Chapter Sixty-Two: A Night of Discontent

Time passed quickly, and by the time Feng Yuan finished writing ten thousand words, dusk had already fallen.

“That damn fat man actually didn’t show up today. What a surprise!” Feng Yuan thought to himself. He’d expected Fat Zhang to come, since he’d been visiting for several days in a row, and his absence today felt oddly unsettling.

“Young master, dinner is ready!” Hu Xiao came in from outside, having already prepared the meal. The fragrant aroma had long since wafted into the room, making Feng Yuan’s stomach rumble with hunger.

Ever since he began his cultivation, Feng Yuan’s appetite had grown day by day. Even though he hadn’t done much besides writing all afternoon, he was already famished, making him feel like a bottomless pit.

“Let’s eat,” Feng Yuan nodded to Hu Xiao, set down his brush, and walked outside. The dining table had already been set out in the courtyard, piled high with steaming dishes, the sight and scent both deeply enticing.

Half the table was dominated, as always, by chicken—so much so that just looking at it made Feng Yuan want to retch. Day after day, it was chicken; how could this little girl never tire of it?

Picking up a roast chicken from the table, Feng Yuan walked out toward the neighboring house, calling into the cowshed, “Ergou, this is for you!”

Inside the cowshed, Feng Ergou was gnawing on a rock-hard biscuit. When he saw the fragrant roast chicken in Feng Yuan’s hands, he couldn’t help but swallow hungrily. He scrambled up, took the roast chicken, and gave Feng Yuan a silly grin before crouching down and devouring it in huge bites, grinning up at Feng Yuan as he ate, not saying a word.

“Eat slowly, don’t choke,” Feng Yuan told him. Over the past few nights, he had been bringing food to Feng Ergou, an old childhood companion. The sight of Ergou, so pitiful and alone, tugged at Feng Yuan’s heart; he could help, so he did.

But the deeper reason was that Feng Yuan saw in Feng Ergou his own past self in the orphanage back in China—always alone, unloved, and shunned. The memory of that loneliness was terrifying, and so his compassion was stirred.

Afterwards, Feng Yuan returned home to eat dinner with Hu Xiao.

After dinner and a brief rest, Feng Yuan began his cultivation. He absorbed all the golden light from today’s finished manuscript. As for the golden glow above his head, today it failed to appear at all, a strange occurrence that left Feng Yuan a little disheartened—it felt like a loss.

By the time his cultivation was finished, it was already past ten at night. Seeing the hour, Feng Yuan called for Hu Xiao, and together they left the house, heading toward the estate of the village squire, Feng Yuanwai.

Feng Yuan meant to investigate just what kind of evil spirit haunted Feng Yuanwai’s house, shrouding it in ghostly miasma day and night. It needed to be destroyed, lest it bring harm to anyone in the village.

At this late hour, the village was silent and dark; even the dogs didn’t bark. In this deep stillness, Feng Yuan and Hu Xiao quickly arrived at the high wall outside Feng Yuanwai’s home.

“Up,” Feng Yuan said to Hu Xiao. He leapt lightly onto the wall, with Hu Xiao landing beside him. They looked around—no one in sight, only a few dim lights from within the house. It seemed everyone inside was fast asleep, and even the guard dog had vanished. The timing was perfect.

The two of them dropped quietly into the courtyard and began their search.

Feng Yuanwai’s house was quite large—three courtyards deep, with a side wing, rivaling the homes of wealthy city merchants, though the decor was plainer, befitting a country squire, and lacking the opulence of Master Zhang’s estate.

After searching for a while, they found nothing.

“That’s strange—why can’t I sense any ghostly aura?” Feng Yuan said to Hu Xiao, puzzled. During the day, the house had been so saturated with evil energy he could feel it from far away, but now there was nothing.

“Could the evil spirit have gone out to harm someone?” Hu Xiao ventured.

“Very possible. This is the hour when demons and malevolent spirits are most active. Let’s keep searching here, and if we find nothing, we’ll check the Sage’s Temple on the hillside,” Feng Yuan replied. The recent incidents had all occurred near the temple, and if the evil spirit struck again, it would likely be there.

Hu Xiao nodded, and they continued their search.

At that moment, on the mountainside behind the village, a single candle burned in the desolate Sage’s Temple. Around it sat three men—two burly fellows and an old man. Had Feng Yuan been present, he would have recognized the old man as Qiao Si, the steward from the Zhang estate.

Behind Qiao Si, two figures lay on the ground—a man and a woman. The man was exceedingly fat: none other than Fat Zhang, whom Feng Yuan had been thinking about earlier that evening. The woman, with elegant brows and delicate features, was also someone Feng Yuan knew: Zhao Qingxue, disguised as a man.

Both were unconscious, knocked out by Qiao Si and his men. That morning, Fat Zhang had been delivering a cartload of food to Feng Yuan’s house when he encountered Zhao Qingxue, also disguised as a man. She had come in search of Feng Yuan, desperate for more of his novels, having gone days without anything new to read.

Having failed to find Feng Yuan over the past few days, she happened upon Fat Zhang on his way to make a delivery and accompanied him. But midway, both were ambushed by Qiao Si’s group and taken to the Sage’s Temple. Under their sorcery, the two revealed Feng Yuan’s whereabouts, then were rendered unconscious, lying there since midday.

“Steward Qiao, why keep these two alive? Let’s kill them. Look at that little beauty—tender as can be! Her flesh must be delicious. Why not eat her now and get it over with?” one of the burly men said, eyeing Zhao Qingxue and nearly drooling.

“Yeah, Steward Qiao, no use keeping them around. Let’s eat them. It’s been so long since I tasted human flesh—I’m suffering here!” the other brute chimed in.

The two stared at Zhao Qingxue as though she were a roast chicken.

“Silence!” Qiao Si glared at them. “These two are valuable. They’re both close to Feng Yuan. We’ll stick to the plan: you two pretend to be under orders from Prefect Liu, ambush Feng Yuan, kill his maidservant, and severely injure him. Then I’ll appear, drive you off, and save him. Afterwards, I’ll return these two to him, claiming we rescued them from Liu’s men. What do you think Feng Yuan will do?”

The two brutes looked at Qiao Si, utterly baffled.

“Idiots. He’ll be deeply grateful. Then he’ll owe the master a life debt and work for him!” Qiao Si snapped.

“Oh, so that’s it! Steward Qiao, you’re a genius!” they exclaimed in sudden realization, showering him with praise.

Qiao Si couldn’t help but feel their compliments were an insult to his intelligence.

“All right, enough chatter. It’s time to act!” Qiao Si said, rising and heading outside. The two brutes followed, and the three of them hurried down the mountain toward Feng Yuan’s house.

Before long, they arrived at Feng Yuan’s doorstep. Qiao Si hid behind the house, signaling the two brutes to go inside.

They nodded and slipped into the house.

A few minutes later, they returned to Qiao Si. “Steward Qiao, nobody’s here.”

“No one? Impossible. Where would they go at this hour? The house is still lit!” Qiao Si said in confusion.

“Looks like they went out. Should we wait in ambush for their return?” suggested one of the brutes.

“Yes, do it. Hurry!” Qiao Si agreed. The two brutes slipped back inside and hid, lying in wait…