Chapter Forty-Two: I Become the Bait

The people from the Demon Slaying Bureau and the Office of Celestial Observations began their covert investigation, and He Chang'an received a "special assignment"—fishing.

To put it nicely, it was a sting operation; less charitably, he was being used as bait, a purely suicidal mission.

He Chang'an wore a grim expression as he returned to the patrol room on the second floor, packed a bundle of books, grabbed a storage artifact brought to him by Jiang Jifeng and Wu Jincao, along with a heap of weapons, communication tools, and pills that he might not even need, then stepped out of the Demon Slaying Bureau.

"So it’s true: without power, you don’t even have the right to live well..."

He basically agreed with the arrangement made by Luo Daqi, the Xuan-ranked demon slayer, though a sense of injustice still clogged his heart.

Sting operations—an old trick.

Back when He Chang'an worked as a bodyguard, he’d used this tactic once or twice in the shadows. The results were good, but the risks were enormous, and it could easily end in death.

He wandered through the ancient, dilapidated scenery of Chang'an, heading toward Yellow Mud Alley, always feeling a weight on his heart, as though someone lurked in the shadows, ready to pounce at any moment...

On the streets and at the corners, he didn’t see many extra demon slayers or county officials patrolling, nor did he spot those obvious lookouts pretending to be ordinary folk.

This put He Chang'an a little at ease.

It seemed the Demon Slaying Bureau was professional in this regard, though he was curious about the emergency measures and combat abilities of those martial types...

Tracking, assassination, protecting the bait—these were once his core duties, his strongest skills. He never imagined that, having finally made it to Chang'an, his first assignment would be to act as bait.

"Karma, indeed."

...

Yellow Mud Alley appeared on the map as a working-class district, full of vendors and butchers, but when He Chang'an arrived in person, he felt a twinge of doubt.

Very few people passed by; most shops were closed. Even the few mountain goods stores, eateries, and taverns looked bleak, their staff slumped over tables, napping.

"Is this the start of urban renewal?"

"Maybe I can get lucky and snag a little courtyard? Become a demolition tycoon..."

He Chang'an silently entered Yellow Mud Alley. The sides of the filth-strewn road were piled high with household waste, swarming with flies.

A few skinny children played near the stinking ditch, completely indifferent to the foul air around them.

"Man feasts behind vermilion gates, corpses freeze in the street."

This pseudo-Tang dynasty, for the common folk, was no different from the other Tang...

He Chang'an could only sigh inwardly. In a world overrun by monsters and demons, simply surviving was a feat worthy of praise.

He, a dignified Yellow-ranked demon slayer, was still being used as bait...

...

"Shopkeeper, are there any courtyards for rent nearby?" He Chang'an asked, after buying a couple worthless trinkets in a variety shop.

No matter the era, social etiquette was much the same: ask for information without buying something first, and you risk being turned away.

Sure enough, the bleary-eyed old shopkeeper brightened and smiled. "There are plenty of courtyards for rent in this alley."

"And the prices are cheap," he added.

"Why is that? Yellow Mud Alley is right next to Taiping Street. It’s a bit off the beaten path but not too remote."

"It’s hard to say," the old man sighed.

"Heh, shopkeeper, tell me, what happened?"

"Ghosts haunt the area..."

He shrank his neck, nervously glancing around, then continued, "It’s been five or six years now. Every so often, a young, able-bodied man takes his own life mysteriously...

Look at all those closed doors—most belong to people who own property elsewhere or have connections; they’ve all moved out. As for the rest of us, we have no property, just rented rooms, and we can’t get the permits to move our business elsewhere..."

Chang'an had no prefectural magistrate, so the county office held great power, controlling everything from public security to commerce, agriculture, household registration, and justice.

"What’s the haunting like? This is Chang'an, the emperor’s city..." He Chang'an’s voice trailed off.

Damn, even he didn’t believe what he was saying.

"That’s how it is, but Yellow Mud Alley genuinely is haunted," the shopkeeper shook his head with a bitter smile. "In these five or six years, just the young men who died mysteriously number..."

He held up a hand and waved it in front of He Chang'an.

"Fifty?" He Chang'an frowned.

"Pah! Fifty’s nothing!" the shopkeeper sighed, his face darkening. "It’s well over five hundred..."

"Five hundred... able-bodied men?" He Chang'an was stunned.

Even for a bustling working-class district, losing five or six hundred people in five or six years was horrifying.

Choosing Yellow Mud Alley had been careless!

He really should have scoped it out in person; making decisions just from the map was stupid...

"With all this happening, don’t the county office and Demon Slaying Bureau do anything?" He Chang'an asked.

"Heh, young man, you’re straightforward. For us humble folk, who cares whether we live or die..." The old shopkeeper shook his head and sighed, staring out at the stinking gutter, his face full of despair.

"Damn this world..."

He Chang'an had lost all desire to rent in Yellow Mud Alley and turned to leave the shop, intending to check Taiping Alley and Qingniu Street instead.

"By the way, young man," the shopkeeper suddenly called, "the courtyard next door is for rent—just two taels of silver a year."

He Chang'an hesitated.

He could afford two taels of silver.

The problem was the place was haunted; would he escape the old female ghost in Weiyang County only to be devoured by some eagle in Chang'an...

In three breaths, He Chang'an decided: he’d take a look.

Though the landlord seemed a bit sketchy—named Wang, and right next door...

"Forget it. A bit of silver never killed a hero. I’ve just arrived in Chang'an, and if I can find a place to stay and a proper job, what more could I want?"

"As for the haunting—aren’t there plenty of invisible demon slayers lurking in the shadows to protect me?"

Honestly, he wasn’t worried about ghosts now; he’d even been "kept" by a female ghost in the past.

His real concern was those who wanted him dead.

Following the shopkeeper to "Next Door Old Wang’s," He Chang'an was pleasantly surprised: the little courtyard was actually quite refined!

Two courtyards deep, with side rooms and guest rooms, a small pond behind the screen wall surrounded by flowers and plants.

The biggest surprise was the vegetable garden in the back—cabbage, radish, and bok choy growing haphazardly, but once weeded, it would make a lovely little landscape.

A true corrupt middle-class haven...

This courtyard, hidden amid the stench of Yellow Mud Alley, was almost unbelievable.

He Chang'an tossed his bundle of books onto the steps of the main house, sat down heavily, and handed the shopkeeper two taels and five coins of silver. "Please pay the rent for me, and use the rest to buy some rice and flour...

I’m new to Chang'an."