Chapter Forty-Nine: In the Humble Alley...

Li Yishan had, after all, spent time at the Astronomical Bureau, and his mastery over the arts of Qi-gazing and Bone-reading—techniques blending both Confucian and Daoist principles—was unique and truly remarkable. With a quick calculation on his fingers, he pointed out one of He Chang’an’s former hideouts: Yellow Mud Alley.

“That scoundrel once took refuge in Yellow Mud Alley, but only for a brief time—the traces he left behind are faint,” Li Yishan said with hands clasped behind his back, serenely, as if the matter concerned him little. “Nonetheless, according to my deductions, he will inevitably return there. That humble alley is the place where his fortunes will rise.”

Before Li Yishan could finish speaking, a solitary rider sped away from the foot of Mount Taihua, heading straight for Chang’an. Judging by the figure’s snowy scholar’s robe and lofty cap, it seemed to be President Zhao Zheng…

“Not good! That old fox is off to snatch our disciple!” Wen Taiyuan and Du Thirteen’s expressions changed slightly. Without time even to recite a line of the Sage’s writings, they transformed into two beams of pure light and shot off in pursuit.

Now they were all headed to Chang’an. Only Li Yishan remained among the academy’s great scholars. He straightened his robe, walked to the pond beside the lecture hall, and let his clear, ringing voice carry throughout the academy: “By order of the President: all academy students are granted ten days’ leave. Make haste to Yellow Mud Alley in Chang’an to exorcise evil spirits and serve as protectors for that scoundrel He Chang’an!”

“Your Highness, time to slip away,” Li Yishan called out, then turned to the little nun with a smile. “He Chang’an should have already been captured by the Demon-Slaying Division. Let those pedantic scholars keep themselves busy in Yellow Mud Alley.”

...

Naturally, shut away in the Demon-Suppressing Tower, He Chang’an had no idea that in just a few days, Yellow Mud Alley had undergone a tremendous transformation—no longer was it a filthy, decrepit backstreet of Chang’an.

A host of white-robed, dignified scholars had poured into Yellow Mud Alley, bringing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones—treasures of their craft—to saturate the area with their exorcising power…

Amid the wailing and howls of countless spirits, hundreds of ashen little ghosts, white-shirted phantoms, and red-clad fiends were instantly destroyed.

In a long-abandoned dry well, they even discovered a Soul-Stealing Ghost, clutching the fresh corpse of a young man and performing a secret ritual of ghostly yin-yang copulation…

On their own, not a single academy student could contend with such a powerful ghost—they would have had to flee in panic.

But there were simply too many of them.

As soon as the Soul-Stealing Ghost poked its head from the well, it was overwhelmed by hundreds of brushes, ink, paper, inkstones, and even rulers—literary treasures all—vanishing in a wisp of blue smoke, dissolved back into the world.

In a tiny tavern deep in the alley, the President, Du Thirteen, and Wen Taiyuan—three great scholars—were left utterly bewildered by the turn of events.

But soon, realization dawned.

‘Zhao Zheng: It’s that scoundrel He Chang’an—he has roused the blood and spirit of our academy’s students, driving them to enter the world and hunt demons and ghosts!’

‘Du Thirteen: Scholars ought to behave as scholars; I tire of watching them idle their days away in the academy.’

‘Wen Taiyuan: The gentleman is open-hearted, the petty man ever anxious—such is how our academy’s students must be!’

‘Zhao Zheng: The great Ming Hall rises to pierce the heavens, vast and primordial, built of rare materials. Lofty and imposing, stretching far and wide, circling around the sacred pond and rising up to the spirit terrace. Brilliant as the sun, spewing wind and thunder. A place for grand rites…’

‘Du Thirteen, Wen Taiyuan: Enough, enough! So many obscure words—it’s making us dizzy…’

‘Zhao Zheng: Fine, let them busy themselves. Let’s drink, let’s drink!’

...

The residents of Yellow Mud Alley, astonished by the scholars’ feat, poured out of their homes to watch the spectacle. They pointed and whispered at the white-robed, elegant academy students whose presence shone brighter than snow.

“My, where did all these handsome young men come from? They’re even drawing talismans and catching ghosts, it seems.”

“They’re so handsome—prettier than the actors on stage.”

“Actors? Pah. If you ask me, these scholars are even more delicate than the girls in the Pleasure Quarter…”

...

Alan grabbed Ajiu’s hand, squeezing into the crowd to watch the commotion. Glancing back, she whispered, “Ajiu, are they all from the brothels?”

Ajiu stifled a laugh. “They’re scholars, every one.”

“Scholars? Scholars can be so fierce?” Alan’s almond eyes widened in disbelief. “I’ve heard some rowdy warriors in the alley say that scholars are as weak as chicks—they can’t even pry open the legs of the girls in the brothel…”

Ajiu looked down at Alan, a touch perplexed—this girl seemed to know quite a bit.

Suddenly, Alan’s face reddened as she thought of something. She stamped twice on Ajiu’s ankle, her lips pursed high. “You’re the worst, Ajiu!”

Ajiu was bewildered: ‘How am I the worst? You’re the one who said it…’

“Alan, gather some money and buy a few courtyards,” Ajiu said softly, watching the scholars.

“Huh? Why?” Alan was puzzled; in a dump like Yellow Mud Alley, houses were the least valuable things.

“These scholars have exorcised all the ghosts—it looks like they want to stick around,” Ajiu shrank her neck and turned to leave. “I want to make a bit of money to pay off your father’s debts.”

...

He Chang’an’s days of “freeloading” had begun anew.

In the Demon-Suppressing Tower, each floor was guarded by a dozen or more wardens, each with different levels of cultivation. On the first floor there were twenty or thirty wardens, all about seventh-rank martial artists. Their daily job was to interrogate and torture monsters and ghosts, extracting any and all information and clues…

And, incidentally, to seize their cultivation methods.

Each demon-slayer’s badge had recording and storage functions. By some unknown means, everything was ultimately compiled by a mysterious department.

He Chang’an suspected these badges were something like a client app…

This assignment puzzled him.

Monsters and ghosts, after all, could simply be slain outright—why expend so much manpower and resources to capture and imprison them?

Was it just to provide practice for the demon-slayers?

Still, orders were orders. As a lowly Yellow-Rank demon-slayer, he simply followed them.

The first creature he interrogated was a green-furred mountain demon, a full ten feet tall, covered in bristling green hair but sporting a face as radiant and alluring as a beauty’s…

Standing at the dungeon entrance, He Chang’an eyed the demon, bound tightly by iron chains and talismans yet still struggling and howling. He felt a chill down his spine.

In terms of human martial cultivation, this mountain demon was equivalent to a sixth-rank practitioner…

There was a suppression array in the dungeon, but He Chang’an nonetheless circulated his spiritual energy and righteous Qi at full force to protect himself before stepping inside.

Sensing a living human, the demon jerked its head up, green fur standing on end, and a mocking smile played across its beautiful face: “It’s you this time—who will it be next? The soul of a living human is delicious…”

A wave of yin energy washed over him.

‘Damn, why does this aura feel so familiar…’

Having been in this world for over two months, He Chang’an had either been haunted by ghosts or had to find ways to “freeload” off sinister spirits. He was practically immune to such oddities by now.

He ignored the demon’s taunts, leisurely took out a storage pouch, and began pulling out items—knives, pliers, literary treasures, magical implements…

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was about to butcher a demon, like a chef at a chopping block.

It made him distinctly uneasy.

A strange thought suddenly flashed through He Chang’an’s mind: ‘Could it be that torturing these monsters and ghosts is really just to harvest their yin energy…’