Retribution

Fang Ming looked on coldly from the side. Seeing the scattered incense offerings on the ground, the rising murmurs around him, and Qi Da and his wife standing there at a loss, he could not help but sneer. A god had to balance grace with awe; without that, how could one govern the people?

He had repeatedly supported Qi Da and his wife, yet the mere threat of a local thug had made Qi Da waver. Qi Da's line of faith was already flickering in and out, on the verge of snapping.

He knew that if he did not settle this quickly, once Qi Da handed over the money, resentment would surely take root in his heart. The laughable part was that Qi Da would not resent Wang Er. He would only hate Fang Ming for failing to punish Wang Er, causing him to lose fifty coins, while forgetting who had given him a hundred coins in the first place!

As it happened, Fang Ming had recently been considering finding someone to make an example of. Grace and awe applied together were the kingly way. He needed the villagers to understand the power of divine retribution, deepen their faith, and ensure they would not betray him lightly. Then Wang Er had delivered himself right to his door. Was this not Heaven's will?

Besides, there might not be no one behind Wang Er! Heh heh!

After watching the spectacle, the villagers returned to their farmwork. It was the spring plowing season. Other than worshipping, eating, and sleeping, farmers practically lived in their fields. This was the lifeline of the entire year.

Most of them were tenant farmers. If the harvest turned out poorly, landlords would inevitably come knocking to collect debts. By then, they might have to sell their sons and daughters or even sell off their ancestral land, bringing ruin upon their households. Fang Ming wandered casually around the village, occasionally looking beneath the earth for small items.

Before he knew it, he had reached the fields. He saw the farmers sowing their spring crops and tending the land, so busy that sweat streamed down their faces before they could wipe it away, dripping into the soil.

Fang Ming watched in silence and could not help recalling the line: "Hoeing grain beneath the noonday sun, sweat drips down into the soil below the crops." These words captured the hardships of farmers completely. Looking at it now from another angle, he felt countless flavors welling up in his heart.

He was a ghost now, so he was not afraid of being discovered. He drifted closer to an old farmer and observed carefully, discovering that agriculture in this world was already quite advanced, no less developed than the level of the Song dynasty.

Suddenly, he spotted transparent gray figures in the distance. Knowing they were ghosts as well, he moved toward them.

There were two ghosts, both dressed as farmers. One was chasing, while the other fled. The fleeing one was an ordinary-looking youth, drifting about in panicked confusion. The pursuing man had a savage expression, almost like an Evil Ghost. Once he caught up with the youth, he lunged forward and began tearing at him with his teeth.

After being bitten, the youth scattered like smoke. The large man gulped down the wisps with immense satisfaction. Taking the chance, the dispersed smoke reformed into the youth, though he was far more scattered than before and barely retained a human shape.

When he saw Fang Ming, the youth cried, "Brother, run! This man bites everyone he sees. He has already gone mad!" Having finished swallowing, the large man turned his head. Fierce light spilled from his eyes, and the sight of Fang Ming filled him with delight as he pounced.

Over the past few days, Fang Ming had silently circulated his Divine Power and gained some understanding of its uses and transformations. He had been eager to test it. Unafraid, he willed it into motion, and a thread of Divine Power within him transformed into white light, shrouding his entire body.

The instant the large man lunged, the white light blasted him away. He flew backward with repeated screams. Fang Ming stepped forward and planted his foot on the man's body. Seeing that he only roared madly, without the slightest shred of reason, like a wild beast, Fang Ming could not help sighing. White light flashed beneath his foot. The man let out one final scream and turned into black smoke.

The white light was exhausted as well. Fang Ming nodded lightly. One strand of white Divine Power could only sustain combat for around thirty breaths. He did not know whether destroying that ghost had affected the duration, so he decided to continue experimenting later.

The youth timidly approached and asked, "That seemed to be a living person's Protective Divine Radiance. Why do you have it, Brother?"

"Oh, Protective Divine Radiance? I did not know that. I merely did many good deeds while I was alive, so I suppose this karmic merit protects me."

The matter of the Land God talisman was Fang Ming's greatest secret, and naturally he could not reveal it. The Land God was also called the God of Fortune and Virtue; did that not mean he possessed merit to protect him? It was not as though he was deceiving the youth.

Still, a thought stirred in his heart, and he gained a few more suspicions regarding the village altar.

He went on to chat idly with the youth. Before long, he had drawn out quite a bit of information.

The youth was named Zhao Xin, the son of the village chief from a neighboring village. He had been dearly loved since childhood and had read a few books. Unfortunately, Heaven did not grant him many years. He had died of illness two days earlier. Still attached to his home, he had been blasted out of the village by white light. Fortunately, he had not encountered the great sacrifices on the first or fifteenth day of the month, or his soul would have scattered on the spot.

He had waited at the village entrance for his father, only to find that the man could not see him at all. Only then did he understand that the living and the dead walked different paths. Getting too close would even cause the white light to knock him away. He recalled a travel journal that said, "The living possess protective qi, which preserves their peace and wards off sprites and ghosts." He had thought it a joke at the time, but now he knew it was true.

The youth had wandered aimlessly and unexpectedly entered an old forest. There, he saw the large man devouring another ghost alive. After being discovered, he had been chased all the way here.

By then, the two had grown closer, so Fang Ming asked, "Why did that man become like that? Do you know?"

"It seemed he wanted to live a few more days, so he began devouring living souls. But once he started, he could not stop."

Zhao Xin crouched on the ground and ran his hand through the grass. After thinking for a moment, he continued, "I read in a book that ghosts can use yin energy or the energy of other ghosts to cause mischief and remain in the world for a long time. At that point, they are called Vengeful Ghosts. A ritual must be conducted quickly by a ritual master or Daoist priest, or disaster will surely follow. I think he was a Vengeful Ghost."

Fang Ming nodded, deeply impressed by Zhao Xin's learning. When he asked about current affairs, however, Zhao Xin revealed his ignorance. Apart from knowing that it was the ninth year of the Yonghe Era and that this place lay outside Wenchang Prefecture in Wu Prefecture, he knew nothing else. It turned out that he only enjoyed reading tales of the strange and supernatural, unable to settle down and study orthodox classics. For this, he had often been rebuked by his father.

Just as Fang Ming was about to tease him a little, a breeze swept past, and the youth's form abruptly turned into gray smoke, scattering with the wind.

Fang Ming was startled, then fell silent. He immediately understood that Zhao Xin had been drained to the last drop by the large man's bite. Gazing at those drifting strands of gray smoke and feeling the great terror of this mortal world, he could not tell what he felt. Suddenly, two streams of tears rolled down his face.

Night fell. Once darkness descended, there was almost no sound of people in the village, nor was there the faintest glimmer of light.

They used oil lamps in those days, and lamp oil was precious. How could it be used freely? Farming families rose with the sun and rested when it set.

Fang Ming looked around the village. Layer upon layer of gray shadows had gathered, watching from outside, while the altar in the village radiated white light that repelled the ghosts.

Ghosts loved the darkness. This was the scene of a hundred ghosts walking at night. Looking more closely, he saw that some had once been farmers of this village, drawn here by longing for their relatives.

Others were strong and overbearing, gathered into groups, and slammed against the white light. The light no longer possessed the power it had during the great sacrifices. It could only passively knock the ghosts away, yet the ghosts remained relentless, and the white light gradually dimmed.

But after midnight, a change occurred. At first, the ghosts knocked away by the light had seemed to be burned by fire, nearly losing their forms. Now, those blasted back merely swayed in dizziness before pouncing again. Fang Ming frowned. There seemed to be a faint order to the ghosts' assault. The ones that had rushed forward first were like the old and weak; only now had the main force appeared. His heart gave a jolt.

The ghosts attacked throughout the night. Occasionally, ghosts from the village came forward to dissuade them, only to be beaten down immediately and forced into the vanguard. After charging a few times, they turned into drifting smoke. The sight chilled the heart.

Fang Ming hid to one side and used a strand of Divine Power to cast an invisibility technique, spying on them in secret. At the same time, he found several lone ghosts to test his skills on. After knocking them down and forcing them to answer his questions, he finally learned the truth.

Ghosts were divided into several ranks: ordinary ghosts, Vengeful Ghosts, Evil Ghosts, and Ghost Kings. Ordinary ghosts, unless blessed with a great opportunity, would perish within seven days.

To endure for a long time, there were four methods.

The first was to devour other ghosts alive, but this method easily caused one to lose one's mind and become like a beast.

The second was to absorb the vital human qi of the living. A living person deprived of their qi could not even become a ghost; their soul would scatter entirely. Yet ghosts could use this method to remain in the mortal world and preserve their sanity. The more human qi they absorbed, the stronger they became. They could become Vengeful Ghosts and bring calamity upon villages.

The third was to possess a method of nourishing and refining qi, find a place of concentrated yin, and cultivate bitterly. This too could grant long existence.

The fourth was to be the ancestor of a great clan. After death, one could receive sacrifices from one's descendants or an imperial decree from the court, becoming an ancestral spirit united with the ancestral temple or altar. So long as incense offerings remained unbroken, one would be immortal. Unfortunately, one could not leave the ancestral temple or altar, and if the sacrifices were destroyed, one would vanish into ash and smoke.

Qingyu Village had been established by refugees who reclaimed the land during the great drought of the third year of the Yonghe Era. There were many small households and minor clans in the village, with no common ancestor. During sacrifices, they could only make general offerings in the name of the ancestors. No ancestral spirit guarded the altar.

Whether an ancestral spirit guarded an altar made an enormous difference.

With an ancestral spirit, the Incense and Fire Prayer Power could be freely mobilized for defense, and warnings could be given in moments of crisis. When the villagers' protective qi was depleted, it could actively replenish it. Without one, the altar could only defend passively and rigidly. It could grant protection only during great sacrifices, making it easy to breach.

The protection granted by such a small altar could only defend against two ghosts. If three attacked together, there would be no chance of survival. Thus, villagers rarely went out at night. Once darkness fell, they could only protect themselves at home.

The gathered ghosts now sought to break into the village and absorb human qi.

The ghostly assault continued until dawn was near, when they gradually dispersed. The villagers rose in twos and threes to begin their work, completely unaware that they had brushed past death.

Fang Ming knew that at this rate, the altar would never hold until the great sacrifice on the fifteenth. Then the village would suffer the catastrophe of being swept clean by ghosts. This had something to do with him as well. He had divided the villagers' faith, weakening the altar's power day by day.

But this was also his opportunity.

Hearing sudden cries of alarm erupt throughout the village, he knew that last night's work had taken effect. He smiled coldly.

Last night, Fang Ming had spent ten strands of Divine Power, nearly half of his reserves. He had cast the Yellow Millet Dream technique, making Wang Er suffer in the Eighteen Levels of Hell for a full ten years in his dream, while suppressing his human qi until it weakened. A great change would surely be visible this morning.

The moment Wang Er fell asleep last night, he dreamed of a black ghost and a white ghost appearing before him. They shouted, "Wang Er, you have offended the Land God. You are hereby sentenced to enter hell for ten years and taste every torment of hell. Go!" Then they looped iron chains around Wang Er's neck.

Wang Er had wanted to resist, but the strength he usually relied on to bully others had vanished without a trace. Terrified, he begged for mercy. "Spare me! Spare me! I will never dare again!"

Black and White Impermanence sneered. "You knew nothing of the gods in ordinary days and dared offend them. Only now do you know there is retribution."

They burrowed into the ground, dragging Wang Er into the Underworld to endure eighteen kinds of torment. So passed a full ten years.

When Wang Er woke, he looked at the familiar yet unfamiliar surroundings and felt as though he had been reborn. When he struggled to move, he found his body unbearably weak. He hurriedly crawled to the water jar and looked into the water, only to be shocked.

The person reflected on the water's surface had deeply sunken eyes, dry yellow hair, and a gaunt face. In a single night, he had lost more than ten pounds. His entire body was powerless. Recalling the suffering of those ten years, he could not help bursting into loud sobs.