Withered Forest
In the fifth year of Putong under the Great Liang, times were exceptionally good for the vagabonds of the world.
A sharp disemboweling knife cost five cash, a bowl of stewed-meat noodles cost three cash, and taking a nap under a big tree beside an ancient tomb not only meant running into night-roaming foxes for a carefree night, but also casually making a clean profit of ten cash.
That year, Prince Zhongshan Yuan Ying of the Northern Dynasties led sixty thousand armored troops south, first conquering Yinping and beheading twenty-five enemy generals, then approaching Shouyang to shatter thirty thousand Liang troops, and ultimately stationing his forces beneath the walls of Zhongli City.
General Wei Huaiwen, a renowned general of Great Liang, commanded the various armies to meet him in battle, constructing three additional cities outside the walls of Zhongli in a single night.
The two armies fought bitterly for thirty-six days. Exhausting all his methods, Yuan Ying gazed at Wei Huaiwen—who sat quietly atop the city walls beneath parasols, fans, banners, and canopies, lightly waving a duster—pulled out a short flute to gently play a tune, and left behind the parting remark, "He stands firm as a rival state," before leading his elite cavalry in retreat.
Thereafter, Wei Huaiwen led the marshaled generals in pursuit, first crushing the enemy in Nanxu and then routing Yuan Ying in Beiyu, leaving fewer than one in five of the sixty thousand armored troops to return north.
That year, the Huai River flooded violently, submerging three prefectures and sixteen counties, while the imperial court withheld half of the military provisions prepared for the front lines and diverted them to disaster relief.
That year, a dragon fell in Yunmeng; its blood poured down like rain, coagulating into jade that wealthy merchants and magnates transported to Jiankang, where a single piece fetched ten thousand cash.
Many years later, those vagabonds of the era had long since lost their vital yang breath and become lonely ghosts.
Yet when they gathered in the City God Temple to cadge incense offerings, they would still smack their lips while recalling the musky scent of fox courtesans, reminiscing about the flavor of stewed-meat noodles, and praising the good old days of that era.
The long night pressed down like a shroud, blanketing the four seas. The silhouettes of distant mountains and fields shifted ceaselessly under the moonlight, while the mist constantly morphed under the brilliant silver glow—at times condensing like a long serpent exhaling its breath, at other times swaying like a seated tiger summoning ghosts.
A red lantern swayed incessantly amidst the night.
It passed through layers of mist, pressing ever forward along the weed-choked mountain path.
The bluestone slabs laid down in the early years of the dynasty had gradually shattered into numerous smaller fragments, and resilient vegetation invaded the spaces beside the stones along their cracks.
The red lantern flipped up and down continually, the four characters "Duling Su Clan" upon it indistinct in the mist.
"Young master, look at the lights ahead; that should be a place to rest our feet."
A servant boy carried a bamboo box, pinched the lantern in his right hand, and pointed ahead as he spoke. He possessed red lips and white teeth, a handsome appearance, and hair like black oil gathered into two childish double buns.
Meanwhile, a young master clad in a light-cyan Shu Brocade long robe, with a jade hairpin thrust through his hair bun and a dark wooden case strapped to his back, stepped onto the slightly damp bluestone slabs in thick boots and smiled.
...Judging by the terrain here, it ought to be a temple. It's just a pity...
"A pity what?" The servant boy's face shifted slightly as he spoke, recalling the bizarre and hallucinatory stories he had once heard in the capital.
Rotten wood breeding spirits, aged objects turning into monsters, old women conceiving ghosts, nether spirits walking by night...
He glanced at the young master beside him, suddenly remembering that this very Third Young Master of theirs had also experienced a strange incident a few months ago, and instinctively edged a step to the side.
"A pity that the protagonists in stories are almost always solitary travelers. Even when people travel in company, they are either Daoist masters living in deep seclusion among the populace, or Buddhist holy monks wandering across the four quarters, or else generous and bold swordsmen, or affectionate and chaste female ghosts..."
Third Young Master Su smiled. "Since when does anyone travel around with a peach-blossom-eyed pageboy?"
You really do have designs on me. A chill swept through the little pageboy's entire body, and he shrank further away.
If it weren't to save you, who would have brought you out?
Su Che glanced at the slightly panicked-looking little pageboy.
The eminent clans bearing major surnames in Jiankang City were notoriously unconstrained in their appetites. The little pageboy possessed a fine skin; if placed in his past life, he would have had no problem passing as a second- or third-tier pretty young idol.
It was simply a pity he was born in this Great Liang where demons ran rampant and the troubled times remained unsettled.
Bringing him along by his side could also count as having a backup.
"Young master, ahead is a ruined temple."
Following the path forward, a courtyard gate with a moss-grown stone lamp and a rotting plaque overrun with vines came into view.
aided by the bright, clear moonlight, one could faintly make out the four large characters on the plaque.
Withered Forest Monastery.
It truly was an abandoned temple.
Through the largely collapsed gate, one could see the fire burning within—a sight that, gazed upon in this slightly damp and chilly night, brought a measure of strength back to the heart.
"Young master, the jianghu has a saying: Pass mountains without sitting, encounter temples without entering. It's not too far to Shanyin County now, so we should keep moving."
The little pageboy thought of the experiences he had asked about before setting out, then suddenly had a second thought—how did his young master know there ought to be a ruined temple right here?
"Young master, do you know the Qi-Reading Art?"
"'The Son of Heaven reads qi,' as recorded in the Zuo Commentary and passed down in the Classic of Divination—I've heard of it, but I haven't studied it specifically."
Su Che shook his head and stepped past the half-collapsed gate. The Four Heavenly Kings on either side had long since returned to their primal source and reverted to their original clay forms.
Mud covered the ground.
"Our household has worshipped the Celestial Masters for generations. Then do you know the secret arts of the Celestial Master Sect?"
"Using talisman water to cure illnesses, flying swords to exterminate demons, cultivating one's craft to the level of creation, and consuming qi to attain longevity. My heart yearns for it, but my affinity for the immortals is shallow, leaving me without the fate to practice."
"Then it must be Buddhism. I've heard that Qixia Temple..."
Su Che gave a clear cough and stated definitively, "This lay practitioner only studies Joyful Zen."
Su Che walked into the courtyard.
This place should originally have been filled with facing halls and pavilions, corner corridors and balustrades, but now everything had been reduced to rotting wood and broken tiles, with only the main hall right at the center remaining.
Directly ahead stood a tall stone incense burner, already filled with accumulated water and floating duckweed.
The firelight shone out from within the surviving main hall.
"Then how did the young master know this was a temple?"
"I took a casual guess."
Su Che looked toward the campfire ahead and began to recite.
"A junior scholar passing through this place, sorry for the trouble."
With those words, he led the still-hesitant pageboy inside.
Inside the temple, a bonfire burned, and the ground was covered with dry hay, upon which sat seven or eight rough men wearing coir rain capes, warming themselves by the fire.
Seeing someone arrive from outside, a flicker of surprise and suspicion crossed their faces as they exchanged glances.
A dark-faced man who appeared to be the leader stood up from where he sat, resting his right hand inside his left sleeve while a smile played across his face.
"Meeting is a matter of fate, what trouble is there or isn't there, we're all travelers on the road, scholar, please come in and sit."
Su Che nodded, and without standing on ceremony, walked straight into the temple, sat down along the campfire, and stretched out his hands to warm himself by the heat.
"A scholar on the road?"
The dark-faced man looked Su Che up and down, then glanced at the lantern in the pageboy's hand.
"Heading to Guobei County."
Guobei County and Shanyin County bordered each other; Guobei was haunted, and Shanyin had demons.
"Visiting relatives?"
The dark-faced man narrowed his eyes, his right hand burrowing deeper into his left sleeve.
Su Che suddenly thought of a certain predecessor who had mated with fierce ghosts.
"Collecting debts."
"So you are a young master, though I wonder what your distinguished surname and great name might be."
The dark-faced man's expression relaxed slightly, though his right hand remained tucked inside his left sleeve.
"So he's illiterate."
The little pageboy muttered from behind, wasn't it all written on the lantern?
"My humble surname is Su, sojourning in Du Ling, Yongzhou."
In this world where evil spirits ran amok and phantoms wept by night, only the dead needed no further worry.
Su Che could empathize quite well with the tension of these few men.
"Young Master Su looks like someone with a major business back home," the dark-faced man looked at Su Che. "We brothers are from Shanyin County, returning from gathering herbs in the mountains, getting ready to head back to our hometown."
"You gentlemen certainly look like heroes." Su Che glanced at the burdens behind them, which were filled with grass and wood.
Entering the mountains to gather herbs these days required luck, but most important of all was courage.
Who knew what mountain ginseng might have a mountain-patrolling scout standing beside it, who could guess whether the fleeceflower root they wanted to harvest might have a life-taking viper coiled next to it, the shade-providing ancient tree might well be packed with vengeful spirits waiting to find substitutes, and across from the thirst-quenching mountain spring there might just stand a trap-setting ghost for demons.
The dark-faced man smiled and slowly withdrew his right hand from his left sleeve.
"Then please rest, Young Master."
The little pageboy gently tugged at Su Che's sleeve from behind.
This gang of herb-gatherers had questioned them, yet they hadn't questioned these men at all.
Who knew if they were truly herb-gatherers.
They might well be a pack of trap-setting ghosts devoured by the Demon King, fishing for prey for their master right here.
Ignoring the worried pageboy, Su Che quietly sat beside the campfire and started chatting with the dark-faced man, discussing the local customs, practices, floods, and droughts of Guobei County and Shanyin County.
The pageboy's heart thus finally settled; his own young master looked like a fool with a jade exterior, but in the end he wasn't really dim-witted after all, and still knew how to fish for information.
How did they put it in the pugilistic world again?
Right, sounding out the path. My Third Young Master Su, do go ahead and thoroughly sound him out.
The pageboy sat beside the campfire, the warm heat baking him relentlessly. He was already drowsy, and his mind soon grew hazy as well.
He did not know how long he had slept, but when he woke up, apart from the crackling sounds in the bonfire, his own young master was still chatting with the dark-faced man.
"...Guobei is not like our Shanyin. Shanyin County has a literary heritage; back in the previous dynasty it even produced a top scholar, though nowadays the family fortunes have declined, and it's been changed into a tavern called Top Scholar Residence..."
The dark-faced man sat beside the campfire, recounting tales of his hometown.
"Speaking of this, it reminds me of a past event in Shanyin County."
The dark-faced man was somewhat curious as to what this young master knew.
"Withered Forest Monastery was first built during the Datong reign of the previous dynasty, two hundred and thirty-six years ago. In the early years of the current dynasty, the realm fell into chaos, and for reasons unknown, Withered Forest Chan Temple gradually fell into ruin."
The pageboy, however, thought to himself that his own young master was truly lying through his teeth; clearly he had already thoroughly investigated that this place was a temple, yet he had told him he had just guessed casually.
"More than thirty years ago, a hunter discovered twenty-four hu of salt inside Withered Forest Chan Temple and reported it to the officials. After investigation, Guobei County ascertained that it was smuggled salt, and this is the first affair that occurred at Withered Forest Chan Temple."
"Over a decade ago, a squad of bailiffs in the imperial court secretly escorted arrested Japanese pirate felons, and their scheduled route passed through Guobei to the prefectural city. The entire troop vanished without a trace, and the reinforcing troops traced the route and finally discovered four waist plaques and two broken sabers at Withered Forest Chan Temple. The case was ultimately concluded as Japanese pirates intercepting prisoners, and ample compensation was given, leaving the matter unsettled in the end."
The dark-faced man clenched both hands tightly; he was clearly from Shanyin County, yet he had never heard of this matter.
Right as they spoke, seemingly to match the young master's description, the tightly shut doors and windows of this dilapidated hall suddenly began to creak and groan.
The wailing and sobbing sounds outside the window made it impossible to tell for a moment whether it was the howling of the night wind or ghosts weeping in the night.
He was just about to wake his sleeping companion when he suddenly noticed that the wooden box the young master had kept strapped to his back ever since entering was now shaking slightly.
The dark-faced man rubbed his eyes, but the wooden box was indeed shaking continuously, and the movement was growing more and more pronounced.
"Today is the Gengshen day. According to the books, today the Heavenly Emperor bestows virtue and Lunar Essence grants nectar. Moonlight Essence possesses a unique divinity; flora and fauna that obtain it awaken their spirits, and birds and beasts that drink it transform into demons. If we miss today, we will have to wait another sixty days for the next Gengshen day."
Su Che looked out the window, where tree branches shivered and roof tiles shifted. Beneath heavy night mists, something seemed to be dancing and singing.
He laid the Sword Case horizontally across his knees, stroking it with both hands.
Inside the hall, the flames had already taken on a jade-green hue.
The dark-faced man let out a long breath, only to see that his breath was entirely mist.
Why had it suddenly grown so cold?
He felt his whole body go numb, unable to muster a single ounce of strength.
It was clearly a long summer night, yet the chill had already pierced his bones.
The unceasing, leaping resonance from the Sword Case upon his knees could not make Su Che feel warm, but it at least maintained the clarity of his mind.
At this moment inside the hall, the doors and windows stood wide open.
His fellow herb gatherer and the pageboy had been suppressed by nightmares, unable to speak or see, feeling as though thousands of catties of boulders pressed upon their bodies, completely immobile.
A jade-green shadow, as large as a carriage wheel, floated outside the door.
Su Che slowly chanted the inscriptions upon the Sword Case.
"My sword has spirit, the elite of Shouyang. Nourished by benevolence and righteousness, worn with the five weapons. The Three Powers forge the blade, the Five Virtues form the point. Sun and moon conceal patterns, treading upon those seven stars. Governing rivers and calming seas, Flood Dragons lurk in flight. Guarding mountains and locking peaks, a hundred ghosts hide their shadows. What spirit does not submit? What ghost dares oppose?"
Su Che looked at the Sword Case in his hands and softly called out a single word.
"Please."
In an instant, the dark-faced man felt as though Moonlight Essence flashed before his eyes.
The case fell still.
Outside the doors of the hall, there was only the bright, clear moon shining down, a pure and jade-like universe, with tree shadows swaying just as before.
The mist had already dispersed.
The dark-faced man was struck with terror for a moment, faintly and vaguely understanding roughly what had happened.
His expression darkened as he cupped his fists.
"May I ask your esteemed name."
"Su Che of Du Ling," the brocade-clad young master smiled lightly, "the newly appointed magistrate of Shanyin County."
"Congratulations, Lord Magistrate, on slaying demons and eliminating ghosts."
Slaying demons and eliminating ghosts? Su Che glanced outside and merely shook his head.