33: Chapter 33 Demons and Monsters

When the money is right, you have to risk half your life.

That's the rule.

The two of them left the inn and melted into the night.

At a second-floor window of the Yuelai Inn...

Ye Zhiqiu hadn't gone far. She stood in the shadows, watching the two departing figures through a crack in the window.

"Copper Skin of the Ninth Grade, and a strange breath-concealing force..."

She murmured to herself, her fingers lightly tapping the window frame. "That brute Tiger Li couldn't teach a disciple like this. Interesting."

She turned, her black cloak swirling like a storm cloud.

"Someone."

"Here." A shadow materialized silently from the darkness.

"Keep an eye on them. If Jiang Hongli can't handle it, fish her out."

"Understood."

"As for that little constable..." Ye Zhiqiu paused, a flash of coldness in her eyes. "If he dies, bury him. If he doesn't... investigate his background."

"As you command."

The shadow dissipated.

Ye Zhiqiu looked out at the heavy night, a faint, mocking smile curling at the corner of her mouth.

"In these chaotic times, human life is as cheap as grass. To live long, hiding alone isn't enough."

A wind rose, extinguishing the red lanterns at the inn's entrance.

The night in the southern part of the city grew darker.

...

Night travel was difficult, especially in these chaotic times with no street lamps.

The stone slabs underfoot were pitted and uneven, as if someone had taken a bite out of them. Chen Mo led the way, holding a storm-proof lantern. Jiang Hongli walked with her hands clasped behind her back, her red skirt fluttering in the night breeze like a flame not yet extinguished.

"Chen Mo, do you know the rules of our trade?" Jiang Hongli suddenly spoke, her voice crisp and clear, overpowering the surrounding chirping of insects.

Chen Mo kept his eyes on the path ahead, not turning back. "Take the money, do the job. Staying alive is priority one."

"So vulgar!" Jiang Hongli pouted, quickening her pace to catch up. "I mean, know yourself and know your enemy. We're going to the Zhao residence to catch something. You need to know what kind of thing it is. In this chaotic world, the unclean things are also ranked."

Chen Mo slowed his pace. "I'd like to hear the details."

He genuinely did. Although his Transmigration had come with inherited memories, the original owner was just a low-level thug whose knowledge of these supernatural matters was superficial at best. Since he intended to survive and seek longevity in this world, such knowledge was a talisman for preserving his life.

Jiang Hongli held up four fingers, pale and slender, shimmering in the lantern's glow.

"Demon, Monster, Ghost, Fiend. Common folk lump these four words together, but in the eyes of us professionals, they're two different matters entirely."

She bent down her first finger. "Demons are transformed from living creatures. A fox worshiping the moon, an old tree drinking blood... they seek to cultivate human form, walking a crooked, unorthodox path. These things have physical bodies. They fear fire, fear thunder, and the Qi and blood of us martial artists can also disperse their Demonic Qi."

"Monsters are the most troublesome." Jiang Hongli frowned. "They arise from a corrupted human heart, or from practicing martial arts gone awry. Once a person becomes a monster, they're fiercer than demons. There are also those born from the Evil Qi between heaven and earth; whoever touches it goes mad."

"What about Ghosts?" Chen Mo asked.

"Ghosts are transformed from the dead." Jiang Hongli's voice lowered a few degrees, sounding a bit eerie on the empty street. "When a person dies, their lamp is extinguished, their soul should go where it belongs. But if they die with a grievance, that last breath they can't swallow... that becomes a ghost. These things have no physical form. Blades can't cut them. You need to use Qi and blood to repel them, or use Talismanic Incantations to suppress them."

"Finally, Fiends." Jiang Hongli shrugged. "A stone gaining sentience, a broom talking... those are inanimate objects that have obtained Spiritual Qi. These are generally not very bright, rather foolish, but possess great strength."

Chen Mo listened carefully, calculating silently in his heart.

Tonight's matter at the Zhao residence sounded like a "Ghost."

"That concubine of Steward Zhao's family, her name was Xiaocui, right?" Chen Mo steered the topic back to the case. "How did she die?"

"Officially, she died of illness." Jiang Hongli gave a cold laugh. "But I investigated. That Xiaocui was a singer before entering the household, with a good figure and a bright voice. Steward Zhao's legal wife is a real shrew. Within half a month of Xiaocui entering the household, there wasn't a patch of good flesh left on her body. That night, they said she accidentally fell into the well, but actually..."

She didn't continue, but Chen Mo understood.

Harem strife, death, resentment.

A standard ghost story opening.

"We're here."

Chen Mo stopped.

Ahead was the Zhao residence. The vermilion main gate was tightly shut. Hanging at the entrance weren't red lanterns, but two sickly white paper lanterns, each bearing a large character for "Mourning." The wind blew, causing the lanterns to sway wildly, their shadows on the ground dancing like claws.

This was no wealthy family's mansion; it was clearly a giant coffin.

Chen Mo instinctively touched the banknotes tucked inside his robe, then tightened his belt. One hundred taels... not easy to earn.

*Thump, thump, thump.*

Jiang Hongli stepped forward and knocked. The brass knocker struck the wooden door with a dull sound, as if knocking on one's own heart.

A long time passed before the door creaked open a crack.

An old, heavily wrinkled face peered out. His eyes were murky, filled with terror. Seeing Jiang Hongli in her red clothes, the old man visibly shuddered, almost slamming the door shut.

"I'm Jiang Hongli from the City Defense Army. Steward Zhao invited me," Jiang Hongli said, flashing her waist token.

The old man finally relaxed, pulling the door open wider. "Oh, Lord Jiang! You've finally arrived! Please, come in, come in! The master is inside, scared witless... I mean, terribly frightened!"

Entering the courtyard, a wave of cold air hit their faces.

It wasn't the cold of winter, but a damp, bone-chilling Yin cold. The trees in the courtyard drooped listlessly. The water in the pond was Deathly still, black as ink.

The main hall was brightly lit, with dozens of candles burning, illuminating the room as brightly as day.

Steward Zhao sat in a master's chair, his ample flesh trembling with each breath. He clutched a string of prayer beads, mumbling incessantly. A few servants stood nearby, each holding a club, their faces paler than paper.

The moment Jiang Hongli entered, Steward Zhao seemed to see his own mother. That mass of fat launched itself from the chair, practically lunging at her.

"Lord Jiang! Save me!"

Steward Zhao's cry was tearful, utterly pitiful.

Jiang Hongli dodged to the side with distaste. Steward Zhao missed, nearly crashing into Chen Mo.

Chen Mo reacted swiftly, steadying the mountain of flesh with one hand, using a clever force to set him upright.

"Steward Zhao, speak properly," Chen Mo said, his tone steady and even.

Only then did Steward Zhao get a clear look at Chen Mo. Seeing an unfamiliar young man, he paid him no mind, turning back to grab at Jiang Hongli's sleeve. "Lord Jiang, she's back! Just now... just a moment ago, there was crying from the well in the backyard again! And... and wet footprints, leading all the way to the door of my bedroom!"

Jiang Hongli frowned. "Take me to see."

"I won't go!" Steward Zhao shook his head like a rattle-drum. "I'd rather die than go to the backyard!"

At that moment, the old butler who had opened the door sidled up. This old man, surnamed Liu, had a sharp, foxy face with shifty, triangular eyes that roamed over Jiang Hongli. Though terrified out of his wits, that underlying lecherousness was hard to hide.