Mortal Bones

Chapter 23: Fierce Wind Hall, Two Disciples Make an Outrageous Demand

According to Liu Qingmei, Lu Chen was the nephew of an Elder from the Fifth Peak. The Sect would undoubtedly shield him. Only a fool would hand over the Dust Seeking Incense and the corpse directly to them.

If everything Sister Qingmei said is true, a vicious viper like Lu Chen would definitely hunt down whoever reported the crime. He’d kill me just to silence the truth.

Xu Taiping pondered this grim reality as he dragged Liu Qingmei’s body back into the courtyard.

…

Crash!

That night, a deafening explosion shattered the silence within Xu Taiping’s bedroom at the Green Bamboo Residence. His voice, still carrying the slight timbre of youth, roared in absolute fury:

“Beast!”

After laying Liu Qingmei’s body to rest, he had ignited a stick of Dust Seeking Incense. Within the swirling, ethereal smoke, he witnessed every sickening moment of Lu Chen’s torment upon the girl.

The atrocities projected before him defied simple description. He called Lu Chen a beast only because his vocabulary of curses was lacking; in truth, the man’s depravity fell far beneath the standards of any wild animal.

“Sister Qingmei, I swear I will deliver this Dust Seeking Incense to Sister Zijin. I will drag your suffering, and Lu Chen’s sins, into the blinding light of day.”

Xu Taiping carefully stowed away the remaining two sticks of Dust Seeking Incense. He stood with white-knuckled fists, his hollow gaze locked onto the table he had just pulverized into splinters.

He had never fashioned himself a chivalrous hero. He even believed that a little selfishness was necessary to survive this harsh world. But if monsters like Lu Chen were allowed to roam free of retribution, it made him question the very point of drawing breath.

“Grandpa always said, ‘Out of sight, out of mind.’ But even when I squeeze my eyes shut, I can still see Sister Qingmei weeping, begging that monster for mercy.”

Staring at the wreckage of the table, Xu Taiping’s voice dropped to a glacial whisper.

…

The next day, at high noon.

“Are you the one who filed the report?”

Two men clad in the pristine magic robes of Qingxuan Sect disciples swaggered up to the gates of Xu Taiping’s courtyard.

“Senior Brothers, yes, I filed it.”

Xu Taiping replied with practiced courtesy.

“A dirt-grovelling outer sect disciple thinks he’s worthy of calling us Senior Brother?”

The man on the left, sporting a sharp, hooked nose, sneered at him.

These two hailed from the West Wind Pavilion’s Fierce Wind Hall, a branch dedicated to investigating demon attacks on lower mountain disciples. Though stationed at the mountain’s base, they were genuine inner sect disciples, holding a status only marginally beneath those of the Seven Peaks.

“Spit it out. Stop trying to kiss up to us.”

The second disciple, his face littered with deep pockmarks, waved him off with visible annoyance.

Dropping the pleasantries, Xu Taiping delivered a concise report of his encounter with the Chang Ghost and the subsequent attack by its enthralled beast.

Naturally, he scrubbed any mention of Liu Qingmei from the narrative.

“This is a massive headache. First, I have to submit a brief to the Fierce Wind Hall Master. Then, he’ll need to escalate it to the West Wind Pavilion Master, who will eventually petition the Black Dragon Elder for authorization.”

The pockmarked disciple stroked his chin, pulling a heavily exaggerated grimace.

“Roughly how long will that take?”

Xu Taiping asked urgently.

“If we rush? Three months. Normally? Half a year to a year.”

The hook-nosed man crossed his arms. The corners of his lips twitched upward into a predatory smirk as he studied Xu Taiping.

“That long? Can’t you expedite it? The Chang Ghost has already marked me for death.”

Xu Taiping’s brows knitted tightly together.

“Do you think the Fierce Wind Hall revolves around you? That we just drop everything the second you snap your fingers?”

The hook-nosed man barked, his eyes narrowing to hostile slits.

“Easy, Old Zuo. No need to bite the poor kid’s head off.”

The pockmarked disciple stepped forward, playing the peacemaker.

“Truth be told, if you want that Chang Ghost dealt with tonight, there is a shortcut.”

He flashed Xu Taiping a grin, revealing a hideous row of yellowed teeth.

“What shortcut?”

Genuine curiosity flickered in Xu Taiping’s eyes.

“That entirely depends on the weight of your Merit Money.”

The pockmarked man extended a hand, openly rubbing his thumb and forefinger together.

So this is the game. They use demon extermination as a racket to bleed the outer sect dry. No wonder Sister Qingmei wouldn’t trust her life to these leeches.

The realization clicked into place, perfectly explaining why Liu Qingmei had chosen silence over reporting her assault.

“Seniors, I haven’t been at the Green Bamboo Residence for long. My pockets are practically empty of Merit Money.”

Despite seeing right through their extortion, Xu Taiping swallowed his disgust, playing along just to fathom the depths of their greed.

“No Merit Coins? Not a problem. Just slap this bracelet on your wrist and sign a little blood contract promising us seventy percent of your annual harvest. Do that, and we’ll guarantee you sleep soundly tonight.”

The hook-nosed man casually fished a heavy copper bracelet from his robes.

“Seventy percent?”

The breath vanished from Xu Taiping’s lungs.

He expected them to open their maw wide, but demanding seventy percent was outright highway robbery. If he surrendered that much yield, he would be physically thrown off the mountain next year for failing to meet the Qingxuan Sect’s quotas.

“Seventy percent is a bargain. Get this through your skull: you’re marked by a Chang Ghost. A single misstep, and you’re a rotting corpse!”

The pockmarked man spat the threat directly into his face.

Disgust roiled in Xu Taiping’s gut as he stared at their smug features. Sister Linglong was right. Down here in the dirt, the only person you can trust is yourself.

Any lingering hope he harbored of the Sect delivering justice burned away into ash.

However, lacking the strength to incite an open brawl, he masked his fury with a deeply conflicted grimace.

“Seventy percent is just too steep. Please, allow me a few days to think it over.”

“You ungrateful little—”

“Fine, think it over. Keep this Communication Talisman as a gift. The next time the Chang Ghost comes knocking, tear it in half. We’ll be here in a flash.”

The hook-nosed man flared up, but his partner slapped a hand against his chest to pacify him, tossing a yellow Talisman at Xu Taiping’s feet.

“But we’re taking this demon wolf. It’s official evidence, and it needs to be processed at the Fierce Wind Hall.”

The hook-nosed man violently yanked the dead wolf up by its hind leg, casting one last, venomous glare at Xu Taiping.

…

“Scum like that runs the outer sect. No wonder they say so few disciples survive past their third year.”

Xu Taiping muttered to the empty air as he watched the two silhouettes drag their stolen prize down the mountain path.

“Senior Brother, why did we just walk away? That brat sits on a massive medicinal garden out back! It pulls in a fortune of Merit points every year. If we forced the bracelet on him and made him sign, he’d be slaving away for us until the day he dies.”

“Patience. Chang Ghosts are famously vindictive. Give it a few days of terror, and he’ll come crawling to us on his knees, begging to sign.”

“Brilliant as always, Senior Brother!”

“Keep your voice down!”

“Relax, the whelp hasn’t even broken into the Door Opening Realm. He can’t hear a damn thing.”

Xu Taiping, with his hand hovering over his doorframe, froze as the wind carried their muffled, distant whispers perfectly into his ears.

He hadn’t expected their malice to run this deep. He cast a frigid glance down at the Communication Talisman crumpled in his palm and scoffed inwardly.

Keep dreaming. That day will never come.