Chapter 106: When Legendary Tales Become the Reality Around Us (Bonus Chapter for Patron

The City God immediately ordered the government office runners to put Hu the merchant in wooden cangues, and he must wear them for three months before being released.

Wearing cangues in public is a judgment handed down by the City God’s government office.

Erasing lifespan and stripping fortune through the Book of Life and Death is the Netherworld’s retribution—distinct from the former.

Jin Lian explained it this way, but she was merely repeating Wen Ruyu’s words verbatim.

She herself always believed that wearing cangues and altering fate were both punishments from the City God, acts of Netherworld retribution.

Upon hearing this, Xiao Yu subtly understood.

She recalled the “Netherworld Merit Theory” that Xiang Huchen had described that day.

No matter how supernatural forces behave behind the scenes, at least publicly, the Netherworld upholds the fundamental principle that good deeds bring good rewards and evil deeds bring evil retribution.

Evil causes bring evil fruits; good causes bring good karmic connections.

The City God of Guan does not arbitrarily alter the Book of Life and Death—he acts according to law.

One could even say he is merely the scribe.

What truly determines the contents of the Book of Life and Death are Hu the merchant’s own sins and karmic debts.

Wearing cangues in public, however, is entirely the City God’s personal will.

Even if someone is good, can the City God force him to wear cangues in public?

If Hu the merchant were a virtuous man wrongfully accused, could the City God still alter his Book of Life and Death to end his lifespan, drain his fortune, and erase his blessings?

Thus, Netherworld retribution and the City God’s punishment truly cannot be conflated.

“What about Jia Yintong? Isn’t he even more wicked?” Zi Ying asked.

Jin Lian said: “Jia Yintong isn’t from here. He’s clever—he makes counterfeit silver and specifically takes it to distant lands to trade for goods, or to buy pigs, sheep, copper coins, and silver fragments, never turning down small amounts.”

“For wealthy places like Tianmen Town, he uses large silver ingots; in the four villages and eight hamlets, in cottages and fields, he uses counterfeit copper coins.”

“Sigh, compared to Hu the merchant, Jia Yintong has only petty cunning, not true wisdom,” Xiao Yu said.

Jin Lian nodded and sighed: “Indeed! Counterfeit silver can be done once or twice, but not for a lifetime. Better to accumulate capital early and shift to honest business.”

Because Jia Yintong is an outsider, handling his case required extra procedures.

The City God first summoned the Village Spirit of Mao’er Village and the County City God of Dongxiang, demanding Jia Yintong’s records.

They confirmed the Jia family had committed evil for four generations—since Jia Yintong’s grandfather began making counterfeit silver.

His grandfather, his father, himself, and his son.

The Jia family should have been completely extinguished starting with his grandfather’s generation.

But Jia Yintong’s ninth-generation ancestor was a great virtuous man—he built bridges, repaired roads, and buried bones for his entire life.

Though his ninth-generation ancestor had long been reborn as a commoner in the Central Kingdom, the ancestral merit still granted three pardons to his descendants.

Now, with his son’s generation, the lineage will finally be utterly cut off.

“Just cut off the lineage? Anything else?” Xiao Yu asked.

She had heard from Zhang Niangzi that Jia Yintong’s next life would be no better.

“Wear the cangue for six months, lose your wife and children, squander all your wealth, die alone and starved, with no one to collect your body. After death, when you enter the Netherworld, the King of Hell will conduct another trial.”

“After serving his sentence in the Eighteen Layers of Hell and entering the Six Realms of Rebirth, his first life will be as an insect, his second as a creature born from dampness in water, his third as an egg-born bird, his fourth as an animal.”

“Only in his fifth life will he have a chance to be reborn as a human again.”

“But don’t expect any worldly fortune—even if he becomes human, he must cycle through stupidity, madness, disability, and illness, one after another.”

Chun’er and Zi Ying’s eyes and expressions were filled with reverence and fear.

As if before them stood an invisible, formless deity whose majesty they could sense but not see.

The deity stood tall and vast, inviolable and untranscendable; mortals were as tiny as dust beneath His feet.

Xiao Yu’s eyebrows faintly furrowed as she asked curiously: “Sister, you said the City God has performed similar Netherworld trials before—can you tell me one?”

Jin Lian twirled in front of the bronze mirror, holding up her skirt: “It takes more than an hour by carriage from Tianmen Town to Yingxiang Prefecture—let’s talk on the way. We should leave now.”

Xiao Yu shook her head: “I can’t accompany you this time. You know—my relationship with the Guan family is… awkward.”

Jin Lian paused, then nodded: “Fine. We all worship the City God—Tianmen Town and Yingxiang Prefecture are no different.”

When the legend of the Eight Immortals shooting down the sun spread across the land, “Xiang Huchen’s adopted daughter,” Guan Yu, also gained some fame.

Even Jiangyou Alley’s Zhang Da and Li Da had heard of Guan Yu’s name.

They also knew Guan Yu had a feud with the Shu Iron Cavalry.

Guan Yu had killed many Iron Cavalry knights.

Huang the widow, who raised her unborn child alone, had quietly pulled Xiao Yu aside to ask how many armored knights she’d killed, and why.

In short, after Xiang Huchen was gravely wounded and returned early to Yingxiang Prefecture, the Iron Cavalry’s deputy commander, Song Changqing, conspired with other knights to ambush Guan Yu and destroy her sword bone.

And because Lady Wen of the Guan family was jealous and unvirtuous, during her husband’s convalescence, she expelled Guan Yu—whose sword bone had been destroyed—from the Guan household.

Xiao Yu offered no comment on these widely known events.

When Huang the widow asked how many Lu Ye Guard armored knights she’d killed, Xiao Yu told her to ask Song Changqing in Luo Capital.

Huang told her Song Changqing had been exiled to the southern frontier.

She added that although her husband had also been a Lu Ye Guard lance cavalryman, he had died long ago on the battlefield north of Tianmen Town, so no matter how many armored knights Xiao Yu had killed, it had nothing to do with her.

She was merely curious—wondering if any of the slain knights had been people she knew.

Xiao Yu still said nothing.

After lunch, Xiao Yu went again to the back alley to chat with Huang the widow.

Huang the widow was idle and gossipy, loved prying into secrets, and made a decent conversational partner—as long as Xiao Yu herself wasn’t the topic.

“Ah, poor Jia’s ninth-generation ancestor spent his whole life accumulating virtue, yet his descendants ruined the family line.”

After hearing Xiao Yu recount the details of the “City God’s Night Trial of Counterfeit Silver,” Huang the widow looked thoroughly satisfied.

“Back in the Northern Desert dunes, I never knew spirits and gods could manifest to punish evil in the mortal world,” Xiao Yu mused.

Huang the widow grinned proudly: “Now that you’ve come to Tianmen Town, you’ve finally broadened your horizons.”

Xiao Yu asked curiously: “Surely this isn’t new to you, Huang Da?”

“Hehe, who hasn’t heard stories of the City God since childhood?”

Huang the widow patted the baby in her arms: “Like my second dog—he’s listening to the City God’s legends right now.”

Truth be told, the Night Trial of Counterfeit Silver is only remarkable because the people involved are close to us, familiar to us.

In terms of sheer wonder, it’s far from the most legendary tale.

Without Xiao Yu needing to ask, she launched into another story: “For example, a hundred years ago, the ‘True Immortal Zeng Wenda’ once asked: since childhood, he had extraordinary bones and a natural immortal root, yet he possessed a fool’s heart.”

His heart’s orifices were completely clogged with muscle fibers, like a ball of tangled roots.

With the heart’s orifices sealed, a man is naturally as stupid as a pig.

But Immortal Zeng was a virtuous man of ten lifetimes—this life, though foolish, he still practiced virtue and accumulated merit.”

At this point, Huang the widow unconsciously paused, glancing at Xiao Yu.

Xiao Yu, puzzled, asked: “And then? What did the City God do?”

Huang the widow was disappointed.

In the past, whenever she told outsiders the story of “True Immortal Zeng Wenda,” when she reached “ten virtuous lifetimes,” the listener would always ask: shouldn’t a ten-lifetime virtuous man be reborn in the Central Kingdom—or even become an immortal directly? Why was he born a fool?

Then Huang the widow would feel even more triumphant, feign mystery, lower her voice, and say: The story’s name is “True Immortal Zeng Wenda”—how could you ask such a foolish question? A ten-lifetime virtuous man must become an immortal!

Xiao Yu didn’t ask.

A major satisfying moment went unfulfilled.

Huang the widow felt stifled but couldn’t ask herself, so she continued: “Zeng Wenda wasn’t called that back then—everyone called him ‘Ah Niu,’ saying he was as stupid as an ox.”

“Ah Niu”—Xiao Yu reacted, her expression turning strange.

“Ah Niu was tricked by his fellow villagers into hauling the City God’s statue up the mountainside at night. At the time, the City God wasn’t yet the Prefectural City God—he was merely the City God of Heyin County.”

But Ah Niu was from Heyang Town.

He was truly foolish—he carried the Heyin City God’s statue all the way to Heyang Town.

Yet though dense, Ah Niu revered spirits and gods—he carried the statue with utmost reverence and care.

Afterwards, he apologized to the City God and carried the statue back untouched to the other side of the bridge in Heyin County.

Before leaving, he muttered foolishly, inviting the City God to drink at his home.

Who would say such a thing? Right?”

Xiao Yu’s expression grew even stranger—this story felt familiar.

“Did the City God really go?”

“Of course he did!” Huang the widow clapped her hands excitedly: “Pam~~~”

“Waaahhh~~~~” The baby’s bottom turned red from the slap.

“Oh no, Second Dog, don’t cry, Mama’s foolish—she hurt you~~~”

Huang the widow abandoned her pretense, leaned close to the baby’s bottom, kissed and nuzzled it, then lifted her clothes to nurse.

After much fussing, Second Dog finally calmed down again, sucking contentedly on the nipple.

Huang the widow chuckled twice, her face showing no trace of embarrassment, and continued enthusiastically: “The City God didn’t just go to Ah Niu’s house for a drink—he cut open Ah Niu’s belly while he was drunk, cleaned his murky organs, and even replaced his heart with a seven-orifice, exquisitely wise heart.”

From then on, Ah Niu was no longer stupid.

He memorized texts instantly, grasped concepts at a glance, and advanced rapidly in cultivation—within a few years, he transcended mortality and became a True Immortal.

“No wonder the City God is so amazing—he can swap hearts and turn a stupid ox into an immortal! How incredible!” Xiao Yu exclaimed in awe.

In her past life, she had heard a similar tale—Zhu Erdan and Lu Pan.

Back then, she’d found it novel and moved by Lu Pan’s generosity and righteousness.

Now, the same story was happening right beside her, as true fact—she felt no novelty, no admiration for “Yingxiang Prefecture’s Lu Pan”—only bone-chilling terror.

The Seven-Orifice Luminous Heart could never grow from the ground.

Then where did it come from?

If even a heart can be swapped, what else cannot be swapped?

“Aunt Huang, go on—what happened next?”

“Afterward, Ceng Aniu changed his name to ‘Ceng Wenda,’ and within just a few decades, he cultivated the Dao and became a True Immortal,” said the widow Huang.

“What’s a True Immortal like? I’ve seen Human Immortals—is there a difference between True Immortals and Human Immortals?” Xiao Yu asked again.

The widow Huang hesitated: “A True Immortal should be stronger than a Human Immortal, since we often hear about—and even see—Human Immortals.”

“Like our Great Shu’s Guardian Martial God, ‘Double-Spear Chen Taiping.’”

“Or the Lu Kingdom’s surviving remnants—who once had ten Human Immortals! They stole our monarch’s priceless treasure!”

“But as for True Immortals, in my lifetime I’ve only ever heard of Ceng Wenda.”

“Sigh, this story is indeed more miraculous than the counterfeit silver case,” Xiao Yu mused.

“There are too many temple guardian legends more miraculous than the counterfeit silver case.”

The widow Huang’s interest was stirred again, and she chattered for a full hour about the “Legends of Ghosts and Gods at Tianmen Town.”

Until Zhang the Elder and Li the Elder, along with the others, returned from their incense offering, delighted and satisfied.

“Tsk tsk tsk, you really should’ve gone—the temple grounds were packed with people, drums and gongs roaring, firecrackers exploding.”

“The family of General Pingnan in the south, the Zhang Imperial Son-in-Law in the east, the Yunjing Tower in the west—dozens of prominent households in Tianmen Town all sent representatives to the temple today.”

“Not only did they offer incense and prayers to the City God, but they also held open-air almsgiving outside the temple.”

Zhang the Elder held up a bolt of deep blue hemp cloth, boasting: “Look—this was given by General Pingnan’s household. Old Lord Huo is so compassionate, so full of mercy for us old folks.”

The widow Huang glanced at the blue cloth in Zhang’s hands, then at Li’s sack of rice, her face filled with regret. She stamped her foot and cried: “If I’d known there’d be alms, I’d have gone even if I had to bring ErGou!”

“If I’d gotten even one good bolt of cloth, ErGou wouldn’t need new pants for years!”

Zhang the Elder murmured: “I don’t need clothes—this bolt’s better used to sew ErGou a split-crotch pant.”

Saying this, she handed the blue cloth to the widow Huang.

The widow Huang hugged her son with her left arm and waved her right hand frantically, stepping backward: “No, no! Using new cloth for split-crotch pants is wasteful—we can just patch up old clothes!”

Seeing her face flushed with embarrassment, Zhang the Elder thought to herself: I’ll sew ErGou a little tunic later—he’s the only one who can wear it; she won’t be able to refuse.

With that thought, she stopped pressing and smiled: “Besides alms, the temple attendant gave a detailed account of the counterfeit silver case! Hehe, even stranger and more convoluted than what we heard before—I’ll tell you all about it—”

Xiao Yu didn’t listen. She leapt upward, soaring two zhang into the air, landing silently atop the wall, then flipped through several midair somersaults, crossing over ten zhang to return to the Xiao Jingxuan courtyard.