Chapter 60: The Meat Shop

Normally, if spirits or demons concealed their qi, ordinary magicians could not detect them, but if they killed too many people or acted too recklessly, anomalies would inevitably leak out.

For example, the mansion and two shops Gu Zhao had discovered the last time he came to Xiuyue County.

“What would the customer like?”

At the meat shop’s entrance, a burly man with a sharp knife in hand smiled broadly at the group, “All freshly slaughtered this morning—extremely fresh.”

“What kinds of meat do you have?” Gu Zhao asked.

“Mutton! Dog meat!” The big man pointed to the meat on the slab, then to the chunks hanging on iron hooks around the shop, “Fresh, tender, fragrant, and smooth—perfect for roasting or stewing.”

Gu Zhao glanced at the shop, then at the big man.

The meat shop stood at the end of a side alley, windowless and pitch-dark inside; all one could see were the cutting slab, knives, and scattered bits of bone and flesh.

Outside the shop door stood a rack with over a dozen iron hooks, each hanging a piece of freshly skinned and boned meat, along with a pile of large cuts of meat, evenly divided between fat and lean and neatly sliced.

The big man wore coarse cotton shorts and a square cap, his chest exposed; though he looked fat and rugged, his face was always smiling, giving the impression of a kind disposition.

Gu Zhao looked at the man, then at the meat around him. “Are these really mutton and dog meat?”

“Of course not fake!” The big man laughed, picking up a piece from the slab. “Look here, clear as day—a front leg of mountain goat!”

Gu Zhao took the meat, his eyelid twitching involuntarily; he instinctively placed it back.

“I don’t think this meat is very fresh,” Daoist Yan Song stepped forward. “Really slaughtered this morning?”

“Absolutely!” The big man patted his chest. “I slaughter sheep and dogs every morning—the neighbors all hear it. How could I lie?”

Gu Zhao glanced inside the shop. “Do you keep sheep and dogs in the backyard?”

The big man snorted. “You’re a naive kid. How could you raise sheep in the county town? I go to nearby towns every evening to buy them, slaughter them overnight, and sell them the next day.”

At that moment, a peddler carrying a shoulder pole turned into the alley. “Chu Da, give me half a catty of dog meat—I’ll wrap it in buns.”

“Got it!”

Chu Da picked up his knife, expertly sliced a piece, weighed it, wrapped it in oil paper, tied it with a straw rope, and handed it to the peddler. “Five liang six qian—I’ll call it half a catty.”

“Chu Da, you’re a good man—I’ll treat you to wine next time.” The peddler tucked the meat into his pole and whistled as he walked off.

Chu Da waved cheerfully after the peddler, watched him disappear, then turned back to Gu Zhao’s group. “You’re outsiders visiting relatives, right? Once you’ve lived here a while, you’ll know—my meat is always fresh.”

Daoist Yan Song wore a long blue robe and a round hood covering his neck, looking like an elderly man afraid of wind and chill.

Xiuniang wore a faded green floral dress, clean but worn, appearing dazed and unworldly.

Only Gu Zhao looked young and strong, with clear features and a relatively new green robe—simple and unadorned, not luxurious at all.

This combination clearly marked them as a fallen nobleman with an old servant and a maid. Since they weren’t locals clinging to their ruined estate, they must be here to seek relatives—and now they came to buy meat…

Thinking this, Chu Da glanced at the bundle on Xiuniang’s back, then at Gu Zhao and Xiuniang, a faint, barely noticeable smile curling at his lips. “You’re buying meat to give as a gift, aren’t you? You haven’t visited your relatives yet, have you?”

“Not yet,” Gu Zhao replied, testing the waters. “Why do you ask?”

“You’ve asked the right man. The meat outside is just small cuts for neighbors to eat at home—if you give it as a gift, it looks too shabby.”

Chu Da’s smile widened, revealing his front teeth. “Inside, I have several whole lamb legs—perfect for presenting as gifts.”

Worried Gu Zhao might refuse, Chu Da added, “You came straight to my shop on your first day in town—we’re fated to meet. Since it’s our first encounter and we’ll likely see each other again, I’ll give you a good price.”

Gu Zhao and Daoist Yan Song exchanged glances, then Gu Zhao said, “Then please trouble you.”

“No trouble at all! Come in, gentlemen, pick your choice!” Chu Da stepped aside with a grin, then glanced outside.

The secluded alley was empty; the peddler had already turned the corner.

“He won’t attack today, right?” Daoist Yan Song whispered. “There are other shops nearby, residents around—he’s not afraid of being seen?”

“Last time I came, whether it was the painting spirit or the Golden Wind Hall’s divine general, they all struck in daylight,” Gu Zhao murmured. “Ordinary people can’t fight back. As long as you avoid sight and make no loud noise, what’s the difference between day and night?”

“Makes sense.” Daoist Yan Song nodded and followed Chu Da into the shop.

The three passed by Chu Da in sequence; he shut the door behind them, led them past the main hall, through a narrow corridor, and after walking over ten meters, arrived at a door at the rear.

Hearing the footsteps behind him, Chu Da’s smile grew wider, as if anticipating a show. He flung open the door and bowed invitingly. “After you!”

As the door opened, a thick stench of blood surged forth. A dim glow filtered through the paper window, making it hard to see what lay inside.

A sudden bad premonition rose in Gu Zhao’s chest; he pinched his nose and stepped back, blocking Xiuniang from advancing.

“Master?” Xiuniang looked at Gu Zhao.

Gu Zhao turned to Chu Da. “We won’t go in. Just fetch us a lamb leg.”

Chu Da stood at the threshold, pressing hard. “There are many lamb legs inside—come in, pick one yourself.”

“No, really,” Gu Zhao refused again. “The smell inside is too strong—I won’t enter.”

Chu Da sneered at Gu Zhao pinching his nose, but didn’t insist. Then, as if struck by a new idea, he nodded and stepped inside. “Wait a moment—I’ll pick you a good one!”

Watching Chu Da enter, Gu Zhao fixed his gaze on Daoist Yan Song. “What’s inside?”

While Gu Zhao spoke with Chu Da, Daoist Yan Song had slightly stretched his neck to glance inside. Ordinary people saw nothing; Daoist Yan Song saw clearly.

“Classic horror movie scene,” Daoist Yan Song stepped back. “You don’t want to see it.”

The next moment, Chu Da burst out of the room, one hand holding a human skull, the other gripping a spine still clinging to dried flesh and blood.

Chu Da’s face twisted into a grotesque grin. “What do you think of this—”

Then he saw the three people who had moments ago appeared to be a destitute young master, an old servant, and a maid—had changed.

The destitute young master’s face was expressionless; his hands formed a seal, radiating a vast, majestic aura.

The old servant’s face now bore a red mask; one hand rested on his dantian, the other before his chest, index and middle fingers pressed together, pointing at himself.

The maid now had a white fox perched on her shoulder, tense and serious, holding a green-feathered fan that emitted waves of spiritual power.

Chu Da’s laughter died instantly.

“Huh?”