Chapter Sixty: Three Tasks

The monsters and ghosts around Weiyang County were in trouble. Miss Red Sleeves had originally planned to visit Weiyang County, give the county constable Yang Zhen a beating, scold Magistrate Zhang Pengwang, and bring He Chang'an's father to Chang'an City.

Unexpectedly, as soon as she left Chang'an, she was ambushed three times in succession. One time, she was even attacked by a fierce ghost general, suffering a minor injury. With nowhere to vent her anger, she beat the creature to death with a flurry of blows, scattering its remains so thoroughly that not even a trace of its soul remained.

The journey from Chang'an to Weiyang County was less than eight hundred li, yet Zheng Red Sleeves took three days, exterminating monsters and ghosts along the way. This act triggered a series of chain reactions across various factions.

Thus, as she entered the borders of Weiyang County and began slaughtering those monsters and ghosts who sought to "keep" humans, His Majesty the Emperor urgently summoned Lord Zheng once more...

...

He Chang'an met Lord Zheng for the first time at dusk. Outside the window, wind and snow raged; inside the stone chamber, a brazier blazed with lively flames.

In the firelight, Lord Zheng's fine wrinkles were clearly visible, his temples tinged with gray. He held a pair of tongs, absentmindedly turning the charcoal in the brazier. He stared into the flames, deep in thought.

Zhang Yichao, the burly man with a curly beard, squatted in a corner, brewing medicine over a small red clay stove.

The room was warm as spring, filled with the scent of herbs.

He Chang'an knelt on a hide, cold sweat slowly seeping down his back, nearly soaking his clothes.

What realm was this Lord Zheng in, really? At first glance, aside from being handsome and somewhat cool, he seemed just an ordinary scholar, with no sign of cultivation. Yet he induced a vague, unsettling anxiety, an emptiness in the heart.

He Chang'an felt he could barely breathe.

"Lord Zheng..." He Chang'an finally couldn't sit still.

"There are three tasks. Choose one," Lord Zheng said gently, without looking up. "The first task: travel north to scout the strengths and weaknesses of the Ghost Tribe. The second: travel west to investigate the Demon Army's situation. With this snowfall, the beasts at the western and northern borders must be stirring, preparing to raid and plunder as soon as spring comes."

Raiding and plundering meant sending cavalry into the Tang border to burn, kill, and loot. He Chang'an knew a little of this.

The problem was, sending a newly initiated martial artist like him to the frontier to scout military intelligence was like sending a lamb to slaughter. The very thought made his skin crawl.

...

"Lord Zheng, what is the third task?" He Chang'an asked, forcing a smile, his face pale.

"The third task..." Lord Zheng looked up and scrutinized He Chang'an, hesitating.

He Chang'an dared not make a sound.

He had an uneasy feeling that Lord Zheng's gaze lingered below his navel for a moment, followed by a barely perceptible sigh...

'Damn it, he's not planning to send me into the palace, is he!'

He remembered his first encounter with Jiang Jifeng and Wu Jincao—those two had the same look in their eyes. He Chang'an instinctively squeezed his knees together.

"The third task is indeed to send you into the palace," Lord Zheng finally said, after several breaths. "His Majesty seems quite interested in you and has already inquired about you twice."

He Chang'an was stunned.

Damn it, it really is to send him into the palace! He had only been possessed by female ghosts twice, and he hadn't even married yet...

"Lord Zheng, I'm too old—if I enter the palace, it will kill me," He Chang'an stammered. "Besides, I'm not delicate enough, clumsy in all things..."

This time, He Chang'an was truly panicked.

He would rather go north or west to scout military affairs—anything but having his precious manhood cut off and being sent into the palace. That was absolutely out of the question!

Sweat poured from his brow as he knelt on the hide, wishing he could bang his head a few times for emphasis.

"Send me to the north or west, that's fine. I'm clever, perfect for intelligence work, even assassinating enemy commanders is within reach..."

He Chang'an hurriedly tried to "sell" himself, not noticing that Zhang Yichao, brewing medicine in the corner, was shaking with suppressed laughter, nearly snorting like a pig.

"I'm afraid that's not possible. His Majesty has already inquired twice," Lord Zheng sighed, shaking his head with a bitter smile. "Unless..."

'Unless what? Damn it, say it quickly!' He Chang'an dared not speak, staring at Lord Zheng, afraid to miss a word, lest he be sent straight into the palace.

"Unless you can advance to the sixth rank of martial artist within a hundred days. Then you can accompany me on campaign," Lord Zheng said helplessly, picking up a book and beginning to read.

'Advance to the sixth rank in a hundred days? Why not just say I should ascend to immortality! Damn it, I've never seen anyone so shameless—even scholars are less so...'

"Lord Zheng, weren't there three tasks? I'll choose the first..." He Chang'an said carefully.

"The first two are cancelled," Lord Zheng replied, turning a page, reading intently, as if nothing had happened. "They're too dangerous. I'll send several Earth-ranked demon slayers instead."

"Lord Zheng, I'm capable, really!" He Chang'an insisted.

"Oh? How capable?" Lord Zheng looked up in surprise, his smile ambiguous, making He Chang'an's heart tighten.

"I possess the Spirit Eye technique—I can see the marks of monsters and ghosts in people's brows and souls," He Chang'an whispered.

...

He had no choice—backed into a corner, he had to reveal his trump card, or risk losing his manhood and being sent into the palace. As long as he kept the secret of the "little black rod" in his dantian, there shouldn't be too much trouble... right?

"Oh? You can see the marks of monsters and ghosts?" Lord Zheng was finally intrigued, smiling. "Tell me more."

So He Chang'an recounted how he had been "kept" by a ghost and accidentally discovered his eyes could see through these creatures, narrating every detail.

Lord Zheng listened attentively, missing nothing, asking so many questions that He Chang'an broke out in a cold sweat.

Zhang Yichao, the burly man, listened in wonder, even coming over to pry open He Chang'an's eyes for repeated inspection.

"Yichao, go find a few remnants of the Night God cult," Lord Zheng instructed thoughtfully.

"Yes, sir!" Zhang Yichao bowed and left.

"How is your father's health?" Lord Zheng suddenly asked when Zhang Yichao had gone.

"Uh, he's all right, his health is fine, just weakened from being 'kept' by a ghost, his vital energy steadily declining," He Chang'an replied honestly.

"That's good. In that northern battle years ago, countless men shed their blood for the realm..." Lord Zheng turned to gaze at the snow-laden Chang'an City under the dusk, asking casually, "How did you deal with Chen Double-Blades?"

"I... honestly, I don't know! He saved my life that day, gave me a restorative pill, and when I woke, he seemed possessed! Lord Zheng, you don't suspect me, do you?"

He Chang'an cursed inwardly, but wore a look of righteous indignation, as if misunderstood, wronged, maligned.

'This old fox is too cunning—almost caught me out.'

'This Lord Zheng is clearly a scholar—no, even scholars aren't this ruthless...'

...

Lord Zheng looked at He Chang'an with a half-smile, and suddenly a waist token appeared in his palm.

He extended a finger, tapping it lightly—an image was projected upon the jade tablet.

He Chang'an's eyes widened, about to exclaim "Whoa, a projector!"—when he saw himself lying on the ground, with Chen Double-Blades limp atop him...

Shuddering and twitching, foam bubbling from his mouth, splattering all over He Chang'an's face.