Identified

A month had passed since the three martial artists had arrived, but nothing had changed. The disappearances continued, and the villagers grew restless. Every day, they saw the martial artists patrolling, questioning, and observing. Yet, no one had been arrested, no killer had been caught.

Whispers filled the tavern and the market.

"They're useless," one man muttered over his drink. "All that training and they haven't found a single clue."

A group of women nodded in agreement, their faces tense with frustration. "My cousin is still missing," one of them said, her voice shaking. "How much longer do we have to live in fear?"

The mood in the village had shifted from fear to anger. Some villagers began openly voicing their complaints when they saw the martial artists pass by, their voices rising in frustration.

"They promised us safety," one elder shouted at the passing trio, his cane trembling in his hand. "But all they've done is stir up more fear!"

...

Han Shou, the leader of the martial artists, clenched his fists as the old man's words reached his ears. His patience was wearing thin. Every day, they searched, and every night, they kept watch, but the killer remained elusive. His comrades were no better—he saw the frustration in their faces, the weariness in their steps.

"We've been here too long," the female martial artist muttered to Han one evening as they met outside the inn. "The sect's reputation is at stake. If we don't find this murderer soon…"

"I know," Han replied sharply, cutting her off. He looked out at the village, his jaw tight. "Something's off here. I can feel it, but I can't put my finger on what."

...

Meanwhile, Jo Yuan watched from the shadows, his own patience wearing thin. His blood core pulsed in his dantian, the power growing stronger each time he siphoned more life force. But the presence of the martial artists had disrupted his plans. They were everywhere, always watching, and it made moving around the village difficult.

He clenched his fists, anger bubbling beneath the surface. They're getting in the way, he thought bitterly. Every time he tried to take another victim, there was a risk of being seen. He had to work slowly, cautiously, which meant the blood core's transformation was progressing at a frustratingly slow pace.

Worse, he had to maintain his disguise. No one suspected him yet, but that didn't make it easy. He had to hide his frustration, suppress his instincts, and play the role of the friendly villager.

...

Jo Yuan had learned early on how to blend in. His charm, his calm demeanor, and his willingness to help others made him seem trustworthy. He spent his days mingling with the villagers, offering to fix a roof here and fetch supplies there. His smile was always warm, and his tone was always kind. People began to think of him as one of the most reliable men in the village.

To them, he was just another hardworking soul, unaffected by the disappearances except for the same fear they all shared.

"He's a good man," one of the elders remarked to his neighbor. "Always helping out, always there when you need him."

The villagers had no reason to suspect Jo. He kept his routine simple, never drawing attention to himself. Low-key was his strategy, and it worked.

...

But the martial artists weren't fools. After a month of failure, they sent a message to their sect, requesting assistance. The response came swiftly: a technique, delivered by a messenger from the sect master himself. This technique was a form of spiritual sense, capable of detecting unusual power within a person.

"This will help us find him," Han Shou said, holding the scroll in his hands. "We'll know who among the villagers has been hiding their true power."

...

The next morning, the martial artists gathered in the village square and forcefully aak evey villagers to attend, preparing to use the technique. Those that didn't come would be out on a suspect list.

The townspeople watched, curious and nervous as Han Shou stood in the center, his hands forming a series of intricate signs. The spiritual energy rippled in the air as he completed the ritual. His eyes glowed faintly as he scanned the crowd.

At first, nothing happened. The energy passed over the villagers, harmless and undisturbed. But then, as Han's gaze swept over Jo Yuan, a sudden jolt of energy surged. The air around Jo rippled, and for a brief moment, the pulse of his blood core was visible, glowing faintly in his dantian.

The villagers gasped, stepping back in shock.

"There!" Han shouted, pointing directly at Jo Yuan. "He's the one!"

...

The crowd erupted in confusion, disbelief, and fear. They stared at Jo, the man they had trusted, the man who had helped them so many times.

"But… it can't be him," one of the villagers said, shaking his head. "Jo Yuan wouldn't hurt anyone!"

Others weren't so sure. "He's been too quiet," someone else muttered. "Always watching…"

...

Jo felt the eyes of the crowd on him, but his mind was already racing. They know, he thought, his heart pounding. But panic didn't show on his face. He remained calm, his expression unreadable.

"I don't know what this is about," Jo said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. His voice was steady, though his blood core throbbed in his chest, ready to react. "I've done nothing wrong."

Han Shou's eyes narrowed. "You've been hiding your power. That technique doesn't lie. We know you have a blood core."

Jo's mind worked quickly. He couldn't run, not with the exits blocked, and fighting would only confirm their suspicions. But he could play for time, deflect, and make them doubt. He needed to stay low-key and keep his disguise intact until he found a way out.

"If you think I'm responsible," Jo said calmly, "prove it. I'm just a villager, like any of you."

...

The crowd looked at each other uncertainly. Han Shou stepped forward, his sword drawn, but Jo stood his ground, outwardly calm, though every instinct told him to prepare for a fight. He needed to find a way out—quickly—before his secret was fully exposed.