Every Grievance Has Its Source, Every Debt Its Debtor

"Wang Baotian of Dragon Gate Village, Ten-Li Slope, standing before this court: your son Wang Fu'an was killed. Why do you accuse the painter Rong Tianding?"

"My lord, my son fell victim to a water ghost. It was all that painter Rong's fault. If it weren't for..."

Without Rong Tianding's immortal painting to protect him, Wang Fu'an would not have gone out at night to look for sheep.

There was indeed some causal connection to his death.

But if Wang Fu'an's death were pinned on Rong Tianding, it would inevitably lead to all manner of ill consequences.

As Rong Li had shouted, people would start making claims wherever someone died. Even if someone tripped and died while walking, they would blame whichever household had uneven ground in front of it.

Lord Bao could not set such a precedent, but he also took issue with Rong Tianding deceiving people for money with his immortal paintings.

He needed to handle the matter properly.

In the courtroom, Lord Bao kept weighing the balance as he considered the grievance, which was nearly ready for a ruling.

"Rong Tianding, what do you have to say?"

Only after questioning Wang Baotian did Lord Bao turn to Rong Tianding.

"My lord, he's making a false claim against me. First, I didn't kill anyone; second, I didn't harm anyone. I only sold a painting for protection. Is that a crime too?" Rong Tianding argued.

"Let me ask you, then: do your immortal paintings actually ward off evil and drive away ghosts?" Lord Bao asked solemnly.

"Yes," Rong Tianding replied, steeling himself. "But as you know, my lord, an immortal painting can't deal with everything. Lesser ghosts will take a detour when they see one, but vicious, malignant ghosts won't care. They'll break straight through its protection!"

Remembering Zhang Xuezhou's instructions, Rong Tianding quickly rattled off his entire defense.

It was not that his painting was ineffective, but that the problem the other party had encountered was too severe.

That defense would keep Rong Tianding from becoming a rat crossing the street, reviled by everyone for selling fakes, and would also help him shed some of the responsibility.

"Did you bring any of those immortal paintings?" Lord Bao asked.

"My lord, I have two immortal paintings here," Rong Tianding answered.

"Present them!"

Lord Bao gave the order, then had a court runner fetch Rong Tianding's immortal paintings.

When he saw Rong Tianding's immortal painting of a figure with a pig's head and a human body, Lord Bao's brows had already drawn into a deep frown.

If Daoist Mu of the Universal Cloud Daoist Temple, three li outside the city, had a measure of genuine skill and could deal with some of the disturbances among the people, Rong Tianding was nothing but a swindler.

Lord Bao could see no Law Power lingering around the immortal painting, nor any marks of a manifested spell.

It was an ordinary painting, and a very poorly executed one at that.

Its only redeeming feature was that pig's blood had been used as paint, giving the canvas a faint, rank smell consistent with the absurd folk belief that chicken, dog, and pig blood could ward off evil.

"You must be a clever man to sell immortal paintings," Lord Bao said. "A clever man doesn't need me to say much. I won't ruin your business, but you must give me an account of this!"

Lord Bao did not want people in Hibiscus City to start making false claims whenever someone died, but he had to punish such trickery appropriately and teach Rong Tianding to show some respect.

The price of a genuine protective item was beyond what ordinary people could afford, so they could only buy useless things to put their minds at ease.

Rong Tianding was, of course, free to sell such handmade items, which had little Law Power and could not keep anyone safe.

Moreover, his price was fair: he charged only ten percent above the cost of the canvas used as his basic material, as payment for his labor.

Once the haunting at Ten-Li Slope blew over, Rong Tianding's business would inevitably slow, leaving him to scrape out a living.

Lord Bao needed to maintain the balance, and Rong Tianding needed to understand it as well.

If Rong Tianding was willing, Lord Bao felt that the matter could be put to rest with a sum of compensation.

There were always gains and losses in business; one could not simply take money in without ever paying any out. He hoped Rong Tianding understood that principle.

"My lord..."

Rong Tianding answered weakly, in a low voice.

After all, he was not yet twenty. Though his parents and younger male cousin were outside the courtroom, he had never faced a situation like this.

When Lord Bao, seated high in the hall, called out his question, cold sweat broke out on Rong Tianding's forehead, and his mind turned to mush.

He did not know what account he was supposed to give Lord Bao.

Should he explain that he had been influenced by Jia Zhiyuan since childhood and believed scholars were a cut above others? That he sold paintings to avoid inheriting the family trade? Or should he explain the whole story of how he had begun making immortal paintings...?

Countless questions filled Rong Tianding's head.

If Lord Bao casually asked him about any of them, he could pour out the answers.

But Lord Bao gave him no prompt, merely demanding an account, and for the moment Rong Tianding had no idea where to begin.

"My husband died so horribly!"

"My son!"

"It's all the fault of that man selling immortal paintings! If it weren't for that painting, how could you have gone out at night?"

In the courtroom, Wang Baotian and Wang Fu'an's wife spoke in low voices, cursing Rong Tianding from time to time.

Rong Tianding felt he could give no account at all; the more he explained, the more he would get entangled.

As his mind cleared, he felt he should cut the problem off at its source.

"Every grievance has its source, every debt its debtor! A ghost killed Wang Fu'an, so what has it got to do with us? At worst, we'll find the ghost, and you can beat it or kill it as you please. From now on, don't pin everything on us!"

Rong Tianding thought for several dozen seconds before he could no longer bear being cursed and gave Lord Bao his answer in a loud voice.

His answer caught Lord Bao off guard.

He had intended for Rong Tianding to spend money to avert trouble, but had not expected an ordinary man like him to undertake to catch a ghost.

But after thinking for a few seconds, he nodded.

Though Rong Tianding had cheated people out of money, his heart was not all that bad; at least he understood how to make things right afterward.

The haunting at Ten-Li Slope had caused a great commotion. Not only were rumors flying everywhere among the people, but the authorities had also taken notice and were planning an investigation.

Rong Tianding and the others could serve as the vanguard, while the authorities followed secretly to observe and help. If a sinister entity really was causing trouble, this would also give them some experience and leave them with a healthy respect for ghosts and gods, so they would do less of this swindling in the future.

It was a fairly sound arrangement: it would prevent the evil practice of making false claims wherever someone died, and would very likely punish a petty swindler like Rong Tianding as well.

Lord Bao thought it over for a few seconds and saw no problem with the arrangement.

"Wang Baotian, every grievance has its source, every debt its debtor. Rong Tianding has agreed to catch the ghost. Do you have anything else to accuse him of?" Lord Bao asked.

"My lord, as long as that ghost's bones can be crushed and its ashes scattered, my son Fu'an will not have died in vain. If Painter Rong can really catch it, we will kneel and kowtow to thank him for avenging my son!"

Wang Baotian's face was full of bitterness.

His son was dead, and naturally their hearts were bitter.

But if they sought revenge, they had no way to pursue it.

In the end, all they wanted was justice.

As for what form that justice should take, Wang Baotian had no answer.

But as long as it could ease even a little of the bewilderment and helplessness in their hearts, Wang Baotian felt that would be justice.

Now that Rong Tianding had agreed to catch the ghost, things had turned out better than Wang Baotian had imagined.

"What if Painter Rong loses his life catching the ghost?" Wang Baotian asked hesitantly.

"Then he will have brought it upon himself," Lord Bao replied.

"What if he can't catch it?" Wang Baotian's wife asked. "Or what if he makes every excuse when the time comes and simply refuses to catch it?"

"The wooden rod will be waiting for him," Lord Bao said. "If Rong Tianding fails to get to the bottom of this matter, the yamen will give him ten strokes!"

"Ten strokes would probably beat his backside to a pulp!" a court runner threatened in a low voice.

"Last time, that fellow got ten strokes, and his whole lower body was beaten to a pulp. Not only could he no longer get up on his feet, he pissed and shat in bed every day. His wife could barely stand the sight of him!"

"Even a filial son won't stay at a sickbed through a long illness, much less anyone else. I'm afraid he'll be despised as a cripple."

Two more court runners chimed in.

This might have been some kind of intimidation routine used by the yamen.

It could satisfy the aggrieved party and frighten the person facing punishment.

At least for Wang Baotian and the others, hearing that assurance made half the grief of losing their son vanish at once.