Chapter 28: There Is a Way to Court Death

“Reporting to you, sir, subordinate Wang San and colleague Li Si went to Li Village to investigate and discovered that the malevolent spirit causing trouble is a little ghost who only appears at night, filled with intense resentment. However, the exact cause of death remains unclear. Please punish us for our failure,” Wang San said respectfully.

“Why should I punish you? The local gentry and clan elders have always ruled their villages by their own clan laws. It would be strange if you could find out anything—no doubt they've already issued orders to keep everyone silent,” Ling Chi judged without hesitation.

“Sir, please understand, we feared the culprit might escape, so I left Li Si behind to keep watch in secret.”

“I’ll mark you both for a merit—this month you’ll receive double pay.”

“Thank you, sir.” In all his years, Wang San had never encountered a superior who didn’t withhold wages. Back in the army, a third or more of their pay would always be docked as “fees.” Though working for the Peacekeeping Office was dangerous, the pay was generous.

Ling Chi instructed Pei Shinan to bring a few junior constables and set out immediately.

Willow Town was only ten or so miles from Li Village, a short distance; on horseback, it would take little more than the burning of an incense stick to arrive. Since the victim wasn’t telling the truth, Ling Chi was in no hurry. It was now August, and the road bustled with the chorus of insects and birds—a pleasant journey.

The country roads were rough, horsehoes striking the dry, sunbaked earth with a steady clanging. His black horse ambled along, swishing its tail now and then to drive away the mosquitoes.

At the end of a small river lay a village, modest in size, perhaps a hundred households or so.

It was not yet noon, and most of the villagers were still harvesting rice in the fields. The early crop had ripened to a golden yellow, and the paddies were alive with industrious activity.

Men and women in their prime, straw hats shading them from the harsh sun, wielded sickles sharpened to a gleam as they efficiently cut the rice. Their elderly parents bundled the sheaves, stacking them by the threshing barrels.

Children followed, picking up scattered grains, chasing field mice, and sometimes, upon spotting a rail bird, would call the adults to help catch it. With luck, a successful catch meant a rare treat for the whole family.

Harvest time was always a season of joy, especially in troubled times—bringing in the autumn grain meant families could stretch their food supplies a little longer, and the children would have a few more full meals.

Ling Chi watched all this with keen interest, standing for a long while. Only when his black horse grew impatient did he loosen the reins and proceed at a leisurely pace.

He first sent Wang San to fetch Li Si for questioning, then led his party to the village entrance.

By the sunning ground near the gate sat several elderly men, hair and beards white, cradling teapots and chatting idly.

Ling Chi loosened his collar and led his horse over.

“Elder, I am Ling Chi, magistrate of the Peacekeeping Office of Willow Town. I hear your village is troubled by a ghost!” he announced in a loud voice.

The old man started in fright, nearly dropping his teapot. Looking up, he saw a group of men in official uniforms, a handsome youth gripping his sword hilt standing before him. Whatever grumbling he had been about to utter died on his lips.

“You people already sent someone to investigate a few days ago, didn’t you? Hurry up and catch that little ghost before she kills anyone else,” the old man said, emboldened by his age and showing little respect for Ling Chi.

“Whether and how we catch it is our business, not yours. If you weren’t old, I’d haul you in for questioning right now,” Ling Chi replied sharply. Old men didn’t intimidate him; it wasn’t as if he’d never killed before.

At that moment, Wang San and Li Si arrived.

“Subordinates Wang San and Li Si pay their respects, sir.” Wang San reported the merit that Ling Chi had marked for them. Li Si was thrilled as well—a little more money saved, and he could finally afford a wife.

“Up and speak, Li Si. Tell me what you found.”

“Yes, sir. Upon investigation, I discovered a lead. The first to die in Li Village was a young girl, but the cause of death is unknown. No matter whom I asked, I couldn’t find the truth. Until last night, when I caught a petty thief and, after some… persuasion, he confessed what he knew.”

“The deceased girl was named Zhou Cai’er, thirteen years old. She was hired as a servant in the household of Li Yuanwai. Later, she died under mysterious circumstances—the cause is still unclear—but the ghostly incidents in the village began from that moment.”

This Li Si had a good head on his shoulders. His methods were a bit rough, but nothing too serious.

“The recent victims—were they all from Li Yuanwai’s household?” Ling Chi pressed.

“Yes, six in all, all guards of Li Yuanwai’s estate.”

“I see. Let’s go take a look at Li Yuanwai’s residence. Li Si, lead the way.”

Li Si took the lead, and the party hurried off.

Li Yuanwai’s estate was vast: six courtyards, occupying dozens of acres, with walls towering over twenty feet high. Many guards patrolled within, most of them martial artists of the Body Tempering level.

Wang San banged the knocker, striking it dozens of times before a gatekeeper finally answered.

“Who is it, knocking as if you’re in a hurry to be reborn?” the gatekeeper’s surly voice came before the door even opened.

The ironwood doors, polished with tung oil, swung open silently. The gatekeeper, a man with a brutish face, glared at them.

“You again? If you can’t catch the ghost and solve the case, get someone who can, instead of wasting the master’s time,” he said, full of self-importance.

Ling Chi was stunned. Did the master hire such a fool specifically to offend visitors? So much for the refinement of great households!

Smack.

Ling Chi delivered a powerful slap to the gatekeeper’s face, sending seven or eight teeth flying through the air. The man was knocked backward, dead before he hit the ground.

Without so much as a glance, Ling Chi pushed the door open and strode inside.

Li Si grabbed a passing servant and barked, “Peacekeeping Office on official business! Take us to Li Shunfu!” These past days, Li Si had been stifled—the entire village, run by Li Yuanwai, was sealed up tighter than a drum.

The servant, seeing these armed men, trembled with fear.

“Master Li is entertaining important guests in the rear hall. I’ll take you there immediately.”

Li Si kept a firm grip on the servant, who led them through the winding corridors of the estate—without a guide, it would have been impossible to find the way.

“What’s your name? Are you a native of Li Village?” Ling Chi suddenly asked.

The servant glanced around nervously. “Sir, I know what you want to ask, but my whole family’s life is at the mercy of the Li estate. I really can’t say. But perhaps you could look around yourself…” His gaze fell meaningfully on a three-story building in the center of the estate.

Ling Chi smiled—this servant was a clever one.

“Just point us in the right direction. You never saw us today, understand?” Ling Chi was willing to spare the smart ones.

The servant bowed gratefully. He could see at a glance that this young and handsome man was the one in charge. He pointed the way, then dashed off at once.

Ling Chi followed the path straight to the main hall.

There, Li Shunfu sat drinking tea with a bald, cruel-eyed man whose eyebrows were sparse.

“Master Zhishan, I must trouble you to deal with that little ghost,” Li Shunfu said obsequiously, closing his teacup.

“Rest assured, Benefactor Li, a mere little ghost is nothing to me. I am not like those useless local officials from the Peacekeeping Office—why, I hear their chief is only fifteen years old! Absurd. Besides, Benefactor Li, you and I are practically family. You can rely on me to handle it,” replied the fierce-looking monk known as Master Zhishan.