Chapter Sixty-One: Judgment in the Court

The registrar hurried to the county office, and upon seeing Song San’s corpse, collapsed on the spot. It took a frantic effort from those around him, pinching his philtrum for a long time, before he regained consciousness.

When he awoke, he stretched out trembling hands to cradle the ruined face of Song San, unable to utter a word for a long while.

Many remarked how unexpected it was that the registrar felt so deeply for a servant. What they did not know was that Song San’s true identity was the registrar’s nephew.

The registrar had only one brother, who in turn had only one son. The brother died young, leaving Song San to wander for years. By a twist of fate, Song San, after offending the daughter of the county constable, was recognized by the registrar, and their family was finally reunited. The registrar treated him almost as his own child, but their time together was brief—a cruel separation of life and death. The registrar’s heart felt shattered, piece by piece.

“Who did this? Who made him suffer so terribly before his death?! Who hates our family so much?!” he cried out, his voice echoing through the hall, but all present were silent.

He staggered toward the county constable, seized his collar, and shouted, “It was you! You murdered him! You dealt this cruel blow!”

The constable, uneasy, stepped back. “Do not falsely accuse me.”

“Falsely accuse? Just because Song San spoke a few words to your daughter, you killed him, and tormented him so? How vicious you are!”

The constable replied coldly, “Yesterday, I was occupied with directing the investigation of the ‘Chu Liu Xiang’ case. How could I be in two places at once to kill your servant?”

The registrar retorted, “If you could not do it yourself, could you not send your servants?”

The constable began, “My servants…” but stopped, unable to continue. The previous day, he had ordered all his household staff to search for his daughter.

If he spoke further, the registrar’s accusations would certainly implicate his daughter.

“What about your servants? What about them? Speak!” The registrar pressed his advantage, forcing the constable to retreat further.

The registrar turned to the county magistrate, bowing deeply. “Your honor! As a common citizen, I beseech you to uphold justice! To be forthright, Song San was my brother’s orphaned son. If I do not avenge him, how can I face my brother in the afterlife? I beg your clear judgment!”

The magistrate glanced at the constable, then at the registrar. Surprised to find this hot potato tossed in his lap, he was caught in a dilemma.

Just as the magistrate hesitated, someone hurried over and whispered in his ear. Instantly, his face lit up with joy. “Gentlemen, please be patient. I will give you a satisfactory answer. Someone—bring the Daoist here!”

Under the magistrate’s eager gaze, Lu Wuji entered.

The magistrate greeted him respectfully, murmuring, “Master Daoist, only your divine powers can resolve this difficulty!”

Lu Wuji looked around the hall, and with a single glance, understood the situation. “This is not the work of mortals.”

…

Xu Wenshan at last welcomed the northern merchant he had long awaited.

From him, Xu Wenshan sold the remaining furs and stolen bolts of cloth, fetching a decent price. Though the furs did not match the price at Fei Arrow Manor, they could no longer be sold openly, so private deals were all he had left.

The items the northern merchant brought astonished him: most notably, wheat seed. These were high-quality winter wheat seeds, not many, but enough to plant two experimental fields. The next surprise was green peppers. Deprived of chili, Xu Wenshan had endured only the pungency of peppercorns, a torment.

Most importantly, the merchant also had corn and potatoes.

Corn and potatoes, in Xu Wenshan’s previous life, had only begun to enter the Central Plains in the sixteenth century. Their proliferation led directly to the population boom under the Qing dynasty.

In this era, where dry land crops yielded at most a hundred catties per acre, and rice paddies two hundred, corn could easily surpass two hundred and fifty per acre. Potatoes, hardy and drought-resistant, could be planted on slopes or during winter fallow—truly convenient.

The only drawbacks: natural corn lacked lysine and could not serve as the staple; potatoes sprouted if kept too long, and could become toxic.

Even so, Xu Wenshan found the corn and potato samples lacking. The corn kernels were not full, the potatoes small; they would require generations of selective breeding to be suitable for consumption.

The merchant’s wares included other curious items, which Xu Wenshan bought outright—money was no object now.

All this made him more intrigued by the north. The Three Peaks Daoist once said a single northern nation dominated the region, and the merchant claimed there was a good port up north, that corn and wheat arrived via the port. This implied that, beyond this continent, there was at least one other land of comparable civilization, where corn and potatoes existed.

But distant matters could wait. For now, he had to manage Deer-Crane Ravine.

He hid all his acquisitions in a secret place before returning alone to his lodgings.

He was not reckless; the “Bone-deep Fragrance” had been applied to him—it could not be washed or masked, only fade with time. Until suspicion was cleared, he could not return to Deer-Crane Ravine.

Otherwise, his base would be exposed.

Ever since the Daoist had set his sights on him, Xu Wenshan kept his distance from Lu Ze and Spider, the two demons. So now, he sat alone in his room.

…

This is not the work of mortals.

The Daoist took one look and made his judgment.

There was a trace of demonic aura lingering on the corpse, which was also mutilated—most likely, the deceased was afflicted by evil during life.

Such details aside, the corpse inspired a new line of thought.

Evil cultivators.

Within the Daoist tradition, some fall to temptation, neglecting the study of the true path and devoting themselves to sinister arts.

These arts are often adapted from the sorcery of demons and monsters. They are considered outcasts from the righteous path.

Lu Wuji surmised that the reason he had detected no magical power before was that an evil cultivator had used some dark art to conceal their aura. In this vast world, anything was possible.

Of all those he considered, Xu Wenshan seemed the most likely candidate.

Since demon cultivators had been extinct for ages, Lu Wuji did not think in that direction.

Evil cultivators could be eliminated legally, and their treasures seized. If he could capture one who had caused great harm, the Immortal Alliance would reward him.

At this thought, Lu Wuji felt his body flush with excitement.

He had lingered at the mid-stage of Foundation Establishment for fifty years. Without a spiritual vein, elixirs, or powerful magical tools, he might be stuck at this level for the rest of his life.

Even immortals must seize fortune, just as horses fatten on night grass and men grow rich by windfall.

He needed to stand out in this incident.

How he handled the matter now would determine whether he could rise from this event.

After a moment’s thought, Lu Wuji asked County Constable Xu Zhong, “What grievance did Song San have with your daughter?”

The constable lowered his head. “Master Daoist, Song San was disrespectful to my daughter two days ago.”

“Your daughter—is she the young master Xu Jing, who disguised herself as a man?” Lu Wuji searched his memory.

The constable nodded.

“Bring her here,” Lu Wuji demanded.

The constable’s expression soured. “Last night, my daughter quarreled with me and ran away from home. She has yet to return.”

The registrar shouted, “That’s it! That’s it! She wasn’t home last night—she must have killed my nephew!”