The Feast and the Corpse

Li Huowang grabbed the corpse by the hair and hoisted it up, displaying it to the rest of Pi County.

“Take a good look! The ghost is dead! I’ve destroyed it, body and soul! There won’t be any more shrinking deaths in Pi County!”

His voice reverberated across the county town. Then—“BOOM”—the sound of the entire county nearly lifting off its foundations with shouts and cheers.

Every person present wept with joy. The sickly, shadowed expressions that had clung to every face vanished without a trace.

Many people immediately reached into their clothes, pulled out ropes and chains they had used to bind themselves, and hurled them high into the air.

More still dropped to their knees before Li Huowang—the very man they had just been doubting—kowtowing and calling him their “savior” and “second parent.”

Magistrate Yang hurried over with a few constables. They used their long staffs to lift the ghost’s corpse and paraded it through the streets.

The news spread through Pi County like wildfire as people rushed home to tell their families.

In no time at all, the strangers’ status soared. Everywhere Li Huowang and his group went, people stuffed vegetables and food into their hands. Gray-haired elders knelt to kowtow and thank them for saving their grandsons.

That evening, Magistrate Yang reserved the best restaurant in Pi County—the Phoenix Sun Pavilion—to feast the honored guests.

Li Huowang, who had saved the entire county, was seated at the head of the table. Every minor notable in Pi County came forward to toast him, as if offering a drink to Li Huowang was a mark of honor.

The oppression that had weighed on every soul in Pi County had lifted. The town that should have been deathly silent was slowly returning to normal. Desolate streets buzzed with life.

At the top of the clamorous restaurant, Gouwa, Gao Zhijian, and the others were devouring the finest food the establishment had to offer. They ate so fast it seemed like they might swallow their own tongues.

Even the same ingredients—home-cooked versus the county’s best chef—were completely different beasts.

“Scholar, you’d better study hard, you hear me! Only if you study well will you be able to uphold justice like the little Daoist, and have feasts like this thrown in your honor!”

Lü Zhuangyuan was dripping with grease, shoveling food into his mouth without pausing his lecture to his youngest son.

“Old bones, you don’t know a damn thing. You’ve got food stuffed in your mouth and it still can’t plug your asshole!” The Scholar put down the chicken leg he was holding, picked up a bottle of fine wine, and moved to pour it into Li Huowang’s cup.

Before he could pour, Bai Lingmiao reached out and took the cup away. “Elder brother Li doesn’t drink wine. He gets drunk far too easily.”

With that, she ladled some clear, glistening shark fin soup and set it in front of Li Huowang. “Elder brother Li, have some vermicelli soup. You worked so hard saving everyone in the county.”

Li Huowang’s lips twitched into a forced smile. He picked up a large chicken drumstick and dropped it under the table. Immediately, the sounds of chewing and swallowing came from below.

Feeling Mantou’s tail swishing against his calf, Li Huowang’s mood lifted slightly.

He watched the joyous scene around him, downed the shark fin soup in one gulp, stood up, and pointed at Magistrate Yang Hongzhi, who was already tipsy in the corner. “Keep an eye on him. Don’t let him get so happy he drinks himself to death.”

Amid the laughter and chatter, Li Huowang walked down from the brightly lit restaurant. But the streets of Pi County were just as lively.

Firecrackers popped and crackled without pause. Red paper scraps flew everywhere, dyeing the alleys and streets festive.

When the popping stopped, before the smoke had even cleared, a pack of children in new clothes swarmed over, squatting and laughing as they picked up the unexploded crackers.

They might not understand exactly what had happened. All they knew was that they no longer had to suffer iron piercing their flesh—and they could eat treats they never got on ordinary days.

At the end of the street, a man wearing a big-headed doll mask with bright red lips and cheeks was holding up a ball, leading a green dance-dragon forward.

Behind the dragon, suonas played cheerful tunes.

The commotion immediately drew all the children. They forgot about the firecrackers, jumping for joy and spinning around the dragon.

Scenes like this repeated throughout Pi County. An ordinary day had been transformed into the New Year.

Li Huowang walked through the crowd with a cold face, looking utterly out of place.

But he wasn’t the only one who didn’t fit the festive mood.

There were also courtyards with green couplets pasted on their doors and white funeral cloth hanging inside, from which muffled weeping emerged. These were the homes of those who had been killed by the ghost today—killed in horrific ways.

Li Huowang glanced at one such mournful courtyard, then continued walking forward.

Accompanied by this incongruity, he finally reached the county jail’s mortuary.

No matter how lively it was outside, a place like this was always guarded.

But the steaming clay pot of fragrant meat stew and the black jar labeled “wine” on the table proved the county hadn’t mistreated the watchmen.

When the coroner and the green-clad constable saw Li Huowang enter, they quickly put their feet down and urged him to join them.

“Both of you, leave. This ghost cultivated for a thousand years—it’s no ordinary spirit. I need to perform a ritual to completely eliminate any lingering harm.”

Hearing this, the two didn’t dare say another word. Nodding and bowing, they hurried out.

In the cold, silent mortuary, rows of bodies lay neatly on the floor under white sheets.

Li Huowang walked past the stiff, cold corpses until he reached the last one. He grabbed the sheet and pulled it back, revealing the ghost-possessed beggar.

The man had a scruffy beard and wore ragged clothes, but strangely, he wasn’t dirty at all. He didn’t have the usual stench of a beggar.

His face was utterly ordinary—the kind you’d never pick out in a crowd. His most distinctive feature was his eyebrows: thick, heavy, and shaped like a single straight line.

As Li Huowang studied him closely, the corpse suddenly snapped its eyes open, meeting Li Huowang’s gaze.

Seeing Li Huowang take a step back with his arms crossed, the man reached up and tore off the yellow talisman stuck to his forehead.

“Interesting, interesting. What kind of talisman is this? What does it do?”

“I don’t know. I just slapped it on. Someone else drew it.” Li Huowang’s answer was unnervingly calm, as if he’d expected the man to wake up.

The beggar with the straight eyebrows flipped off the wooden board in one smooth motion, dusted himself off, and produced a sharp clinking sound—the crisp noise of metal striking metal.

“And you, venerable one? What should I call you?” He bowed to Li Huowang, his gaze frank and unguarded.

“Ao-Jing Sect. Erjiu.”

Li Huowang, unwilling to give his real name, offered the alias that Jiang Yingzi had already died bearing within the Ao-Jing Sect. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re from the Supervisory Heavenly Office?”

The straight-eyebrow man didn’t deny it. “You’re right. I’m just a lowly soldier of the Supervisory Heavenly Office. The venerable one is sharp—I only gave a single glance, and you caught on.”