Chapter Fifty-Two: Urgent News

By the time the two constables brought the group of weasel vendors, Six Ugly had already used white lime to sketch a rough map of Liyang City in the courtyard of the pavilion. The main streets were all present, while the smaller alleys were depicted as mere patches. Nearby lay charcoal and stones, with several other constables awaiting orders, ready for the vendors’ arrival.

The vendors greeted with respectful bows. Six Ugly gestured and asked, “I have heard that recently your stalls have suffered a shortage of weasels, and even when some are delivered, they are thin and scrawny. Is this true?”

On their way, the vendors had already inquired with Qi Se and Ren Fu about the reason for their summons. Though they did not understand why the size of the weasels might relate to the case, they knew it had nothing to do with any wrongdoing on their part. Besides, it was easy for anyone to find out the number and size of the weasels on their stalls, so they dared not deceive and honestly described the situation at their own stalls.

As expected, in the city there were dozens of weasel stalls that had recently seen fewer and thinner weasels. Only six still received plump ones; four of these sourced them from outside the city, while two were supplied daily by city hunters.

Weasel hunting was the livelihood of beggars and the destitute in Great Zhou. They worked in groups of three or five, using traps of cages, clamps, hoops, hooks, and jars, each covering their own hunting grounds. The suppliers for those two stalls belonged to seven different groups, delivering weasels every day as usual.

As for the others, though each had three to eight supplier groups, their daily catches had diminished and the weasels were all lean.

Six Ugly pondered for a moment and asked the vendors, “Do you still have any weasels left in your shops?”

The vendors all replied that they still had a few, ranging from a couple dozen to thirty. Six Ugly then took out some knife-coins and handed them to another constable, saying, “Go back with each vendor, collect all their weasels, and take some of the heads and skins as well. Then prepare a large cauldron and some dry firewood and return to me.”

All the vendors protested, unwilling to accept payment. The constable, tempted to pocket some for himself, dared not overstep in Six Ugly’s presence and merely urged everyone to hurry. Six Ugly had no interest in quarreling over small matters and let him proceed.

After they left, Six Ugly called the two remaining vendors over, instructing Qi Se and Ren Fu to each accompany one and bring back their weasel suppliers. They didn’t need to round up everyone, but the leader of each group was required. He also assigned two more constables to accompany them.

Whether vendors or constables, all were bewildered but no one dared question the orders; they simply carried them out.

After midday, the constables finally returned, bringing seven ragged, sallow-faced men. On seeing Six Ugly, they immediately fell to their knees, banging their heads on the ground, fear written all over their faces. Six Ugly let them rise and rewarded each with a knife-coin before speaking:

“Recently, the catch of weasels in the city has dwindled everywhere, yet only your numbers remain unchanged. This matter relates to a case we are investigating. That is why you have been summoned—there is no need to fear. Simply state honestly where you hunt your weasels. There will be a reward for each, but should you dare to deceive, someone will come for you tomorrow!”

The beggars kowtowed and replied, “We dare not deceive you, sir!”

“Very well, then let us begin with you…”

Six Ugly pointed one out at random, had him describe his hunting ground, and ordered a constable to mark it with a stone. So it went for half an hour, by the end of which every location had been marked. Most stones clustered near the ruined distillery in the south of the city. For the few scattered stones, Six Ugly questioned the beggars further; indeed, none dared hold back—every place they’d ever hunted was marked, even if game was scarce.

After the beggars left, Six Ugly switched to wooden blocks, marking each location where a person had gone missing. He studied the pattern and finally discerned the connection between each incident and the old distillery…

Night fell.

The wind rose, cooling the fire.

Liyang at dusk lay cloaked in frost.

Poor alleys, doors barred in haste,

Coming and going are long roads traced.

Phantoms flicker swift as rain,

Red pupils glint, their hunger plain.

Suddenly, a lantern swings in the breeze,

Distant, the aroma of weasel meat on the night air teased.

The old distillery was an ominous place in the hearts of Liyang’s people. The reason stretched back seven years, when a plague erupted, its first cases traced to this very spot. The county constable had ordered all nine wards and twelve markets in the vicinity sealed, the sick sent inside to languish. Over six hundred lives were lost before alchemists managed to quell the outbreak. Afterwards, the area’s residents were utterly wiped out. Descendants considered it cursed and refused to return, so the district was abandoned—left to become a place of ill omen.

Whenever a case arose in the city, the constable’s first thought was to search here. Over the years, criminals and thieves had indeed been caught hiding inside. This time, the missing persons case had also led to a search, but nothing was found, and so the matter was dropped.

Seven years had passed, but the fences and barricades around the nine wards and twelve markets still stood, though battered and broken. Few dared pilfer them; in time, they became a natural barrier, severing the area and gradually consigning it to oblivion.

Not far from the fence stood an old City God’s temple, half-collapsed from years of neglect. By day, it was a refuge for beggars, and tonight, for some reason, fortune seemed to smile on them—they were even boiling meat.

A few stones propped up a makeshift stove, atop which sat a battered cauldron. The signboards and window frames, pried from the ruined temple, served as firewood. The broth bubbled with several fat weasels, while their flayed heads and skins were tossed into the flames, filling the air with a foul, gamy stench. The beggars, unbothered, stared hungrily into the cauldron, stirring the broth with sticks and tossing in coarse salt and prickly ash. The aroma of meat filled the air, making their mouths water.

People in this region had only five main seasonings: salt, plum, sugar, wine, and vinegar. Their cooking was generally bland, vegetables tolerable, but meat always gamey—only a few places used prickly ash or Sichuan pepper. Tonight, those spices wafted on the wind, making the weasel meat all the more tempting.

In the darkness, a pair of longing eyes appeared—vertical, fierce and blood-red. A thin string of saliva slid from the corner of its mouth, pooling beneath its chin. Hunger stirred within, yet the owner of those red eyes forced itself to turn away, dragging its body slowly toward another place, glancing back repeatedly…

*

Outside Liyang, on a nearby steep hillside, a black bat-shaped cloud ship had landed. A simple army tent was pitched on the ground. Some people remained inside the vessel, some outside, sitting, standing, or pacing, each busy with their own tasks.

Atop a camphor tree not far away, hidden among the leafy branches, Tianku sat astride a slender bough, his back against a slanting limb. His broad sword, a yard wide, rested carelessly on his shoulder. He swayed with the night breeze, light as a leaf, the twig between his lips bobbing in sync, his expression bored beyond measure.

Tianku was a restless soul. After three or four days in one place, his patience wore thin. He had little interest even in the two demons’ trial in the city.

Yet, for all his impatience, Tianku dared not leave. His elder sister had emphasized the importance of supplementing the retinue before they came, warning him beforehand that if he shirked or misbehaved, she would punish him. He could disregard the other members of the Ghost Banquet, even ignore Guchen, but dared not disobey his sister’s instructions.

One elder sister was headache enough—now that she was to marry Lord Jie, what kind of life would this become?

Tianku’s brows drooped with worry, all the joy he’d felt upon hearing of Jie’s impending marriage to his sister long since replaced by regret. He muttered and grumbled to himself in dismay.

Suddenly, a buzzing tremor sounded from the cloud ship. Tianku’s face lit up, and he was about to leap down but forced himself to settle back, muttering, “Useless sister! Since getting a husband, she ignores me. Four days before she sends a message, and I won’t answer her!”

Despite his words, he kept glancing anxiously toward the ship, restless as a cat.

It took only a few moments before Tianku could no longer restrain himself. He consoled himself, “Even if I ignore her, Xiao Jiu and the others won’t dare. They’ll answer the summons for sure… Never mind, I’ll just listen in. If it’s interesting, I’ll join in. If not, I’ll have Xiao Jiu make my excuses…”

His thoughts tumbled in confusion, indecision gnawing at him, when someone burst from the cloud ship—it was Xiao Jiu. She called out before reaching the tree, “Lord Tian Ghost, the Ghost Chief has ordered us to move quickly to Qin River and seek out a foreign monk’s flying ship!”

Of the four divisions of the Tian Mountain’s Escape, each had a chief; the leader of the Ghost Banquet Division was naturally the Ghost Chief, currently Guchen, who succeeded the vanished Jie Shen.

“What? The message wasn’t from my sister but from Brother Guchen?” Tianku was delighted, dropping from the tree. At two yards above the ground, he twisted in the air and landed steadily, blurting out, “What’s this about the foreign monk? Why does Brother Guchen want him? And when we find him, do we kill them all?”

Xiao Jiu hurried up and replied, “The lord didn’t explain in detail. He only said the monk’s ship was being pursued—seems there’s trouble among the monks. The order is to capture the one being chased and deliver him to the Pavilion. As for the pursuers, kill them all—none must escape.”

“Killing a few monks, if even one escapes, what face would we have left? Guchen’s being fussy!” Tianku pouted with scorn, but the prospect of action cheered him. Laughing, he strode toward the flying ship, shouting, “Up, up! There’s killing to be done—get moving, don’t let anyone steal our prey!” The broad sword on his shoulder scraped the rocky ground, sending sparks flying.

Xiao Jiu’s footsteps were heavy. The others were already awake but hadn’t moved. Now, at Tianku’s summons, they snapped to attention, boarded the vessel, and black smoke poured from its tailpipes like a slumbering beast come to life, trembling and growling, ready to depart.

“Sir, what about the two demons in the city? Should we leave someone behind?” Xiao Jiu rushed to keep pace beside Tianku, asking, “And Xiao Si is still in the city—should we send a message and have him return?”

Tianku stopped short and exclaimed, “Ah, I almost forgot about Xiao Si… But come to think of it, what’s he doing in the city?”

Xiao Jiu stumbled, rolling her eyes. “Sir, it was your own order. You said the monkey was interesting and told us to take turns watching him, to see what tricks he might come up with.”

Tianku’s eyes went blank, then suddenly he slapped his forehead, as if remembering, “Ah, yes, I recall now. I think I did give that order.”

“It’s not ‘I think’—you most certainly did,” Xiao Jiu retorted. “If not, Xiao Si’s actions would count as insubordination, and by army rules, that’s a capital offense.”

“If it was me, then it was me. No need to chop heads over such trifles!” Tianku waved it off. “Since that’s settled, don’t recall him—let him stay. When you get a chance, send him a message to act at his discretion. We’ll pick him up after we return from Qin Chuan.”

“Yes, sir.”

In no time, the cloud ship roared into the sky, vanishing into the night. In the depths of the darkness, a lone figure sat atop a city pavilion, drawing circles in the air out of boredom, grumbling plaintively,

“Once again, they’ve left me behind…”