Chapter Thirteen: The Scapegoat Princess Consort Is Condemned to Death (13)

“Explain in detail what exactly happened in the garden. What were you doing there? Why did the garden suddenly collapse? Such a large area just gave way!”

Even Dong Huaide found it difficult to remain calm. Unable to contain his frustration, he roared in interrogation.

Although the garden steward was still somewhat shaken, he quickly recited a Buddhist sutra to quell his panic. Then, glancing at the others nearby, he said, “Chief steward, this matter might require a private discussion with you.”

Hearing this, Dong Huaide felt a slight relief. This surely meant the steward knew what had happened in the garden and why it collapsed, but perhaps it involved secrets of the Duke of Lu’s mansion or delicate matters concerning the prince, so it couldn’t be revealed in front of outsiders.

Regardless, knowing the cause of the garden’s collapse was far better than being left completely in the dark.

Dong Huaide promptly waved his hand, signaling the others to leave, leaving only the garden steward behind. “Alright, now you can speak plainly.”

“Chief steward, you haven’t been at the mansion long and may not be fully aware of certain matters. Beneath the garden were originally hundreds of buried skeletons. After the collapse, I immediately went down to inspect, but all the bones had vanished—there wasn’t even a single white bone left.”

“Though I arrived in haste and couldn’t thoroughly search the entire area beneath the garden, it’s very likely that the collapse was caused by the sudden disappearance of a massive number of skeletons underground—possibly even an instantaneous vanishing—which caused the ground to give way.”

He had personally overseen the burial of those bodies with the gardeners, so he knew exactly how many bones were there. When the garden collapsed, fearing exposure of the remains, he quickly descended to check. The sight of the complete disappearance of the bones nearly caused him to faint.

He understood that it was normal for bodies to decompose into bones, but for the bones themselves to vanish without a trace was utterly abnormal.

His mind raced through countless possibilities—ghosts, spirits, and supernatural causes came to mind. Only by incessantly reciting Buddhist sutras could he barely steady himself, suppressing any scream or loss of consciousness.

But calm? That was impossible. One could only say he was barely holding on between life and death.

“Hundreds of skeletons buried beneath the garden? The prince did this?” Even with his firm belief that the Duke of Lu was no innocent, Dong Huaide’s heart trembled at this figure. Good heavens, the Duke had the audacity to bury so many bodies right under the garden?

Why not just bury them under his own bed?

After the initial shock, Dong turned to the pressing issue.

“All disappeared suddenly? Not long ago, a pig vanished, and now so many skeletons beneath the garden have also disappeared. Quickly gather a team and conduct a thorough investigation. Determine whether the bones were stolen gradually, day by day, until there weren’t enough left to support the garden, causing it to collapse; or if all the bones vanished at once.”

If the bones had been stolen piece by piece over time, there would be signs of gradual theft, indicating a traitor inside the mansion. But if all the bones disappeared simultaneously or within a short span, leaving no trace, then truly supernatural forces might be at work.

The next step was to wait for the garden steward’s final findings. Meanwhile, Ding Shui, who had taken the bones, was troubled over where to rebury them.

Randomly burying them somewhere felt disrespectful.

But separating the bones was impossible, as he couldn’t distinguish which belonged to loyal followers and which to other victims—let alone identify individuals accurately.

After much hesitation, Ding Shui returned to his coffin, cleared out the burial objects, and replaced them with the white bones of infant fetuses.

It was unrealistic to store hundreds of bones inside his coffin, so he prioritized the children’s remains, at least giving them a resting place.

The rest of the bones were taken to the Duke of Lu’s tomb. Though the duke was only in his twenties, his tomb had been constructed alongside the mansion’s beginning. Though far from complete, the main burial chamber was already finished. After the funeral rites, the original coffin would be placed in the side chamber next to the main burial room.

When the duke died, his coffin would be moved into the main chamber, and the tomb sealed.

The original owner had been sentenced to death by the emperor and was not entitled to the status of a legitimate consort. Thus, she could only be interred in the side chamber—a considerable mercy already.

Ding Shui’s spirit arrived at the main chamber and quickly used his super synthesis system and storage space to carve out a new burial chamber beneath it, where the remaining bones were stored.

For now, they would have to endure this indignity, residing below. Once the duke died and was buried, his remains would be cremated, and the bones moved up to the main chamber.

When Ding Shui left the tomb, only his own corpse and a pile of soil and stones remained in his synthetic storage space. He selected some earth beneath the main chamber for synthesis, which naturally produced clods of soil and created an additional space below.

He also synthesized stones, repeating the process dozens of times until a new space was carved out beneath the main burial chamber.

The soil and stones couldn’t be left there, so they were stored in the synthetic storage space for removal.

Meanwhile, Zhao Ya, the garden steward, had completed his inspection and quickly reported his findings to Dong Huaide:

“Chief steward, we found no signs of human interference. The skeletons beneath the garden appeared to have vanished suddenly and without any warning, leaving not the slightest trace behind.”

“If the bones had been moved by human hands, there would be residual fragments. It’s impossible for all the bones to disappear without any remnants.”

If the bones had been gradually stolen by thieves, it would be impossible to predict when the collapse might occur. Nor would the collapse happen only after all bones had been removed, just as a coal mine doesn’t collapse only after every bit of coal is extracted—often, collapses happen suddenly during extraction.

Even with wooden supports, absolute safety cannot be guaranteed.

The garden showed no signs of excavation or any supports to prevent collapse during removal, so based on all evidence and past experience, the disappearance of the bones was almost certainly not human-caused.

“Understood. You may leave now, but remember to keep this confidential.”

Dong Huaide no longer wanted to struggle against the facts. This was undoubtedly related to the supernatural. The Duke of Lu was either paying for his sins or had angered practitioners of forbidden arts and curses who were taking revenge.

To be fair, given the duke’s current state, he deserved it.

Moreover, Dong was no match for such strange forces.

It was best to report the truth and cease further futile efforts.

There was no solution to be gained by dragging it out.