Chapter 123: The Transmitted Knocking

Zhao Fusheng frowned.

"This is bad."

Seeing her grim expression, Zhang Chuanshi realized he had been too carried away and quickly composed himself. "Ever since you and the two Fans left Wan'an County by carriage the day before yesterday, the sky has been growing dark much earlier than usual."

It is the beginning of the eighth lunar month; the days are long and the nights are short, so it shouldn't get dark until after the Hour of the Dog (7:00 PM – 9:00 PM). Yet, the day before yesterday, it began to darken just as the Hour of the Rooster (5:00 PM – 7:00 PM) reached its midpoint.

At the time, everyone felt a sense of unease. But they reasoned that with no recent reports of malevolent spirits in Wan'an County—and with the ghost disaster at Beggar's Alley having only just passed—it seemed unlikely they would be so unlucky as to have a new haunting occur the moment the Commander of the Demon Suppression Bureau left. Spirits lack intelligence; they couldn't possibly have known Zhao Fusheng had departed. With that thought, they dismissed the early darkness.

However, Zhang Chuanshi remained uneasy. He packed his belongings that same night and moved from his coffin shop across the street into the Demon Suppression Bureau. He felt as though something momentous was about to happen. Sure enough, that very night, he heard a rhythmic "clanging" sound.

"Someone came to the bureau to knock on the door?" Zhao Fusheng asked.

Magistrate Pang, having caught his breath, shook his head. "It wasn't just the bureau; I heard the knocking as well."

Zhang Chuanshi was annoyed that the magistrate had cut him off again. He glared at the thin official and snapped, "I was in the middle of telling her—"

"What difference does it make?" Zhao Fusheng tapped her finger on the table twice.

"How is it not different? He’s stealing all the credit..." Zhang Chuanshi’s voice was loud at first, but seeing Zhao Fusheng’s icy gaze, he wisely shut his mouth.

Ignoring his petty bickering, Zhao Fusheng looked at the others. The city's officials, gentry, and wealthy residents all wore expressions of terror. Clearly, this knocking sound was supernatural.

"You all heard it too?" she asked.

"We did," they answered in unison, nodding together. The sound of dozens of people speaking at once made the rafters hum, and the servants in the outer room peeked in, clearly just as concerned.

"Yu Weide, you tell it," Zhao Fusheng said, pointing to the old gentleman.

The old man, leaning tremulously on his cane, stepped forward. "In reply to your words, my lady, I am old and sleep little. Two nights ago, I had finally dozed off when I was jolted awake in the middle of the night by a rhythmic 'clanging'—like the sound of a chisel."

He still felt terror at the memory; goosebumps rose visibly on his neck, and his voice cracked. "I thought some servant was being inconsiderate, making such a racket in the dead of night and disturbing everyone's peace."

Yu Weide was already a light sleeper, and being awakened infuriated him. He immediately called for his staff, intending to find the servant and teach them a lesson. To his surprise, after searching for a long time, they found no one. Yet, during that entire time, the knocking never ceased.

"I won't lie to you, my lady; the sound was so maddening that my eyes throbbed and my head ached, as if my eyeballs were about to burst. My temper grew increasingly explosive and unbearable."

Zhao Fusheng nodded. "It is common to experience symptoms of agitation and unease when influenced by a ghost's domain." She had learned this from records kept by her predecessors. Human fear is often buried deep and, due to pride, cannot be easily vented; it can manifest as rage, making one's temperament become extremely erratic.

Yu Weide nodded eagerly. "You are absolutely right, my lady."

"And then?" Zhao Fusheng pressed for clues regarding the haunting.

"The more I thought about it, the angrier I grew. I suspected these servants were being insubordinate, perhaps thinking that because I am old, they could walk all over me." Unable to let it go, he summoned his entire family and all his servants to the main hall that night. He had his steward bring the roster and called everyone by name. "I wanted to see who dared to knock in the dead of night, and who, even after waking me, dared to continue hammering." As he spoke, his beard trembled, perhaps still under the influence of the haunting.

"Did you find the source?" Zhao Fusheng asked. She already knew the answer, as Magistrate Pang had essentially revealed it, but she needed the details.

At her words, Yu Weide’s face turned pale. He shook his head. "As you might have guessed, my entire household, down to my infant great-grandson, was gathered in the hall. After roll call, I found that everyone was present—and yet, no one was hammering!"

But the sound had not stopped.

"I didn't think of ghosts at first. I wondered if someone outside was working, and perhaps the night was so quiet that the sound carried far into my estate." But Yu Weide was a famous gentleman in Wan'an; his estate was large, and his neighbors were distant. Under normal circumstances, the sound shouldn't have carried that far. The only explanation was a malevolent spirit.

The Yu family took lanterns and searched for miles around, but they found no one, even though the hammering continued. At this point in his story, Yu Weide’s legs began to shake with fear, and he looked toward Magistrate Pang for help.

Magistrate Pang stepped forward. "Perhaps I should relate what happened next."

"Go ahead," Zhao Fusheng nodded.

"The situation at Master Yu’s was much like mine at the magistrate’s office," Pang began, swallowing hard. Because of Zhao Fusheng’s presence in the county, he had felt secure and had been working overtime, eager to manage the county's affairs.

When the knocking started, his wife had brought him a midnight snack, worrying that the night mist would harm his health. They were childhood sweethearts and deeply devoted. When he took the soup, he had smiled and said, "I want to handle the administrative affairs well to support Lady Zhao, so she can focus on the ghost cases and keep Wan'an safe."

He had served for less than two years and had dealt with the previous commander, Zhao Qiming. Whenever he had to face Qiming, he felt like he was speaking to a living corpse. He had watched Qiming’s temper shift from gentle to erratic, until eventually, there was no humanity left in him, only cruelty. Anyone who displeased him was killed.

Pang had lived in fear, thinking the county was doomed once Qiming died and the Demon Suppression Bureau collapsed. Zhao Fusheng’s arrival had been a lifeline.

As the couple talked, the "clanging" sound persisted. Pang initially thought it was someone working late, but after they talked for over a quarter of an hour, the sound hadn't stopped for a moment. He grew irritable, complaining to his wife, "I wanted to clear some paperwork while Lady Zhao was away, but how can I work with this noise?"

His usually gentle wife had shown uncharacteristic agitation. She flew into a rage, saying, "You are right. Who dares to act so boldly in the dead of night? It is an outrage!" She left to find the servant responsible.

The result was the same as at the Yu estate. After a frantic search, they found nothing. The sound continued until dawn. That night felt exceptionally long, and the sun rose later than usual. As the light returned, the knocking stopped.

Pang was furious, but felt a wave of relief as dawn broke. He summoned his clerks and runners, demanding they find the culprit. To his dismay, the runners were just as exhausted; they, too, had heard the knocking all night.

"Some lived far, some lived near, but they all heard it," Pang said, his voice trembling. "I knew then that something was wrong."

It was a cruel coincidence that Zhao Fusheng was out of town. The runners visited the surrounding areas and found the entire county had heard the eerie sound, as if someone were using a sharp-pointed hammer to strike something. Sensing something sinister, Pang immediately sent a runner to deliver a letter to the magistrate of Baozhi County.

"The runner left in the morning, but by noon, he returned in a daze." Pang’s face paled as he recalled the scene. "He ran into the office screaming for help, demanding to see the magistrate of Baozhi County. He held a letter, claiming to be a runner from Wan'an, sent to see Lady Zhao."

It was clear to Zhao Fusheng that the runner had entered a ghost domain, which had twisted his perception—he thought he had traveled to Baozhi County and met its magistrate, rather than returning to Wan'an to see Pang. It was similar to the incident at Dog-Head Village.

"He didn't recognize me at all. He thought I was someone else, and he didn't even remember that the letter in his hand was written by me." Pang knew the gravity of the situation and had the runner locked up. With the delivery failed, it was clear the entire city was trapped in a ghost domain.

"By yesterday afternoon, things grew even worse," Pang continued, his expression shifting to one of sheer horror. "Before the Hour of the Monkey (3:00 PM – 5:00 PM) had even passed, the sky began to grow dark."

The darkness had arrived earlier each day. When the night fell, the "clanging" returned, but this time, it wasn't just one sound. Pang’s eyes reddened, and tears streamed down his face. "I heard a second hammering sound mixed in with the first. Just then, my clerk came to find me..." He could not continue and turned away to wipe his eyes with his sleeve.

The clerk standing behind him stepped forward. "It was then that something happened to the Magistrate’s wife." His cheeks twitched with fear. "I heard from the servants that the Madam seemed possessed and told us to inform the master immediately."

"What did she do?" Zhao Fusheng asked.

The clerk’s eyes widened in terror. "She took a hairpin and began hammering it violently into a mirror."

"..."

*Gulp.*

Zhang Chuanshi, who had heard rumors of the event, swallowed hard. Infected by the fear in the room, he instinctively leaned closer to Zhao Fusheng. She shot him a look of disdain, warning him not to crowd her chair. He gave a dry laugh and moved slightly away, but as soon as she turned her head, he silently leaned back in.

Zhao Fusheng didn't bother exposing his cowardice. She turned to Yu Weide. "And did something happen at the Yu house?"

"Yes!" Yu Weide nodded. "My second son took a carving knife and began hammering at a piece of mountain stone—*clang, clang, clang*—that was the sound it made." He seemed to fear they wouldn't understand, so he raised his cane and began striking the floor.

*Clang, clang!*

The room, which had been quiet as everyone waited for Zhao Fusheng’s decision, was suddenly filled with the sound of the cane. Magistrate Pang, who had been slumped in his chair, jumped up in terror. "Master Yu, there is no need for that! Why must you terrify us?"

Everyone had been through two nights of hell. The sound was no longer just an annoyance; it was a trigger for their deepest fears of the unknown.

Yu Weide ignored him, continuing to strike the floor rhythmically. "Yu Weide!" Pang shouted, his heart racing and his veins bulging. "Stop it!"

The others joined in, their fear turning into frantic anger. They forgot that Zhao Fusheng had yet to speak and began shouting for someone to restrain him.

Yu Weide was silent, his face blank. In the dimming light of the hall, the grey mist began to seep in, shrouding the candles and casting long, flickering shadows. The collective fear and panic in the room were palpable; everyone was being influenced by the ghost domain, losing their composure.

They failed to notice that the fear had vanished from Yu Weide's face. His eyes had become clouded, his wrinkles deepened, and his mouth hung slack in a stiff, numb, and chilling expression.

Zhao Fusheng noticed that he was gripping his cane with unnatural force, hammering the stone floor as if trying to smash through it.

*Clang! Clang, clang! Clang, clang, clang!*

"Stop!" Pang screamed.

Zhang Chuanshi, who had been lucky enough to avoid the strange events at the bureau, watched in horror as Yu Weide suddenly began his rhythmic assault. He glanced at Zhao Fusheng and saw her watching the old man with a thoughtful, analytical expression—no fear, only focus.

If Zhao Fusheng wasn't afraid, then he shouldn't be either! A surge of courage filled Zhang Chuanshi. He had been trying to win her favor ever since the Dog-Head Village incident, and this was his chance to prove his worth.

He stepped forward, emboldened by the ghost-tome protection he carried, and slammed his hand onto Yu Weide’s forehead. "I told you to stop! Are you deaf, you old fool?"

Before he could finish, Yu Weide collapsed like a pile of sand, falling to the ground motionless.