Chapter 24: Zhou

Sneaking away a child from someone else’s home without warning can’t possibly be anything good.

Meng Shuangjiang was already panicked and heart-stricken, drenched by the rain, his mind foggy; now though his face turned pale, inside he felt as if ignited, ready to rush forward and demand answers.

But as he moved, Chu Tianshu seized his shoulder, lifting his feet slightly off the ground and pulling him backward all at once.

Behind him, Zhong Jinqiu raised one hand and pressed against his back, steadying his posture.

Tap!!

Chu Tianshu yanked Meng Shuangjiang behind him and stepped forward himself, planting his foot on the puddle inside the threshold.

“Outside, the wind howls and the rain lashes—Brother Zhou, what business brings you here at this hour?”

“I was bored out of my mind and thought to take Chu younger brother out to enjoy the rain, but then I heard about the missing child from the Meng household.”

Zhou’s stone-faced expression suddenly came alive, sighing deeply and heavily.

“Alas, I never expected… he’s done it again… this is truly…”

Chu Tianshu showed surprise: “I thought Old Master Xu found Xiao Bao adorable and invited him over as a guest, but now seeing Brother Zhou’s expression, is there more to it?”

Ma the Shopkeeper also chuckled: “Brother Zhou, why not speak plainly?”

Zhou’s face grew troubled, then he gritted his teeth, as if making a great decision.

“Very well! Though family shame should not be aired publicly, Old Master has gone too far.”

Zhou said, “Old Master is merely our Commander’s adopted father; he didn’t always bear the Xu surname—he was originally surnamed Chen, and many called him Chen Jin Gong.”

“When my Commander and I served as constables in Jingcheng, he was a eunuch in the city, quite powerful, who took us under his wing; thus our Commander took him as his adopted father and treated him with utmost filial piety.”

“After the Emperor abdicated, we brought Old Master to Yizhou to enjoy his retirement, but he took up dark arts—eating children to prolong his life…”

Hearing this, Meng Shuangjiang gagged, rolled his eyes back, and nearly fainted.

Zhong Jinqiu immediately released a pulse of force to help him regain his breath.

“Calm down, calm down.”

Zhou said, “Such dark arts require specific solar hours—there’s still at least a few days before he begins feeding.”

He let out a great sigh.

“My Commander and I have repeatedly pleaded with him; he seemed to have abandoned the practice, yet secretly he still does it—if our Commander finds out, he’ll surely kill his own father for justice…”

Chu Tianshu lifted his eyelids: “Then good.”

“But our Commander is filial—he can’t bring himself to do it!”

Zhou’s fierce eyes filled with tears as he added, “Old Master did have some kindness toward us; even I can’t bear to kill him myself—I’m tormented inside.”

Chu Tianshu pressed his lips together, then smiled.

“So your meaning is, though you can’t bring yourselves to act, if some passing hero or righteous warrior were to eliminate this old eunuch, you’d happily pretend he died of natural causes, correct?”

Zhong Jinqiu snorted: “How convenient—the old eunuch arrives in this town, and suddenly there are several martial artists here, all connected to the Meng family; no other children vanish, only the Meng child…”

Zhou declared with conviction: “Perhaps heaven has finally judged him—he’s met his match.”

Chu Tianshu said gently: “Since heaven has been so kind, when these righteous heroes eliminate the bandits, they must have seized a batch of fine firearms from them too, right?”

Zhou’s gaze sharpened; he hesitated slightly, then laughed: “Younger brother, you jest—what good guns could bandits possibly have? Heaven doesn’t make up stories.”

Ma the Shopkeeper spoke up: “If the bandits don’t have good guns, neither should the old eunuch have many elite soldiers. Brother Zhou, shouldn’t you and your men head back to the city?”

This time, Zhou was quick to agree: “I intended to do so anyway—I’ll resign from Elder Gong today and return to the city.”

Ma the Shopkeeper nodded: “Once you’re far enough away, righteous heroes will emerge. But tell me—what skilled men guard the eunuch? What dark arts does he practice? Do they have a name?”

“Yes.”

Zhou nodded: “The dark art he cultivates is called… Wu Chang…”

The yellow-paper umbrella remained open outside the tavern for two full quarters of an hour, never entering.

The rain hadn’t stopped.

Watching the figure turn and the umbrella vanish into the distance.

Chu Tianshu’s smile didn’t fade; his knuckles cracked under pressure: “The three of us together could easily kill him—then let the old eunuch die suddenly, and Xu’s Commander fall ill and pass away. Sounds perfect.”

Zhong Jinqiu shook his head: “If he truly intends to flee, it won’t be easy—and that Xu fellow isn’t easy to handle either.”

Chu Tianshu glanced at the token.

Fine—the people who kill the old eunuch aren’t enough to complete the Qi’s tally.

Killing them all at once is too reckless, too low in success rate—better to be patient.

Let some days pass, plan carefully; when Xu finally gets attacked, it’ll be harder to trace which enemy struck.

Ma the Shopkeeper pulled from his sleeve a small cassia wood vial and a glossy purple paper crane.

Outside, the rain rendered ordinary paper cranes and sparrows useless—but precisely because of the rain, yang energy was weak, making the sparrow’s spirit harder to detect.

Ma the Shopkeeper chanted a spell, pressed the crane into his palm, then opened his hand—the crane was gone.

Only a wisp of smoke drifted quietly out the door, watching Zhou’s movements from afar.

Amid the heavy rain and mist, the smoke drifted unseen.

“Two old foxes, one wolf cub—how rare to find three such figures in this small town…”

Zhou mused as he walked, “Good thing it’s me—I can handle them.”

Xu’s residence lay in the town’s southwest corner; he returned there without much delay.

A vermilion gate, bronze beast-head door knocker, five stone steps before it, two stone lions crouched on either side.

From within came the sound of a female opera singer warming her voice.

Two guards stood under the eaves, sheltering from the rain; seeing Zhou, they immediately opened the gate.

Zhou entered, bypassed the screen wall, and saw the large blue-and-white porcelain lotus-shaped basin in the courtyard, catching the rain.

Liu Tianxu paced along the corridor, unmade-up, strikingly elegant, her fingers curled like orchid petals as she practiced her vocalization.

“Brother Zhou is back?”

Liu Tianxu turned to look. “Elder Father just said he wanted you. Everything’s prepared except one item still missing—you must see to it carefully.”

Zhou smiled: “I was just coming to mention that—don’t be careless either. When the auspicious day arrives, you won’t be performing your usual Wu Xian opera—you’ll perform Wu Tong opera. Not a single mistake allowed—it would ruin Elder Father’s grand plan.”

Since ancient times, opera has served to invite deities and entertain them.

Thus, for major village events, city festivals, shop openings, and the like, experienced people always hire opera troupes to bring good fortune and divine protection.

But operas differ in righteousness: orthodox ones promote virtue, revere Wu Xian Emperor Huaguang as their ancestor, uphold benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and faithfulness—good deeds bring good rewards, ensuring prosperity.

Dark operas worship the Wu Tong spirits, indifferent to good or evil, only seeking to please Wu Tong; some even involve human sacrifice.

It’s too hard to summon Wu Xian Emperor; worshiping Wu Tong alone is dangerous, for he is capricious and easily turns against his worshippers.

Thus, a lineage gradually emerged, blending “Wu Xian” and “Wu Tong,” and further mixing in heterodox techniques.

Eventually, it became known as “Wu Chang Fa.”

The rest of the opera troupe gathered in the front hall, flipping through scripts.

The head drummer, in charge of all musicians, was bald with a thick beard, sleeves rolled to his elbows, fingers tapping lightly on the table, surrounded by a crowd.

“Old Xu, Old Zhou—you’re busy, but we’ve been trained since childhood by Elder Father in Jingcheng; we were once part of the troupe meant to perform for the Old Empress Dowager to extend her life.”

The drummer said, “Whether Wu Xian or Wu Tong, we’ve trained our entire lives in this—how could we make a mistake?”

Zhou’s expression turned stern: “Those who swim well drown in water. Your carelessness worries me. Remember: focus entirely on the opera. If you err and ruin Elder Father’s plan, my Commander and I won’t spare you!”

The drummer snorted and ignored him.

Chen the troupe master stepped out, leading Zhou through the rear courtyard, where the stage had been erected, toward the back hall.

As soon as Zhou reached the doorway, he took three quick steps, knelt on one knee, and bowed with a smile: “I come to pay my respects to Elder Father.”

The back hall held no kerosene lamps—only dozens of red candles lit on pillars and tables, illuminating the room brightly.

Chen the eunuch sat in the main seat, six feet tall, draped in brocade robes, yet emaciated like a dead tree; his queue was gone, a small tuft of white hair scattered.

Especially on his face, fine blue veins crisscrossed, thickest around his eye sockets, making his sclera cloudy and his pupils dark green-black.

Anyone who met his gaze felt sudden unease.

“Rise, rise—we see each other daily, why bow?”

The eunuch’s voice was hoarse as he chuckled, “Among all my children, you’re the most proper in etiquette—unlike your Commander, who barges in without a care; he remembers to bow, forgets to bow, sometimes even steals my soup.”

Zhou rose and said, “Your Commander truly treats you as his real father!”

“I know that well.”

The eunuch sighed, “I’ve seen enough storms and winds in this life—I only wish to linger a few more years to help your Commander.”

“Liu Tianxu’s Wu Tong opera has been rehearsed long enough; the children born under auspicious dates have all been gathered, and arrived in stages these past days.”

The eunuch’s long fingers pointed to the screen beside him.

“Even this jade coffin, infused with the corpse-qi of dozens of vicious bandits, completes the final piece—it’s fully nourished now.”

Faintly visible behind the screen, a green jade coffin rested on four long stools.

On top of the coffin sat a statue of Wu Xian Emperor Huaguang.

When they first arrived in town, during the grand opera in the west, they secretly buried this jade coffin at the bandits’ burial ground.

After seven days, they dug it up again.

The two public operas performed for townsfolk had strengthened the statue’s righteous energy, pressing down on the coffin, mutually restraining it.

On the day of the ritual, when the Wu Tong opera begins, the statue of Huaguang—immovable until now—will shatter, unleashing the corpse-qi, making it purer still.

But the coffin is meant for the eunuch to lie in—and one small golden cauldron for blood sacrifice of the children is still missing.

Zhou understood at once: “The Commander has been gathering gold everywhere, hiring grave robbers to dig up tombs and melt down the gold artifacts within—it should be nearly finished in the next two days. I’ll return to the city tomorrow to check.”

The eunuch lowered his fingers; a servant stepped forward with incense tea, holding it to his lips.

He sipped, spat out the tea leaves, and said, “You’ve gone to too much trouble.”

“Gold turned into a cauldron—used once, it’s still gold. No loss at all.”

Deputy Zhou chuckled, “But the old patriarch successfully extended his life—essentially keeping a great expert close to us. As the boss said, that’s a huge gain.”

The old eunuch smiled and nodded.

Deputy Zhou stepped out and returned to his quarters.

At midnight, he suddenly rose, quietly pushing open his door.

The rain had stopped outside; all was silent. The two guards on duty at the door were his trusted men.

“Did you get the Meng family kid inside?”

The guard nodded: “We drugged him, changed his clothes, and slipped him into one of those iron cages with the other children. No one will notice.”

The other guard whispered, “Deputy, why go through all this trouble? You had to go kidnap a child yourself and then have us plant him. After all, the kid’s just bait—just snatch him, kill him, and dump him.”

“Hmph! The people at the tavern know sorcery—they’d likely sense whether the child is alive or dead. Doing it that way would only invite trouble.”

Deputy Zhou snapped sharply, glancing toward the back hall.

Exchanging a group of children for a great expert was indeed a good deal—but Boss Xu no longer wants a wild father.

Besides, when he swore allegiance to that old bastard back then, the old man secretly set up a dark spell. Do you think no one knew?

Tomorrow, neither the boss nor anyone else will act directly, and we’re separated by a city and a town. See how you’ll manage then.

One of his trusted men added, half-unsaid: “What if those three at the tavern all survive the fight...?”

Deputy Zhou didn’t wait for him to finish—he narrowed his eyes. “You little bastard, you’re too clever.”

(End of Chapter)