Chapter 22: It

“Young master, are these bloodstains on your clothing from slaying the demon monkeys outside the city?”

“That’s right.”

“You must wash them quickly—once time passes, they won’t come out.”

“I was just about to wash them after eating.”

“Then don’t delay any longer!” The man frowned seriously. “Besides, this inn has women who can wash clothes for guests—why not ask them?”

The innkeeper’s attendant, just then bringing out the dishes, heard this and immediately sensed business—he nodded vigorously:

“My mother works here washing guests’ clothes. She’s washed garments her whole life—no matter how dirty, she cleans them clean without damaging the fabric!”

“Then why are you still talking?” The man spoke first before Lin Jue could reply, reached into his robe, pulled out coins, and slapped them on the table. “Go fetch the young master’s clothes and wash them clean!”

“Right away!”

“Hey hey…”

The attendant moved swiftly, nearly running over, and before Lin Jue could stop him, snatched the coins in one hand and the clothes resting on the bench in the other, then hurried off toward the back.

Lin Jue frowned, puzzled, and turned to look at the man.

The man merely bowed to him, speaking with great courtesy:

“The attendant speaks sense. Washing clothes costs little, but if done poorly and the garment ruined, that’s a loss beyond measure. Such tasks are best left to women—your hands are meant for slaying demons and protecting the people.”

Yet Lin Jue began to sense something was off.

He’d heard of such things from village elders—

A martial hero who had just slain a demon would come to a tavern, and someone moved by his bravery, himself bold and generous, would offer a jug of wine and invite him to drink together.

That he could understand.

But did those who admired martial heroes really pay to wash their clothes too?

Lin Jue turned his head again, studying him closely.

This time he noticed a faint line of worry between the man’s brows, and a subtle pallor to his face.

“So that’s it…”

Lin Jue fell silent and set down his chopsticks.

“You have something to ask of me.”

The man froze.

“This…”

After a moment of dazed silence, he abandoned all pretense, leapt to his feet, took two steps forward, and bowed deeply before Lin Jue.

“I am Wei Yuanzhong. To be honest, my household has been plagued by strange events for the past month—we’re all woken in our sleep by unseen blows. We reported it to the authorities and summoned specialists; they said a demon or ghost was at work. We’ve tried many remedies, but none helped much. The neighbors all say: invite a bold, vigorous man to sleep in the house for one night—he might scare the spirit away.”

“Unprovoked blows?”

Lin Jue found it both strange and frightening.

“Exactly!”

The man named Wei Yuanzhong immediately pulled up his robe to show Lin Jue—

On his body were numerous crosswise and longitudinal scars, each about the thickness of a finger or thicker, some purple, some red, some black—clearly not from a single beating, and starkly grotesque against his pale, flabby flesh.

“These are all from that thing’s unprovoked strikes. Now our whole family dares not sleep in the house! My elder brother even sleeps in a roadside tea stall!”

“Tell me in detail.”

Lin Jue urged him to continue.

“I can’t give you details because we don’t understand what’s happening,” Wei Yuanzhong sighed, sitting back down. “This year my father passed away. We handled his funeral properly. The neighbors whispered that we were unfilial and angered his spirit—or provoked the gods. But we did nothing wrong in the rites. The only issue was a dispute over inheritance, but nothing serious. And these strange events didn’t begin until two months after his death—proving they’re unrelated to our filial conduct.”

Lin Jue merely grunted, saying nothing more.

No one would come out of nowhere, offer you food and wine under false pretenses, then ask you for such a favor.

Besides, he wasn’t a real demon-slaying Daoist.

“It started at the end of last month. We were sleeping peacefully at home, then suddenly we were struck—painfully—and we heard faint sounds. At first we thought thieves had broken in, but when we lit the lamps, there was nothing—doors and windows were all securely shut. Since then, it’s happened repeatedly. We’re terrified.”

“Sounds like the kind of tale where a ghost seeks to claim a house—or someone has angered a spirit.”

“Everyone says the same.”

“Only strikes? Nothing else?”

“Only strikes. But they wear you down. We dare not sleep in our own home anymore—we’re all staying at inns. Over twenty of us, spending money every day.”

“You said you’ve tried many remedies, but none helped much?”

“We tried many folk remedies—some useless, some slightly helpful, but nothing lasting.”

“For example?”

“Some say to sprinkle dog’s blood and a child’s urine on the floor—then evil spirits won’t enter. That did nothing, and only made the thing angrier—it struck harder. Others say to sprinkle flour on the floor at night to track where the spirit comes and goes—completely useless. Some went to temples for talismans—those helped a little, but only for a few days.”

Wei Yuanzhong, visibly frightened, took a sip of water:

“The most effective was a statue of a martial official we borrowed from the Chenghuang Temple. After we brought it home, my nephew slept in the house for several nights without being struck. We even moved back in—but after a few days, the statue lost its power, and the whole family was struck again. That was our last resort. If even the Chenghuang Temple’s martial god statue failed, no other method will work.”

“So it’s come to this…”

Lin Jue was now deeply intrigued by the tale.

He’d always loved such ghost stories from his village days; now hearing one unfold before him felt like witnessing it firsthand—these tales were slowly becoming real.

The world’s wonders kept unfolding before his eyes.

“After all this, we’ve realized—the fangshi and sorcerers around here are all frauds. Useless.”

“Then why come to me?”

“We had no other choice—desperation drives one to try anything. Yesterday, a powerful Daoist arrived nearby—he’s slain demons in neighboring counties, though we don’t know if it’s true. We’ve sent our young men to find him, but it seems they won’t succeed.” Wei Yuanzhong grew more anxious. “Then today my brother came and said two heroes had slain the demon monkeys outside the city. Everyone says bold, vigorous men can suppress demons—so I came to you. I beg you to come to my home, sleep one night, and use your courage and vitality to drive the thing away.”

He looked at Lin Jue expectantly.

It sounded much like Wang Laotaiye’s thinking in Heng Village—using a living man to repel a demon.

Lin Jue said nothing for a moment.

He was indeed curious about such matters—but only as stories. This was different: Wei Yuanzhong wanted him to act.

Lin Jue stared at the food on the table—the wine, the chicken soup—lost in thought.

Weighing his options.

If he agreed, he had no real magical skill or martial prowess—he might not be able to handle it.

If he refused…

He’d set out to seek immortals and the Dao, and carried an ancient book that reacted to magic. To claim he had no interest in spirits and demons was untrue. At least Wang’s family in Heng Village and the roadside temple had shown him: if a spirit’s magic could be used by a human, it could trigger the ancient book’s response.

Besides, he’d drunk the wine, tasted the soup.

And owed him for the borrowed knife today.

His thoughts tangled.

“Ah…”

Lin Jue sighed deeply. “If you wanted my help, you could’ve simply introduced yourself and spoken plainly. I might’ve agreed, given the debt of the borrowed knife—why go through all this?”

“I had no other choice…”

“I actually thought someone admired me enough to buy me meat and wine.”

“Young master, you’re right! That was part of it! Even without my family’s troubles, I’d still invite you to a pot of meat and a bowl of wine!”

“If what you say is true, and I sleep one night in your home, will you sleep there with me?”

“Sleep with you?”

Wei Yuanzhong blinked in surprise.

“Will you?”

Lin Jue watched his expression closely.

The man hesitated, eyes darting, then clenched his teeth and stamped his foot. “If you dare help my family, how can I not? I’ll just take another beating!”

“Good!”

Seeing this, Lin Jue believed him—the demon only struck, never killed.

It must have some deeper cause.

“For the half-chicken and the cup of wine you gave me, and for your brother’s kindness in lending me my cleaver today—I’ll sleep one night in your home. But I warn you: I have no power to exorcise demons. If I get beaten, I’ll just take it with you.”

That was truly what Lin Jue thought.

His words carried a certain straightforwardness.

“I could never ask you to do this for just half a chicken and a cup of wine. Young master, please go first—tomorrow I’ll repay you handsomely.”

“Then I won’t refuse.”

“When shall we go?”

“After I finish eating!”

Lin Jue picked up his chopsticks again.

Now that the matter was settled and his request accepted, his mind eased. Eating this meal felt truly satisfying.

He reached out, broke off a chicken leg from the half-chicken, bit into it greedily—the fibers and flavor mingling—then shoveled in a large mouthful of rice. How delightful!

If he’d stayed in the village, he’d never have lived like this.

…

Twenty minutes later, Lin Jue was full and satisfied. He tossed down his chopsticks, went upstairs for his cleaver, and stepped out the door.