Drunken‑Immortal Herb could knock humans unconscious.
It was “restricted”, though not a lethal poison.
You would find none sold openly in Qinghe County, yet plenty circulated in the shadows.
Disguised in plain clothes, the constable‑chief set off with Shen Xian and Liu San for the southern‑city ghost‑market, which only opened after midnight, selling goods you dared not show in daylight.
Liu San knew these places well.
Back when he worked as a manor guard, he had often purchased “special wares” for the household.
They wandered the market and halted at a herbal‑medicine stall.
The vendor was a one‑eyed old crone, her eyelids drooping as if she were asleep.
“Old Mother,” Liu San lowered his voice, “do you have the goods?”
“What goods?”
“The kind strong enough to knock an ox senseless.”
The crone lifted her eyelid.
Her single eye swept over the three men and settled on Shen Xian.
“New face.
No credit.”
“No credit.” Shen Xian squatted down.
“One quick question.
Has anyone bought Drunken‑Immortal Herb in the past fortnight?
Enough to poison three hundred chickens, that is a large quantity.”
“Young man, ghost‑market rules: ask not where goods come from, reveal not who buys them.”
“I respect your rules.” Shen Xian pulled a small fragment of silver from his sleeve and laid it on the stall.
“Therefore I will not ask for the buyer’s name.
I only ask: did he pay in hard silver, or run up tab?”
The crone stared at the silver for a long while, then cackled, showing broken teeth.
“Young man, you ask questions in an interesting way.
I have sold medicines for forty years, and no‑one has ever asked me that.”
“Cash‑and‑carry buyers vanish without trace.
Those who run up tabs leave trails.” Shen Xian pushed the silver a little closer.
“Old Mother.
In the last two weeks, has any regular customer bought a large batch of Drunken‑Immortal Herb?”
The crone pocketed the silver and drawled: “Yes.
A man connected to the temples bought a sack.
Claimed he needed it to ‘blend calming incense for the temple’.”
“Which temple?”
“How many temples are there in Qinghe County?” The crone shut her eye again.
“Young man, I never woke up today.”
By the time they left the ghost‑market, the sky was pale pre‑dawn grey.
“Temple connections… a temple…” Liu San drew a sharp breath. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
“Young Master — Azure Cloud Temple!
That is supposed to be a sacred place!
Half the gentry in this county buy their ‘immortal pills’ there!”
“Sacred?” Shen Xian let out a cold huff.
“Sacred priests buying knockout‑herb for calming incense?
Do they also dig demon‑holes behind their own chicken‑coops?”
He halted and looked up at the sky.
“Liu San, tell me.
In Qinghe County, who fears demons the most — and who profits the most from demons?”
Liu San scratched his head.
“I have no idea.”
“Common folk fear demons.” Shen Xian spoke slowly.
“The ones who profit are the men selling talismans, selling pills, and performing rituals.
The more ferocious the supposed demon, the better their business.”
“What should we do then?
Go smash up Azure Cloud Temple?”
“Not yet.” Shen Xian yawned.
“Dawn is breaking.
Let us go home and sleep.
You need to be well‑rested to catch demons — especially the calculating human kind.”