Chapter Forty-Three: The Old Family Patriarch Grows Suspicious, the Lame Taoist is Entrusted with Peace

Faced with such a strange occurrence, the two servants dared not show any negligence and hurriedly ran to inform the old master, Zhang Changlin.

After hearing their report, Zhang Changlin could not help but feel uneasy. After all, Zhao Yueshu’s background was truly suspicious. Although her every word and gesture appeared perfectly proper, there was always one doubt that Zhang Changlin had never spoken aloud.

It was the matter of the bandit attack Zhao Yueshu had described. Granted, the Zhou Dynasty was in turmoil; highway robberies and banditry were not uncommon. But Zhang Changlin remembered her story well. Most of it seemed reasonable—except for one detail that stuck in the old master’s throat like a fishbone.

The location.

That’s right—the place where Zhao Yueshu claimed her family met the bandits. She said it happened near Jian’an Capital, that their goods were stolen and her parents, along with the entire merchant caravan, were brutally murdered.

At the time, Zhao Yueshu had wept as though her heart would break, and the old master, feeling pity, had not thought too deeply about it. But the story did not hold up under scrutiny. Having weathered many storms in his life, the old master soon realized something was amiss.

What sort of place was this, after all?

Jian’an Capital—the imperial city of the Great Zhou.

The Northern Garrison guarded it day and night; officers of the law were everywhere; the River Garrison patrolled the waterways, and every county seat was home to heavily armored troops. Under such vigilant defense, who would dare to set up as a mountain bandit and rob merchant caravans? It would be as reckless as a centenarian hanging himself—sheer madness.

In truth, Zhang Changlin had lived most of his life in the region around Jian’an Capital and had never so much as heard of bandits, let alone seen them.

Thinking it over, Zhang Changlin could not shake the sense that something was gravely wrong. There were only two possible explanations for Zhao Yueshu’s fabrication.

The first was that she had invented a tragic past to win the sympathy of the Zhang family—especially Zhang Xiaoguang—so she could marry into wealth and enjoy a life of luxury.

But after a moment’s reflection, Zhang Changlin dismissed this notion.

It was simple: Zhao Yueshu was too beautiful, otherworldly in her charm. Moreover, the white fox fur coat she possessed was a rare treasure. With such beauty and such a precious item, she could easily have married a prince in the capital, not just the scion of the Zhang family.

Discarding the first possibility, Zhang Changlin’s expression grew grim, for the second was far more frightening. As that mysterious lame Daoist had said, Zhao Yueshu might well be a great demon in human form.

Stories of demons taking lives were not rare in the Zhou Dynasty. Zhang Changlin’s heart turned cold—Zhang Xiaoguang was the only heir of the Zhang family. If anything were to happen to him, the century-old Zhang lineage would end with this generation.

Steadying himself, Zhang Changlin recalled that the lame Daoist who had brought the warning must be an extraordinary person. Since the Daoist had come to report it, perhaps he would also help them expel Zhao Yueshu.

Even so, Zhang Changlin still clung to a faint hope—that all his suspicions were unfounded and Zhao Yueshu was simply an unfortunate woman who had truly suffered at the hands of bandits. But he could not afford to gamble, nor could the Zhang family.

After some thought, Zhang Changlin decided to go out with his servants and search for the Daoist. Before long, they found the lame Daoist dead drunk in a tavern by the roadside.

As if he had been waiting for Zhang Changlin, the Daoist opened his bleary eyes, reeking of wine, and said, “You’ve come?”

You’ve come?

Hearing this, Zhang Changlin felt a glimmer of hope and quickly stepped forward to ask his questions.

The lame Daoist, half-reclining on the ground, looked at Zhang Changlin with mocking eyes and recited,

“For a hundred years, the great family grows lingzhi;
A shallow fate, virtue lost, cuts off elm and catalpa.
No passion stirs the young man’s heart,
But, alas, the fair maiden, a demon, brings no joy.”

At these words, Zhang Changlin’s face turned deathly pale, and he immediately dismissed his attendants.

Every line of the Daoist’s verse struck home. The first two lines could be set aside, but the last two—were they not describing his grandson, Zhang Xiaoguang? The young man had always been devoted to his studies and career, indifferent to romance, yet had fallen for Zhao Yueshu. But the Daoist’s final line was plain: the fair maiden was Zhao Yueshu, and “a demon brings no joy” had a double meaning—it revealed that Zhao Yueshu was a demon and that she harbored no genuine affection for Zhang Xiaoguang.

If there was no love, then Zhao Yueshu’s intentions were truly terrifying.

For some reason, Zhang Changlin suddenly recalled a secret from the Zhang family’s history a century ago, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

"You wretched Daoist, are you spouting nonsense to curse my family? Be careful, or I’ll have you brought before the magistrate!"

Zhang Changlin forced himself to remain calm, his wariness of the strange Daoist growing, and he threatened him with these words.

The lame Daoist only laughed, his tone sardonic. "Whether you believe me or not, haven’t you already made up your mind? Otherwise, why trouble yourself to come searching for me?"

This cut straight to Zhang Changlin’s heart, and the old master’s bravado vanished; he nearly collapsed to the ground. He was completely at a loss.

"Master Daoist, do you have proof of this demon in my family?" Zhang Changlin asked, his eyes wide and bloodshot, desperate for reassurance.

The Daoist glanced at him with scorn. "With mortal eyes, how can you perceive the profound? Even if I told you, you would not understand."

Zhang Changlin fell silent. The Daoist took another swig of wine and said, "Very well. It would be a pity for the Zhang family to be destroyed after a hundred years. I’ll tell you, but whether you believe it is up to you."

Zhang Changlin was startled. The Daoist murmured, "Humans are the highest of spirits; when demons attain the Way, they must take human form. But such forms are not lasting—they must rely on something, perhaps a skin, or cultivating with human bones. Such are minor arts. To endure, there is another path: marrying a human, absorbing human essence, and thus prolonging their existence."

Zhang Changlin listened, bewildered. The Daoist continued, "Your family’s new bride is a fox spirit who has achieved the Way. The white fox fur coat in your hall is her skin. This method allows transformation, but not for long unless she marries Zhang Xiaoguang and absorbs enough essence."

Horror seized Zhang Changlin’s heart. He hurriedly asked, "Will my grandson come to harm?"

The Daoist sneered, "His body will lose its spirit, his soul will be scattered."

Zhang Changlin collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down his face.

The Daoist took another drink and said, "Boundless Heaven, since a demon brings calamity, it is our duty as Daoists to restore peace."

Zhang Changlin, now utterly lost, hastily begged for a solution. The Daoist said gravely, "When a fox spirit takes human form and sheds its skin, if you can burn the white fox fur coat, the fox spirit will perish, her soul and body turning to ash, vanishing from all realms, never to reincarnate."

Hearing this, the old master trembled uncontrollably. "Even if Miss Zhao truly is a fox spirit, this method is too cruel… Is it not against Heaven’s will?"

"Enough!" The Daoist’s eyes flashed coldly as he lowered his voice. "Humans and demons walk different paths. The choice is yours."

Zhang Changlin hesitated a long while before asking, "Master Daoist, is there no way to subdue her?"

Today was, after all, the day of the wedding; all the guests were men of influence and standing. If a scandal broke, the Zhang family would have no place in Changning County.

The Daoist regarded Zhang Changlin coldly for a long moment, then finally said, "Very well. You are, after all, only mortal. I will make an exception and teach you a method."

With that, he pointed to the waxing moon above and said, "The fox spirit draws on the power of moon’s shadow. In her eyes, you will see two moons reflected."