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...
A murder case was certain to attract the attention of the authorities.
After an examination by the officials, a conclusion was given—
"Killed by someone, the murder weapon should be a sickle."
"The person has been dead for at least three days."
The village head's face grew even paler, from the bloodless hue it wore before, now it was as white as paper, "Killed by someone? A sickle?"
He instinctively remembered the sickle that had landed at his door three days prior.
"Old Mo had just moved here not long ago, how could he have any enemies in this village?"
"Enemies?" The village head's mind flashed with the thought of someone but then immediately returned to the bloodied sickle at his doorstep.
At the same time, another thought crossed his mind: By now, Meng Fang should be at least seven or eight hundred miles away, right?