Chapter Fifty: The Feng Shui Shop in the West of the City

"Um, Lord Zhou..."
Xiao Wu suddenly became rather restrained, tiptoeing cautiously behind him.

As they walked, Zhou Bai asked, "Where have the injured people brought down from Mount Yue been settled?"

"They're in the empty rooms of the county office. Quite a few have already regained consciousness and returned to Hangdu City, but..." Xiao Wu hesitated, as if there was more he wished to say.

Zhou Bai glanced at him. "But what?"

"What exactly happened on Mount Yue? These people all claim they were swept away by a demonic wind, and some say they even saw monsters." Xiao Wu lowered his voice. Rumors were now rampant in Hangdu, beyond what the authorities could suppress.

Besides those who had witnessed monsters and spirits themselves, the influx of refugees was also spreading wild tales.

"Don't worry about it. Just do your duty. All you need to know is that Hangdu is still quite peaceful," Zhou Bai replied with a hint of resignation, heading towards where the old butcher shop used to be.

"With your reassurance, I'm relieved. Head Constable Sun always said the Underworld Registry Division handles demons and evil spirits, but I never realized your abilities were so great, Lord Zhou," Xiao Wu said excitedly, recalling that part of the reason he’d become a yamen runner was because he knew Zhou Bai. He couldn't help feeling a surge of pride at having such a distinguished acquaintance.

Zhou Bai offered no explanation. After all that had happened recently, the name of the Underworld Registry Division was gradually spreading among the constables of Hangdu.

The two walked some distance toward the city’s western quarter. The city had regained its usual bustle. It must be said that under the authorities’ crackdown, at least the small gangs had been thoroughly dealt with.

Zhou Bai even spotted Cheng Hu among the street vendors—a man who used to scrape money off shopkeepers now forced by circumstance to earn an honest living. Truly, the times make the man.

The butcher shop had changed beyond recognition, now bearing the sign "West City Feng Shui Parlor." From afar, Zhou Bai could see two men chatting leisurely on deck chairs in the courtyard.

The gaunt figure on the left was Daoist Hou, who in just a few days had swapped his tattered robes for new ones and now brandished a horsetail whisk, finally resembling something of a proper daoist.

The other was Wang Lei, who looked in good spirits. As a martial artist, his constitution must have allowed him to recover on the road back to Hangdu.

Seeing Zhou Bai return to his shop, Xiao Wu bid him farewell—he still had patrols to carry out. With Hangdu in need of rebuilding, he had no wish to sit idle.

"Yu Qiong, you’re back!" Wang Lei exclaimed in delight, rising to greet him and clapping Zhou Bai on the shoulder.

He could clearly feel Zhou Bai's physique had grown sturdier, mistakenly attributing it to recent exercise.

Daoist Hou, meanwhile, eyed Zhou Bai with a complicated expression. In just a few days, this young man had become inscrutable to him.

Wang Lei, unaware that Zhou Bai had saved his life, asked about the recent events and his new attire.

Zhou Bai explained, simply saying he had joined the local government and was now working for the court to make a living.

During their conversation, Wang Lei never once mentioned what had happened on Mount Yue, merely saying the hunting party had run into some trouble and disbanded for now.

Truthfully, he had little desire to return to Mount Yue—the team had lost a member, and he had witnessed such horrifying evil spirits that he still felt lingering dread.

Daoist Hou curled his lip but did not expose Zhou Bai’s words. He knew it was hard to explain the existence of the Underworld Registry Division to ordinary people.

"Since you’re working for the authorities, do a good job of it. It fulfills your late father’s wishes, after all."

"To be honest, you’d be better off partnering with me in the feng shui business. Do you know how much silver I’ve made these past days?" Daoist Hou pulled out a money pouch, the clink of silver coins inside clear and pleasing.

"Thirty taels?" Zhou Bai guessed. He knew the old daoist had some real skills, but he was too unruly and always courting trouble.

Daoist Hou was smug. If not for this windfall, he wouldn’t have changed his entire wardrobe.

"More than that—I've doubled my earnings! Who in Hangdu doesn’t know how effective my talismans are?"

Wang Lei sighed. After the incident with the giant salamander demon, he was truly shaken and now wished to retire from hunting.

"Yu Qiong, what do you think about me opening a martial arts school in Hangdu?"

"That’s a good idea. I can help you speak to the county office about it," Zhou Bai replied. With the chaos in neighboring Xu Prefecture, this area would inevitably be affected. Hunting was dangerous now; better to stay safe in Hangdu.

"Then I must trouble you. Once the school is open, I can bring over my old friends from the hunting party," Wang Lei said.

Hearing this, Zhou Bai was genuinely interested.

The butcher shop was too small for a martial arts school; they’d need to rent a larger space, which would take time to find.

Fortunately, the income from the Underworld Registry Division was substantial—even Zhou Bai, at the lowest rank, earned nearly twenty taels a month.

He no longer cared much for silver. As his cultivation progressed, he would need it less and less. Only contributions from Underworld Street retained their value.

After chatting a while, Wang Lei left as dusk approached, bidding them farewell.

Now alone, Daoist Hou sidled up shamelessly. "Say, your Underworld Registry Division doesn’t give out many missions, does it? I happen to have a big job on hand."

"Wait a bit. My cultivation has advanced slightly; I’ll talk to you tomorrow," Zhou Bai replied. With an abundance of points, he planned to go into seclusion for a short while.

Daoist Hou was momentarily speechless—he wanted to curse but held back.

In Daoism, one cultivates qi and must not slacken for a day. In Buddhism, one cultivates attainment—harder still. To become even a lowly arhat required immense will and talent.

But the Underworld Registry Division’s path to mastering supernatural arts seemed so easy. As long as one didn’t succumb to inner demons, their cultivation would advance rapidly.

Take Zhou Bai’s natal ghost artifact, for example—a sapling whose roots, once embedded into flesh, constantly absorbed yin energy, subtly strengthening his body.

Not wanting to disturb Zhou Bai, Daoist Hou quickly took his leave, saying he would return the next morning.

Feeling somewhat bemused, Zhou Bai entered the shop, which had also undergone a complete transformation.

All manner of ritual materials were scattered about—even black donkey hooves, whose purpose he could not discern.

He simply wanted a quiet place to sit and meditate.