Chapter Forty-Five: Turning the Tables

Chapter Forty-Five

An absurd suspicion had turned into reality, and the shock rendered Zhao Fusheng speechless for a long time.

Three vengeful ghosts hiding simultaneously within the Confucius Temple—how did Liu Yizhen dare such a thing? He lived with all three ghosts!

Images flashed in her mind of yesterday when she came seeking Liu Yizhen, glimpsing the shrine within the temple from outside. Though she hadn’t gotten a clear look at the so-called “idol” enshrined there, even then it had given her an uncanny, unsettling feeling. But the ghost lantern shattered, and Liu Yizhen appeared, interrupting her investigation.

Zhao Fusheng’s emotions were tangled as she followed the vengeful ghost around the street corner.

The light of the Confucius Temple grew ever brighter, the pale glow piercing the ghostly mist’s blockade, allowing her to see clearly the scene at the temple gate.

A tall figure stood at the entrance, holding a wooden bucket in each hand. Perhaps the hour had come, for he seemed anxious, nervously glancing around as if awaiting something.

When the heavy thud of footsteps sounded, the figure whipped around abruptly.

The deathly pale vengeful ghost, holding a blood-dripping human head, walked unhurriedly into the lantern’s illuminated area.

Seeing this, the young man instinctively looked at the head in the ghost’s grasp—

“Huh?” He uttered a surprised sound, as if perceiving something strange.

The head belonged to an older man, teeth crooked and uneven; clearly, tonight’s victim was not Zhao Fusheng.

While the young man was still stunned, a familiar voice broke the silence:

“What’s wrong, didn’t expect it wouldn’t be me?”

This teasing remark, tinged with laughter, was abrupt and sent a wave of terror through the youth.

He shuddered, his strong frame trembling.

The buckets crashed to the ground, water spilling and splashing everywhere.

Behind the vengeful ghost, a figure slowly emerged from the shadows—

“It’s you!” Liu Yizhen exclaimed, his voice stammering:

“You—you, how—how dare—”

Since Zhao Fusheng first met Liu Yizhen, he’d always seemed calm and mature to her. He’d never shown fear of ghosts, but now her unexpected appearance had clearly startled him.

Perhaps he was shocked not only that Zhao Fusheng had survived tonight’s calamity but also that she had followed behind the vengeful ghost for most of the street. He was breathing heavily as he spoke.

His hands, wet from the spilled water, clenched and unclenched repeatedly, and his pupils contracted in shock.

Zhao Fusheng shook her head, watching the vengeful ghost slowly move toward the temple doors.

The light illuminated the blood droplets on the ground, making them starkly visible.

The ghost passed by the disheveled Liu Yizhen, and whether due to the ghost lantern’s influence or because it had fulfilled tonight’s murderous rule, it seemed not to “see” the living person standing before it.

With stiff movements, it ascended the steps and crossed the threshold. Soon, the sound of its footsteps echoed from the quiet hall, as its aura was gradually swallowed by the shadows within.

Not long after, the clattering of impacts sounded, then all was calm.

Now, the two living souls stood before the temple, silent for a long time.

“I didn’t expect it would be like this,”

Zhao Fusheng murmured, shaking her head again:

“No, I should have realized.”

No wonder yesterday, when she’d asked Liu Yizhen how many ghosts were in the temple, he’d only smiled, refusing to answer.

By her initial deduction, the ghostly calamity in Beggar’s Alley had arisen to combat the headless ghost, which was sealed within the Confucius Temple. The head-carrying vengeful ghost hiding there wasn’t impossible.

But the fact that Liu Yizhen lived in the temple had misled her—she hadn’t considered that a living person would dare share a space with revived vengeful ghosts.

After the old temple keeper’s death and the ghost’s revival—Zhao Fusheng sighed:

“Who would have thought that our humble Confucius Temple in Wan’an County would be so densely packed with ghosts?”

As she spoke, she looked up at the hanging ghost lantern, then at the two buckets of water beside Liu Yizhen.

She recalled that yesterday morning, the ground had been damp as if freshly washed, raising her suspicions then.

“...”

Liu Yizhen was left speechless by her words, unsure how to respond. At last, he calmed himself and said:

“I’ll tidy up here, then we’ll talk.”

He indicated she should step aside, then bent to pour out the remaining water from the buckets.

Water gushed, washing the ground, and Liu Yizhen fetched a long-handled broom from the corner to sweep away the traces left by the ghost’s passage.

Clearly, he was used to these tasks, for his movements were deft and quick. In a few strokes, he had cleaned the temple entrance, then put away the broom and buckets, casting a glance at Zhao Fusheng—

Her expression was calm, but her eyes wary and guarded.

The girl wore shabby cloth shoes, both big toes poking through holes, revealing her socks inside. The soles and uppers were soaked with blood, and after his earlier dousing, they were nearly completely wet.

“Do you want to clean your shoes?”

Zhao Fusheng looked down at her feet, seeing her toes nearly protruding through the torn shoes.

Liu Yizhen’s gaze fell on her feet. She shifted her eyes and chuckled:

“Why not.”

She made a show of bending to remove her shoes:

“You might as well take them and clean them for me—”

“...”

Liu Yizhen was caught off guard by her reaction.

Most people would feel embarrassed when their shortcomings were exposed, instinctively wanting to evade or explain. Zhao Fusheng, though lucky enough to become Commander of the Demon Suppression Bureau, came from poor origins, her attire mismatched to her rank.

Liu Yizhen had mentioned her shoes to embarrass her, hoping to avoid further conversation. But instead, she was unashamed, and her gesture to remove her shoes startled him.

“Don’t—”

He lost composure again, blurting out.

Her hand was still on the heel; she hadn’t intended to go further. Hearing his nervousness, she laughed:

“I was only teasing you. Look how scared you are.”

She straightened up.

Liu Yizhen’s expression was initially annoyed, but her laughter made him realize his own behavior was ridiculous; his attempt to gain the upper hand had backfired.

He couldn’t help but smile.

Their shared laughter dissolved the tense, confrontational atmosphere.

Liu Yizhen’s demeanor seemed relaxed, but in truth, he was more wary of Zhao Fusheng than ever.

She was clever and cunning, unpredictable, and skilled at reading people and situations.

Since the vengeful ghost had returned, his emotions had been under her control. Even his attempt to drive her away appeared to have been anticipated.

Zhao Fusheng seemed unconcerned about his thoughts, quietly saying:

“I’ll have to get used to these things if I’m to deal with ghosts in the future.”

Liu Yizhen nodded thoughtfully.

Zhao Fusheng continued:

“But I hadn’t expected the ghost in Beggar’s Alley to be one you raised.”

“No—”

Liu Yizhen started to protest, but under her gaze, he sighed:

“It’s a long story.”

“Then take your time,” Zhao Fusheng pressed, eyes fixed on him. “I know you’re still hiding things, but now, with so many lives at stake, you can’t keep evading the issue.”

Indecision leads to chaos.

She was convinced—the ghost in Beggar’s Alley had been raised in the Confucius Temple. If Liu Yizhen, cunning and dangerous, dared to lie to her, she would have to eliminate him, leaving no room for future threats.

He was a strange one.

He was alive, bearing no trace of the sinister aura that comes from ghost taming, yet she sensed a faint ghostly presence from his frequent dealings with ghosts.

It was a peculiar feeling.

She hadn’t tamed ghosts for long or dealt with them often, but vaguely felt Liu Yizhen was unique—her own ghosts seemed not to harbor malice toward him, and there was an indescribable connection between him and them.

He and his grandfather, the old temple keeper, had successively handled charity and interacted with ghosts; surely, he had his own methods, which he withheld from others.

Zhao Fusheng suppressed her stray thoughts; she would investigate Liu Yizhen in detail after resolving the Beggar’s Alley crisis. For now, that was the priority.

“You must know the origins of the Confucius Temple’s ghosts?”

“Yes,” Liu Yizhen nodded.

Tonight, the vengeful ghost’s movements had exposed another of his secrets.

Since the temple was built, this had been hidden for forty years.

Even after Beggar’s Alley’s disaster, with the vengeful ghost killing repeatedly, others had deduced its murderous rules, but ordinary people were fearful and wouldn’t dare, as Zhao Fusheng did, to follow a vengeful ghost and discover its hiding place.

Liu Yizhen frowned, thought a moment, and then laughed:

“Well, this matter concerns the Demon Suppression Bureau anyway. There’s no shame in telling you.”

Having decided, he spoke directly:

“I think you know much already. The ghost calamity in Beggar’s Alley, the situation here, you have a general idea.”

Zhao Fusheng nodded.

He asked,

“Then you know about my family’s ghost disaster forty years ago?”

“Of course.”

She raised an eyebrow and answered.

“That calamity, Su Long and Zhang Xiongwu couldn’t resolve it,” he said bluntly.

Zhao Fusheng recalled what Paper Zhang had mentioned and asked,

“Was it because of the headless ghost corpse’s special power?”

“Yes,” Liu Yizhen confirmed. “The headless ghost corpse has unique power—it can suppress vengeful ghosts. My grandfather said Su Long’s tamed ghost was at the Sha level, yet before it, he was suppressed, unable to harness its power.”

Zhao Fusheng had only heard Paper Zhang speak of the headless ghost corpse’s terror, but hadn’t realized its power was so extraordinary.

She thought of her own tamed ghost, her heart stirring:

“That ability seems really useful—”

Whenever she used her ghost’s power too much, she risked dying after its revival—if she could obtain the headless ghost’s body, perhaps she could first borrow her ghost’s strength, then immediately carry the headless corpse.

Thus, the headless ghost’s power would suppress her tamed ghost, sealing it by proxy, allowing her to exploit its abilities without limit, rendering her ghost powerless against her.

“Don’t let your imagination run wild!”

Liu Yizhen, seeing her expression, guessed her intent and rebuked:

“Others have tried such naive schemes before.”

The headless ghost could indeed suppress other vengeful ghosts, pushing them into a sealed state—but once it revived, who would suppress it?

“I advise you to abandon this idea; if you borrow the headless ghost’s power, it will take your head first, killing you instantly.”

“...Alright.”

Zhao Fusheng sighed with some regret.

Yet she wasn’t entirely resigned.

The headless ghost’s power was extremely useful to her; she simply hadn’t found a way to restrain it yet. If she ever did, this ghost could become a tremendous asset.

Seeing her expression, Liu Yizhen knew she hadn’t truly listened, and felt a headache coming on:

“Don’t mess around. When the vengeful corpse was whole, it caused a disaster in the imperial capital, killing a Golden-ranked general—”

Zhao Fusheng had heard this from Paper Zhang already, and smiled:

“I know.”

“But do you know? The ranks in the Demon Suppression Bureau aren’t just based on merit, experience, and ghost abilities, but also on the ghost’s grade. My grandfather said the Golden-ranked general tamed a ghost above the Calamity level!”

Liu Yizhen spoke solemnly.

This made Zhao Fusheng pay attention.

Paper Zhang had mentioned the grades of ghosts: Curse, Fierce, Sha, Disaster, Calamity—the five levels.

That meant, in human classification, Calamity-level ghosts were the most terrifying.

That a commander who tamed such a ghost could die in the imperial capital’s ghost calamity was what truly concerned Zhao Fusheng.

“A ghost above Calamity level?” She frowned.

Paper Zhang had never detailed these things; his mind was venomous, always giving incomplete information to lure her to her death.

“Yes,” Liu Yizhen replied gravely, relaxing a little as she became serious.

“That headless ghost corpse is so formidable, able to kill a commander with a Calamity-level ghost—but back then—”

“It’s not quite so simple,” Liu Yizhen said. “Its rules are extraordinary, but there were reasons it could kill a Golden-ranked general.”

(End of chapter)