its cold echo heralding the start of a new day. Luoyang seemed especially solemn that day. A squad of armored soldiers escorted a black iron coffin down Vermilion Bird Avenue, drawing crowds of onlookers. Strips of white silk were wrapped around the coffin, as if to guide the dead to the afterlife. Beneath it, dark red stains seeped out, like blood that had not yet dried. The townspeople whispered among themselves, but no one dared approach. Rumor had it that the man inside was an officer of the Jingzhao Prefecture, who had suddenly died in the prefecture the previous night. His corpse was bizarre, as dry as a log that had been left for decades, and his face was twisted like that of a vengeful ghost. Some even said that the long-rumored “Mist-Hidden Rakshasa” was behind it. In a teahouse along the street, a middle-aged man with a refined face and dressed in a blue robe watched it all. He held a teacup in his hand. Through the fragrant steam, his intelligent eyes revealed a hint of solemnity. He was Di Renjie, the renowned detective and chief minister of the court. “Lord Di, what do you make of this?” asked the young man seated across from him in a lowered voice. It was Li Yuanfang, Di Renjie’s assistant, and his eyes held a hint of wariness and curiosity.