Chapter Thirty-Three: Journey to the Southern City

Chapter Thirty-three

“I won’t go, I really can’t go.” The man Zhao Fusheng was holding onto refused to believe her words. Hearing her insist on heading to the southern part of the city, he was so frightened he collapsed to the ground.

“If I go, I’ll never come back! Spare me, sir, spare me!”

At the mention of Beggars’ Alley, the man seemed to lose his mind. A few passersby on the street, hearing those words, quickly slipped away one after another. In an instant, the street emptied once again.

Witnessing this, Zhao Fusheng felt a headache coming on. After a moment’s thought, she said, “Then take me to the county office. I’ll ask the officials there to help guide me.”

The man could only cry in terror. Zhao Fusheng shook him several times, repeating her request, and finally he regained his senses and agreed.

The county office of Wan’an was already in decline. After releasing her unwilling guide, Zhao Fusheng entered the deserted building.

Despite it being broad daylight, the office was empty. At the entrance sat a large drum, covered in dust.

Steeling herself, she called out twice, but no one answered. Picking up the mallet nearby, she struck the drum with all her strength, sending a deafening sound echoing through the halls.

The booming drum echoed, and after a long while, a few scattered figures appeared on the street outside. Yet, there was no movement within the office.

Only after some time did someone cry out in panic, “Stop, stop!”

An old man with a pointed chin and goat-like beard, dressed in scholar’s robes, hurried out from the inner chambers. He looked like a scribe, and seeing Zhao Fusheng, his anxious expression froze in surprise.

“You—” He saw it was a young girl beating the drum and was about to lose his temper, but before he could speak, Zhao Fusheng produced a box from her sleeve.

Opening it, she revealed a jade token.

“From the Demon Suppression Bureau. I need to go to Beggars’ Alley to investigate a case. Please cooperate with me—prepare a mule cart immediately and send me to the southern city.”

Pressed for time and unwilling to argue, Zhao Fusheng had carried this token with her since learning how important the Soul Registry was. Now she presented it to confirm her identity.

The scribe’s legs went weak upon hearing “Demon Suppression Bureau,” nearly collapsing to his knees.

The court had abandoned Wan’an County. Since Zhao Qiming arrived last year, no new agents from the Bureau had visited. Afterwards, the Bureau’s branch in Wan’an suffered a series of calamities, nearly wiped out to the last man.

Everyone in the county office knew Wan’an was doomed. Those with connections had already found ways to transfer elsewhere, the hopeless remained to await death.

In recent months, strange cases had appeared one after another. Just when everyone thought the county was beyond saving, Zhao Fusheng showed up, claiming to be from the Bureau and here to investigate.

Her words shocked everyone.

“You…” The scribe, kneeling, quickly came to his senses, wanting to ask more. But seeing the Soul Registry in Zhao Fusheng’s hands, his doubts vanished.

The Registry was covered in arcane curses, exuding a sinister aura. Such an item could not be forged; it was unmistakably the Soul Registry. With this in her hand, Zhao Fusheng needed no further explanation—her identity was proven.

“Go, now.” Zhao Fusheng ordered. The scribe snapped back to attention, responding instantly.

He scrambled to his feet, and under her gaze seemed to regain agility, running swiftly into the inner chambers and shouting, “County Magistrate! Magistrate! Someone from the Demon Suppression Bureau is here to investigate—a chance for Wan’an County!”

The commotion stirred the entire office.

Soon, the county magistrate hurried in. He was elderly, his hair graying, his slender frame resembling a bean sprout, his face full of worry—a clear sign of unrealized ambitions.

Even his clothes were worn loosely, the belt tied carelessly. He regarded Zhao Fusheng with suspicion, caution, and fear—but showed no joy upon hearing the Bureau was investigating.

Zhao Fusheng wasted no words, stating her demands. The magistrate nodded repeatedly, hastily instructing the scribe to prepare a sedan chair to send her to the southern city.

“No sedan,” Zhao Fusheng frowned, rejecting his offer. “A carriage would be best. Find someone skilled at driving. I’m pressed for time and need to arrive quickly.”

Her words made the magistrate sneak a glance at her, then quickly agree, sending the scribe off to make arrangements.

“Master Zhao…” The magistrate clasped his hands in nervous respect, secretly sizing her up for a long time before mustering the courage to ask, “The trouble in Beggars’ Alley has been ongoing. A ghost domain has formed there—once entered, there’s no return. Is someone accompanying you?”

He was probing for Zhao Fusheng’s background. The county magistrate hoped she was sent by the court to clean up the aftermath. If her identity was confirmed, it meant the court had not completely abandoned the place—there might still be hope.

“No,” Zhao Fusheng dashed his hopes, shaking her head. After hearing her reply, the old magistrate’s body swayed, as if struck hard by the blow.

After a moment, he asked, “Then your current position—”

“I’m the newly appointed Commanding Officer of the Demon Suppression Bureau in Wan’an County,” Zhao Fusheng replied. “There aren’t enough personnel in the Bureau now. The other two have gone to handle another case.”

The magistrate paled, his hands trembling, “There’s another case?”

Zhao Fusheng nodded, “For now, it’s nothing serious.” She had ordered Fan Bisi and his companion to divert the trouble eastward. As long as they didn’t encounter ghosts on the way, they should be safe.

Once the Zhao couple’s bodies reached Bao County, even if trouble arose, it would no longer be her concern.

The magistrate’s expression turned bitter, despair in his eyes. Clearly, he didn’t quite trust her assurances.

“The calamity in Beggars’ Alley is severe. Do you have confidence to dispel—” He hesitated, perhaps recalling the Bureau’s fearsome reputation, and didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he sighed, “I hope you have a safe journey and return unharmed.”

Cases handled by the Bureau often resulted in heavy casualties. Normally, a commanding officer would bring at least two agents—any accompanying person could die.

Now Zhao Fusheng was going alone. The magistrate felt she might never return.

But the Bureau’s agents held high status and fierce tempers; he dared not voice his concerns.

Zhao Fusheng paid his attitude no mind, nodding, “I hope so too.”

“If you return, I’ll host a banquet to welcome you back.”

“Good,” Zhao Fusheng replied without hesitation.

While they spoke, the county office quickly prepared a carriage. The scribe found an official to accompany her.

Although it was a carriage as requested, perhaps due to urgency, the stable was extremely shabby.

Zhao Fusheng didn’t mind. She boarded the carriage, and the official, avoiding her gaze, waited until she was settled before snapping the reins.

The scrawny horse struggled to move, slowly pulling the carriage forward.

As they set off, Zhao Fusheng glanced back at the county office, seeing the elderly magistrate and scribe standing together, watching her departure with anxious faces, as if her journey determined the fate of many souls.

Few townsfolk watched from the sides; her earlier drum-beating had drawn attention, and many now knew her identity. Seeing the Bureau investigating, several onlookers stared at her in confusion and curiosity, some merely seeking excitement, none showing any hope that she could dispel the ghosts.

For some reason, Zhao Fusheng felt uneasy under their gaze.

She frowned and spoke to the coachman, “Brother, may I ask your surname?”

Her address startled the man so much he nearly toppled from his seat.

“I dare not accept such a title from you, sir. My name is Liu Huai, fifth in my family. If you don’t mind, you may call me Liu Five.”

He was tall but not sturdy, with a patchy beard and thinning hair.

Zhao Fusheng was silent for a moment, then asked, “Wan’an County now—”

She had wanted to inquire about the county’s current state, but having spent some time in this world, she could already see the situation.

The wealthy had mostly fled, leaving only those too powerless to escape. Hope was lost, the living moved like corpses, convinced of their doom.

There was no laughter, nor the cries of children. The county office was a stagnant pool, the whole town devoid of vitality.

What was there to ask?

In her previous life, Zhao Fusheng had been an ordinary person. Now, reborn, she could barely protect herself, yet bore the weight of responsibility.

She slowly exhaled, but felt as if a heavy stone pressed on her heart.

Choosing not to probe about the county, she shifted the topic to Beggars’ Alley, “Tell me about the Confucius Temple.”

“Yes,” Liu Five sighed in relief at the question.

The Confucius Temple was legendary in Wan’an County, known to all.

“The temple was originally the Liu family ancestral hall—” Liu Five began.

Although Zhao Fusheng had already learned much of the case from documents and Zhang the Paper Man, she didn’t interrupt, listening as Liu Five recounted the past glories of the Liu family.

The Liu clan had once been one of the county’s most prominent gentry and nobles, esteemed guests of the Bureau and county office, famous throughout Wan’an.

“In those days, Wan’an County wasn’t like it is now. After Master Liu retired and returned home, he managed the family with great success. He was a renowned philanthropist in the city—” As he spoke, Liu Five glanced nervously at Zhao Fusheng.

Seeing she didn’t rebuke him and allowed him to speak freely, his courage grew, and he became less restrained in his manner.

Sensing the time was right, Zhao Fusheng asked, “I heard that during Master Liu’s birthday, there was a ghost incident.”

“Who says otherwise?” Liu Five, emboldened by her kindness, even smiled, “It’s quite a story. My grandfather lived through that disaster—he said he nearly lost his life.”

With this, Zhao Fusheng’s interest was piqued.

“Please, tell me.”

“Certainly,” Liu Five nodded vigorously, growing animated.

“Master Liu’s sixtieth birthday was a grand affair. His sons, being filial, arranged a banquet for the whole county, gathering everyone’s blessings for his longevity.”

“So many attended that the authorities sent officials to keep order. My grandfather was on duty then. Our family shares the Liu surname, and he claimed we were distant kin, which helped him get that coveted assignment.”

Those serving at the Liu residence received special care; besides food and drink, each received a birthday packet with copper coins.

“The Liu family was generous. They also hired an opera troupe. When the stage was set, servants brought baskets of coins to scatter among the crowd.”

Liu Five was quite eloquent, and as he spoke, Zhao Fusheng could almost picture the glory of Liu Huacheng’s grand birthday forty years ago.

“There was no shortage of coins. My grandfather grabbed plenty. The opera troupe performed twelve hours a day, nonstop, and every rotation brought fresh excitement, day and night.”

Coin scatterers appeared at any time, so guests were constantly alert, eager not to miss a chance.

“No one dared blink, afraid to miss the money—” Liu Five’s eyes glowed with longing.

But noticing Zhao Fusheng’s frown, he sobered instantly, like a bucket of cold water thrown over his head.

He realized she wanted details about the Confucius Temple, not the birthday feast.

“The disaster struck on the third night of the banquet,” he continued, his face showing fear.

“At midnight, as the third opera ended, the musicians were packing up, and a servant scattered coins. Two men fought over a single coin.”

When the story turned serious, Zhao Fusheng grew attentive, straightening up and leaning closer.

“That was common enough.”

People die for money; birds for food.

In this world, earning a coin was hard. The original Zhao Fusheng had sold her family for five pieces.

With the Liu family scattering coins, disputes were inevitable. The only reason there was no fatal violence was because the Liu family was powerful, with guards on hand, and others feared being thrown out, losing their access to food and money.

“Exactly,” Liu Five nodded, still nervous.

“The two men both reached for the same large coin, each claiming it was theirs, arguing endlessly.”

Normally, with officials present and the Liu family hosting, the combatants would know when to stop—one would eventually yield.

But that night, something seemed wrong. The quarrel escalated until they began to fight.

“In the scuffle, tables and chairs were overturned. My grandfather, angered by the disturbance, called over several officials to throw the troublemakers out.”

He paused, his face showing terror.

“But as they fought, the two men crashed into a nearby table. Most jumped away, but one was slower and got struck on the head by an arm.”

At this, Liu Five’s teeth chattered in fear, his face drained of color, unable to continue.

Zhao Fusheng, quick-witted, prompted him, “What a misfortune. The man struck must have been furious and wanted to retaliate.”

Her words made Liu Five shake his head repeatedly. But after two shakes, he quickly pressed his hand to his neck.

“No, no. The man who was struck—his head fell off instantly.”

!!!

Double release~

There will be another double chapter at two o’clock this afternoon!

(End of chapter)