Magistrate Luo broke out in a cold sweat, the bailiffs were dumbfounded, and the commoners watching outside the public hall broke into a chaotic uproar.
The culprit, Shang Changheng, was sitting quite arrogantly in the seat previously occupied by Luo Qingxiang, crossing his arms as he said, “A place like the yamen should be guarded by a Xiezhi, yet right now it allows a fierce ghost like me to wander in and out at will. This just shows that the county yamen harbors dirt and conceals corruption, to the point that even an auspicious beast is unwilling to show pity.”
Naturally, when he spoke, only Qing Ling could hear him.
Seeing him return, Qing Ling knew that matters must have already been taken care of. Ordering Shang Changheng around felt entirely justified and natural to him, though Qing Ling had not expected Shang Changheng to actually be willing to help, considering that this evil spirit only needed a living Qing Ling.
However, Qing Ling did not dwell too much on what Shang Changheng was thinking. Luo Qingxiang also snapped back to his senses at that moment, steadying his official hat as he pointed straight at Qing Ling and shouted loudly, “This, this monster must know some kind of sorcery! The members of the Qing family dying in such a bizarre fashion is definitely the work of this person as well. Such a monster absolutely cannot be left alive! To ensure the peace and stability of Lincang, we must burn this person completely to ashes!”
Upon hearing this, the bailiffs and commoners all exchanged glances, and soon someone chimed in, “Right! Lord is right!”
Even among the commoners, voices piped up: “That’s right, the way the Qing family members died was so miserable, and I heard there were a bunch of extra corpses too. That’s not something a human could pull off, so could he actually be some kind of monster?”
“The moment the court session just opened, the yamen plaque fell down. Is that really just a coincidence?”
“If he really is a monster, wouldn’t that put all of us in danger?”
Panic spread rapidly through the crowd, largely because the extermination of the Qing family had been far too sudden. Qing Ling’s return to the Qing household had not been conducted with grand fanfare, and many of the Qing family servants had never even laid eyes on this third young master. When disaster struck the Qing family, the only one who benefited was Qing Ling, which naturally led people to suspect him.
Even without Luo Qingxiang voicing it aloud, Qing Ling had long been the target of harsh criticism and suspicion.
Qing Ling had rarely interacted with outsiders and was not particularly skilled at second-guessing human hearts, but the Qing family had made him understand that the malice of the human heart was like a bottomless, dark abyss capable of swallowing a person alive.
A bailiff stepped forward to place Qing Ling under custody, but after taking just a few steps, his direction skewed. He ended up walking right past Qing Ling, marching straight ahead in a trance. His movements were so bizarre that the expressions of everyone present changed drastically, yet the man remained entirely oblivious, simply walking in circles around the public hall over and over again.
With that, the chaotic noise vanished completely.
Qing Ling said calmly, “Do no evil, and you won’t fear ghosts knocking on your door.”
This phrase ought to have been advice, but spoken now in his tone, it sounded far more like a threat.
That bailiff had already wandered right behind Magistrate Luo’s desk on the dais, and not a single person dared to step forward to touch Qing Ling again. The surrounding commoners were each struck with terror. When people believe they can suppress their opponent, fear manifests as malice; but once they realize they are nothing more than insignificant ants, fear transforms into pure, unadulterated dread.
Qing Ling looked toward Magistrate Luo and asked, “Do you still want to burn me to death?”
Luo Qingxiang was completely dazed as well. How was he supposed to answer this? He gave a hesitant nod first, then frantically shook his head.
Qing Ling found it rather amusing and deliberately pressed further, “Didn’t you just assert that I was the murderer, calling me a monster and insisting on burning me to death? Why aren’t you making a move now?”
Luo Qingxiang swallowed a mouthful of bitterness. Of course he wanted to wipe out this reckless punk, but how could he dare to do so now?
To put it simply, if Qing Ling had been an ordinary person, he would have undoubtedly been burned as a demon without a second thought.
Yet if Qing Ling truly was an extremely dangerous monster, Magistrate Luo’s cowardice took over instead.
“No… th-this case still has numerous suspicious points and requires, requires further investigation,” Magistrate Luo stammered out, right now only wishing to chase Qing Ling away as quickly as possible.
Having secured the upper hand, Qing Ling had no intention of sparing him. He stated calmly, “You spoke with such absolute certainty earlier, yet suddenly there are suspicious points now. Anyone who attempted to smear my innocence just now shall suffer bad luck for half a year.”
With that, Qing Ling turned and walked away. The commoners crowded outside immediately cleared a path for him, especially the few who had spoken out earlier, whose complexions had turned as pale as dead leaves. Yet not a single person possessed the courage to try and stop Qing Ling. Monsters deserved to be slain by all, but that didn’t mean everyone was capable of slaying one.
Qing Ling strolled grandly out of the yamen just like that. Only after walking a distance away did he softly ask, “How much longer does that guy have to keep walking in circles?”
Shang Changheng walked beside him just like a living person, completely unbothered by the broad daylight. He replied, “A little trick. He can probably keep spinning for another two hours. You certainly put on quite an impressive display though, suffering bad luck for half a year?”
“I just said it on a whim.” Relying on the memory of the route he had taken to the yamen the previous day, Qing Ling searched for his way back while explaining, “When do people never face a bit of bad luck? Once his bad luck hits, he’ll naturally recall what I said today and assume I was the one who caused it, which will only make him fear me even more.”
Shang Changheng found this rather interesting and asked further, “Didn’t you want them to know that you aren’t an evil spirit?”
“Why waste that effort?” Qing Ling felt the question was rather pointless. “We aren’t close. As long as they’re afraid of me and don’t dare bother me with trouble, that’s enough. Why would I ever need to prove my innocence to them?”
Besides, he was never some great saint who repaid enmity with virtue. The members of the Qing family had all been wiped out cleanly, and hadn’t Qing Ling simply looked on with cold indifference?
Qing Ling had no desire to be a universally praised good person; it was exhausting and unrewarding. He only wanted to live well.
The new residence was small and situated quite a distance from the yamen. Qing Ling did not feel tired, though after walking for a long time without reaching home, he simply waited until they had passed the bustling street filled with peddlers where pedestrians were fewer, and began discussing with Shang Changheng his attempts from the previous night at practicing the Qi-cultivation techniques of the Qing family.
“You actually want to condense martial Qi?” Shang Changheng raised an eyebrow slightly and shook his head. “Your entire body is saturated with Yin energy, and you don’t even have an ounce of Yang fire. How could you possibly condense martial Qi? If you’re going to cultivate, you can only follow the ghostly path. Whatever you managed to condense last night was probably nothing but Yin energy.”
Qing Ling remained silent.
No wonder it felt colder the more he practiced.
Shang Changheng walked alongside him with a free-and-easy, unrestrained demeanor. Presumedly because it was daytime, this evil spirit did not appear quite so gloomy, which made it all the more evident that his status in life had been anything but ordinary. Whether sitting or walking, his posture and etiquette were utterly flawless.
“Still, it’s not a bad thing. Cultivating anything is better than nothing,” Shang Changheng continued. “The fate you carry is something countless cultivators spend their lives begging for, severed from familial ties and exceptionally suited for cultivation. Both this physical body and your destiny grid are optimized for entering this path. It’s just a pity.”
Hearing those final three words, Qing Ling turned to look at him. “A pity what?”
Unadulterated malice gleamed brightly in Shang Changheng’s eyes as he lowered his voice and said, “What a pity that your familial attachments are nothing short of a karmic disaster, given that someone personally arranged a marriage contract for you.”
Qing Ling fell silent, lowering his gaze as he continued walking forward.
He understood what Shang Changheng meant.
This destiny grid was best suited for dealing with demons, ghosts, and wicked spirits; otherwise, those malevolent entities would naturally covet him, and his cultivation would likewise face no obstacles, he could truly have achieved great things. Yet, an entanglement of romantic fate had been thrust upon him, and a nether-marriage at that.
Shang Changheng would kill him sooner or later, meaning he wouldn’t even live long. What kind of achievements could he possibly cultivate?
Achievements didn’t matter much to him, but Qing Ling wanted to live.
Meanwhile, back at the county yamen.
Magistrate Luo had failed to pocket any wealth and instead had his face thoroughly disgraced in public, not to mention how Qing Ling’s parting curse before leaving had left him sitting on pins and needles. Distracted for a moment, he scalded his hand on a cup of hot tea served by a servant, which immediately brought to mind the curse about suffering bad luck. His face paled instantly as he violently swiped the teacup away, roaring, “You heartless thing, how dare you serve tea this scalding?!”
The servant hurriedly dropped to his knees to apologize and was promptly barked at with a furious “Get lost!”
Luo Qingxiang turned the matter over in his mind, utterly unable to swallow this anger, especially since this Qing Ling was simply too terrifying. If Qing Ling continued to linger in Lincang City, he, the magistrate, would forever be suppressed.
“Someone come here!” he shouted loudly.
The bailiffs outside immediately stepped inside.
Magistrate Luo said in a low voice, “Go and find some talented, extraordinary individuals for this lord. Hmph… there is always someone better, and I simply refuse to believe that no one can handle him.”
The bailiff nodded, and just as he was about to leave, Magistrate Luo called him back.
“Do not let word leak out,” Luo Qingxiang instructed in a low voice. This matter had to be handled in secret; if he posted public notices, he feared Qing Ling might come storming into his estate by nightfall.
Qing Ling, by contrast, had finally found some leisure. The previously acquired life-severing awl had been tucked away by Qing Ling; regardless of its exact function, it was at least a magical artifact.
He busied himself flipping through those ancient texts, but the spells recorded on the bamboo slips were genuinely obscure and difficult to comprehend. Without a guide, Qing Ling could only fumble and explore on his own. Aside from these materials, Qing Ling also intentionally or unintentionally browsed through quite a number of historical records.
Shang was not a major surname, but it had once been an imperial surname. The Zhou dynasty, which collapsed a millennium ago, belonged to the Shang clan.
Qing Ling intentionally looked into the records of that era, but a thousand years had passed, and very little remained. Official history books only recorded the date of the nation’s fall, while even the sovereign was referred to solely by his posthumous title, “Zhou Lingdi,” with his personal given name never mentioned. Yet as a posthumous title, “Ling” was by no means a favorable word.
After searching everywhere with no results, Qing Ling wondered if his train of thought was mistaken. Was this Shang Changheng someone from before the Zhou dynasty, or perhaps someone from a later era?
It wasn’t until Qing Ling opened a volume of unofficial history titled Reminiscences of the Ancient Zhou that things changed. This book recounted the eccentric anecdotes and romance stories of the Shang clan emperors of the Zhou dynasty. This included how the founding emperor was as valiant as a heavenly general descended to earth, conquering nine states in ten years, charging deep into nomadic territories, unifying the realm, and leaving a legacy lasting through the ages; how subsequent imperial heirs fought for the throne; how princes, princesses, and court officials engaged in illicit and debauched trysts; and even claiming that the descendants of the Zhou dynasty were of dragon descent, possessing a dragon-like nature prone to unbridled lust, wild beyond measure.
Being unofficial history, it naturally focused heavily on romantic affairs, and any mention of court politics was invariably laced with decadence and sensuality.
Until the text finally mentioned that fallen ruler, “Zhou Lingdi.” This Ling Emperor had reigned for merely two years before the four-hundred-year mandate of Great Zhou was completely exhausted. During those two years, the reign title of Great Zhou was “Duanhe,” and this Zhou Lingdi was also referred to as Emperor Duanhe, being the legitimate son born to the late emperor’s empress.
The Shang clan, personal name Changjun, courtesy name Tishou.
Shang Changjun.
It differed from Shang Changheng by a single character. If the two of them truly shared some connection, they ought to be members of the same generation, cousins or brothers.
Of course, this could also be a coincidence, but the clan annals recorded that the tomb beneath Dragon-Slaying Mountain was an ancient millennium-old tomb. A thousand years ago, the Zhou dynasty collapsed, and its final monarch was named Shang Changjun.
Even the timeline matched up.
Qing Ling felt that this could hardly be a coincidence.
Shang Changheng, he was a royal clan member from a millennium ago.