Chapter 31: Farewell, Cai'er!

Ling Chi took a shovel and began digging a pit in the courtyard. In the time it took for half a stick of incense to burn, he had already prepared a new grave for Li Shunfu. He took him down from the rack and tossed him directly into the hole. Cai’er stood nearby, watching Li Shunfu’s writhing and struggling expression with rapt attention, a smile slowly spreading across her face.

Wangwang the dog was also taken from its cage and thrown into the pit. Starving and having tasted human flesh before, Wangwang lunged with open jaws. Unfortunately, Li Shunfu’s screams could not be heard—his mouth was stuffed, as Ling Chi had no desire to startle the villagers.

Zhou Cai’er leaned against Ling Chi, one living, one ghost, one tall, one short, yet the scene was strangely harmonious.

Shovelful by shovelful, the earth was filled in. Wangwang, disturbed from his meal, turned to bite at the shovel, only to be struck dead by Ling Chi and buried in the pit with the rest. All the soil was packed in and stomped down until it was firm, just as more than thirty wisps of yang energy descended.

Perhaps many years from now, someone will uncover this horrific scene and wonder which fiendish criminal committed such a depraved act.

Ling Chi fetched a chair and sat quietly in the courtyard, telling Cai’er jokes from his past life. Cai’er stood beside him, thin fingers lightly pinching his sleeve. The unspoken farewell hung between them; it was their first night together, and also their last.

Ling Chi found a comb and carefully tidied her hair, tying it with a not-so-handsome red ribbon.

Before dawn, Cai’er seemed to sense something, and only leaned in closer.

The paths of the living and the dead must diverge. Ling Chi could not keep her by his side, nor did he wish to see the day Cai’er turned into a vengeful spirit.

In the final moments before the rooster crowed, Ling Chi gathered Zhou Cai’er into his arms and whispered gently in her ear, “Farewell, Cai’er. Remember, my name is Ling Chi.”

A blazing surge of yang energy erupted from his body, and Cai’er faded away like a wisp of mist between heaven and earth.

In the end, it seemed that Ling Chi glimpsed a radiant young girl in simple clothes turn back to give him a brilliant smile.

Ling Chi smiled and waved in return. Farewell, Cai’er.

He never did see Li Shunfu’s ghost come to seek revenge—a useless fool to the very end.

Before he left, he set fire to the Li estate, burning this place steeped in filth and evil to the ground.

He gathered Zhou Cai’er’s ashes into a small jar. The ashes of the unfortunate are always lighter than those of others.

Leaving Li Village, he searched for a sunlit hillside where purple trumpet flowers bloomed. There, he buried the little jar in a patch warmed by the sun, carved “The Grave of Zhou Cai’er” into a piece of green stone with his dagger, and solemnly inscribed the words: In Respect, Ling Chi.

He recited the “Great Lord of Supreme Salvation’s Sutra for Removing Sins from the Blood Lake of Fengdu” aloud:

“At that time, the Lord of Salvation filled the ten directions, assembling all the celestial beings to speak of the causes and conditions…” May your next life be free from the suffering of this world, and may you live a bright and beautiful life to its end.

Ling Chi slipped quietly away, now thoroughly disguised as a wandering swordsman—his sword’s hilt and scabbard wrapped meticulously in cloth.

Lacking cosmetics, he used turmeric to darken his complexion: fresh turmeric mixed with menthol and birch sap made a pale yellow liquid, which he applied to his hands, face, and neck, giving his skin a sallow hue.

He let his hair down in a messy tangle, changed into dirty cloth garments and boots, transforming instantly into a destitute, travel-worn swordsman.

Wearing a bamboo hat, he rode his horse and avoided meeting others’ eyes.

Feng County in Hezhou bordered Crane County; a fast horse could reach it in two hours. But Ling Chi deliberately took the back roads, winding his way for four hours before arriving.

He hid his horse outside the city and slipped into the county seat under cover of night.

Shanxin Monastery stood in the eastern part of town. Ling Chi found shelter in a long-abandoned house.

After another disguise, he went out to scavenge food. Tomorrow, he resolved, he would seek out a place where information flowed freely to probe the secrets of Shanxin Monastery.

His main interest lay in the abbot’s cultivation and the monks’ dealings with the Lianshan bandits.

Shanxin Monastery was newly built, and from a distance resembled a grand estate.

Passing through the courtyard gates, he saw rows of Bodhisattvas and Arhats in varied postures along the corridor. The temple was bustling with devotees and incense.

From early morning, townsfolk came and went, offering incense and fulfilling vows. Disguised as a scholar in white robes, Ling Chi mingled among them, donating a hundred copper coins for incense before wandering through the temple.

There were only a few dozen monks. Ling Chi used the pretext of offering incense to approach the abbot, Hongde, and conceal his own energy for a close observation.

Having formed a preliminary judgment, he began to wait for the right moment. For two days, he found no suitable opportunity.

He ate a simple dinner of clear-broth lamb at a street stall.

“I heard Master Hongde is performing a ritual at Squire Xu’s house in Xujiabao tomorrow—ten silver coins for a day’s work!” someone at a neighboring table exclaimed.

“I don’t make ten silver coins in a year. If I’d known, I’d have become a monk myself.”

“You’d just want to be a playboy monk, wouldn’t you? Ha!”

The conversation between the two diners drifted to Ling Chi’s ears, and his eyes lit up. Here was the opportunity he’d been awaiting.

It was almost too coincidental. Ling Chi decided to tail the first speaker, just in case, to avoid falling into a trap.

After paying his bill, Ling Chi left and found a vantage point to keep the man in gray within his peripheral vision. When the man rose to leave, Ling Chi quietly followed.

The man in gray wandered through the alleys before entering a small courtyard. Ling Chi hid outside, listening to the sounds within.

Soon, a woman’s scolding and sobbing came through the wall.

“You came home after eating lamb again. The child’s been hungry all day, and you brought nothing back. All you do is gamble. If you keep this up tomorrow, I’ll take the child and go back to my parents’ house.”

“Enough, enough, you never stop nagging. Here, take this money for food.” The man tossed a small pouch of coins.

Ling Chi listened for a while, then left the alley, but felt something was amiss.

The more he thought about it, the less it made sense. Returning to his lodging, he changed back into his swordsman disguise, erased his traces, and swiftly returned to the gray-clad man’s courtyard.

He realized he had been exposed: today, the gray-clad man had deliberately spoken for his benefit, and had even guessed that his target was Monk Hongde.

But where had he slipped up? Ling Chi couldn’t pinpoint it. He had rarely shown himself these past two days—was it during the incense offering?

Ling Chi lay in wait outside the courtyard. Inside, the couple were making love, and it wasn’t until around midnight that they finished. Ling Chi chose to act around the second watch, when people slept deepest. He pressed his ear to the door, listening for the couple’s snores, ensuring they weren’t feigned, then drew his dagger, quietly unlatched the door, and slipped inside.

There was no trace of a child living in the house. Only after leaving earlier had he realized: if the child had been hungry all day, why was there no sound of crying? Had the child been starved to death?

Only as he entered did he realize the couple’s conversation had been staged for him.

Ling Chi crept to the bedside. The room reeked of osmanthus, nearly making him retch.

He pulled back the mosquito net. Inside, the couple lay tangled together, sleeping deeply.

With a sharp crack, Ling Chi slapped the woman’s forehead. He had meant to strike her rear, but was wary of the osmanthus scent.

The woman awoke in terror to see a masked man in black at her bedside. Before she could make a sound, Ling Chi struck her temple and she fell unconscious.

The man was startled awake, and before he could open his eyes, felt cold steel at his throat—so frightened he nearly wet himself.