Chapter Sixty-Four: New Clues Emerge

Chapter Sixty-four

While everyone was fiercely arguing and vying to host the guest, their faces flushed with excitement, Wu Liyou hurried back. Seeing the others scrambling to claim the guest, he pushed his way forward, shoving the others aside.

"My home already has a fire going," he said, pointing as he spoke. Zhao Fusheng followed the direction of his finger and indeed saw a distant house lit up.

"Don’t rush there yet. I want to visit Wu Li’s home first," Zhao Fusheng announced. As soon as her words left her mouth, the villagers who had just enthusiastically crowded around instantly shrank back, taking half a step away.

"Madam, Wu Li’s home is unlucky," someone hesitantly spoke. "Since early August, his family vanished without a trace—dozens gone overnight. Where could they have gone?"

"It must be haunted!" another chimed in.

"Definitely ghosts," came the chorus. The crowd murmured, speculating, "Maybe Wu Liren’s father did something wicked in the county years ago and now vengeful spirits have come to claim him."

…The villagers discussed animatedly. Wu Dajing tried to dissuade her: "Madam, perhaps you should wait until tomorrow. It’s already dark—"

"Exactly," Zhang Chuan-shi, who had little regard for these country folk, quickly agreed, "It’s pitch black; you can’t see anything clearly. Better wait until daylight." He dreaded dealing with ghost cases, secretly wishing to delay until the matter faded away. Ideally, he and Zhao Fusheng would spend a few uneventful days here and return empty-handed.

"No," Zhao Fusheng rejected firmly. She turned her gaze to Zhang Chuan-shi, seeing through his thoughts with ease. "We came here precisely to handle a ghost case; there’s no avoiding it."

Her words made Zhang Chuan-shi uneasy, prompting him to retort, "It might not be a ghost case. We haven’t seen any sign of ghosts so far."

Zhao Fusheng nearly laughed at his optimism, but remained silent. Her smile unsettled Zhang Chuan-shi, who felt a chill down his spine.

"I’m going to Wu Liren’s house now. Someone lead the way," Zhao Fusheng said, shaking her head.

At this, the villagers who’d crowded around began retreating in succession, some even fleeing into their homes in panic. Even Wu Dajing, who had accompanied them, hesitated.

Zhao Fusheng frowned. This case pertained to Doghead Village; the vengeful ghost may be hidden, but its murderous pattern had emerged. Based on her recent study of case files and understanding of ghostly rules, she could deduce that once a ghost gained power, it would first kill those who triggered its rule.

Doghead Village residents were all related, and from her earlier conversation with Wu Dajing, she suspected these people had long been "chosen" by the ghost and thus subject to its laws. If the ghost case was not resolved, the entire village would perish.

"I’m not exaggerating. Now that I’m here, I can confirm this is a ghost case," she said solemnly.

Her words sparked a flurry of whispers among those nearby: "So it is a ghost case!" "I knew there were ghosts!" "Wu Datong must have sinned outside, attracting vengeful spirits. No wonder Wu Liren’s family vanished—maybe the ghosts devoured them."

…The villagers debated, some with a hint of schadenfreude, showing no sense of impending disaster.

"Don’t think the ghost only troubles Wu Liren’s family. Ghosts don’t care for justice or debt. If I don’t handle this case, Doghead Village will eventually face calamity."

"I don’t see what could go wrong…" one man muttered, bracing himself. Before Zhao Fusheng could turn, he quickly shrank back into the crowd.

Zhang Chuan-shi was quite pleased by all this, though he wore a look of displeasure, barking, "Bold rabble! How dare you speak to the madam that way." Then, ingratiating himself, he said to Zhao Fusheng, "Madam, I’ll go teach him a lesson."

Zhao Fusheng shook her head, stopping his feigned loyalty.

"The vengeful ghost has already appeared," she stated.

"Where is the ghost?" someone asked.

"The ghost hides among us," Zhao Fusheng replied.

"Where?" The crowd was startled, then looked around—they saw only familiar faces and gradually relaxed.

"Madam, are you joking with us?"

Page 2/3

After this commotion, everyone wanted to disperse, terrified Zhao Fusheng might drag them to Wu Liren’s house by force.

"Stop! Stop," Zhang Chuan-shi called out, feigning annoyance. Wu Dajing also felt awkward and shouted, "Stay where you are, don’t leave yet!"

Zhao Fusheng felt a sense of absurdity. Sharp-minded and adept at handling people, she knew full well which methods worked best. The villagers were selfish, timid, shortsighted, and indifferent—reasoning with them was useless; intimidation and force were more effective.

…But she wasn’t fully acclimated to this era, and though she knew the easy way, she hesitated for a moment. Still, she was no ordinary person, and with a shift of thought, another approach came to her.

"Very well. I’ll be handling the ghost case. During my investigation, anyone who assists me or provides useful information will receive a reduction in their family’s tax," she announced.

Her prior conversation with Wu Dajing had given her insight into the villagers’ burdens. At her words, those who’d been retreating stopped dead in their tracks.

"I have no authority over the imperial taxes, but I can promise to reduce the Demon Suppression Bureau’s tax," she continued.

According to Wu Dajing, he paid nearly thirty taels of silver annually, with two-thirds going to the Demon Suppression Bureau. Such a condition not only tempted the villagers but made even Wu Dajing anxious.

"Is the madam serious?" he asked.

Thirty taels a year was their entire income, spent working for the government. Saving even a portion would be a great boon.

"I’m not joking," Zhao Fusheng nodded.

Talking about the ghost case had no effect on them; rural villagers didn’t know the terrors of vengeful ghosts, especially as this case had left no trace. Even Zhao Fusheng’s own abilities couldn’t capture the ghost—the villagers felt nothing, and words were wasted.

But mention taxes, and their future livelihoods, and none were willing to leave.

"Anyone who provides useful clues about the case will receive greater reductions," she promised.

Wu Dajing was both surprised and delighted. Recalling her authority in the Demon Suppression Bureau—respected by local officials and even county magistrates—he believed her promise, but his face turned pale as he realized something.

"Damn," he lamented. "I told you so much—does any of it count?"

"Half a year’s tax," Zhao Fusheng said sternly.

Her gaze fell on Wu Dajing; the village elder was unaware the vengeful ghost might be close by. His earlier nosebleed and itching likely stemmed from the ghost’s influence.

He had mentioned Wu Datong’s eldest son several times, triggering the ghost’s rule. This tax reduction was his deserved reward.

"I’ll take madam to Wu Liren’s house!" Wu Dajing declared, overjoyed.

He was respected in the village; seeing him step forward, the others rushed to follow, afraid of missing out.

"I’ll take madam too; Wu Liren’s house is near mine, I know a lot," another insisted.

"My father grew up with Wu Datong, we know his family well," others chimed in.

Those who’d previously avoided Wu Liren now competed to lead the way, fearing they’d lose their chance.

"In that case, let’s go together," Zhao Fusheng said. Someone quickly offered, "I’ll fetch a torch to light the way for madam."

"Hurry," Wu Dajing urged, then turned to Zhao Fusheng, "If there’s anything you don’t understand, just ask me."

Zhang Chuan-shi was pushed aside, watching bitterly, both fearful and angry, his spirit deflated.

"If the case involves Wu Liren’s family’s disappearance, let’s start with him," Zhao Fusheng decided.

"What does madam want to know? He’s forty-one, married one wife and eight concubines, with twenty-seven sons—" someone began.

Zhao Fusheng had already heard much of this from Wu Dajing, but as she was about to speak, an old man objected, "Not forty-one, he just turned forty at the end of last month, still eating his forty-first birthday meal."

Such a trivial difference, but Zhao Fusheng keenly caught the discrepancy in timing.

"You—" she immediately interrupted, pointing at the old man.

He was startled, instinctively wanting to retreat, but someone nudged him forward and, remembering Zhao Fusheng’s status, he mustered courage.

"Madam…" he said.

He was about fifty, dressed in patched blue-gray clothes, barefoot.

"This is Wu Jiu’s father," Wu Dajing whispered to Zhao Fusheng.

She instantly recalled who Wu Jiu was. It was due to the quarrel between Wu Lifu and Wu Jiu, both seeking the village chief’s judgment, that Wu Liren’s family’s disappearance had become known in the village.

Page 3/3

She nodded and beckoned to the old man. "You say Wu Liren isn’t forty-one, but forty. Tell me more."

Wu Jiu’s father, seeing her gentle tone, overcame his anxiety and stepped forward, bowing.

"Yes, everyone must have misremembered," he said. "Some here count by nominal age. Wu Liren was born on July 31, Year 206 of Han. I remember it clearly."

His information was vital, instantly resolving Zhao Fusheng’s doubts. According to Wu Dajing, Wu Datong’s eldest son was born of a mysterious woman on July 31, forty-one years ago. This date was remembered because shortly after Wu Datong’s son was born, Wu Dajing’s own mother died, on September 17.

Wu Datong, after having a son, secretly left Doghead Village for Wanan County, worked as an assistant in Zhang Xiongwu’s shop, and earned a reward.

Because both events happened around forty years ago, Zhao Fusheng had naturally linked Wu Datong’s achievement to the Liu clan’s ancestral hall case from forty years back.

But the dates didn’t match, leaving her uncertain, wondering if her assumptions were wrong. Now, hearing Wu Jiu’s father confirm Wu Liren’s birth date, she suddenly saw the truth.

This information was crucial. She turned to Zhang Chuan-shi.

"Reduce Wu Jiu’s family’s taxes by three months. Instruct Fan Bisi to handle this as soon as we return."

Zhang Chuan-shi was both surprised and pleased. Surprised that Zhao Fusheng insisted on pursuing the ghost case, pleased by the implication: upon return, Fan Bisi would be tasked with the matter! In other words, on this ghost case, she might protect him, ensuring he wouldn’t fall victim to the vengeful ghost.

He half believed, half doubted, and replied loudly, "Yes!"

Wu Jiu’s father was overjoyed at her promise. "Thank you, madam!"

"Tell me in detail about Wu Liren’s birth. Are you sure it was July 31?" Zhao Fusheng asked.

Excited by her promise, Wu Jiu’s father nodded firmly, "I am!"

He explained, "To be honest, I used to trade mountain goods. Our village was poor, and many peddlers wouldn’t come. Years ago, several nearby villages joined together to sell in town."

He pointed to Doghead Mountain behind them. "That year, my wife and I went to town and happened to meet Wu Datong. He said he worked at a shop making paper figures, and his master was quite influential."

Wu Datong had struggled in the village. He lost his father young, lived in poverty, and grew up with many children who looked down on him, making him both deeply inferior and fiercely proud.

Decades later, when old companions met in town, Wu Datong, having found a good master, was eager to boast.

"I didn’t believe him at first, thought he was bragging," Wu Jiu’s father recalled as someone returned with a torch.

Seeing only one rewarded, the crowd anxiously urged Zhao Fusheng toward Wu Liren’s house.

"Let’s walk and talk," Zhao Fusheng prompted, and Wu Jiu’s father agreed.

"Our village always knew Wu Datong was unreliable—always showing off, his words impossible to distinguish between truth and lies. We all thought him a drifter," he said.

Several village elders nodded in agreement, with Wu Dajing adding his assent.

"He saw I didn’t believe him and insisted I go see. But he said his master had a strange temper, told me to hide and peek through a door crack."

Recalling those times, Wu Jiu’s father seemed fearful, scratching his face and leaving dark marks, some scabs flaking off in the torchlight. But the others, focused on tax reductions and Wu Liren’s affairs, noticed nothing—except Zhao Fusheng.

"I had nothing better to do, so I followed him. His master didn’t just sell paper figures, but odd lanterns as well."

"He did brisk business, though for some reason, the place felt eerie—" Wu Jiu’s father chuckled awkwardly. "The house was pitch black, and though I was fearless in my youth, I really was startled then."

After entering, Wu Datong hid him in a side room.

"You saw his master?" Zhao Fusheng asked.

"I did," he nodded. "An old man with white hair, dressed in all black, wide sleeves nearly dragging the floor—looked like he was carrying a coffin plank across his chest."

He gestured, and Zhao Fusheng’s heart stirred.

Village folk used simple words, but his description reminded her of the oversight she’d made in the headless ghost case at the southern city shrine. White-haired elder, all-black attire—she recalled the paper figure master, Zhang, whom she’d met briefly.