Chapter 54: Understanding the Rules

Chapter Fifty-Four

Meanwhile, the chill that had descended vanished as swiftly as it came. The clouds were swept away by the wind, sunlight poured down once more, and Fan Bisi was left bewildered, unsure if the strange sensation he’d felt had merely been a figment of his imagination.

Inside the carriage, Zhao Fusheng listened regretfully to the prompt in her mind: "Failed to absorb the vengeful spirit."

Although the Investiture of the Gods had already warned her that the infernal realm was too low level to confine spirits above the malevolent class, she still attempted to use the peculiarities of that realm to send away a spirit she controlled, only to fail as expected.

Yet Zhao Fusheng had anticipated this outcome, so she was not discouraged. Instead, she considered her options, took out the ghostly hand hidden in her sleeve, and once again invoked the infernal domain.

Silently, the shadows swallowed the ghost hand.

The shriveled hand began to swell the instant it entered the infernal realm, and the piece of human skin parchment it held dropped to the ground with a soft slap.

However, after restoring itself, the hand did not stir but was restrained by the power of the infernal realm.

Zhao Fusheng’s consciousness was closely linked to that realm, and she could now distinctly sense that she could "touch" and locate the ghost hand and the fallen skin parchment at will.

Everything within the infernal realm was under her mental command; the sensation was almost mystical.

Yet she could vaguely sense the ghost hand’s uncontrollability. It gripped and flexed instinctively, as if searching for its true body, trying to break free from the infernal realm’s confines.

The ghost that begged for alms had already reached the malevolent grade. Though Zhao Fusheng had disassembled it, the severed hand still embodied the ghost’s murderous law—its most formidable part.

Thus, for her, to completely control this hand within the first layer of the infernal domain was still a bit of a challenge.

The benefits of the infernal domain, however, were also apparent. Once the ghost hand was absorbed, it seemed utterly isolated from this world, as if separated by different times and spaces.

As Zhao Fusheng pondered, she sensed the hand’s struggles and, with a thought, "grabbed" both the ghost hand and the parchment out together.

The moment the hand was withdrawn from the infernal domain, it tried to kill by instinct. Zhao Fusheng’s expression hardened, and she shoved the parchment into its grasp. At the same moment, the Investiture of the Gods prompted her:

"Detected ghost hand’s revival; deducting 5 points of merit to suppress."

"Excessive use of the infernal domain has agitated the spirits you control; deducting 10 points of merit to calm."

"..."

Zhao Fusheng had not expected that in just a single in-and-out maneuver, she would lose another 15 merit points, leaving her with only 25.

She frowned at the once again diminished, miniature ghost arm in her palm, with the piece of human skin parchment gripped tightly in its hand.

From this test, though she had lost some merit points, Zhao Fusheng had gleaned several important pieces of information:

The use of the infernal domain was not unlimited; especially when her merit was low or she lacked sufficient resources, frequent use could trigger the revival of the spirits she controlled.

When a controlled spirit was stored in the infernal domain and then released, it would go out of control again—for instance, this ghost hand, which she had previously subjugated through spirit-control laws, would regain its murderous law after being sent in and out of the domain.

Most crucially, after the ghost hand revived, its "appetite" seemed to have grown; the parchment was no longer enough to placate it.

If the Investiture of the Gods hadn’t suppressed it with merit at the critical moment, the hand might have gone berserk once more.

Having clarified these rules, Zhao Fusheng let out a long breath.

This experiment had been worthwhile; the merit spent had yielded valuable experience that could help her avoid fatal mistakes in the future.

It was now apparent to her that merit was immensely valuable—she never had enough.

"Fusheng, just now—"

Outside the carriage, Fan Bisi kept turning over the recent events in his mind. That sudden gust of cold wind felt especially ominous.

Wanan County was no ordinary place of misfortune now. With the appearance of ghostly mists, the imperial court had abandoned the area, and even seasoned spirit tamers dared not set foot here for fear of never returning. Once affected by the ghost mists, the spirits they controlled would revive more quickly, likely resulting in their deaths.

Given such circumstances, any unusual occurrence left Fan Bisi on edge, fearing some ghostly trickery.

Though the chill had come and gone quickly, he still felt increasingly uneasy the more he thought about it. Finally, he mustered the courage to ask.

Zhao Fusheng calmly tucked the miniature ghost arm back into her sleeve. Hearing Fan Bisi’s question, she replied, "It’s nothing. I was just testing the spirit’s power—there’s no problem."

A collective gasp could be heard, and the doubts that had formed in Fan Bisi’s mind were instantly stifled.

The two brothers exchanged shocked glances.

Years ago, they were adopted by Zhao Duan and grew up with Zhao Qiming. They had witnessed Zhao Qiming control a vengeful spirit, only to lose himself to its influence.

Each time the power was used, he became colder and more ruthless, losing his humanity while his primal and murderous instincts took over.

The spirit Zhao Fusheng now controlled was the very one that had caused Zhao Qiming’s downfall. In the Demon Suppression Bureau, she had already subdued the resurrected Zhao couple with this power. This time, she had entered Beggar’s Alley and managed to disassemble the vengeful spirit that haunted it—clearly, she must have used the spirit’s power again.

How could a newcomer, lucky enough to control a vengeful spirit, completely subdue such a ferocious entity and use its power twice without showing any ill effects?

She even dared to toy with it as she pleased—was she not afraid of its backlash?

Fan Bisi was full of doubts but dared not voice them, fearing he might anger Zhao Fusheng.

He was even unsettled and suspicious: Zhao Fusheng’s behavior was simply too bizarre. She could read and count, possessed a shrewd and calm demeanor, and remained unruffled after controlling a spirit. Was she perhaps an extraordinary spirit tamer in hiding? Did Paper Zhang know all this?

If Paper Zhang knew nothing, how could such a coincidence exist? If he had known Zhao Fusheng’s true nature all along and deliberately pointed the brothers toward her as adversaries, then was it all a setup?

The more he thought about it, the more uneasy he became, and he glared at Zhang Chuan Shi with growing resentment.

Zhao Fusheng was oblivious to his inner turmoil. After testing the infernal domain, she couldn’t help but try to unlock the second layer.

In her mind, the Investiture of the Gods responded: "Host’s merit insufficient—need 1,000 points to unlock the second layer."

The failed attempt was within her expectations, but learning that it required a thousand merit points made her frown.

By now, she was fairly certain that merit was tied to the scale and severity of ghost cases she handled, the grade of the spirits involved, the scope affected, and the number of people saved.

A thousand points was a hefty sum, but not unreachable.

What unsettled her was that the merit required for the second layer was exactly ten times the first. If each subsequent layer followed this pattern, she would have her work cut out for her.

"No money is one thing, but not enough merit either," she muttered to herself. "Looks like I’ll have to go all out catching ghosts."

Outside the carriage, Zhang Chuan Shi caught the words "no money" and then "catching ghosts" and shuddered, wondering if he’d misheard.

After that, nothing strange occurred. As Zhao Fusheng instructed, Magistrate Pang and the others returned to the Demon Suppression Bureau.

Having spent three days in Beggar’s Alley, Zhao Fusheng needed to wash up.

She stepped down from the carriage and, without exchanging pleasantries, headed straight to her temporary quarters in the Bureau.

The Fan brothers, having completed her earlier instructions, had clearly arranged for the place to be cleaned up. Bloodstains in the main hall were scrubbed away, and broken parts roughly patched up.

Her own room had been tidied, with clean clothes and shoes laid out on the bed, and fresh bedding provided.

Though they didn’t know whether she would return, the brothers had done their part.

In this world, strength commanded respect. Once she displayed power worthy of fear, life became much more convenient.

After a simple wash, Zhao Fusheng changed into clean clothes. By then, the bailiffs and curious onlookers had mostly dispersed.

A large table was set in the courtyard, laden with dishes; Magistrate Pang and several elderly gentry were still waiting.

Upon her appearance, they hurried forward to pay their respects. Magistrate Pang spoke: "We ought to have held a grand banquet to welcome you, but fearing fatigue, we postponed it. Today, several local elders, grateful for your service in driving out the ghosts, have brought modest gifts, hoping you will accept them."

As he spoke, he gestured, and the scribe called out. Five or six men entered in a line, each carrying a long wooden chest.

They lined up; the scribe stepped forward and lifted each lid, revealing rows of gleaming silver ingots.

It was an unwritten rule for local gentry to offer "tribute" to the Demon Suppression Bureau’s officials—a hidden protection fee.

Fan Bisi stole a glance at Zhao Fusheng.

She came from poverty, had once been bought for five copper coins, and later struggled for money so much that she couldn’t even afford coffins for her parents—she’d had to half-beg, half-threaten Zhang Chuan Shi to "borrow" one.

Usually, the Bureau’s officials were either from families like Zhao Qiming’s, or else, like her, ordinary people who had become spirit tamers by chance.

For those from humble backgrounds, sudden wealth often led to greed—they’d start by coveting money, then extorting and oppressing the people, before eventually succumbing to fear of death and seeking salvation.

When all hope vanished, and death seemed certain, their true nature would break free, becoming ruthless and terrifying as ghosts themselves.

Fan Bisi watched Zhao Fusheng look over the silver. She remained calm, betraying no greed or joy, and simply nodded. "Put it away."

He was stunned for a long moment before nudging his brother. The two hurried forward and stowed away all the silver.

Seeing her accept the gifts, Magistrate Pang and the elders were visibly relieved.

The magistrate, eager to show loyalty, said, "Sir Zhao, you’re now familiar with Wanan County’s situation. Ghost cases are frequent. I know you’re busy, so for minor cases, we’ll try not to trouble you—but if it’s truly—"

Before he could finish, Zhao Fusheng waved her hand, her expression stern. "No."

At her words, their faces fell.

In contrast, the Fan brothers and the cowering Zhang Chuan Shi brightened.

When it came to ghost cases, the common folk and the Demon Suppression Bureau had opposite attitudes.

The magistrate and the gentry feared both ghosts and the officials who tamed them—the former threatened their lives, the latter their wealth.

But with a knife at their throats, when life was at stake, money became secondary.

For the Bureau’s people, money was easy to come by—life, however, was only one.

Especially as the mortality rate for their kind was notoriously high, the Fan brothers now cared only for survival. Zhao Fusheng’s refusal to take ghost cases was a blessing for them.

"But—" Magistrate Pang was sweating, his tongue thick, uncertain how to curry favor, when Zhao Fusheng smiled and added, "Report ghost cases as best you can. If I’m available, I won’t stand idly by."

Her recent visit to Beggar’s Alley had earned her the merit required to unlock the infernal domain. Now, with the ability to temporarily store one vengeful spirit and a ghost hand, she had the confidence to speak so.

Having seen the Investiture of the Gods’ potential, she naturally wanted to capture more spirits, trade them for merit, and strive to promote her spirit to the ranks of the gods as soon as possible.

Her change in tone left both sides speechless—Pang and the gentry went from elation to fear, while the Fan brothers first worried and then grew anxious. They all looked at one another, unsure how to respond.

None enjoyed their meal; the officials barely touched their chopsticks, while Zhao Fusheng, though she had some soup to settle her stomach, was famished after her journey and ate heartily.

Once she’d finished and set down her chopsticks, the others sighed in relief and followed suit.

A few polite exchanges later, the officials took their leave.

As soon as they left, Fan Bisi’s expression changed. "Fusheng, are you really going to keep doing ghost cases?"

Though he hadn’t spent long with the reborn, spirit-controlling Zhao Fusheng, he’d come to understand her character—her earlier words had not been in jest.

The others might have thought she was just being polite, but only the three from the Bureau knew she was sincere, which left them uneasy. At last, with the guests gone, Fan Bisi dared ask.

"Yes," Zhao Fusheng replied.

She leaned back in her chair, throwing one leg onto a neighboring seat. Zhang Chuan Shi hurried forward to adjust it, making her position more comfortable.

She glanced coldly at him without speaking. The old man chuckled nervously, his eyes twinkling, but he didn’t dare meet her gaze.

"But—" Fan Bisi tried again, but Zhao Fusheng cut him off with a wave.

"No buts."

Her tone was forceful. After handling the Beggar’s Alley case, she had firmly established her authority in the Bureau—her decisions were beyond question.

"I’ve always said, we accept the court’s salary and serve the court’s cause. As officials, it’s our duty to protect the people and uphold justice."

The Fan brothers exchanged helpless glances, but they had given up trying to persuade her otherwise.

Zhao Fusheng ignored them and turned to Zhang Chuan Shi. "Old Zhang."

At her call, the old man jolted, his shoulders sagging.

Before she could say anything more, he dropped to his knees with a thud and shuffled over to her side.

"Master Zhao, spare me—spare me! I have nothing to do with it!"

She almost laughed at his antics.

She hadn’t even questioned him yet, and he was already begging for mercy.

"What is it that has nothing to do with you?" she asked with an easy smile, her expression unreadable.

Yet, the more relaxed she seemed, the more on guard Zhang Chuan Shi became.

(End of Chapter)