IBGSW Chapter 161
Sixth Uncle
Truth be told, ever since reaching Kuailiang Village, Zhao Fusheng had been full of doubts.
According to Zhuang Laoqi, Zhuang Family Village had received Kuai Mancai’s plea for help seven or eight days earlier. Strange fog had already been hanging over Zhuang Family Village before Kuai Mancai ever came begging, and Kuailiang Village, across the river, had run into trouble several days before that.
From this she could deduce that the ghost case in Kuailiang Village had broken out a good while ago, and certainly not recently.
The female ghost at the bottom of the river was terrifyingly fierce. She had resisted even the imprints of the Zhao couple, who had been invested at Disaster-tier, and had even seemed on the verge of turning the tables on the Door God imprint. Her power therefore clearly exceeded Baleful-tier. She had to be Calamity-tier at the very least, and perhaps higher still.
Zhao Fusheng hadn’t been reborn for long and her experience handling ghost cases was still limited. But since her rebirth she had kept paging through the bureau’s case scrolls, and she had never come across a record of a malignant ghost reaching Baleful-tier the moment it revived. Almost all of them advanced step by step, killing again and again after they awoke.
A ghost like this one should have followed the same path. In fact, when she first saw Zhuang Family Village, her immediate suspicion had been that Kuailiang Village had already been wiped out.
Now that she had arrived, though, she found the village shrouded in darkness and the riverbank blanketed in ghost flowers, but otherwise it looked untouched by the female ghost. Most of the villagers were even still alive.
That left her facing something uncanny and thorny.
“Your Honor, something’s off here.”
Zhang Chuanshi sidled up beside her and murmured the warning.
He was no brute like Fan Wujiu, nor a greenhorn like Wu Shaochun. He had been watching how carefully Zhao Fusheng carried herself. Once they reached Kuailiang Village she had put away her usual easygoing willfulness. In her exchange with the man holding the pitchfork, she had first named Precinct Chief Zhou of Wulidian, stating her purpose, then mentioned the name Sixth Uncle Kuai1, and with a few words had dispelled the man’s suspicion and defused the tension before it started.
She carried a ghost in her body and had no reason to fear villagers. If she was smoothing things over, it was because the case came first and she didn’t want a clash.
“...”
Thinking this over, Zhang Chuanshi glanced at her thoughtfully, feeling he understood her temperament a little better.
Unaware of his thoughts, Zhao Fusheng simply nodded at his words.
“I think it’s strange too. We’ll wait and see after we meet Kuai Jusheng.”
As they spoke, a clamor rose from within the village. It sounded like doors being opened, and the creak of gates swinging wide came one after another.
“Let’s go over too. We’ll wait beneath the archway,” Zhao Fusheng said.
Fan Wujiu and Wu Shaochun fell in behind her, one on each side. Only Zhang Chuanshi, just before he stepped off, glanced back toward the river as if some spirit had nudged him.
In the night, the path of flowers that the four of them had trampled through on their way in had vanished completely. A sea of gaudy blooms had wiped out their footprints, and where the flowers had been crushed, fresh ghost flowers had sprouted and swayed in the wind.
At the water’s edge, the ghost boat they had come on was gone. The river lay empty and calm, with no trace left that anyone had paddled across it moments before.
Zhang Chuanshi shuddered, feeling both afraid and faintly relieved.
As a distant senior kinsman of Paperman Zhang, he had dealt with the uncanny before and understood the significance of a malevolent object. A commoner who obtained one gained the qualification to fight ghosts, and the object could save his life in danger. But once you were tangled up with such a thing, it attracted malignant ghosts and brought disaster. If you wanted to live to a peaceful old age, the best course was to have as little to do with these baleful things as possible.
For a man who feared death and clung to life, having been saddled with the ghost boat for no good reason was not good news.
The ghost boat was tied to the malignant ghost of Kuailiang Village, one of the things spawned when Fourth Madam Zhuang’s ghost revived. If he had subdued the boat, he would have been bound up with the female ghost, and that could get him killed. That was why, back on the river when Zhao Fusheng had told him to row, he had handed a human-bone oar to Wu Shaochun, and only breathed easy once he saw Wu Shaochun could row it too.
So the boat’s uncanny disappearance now was a good thing, Zhang Chuanshi thought. Wherever it had gone, and whether or not it went on to harm someone, it didn’t matter, so long as it wasn’t following him.
Reassured, he looked back and saw that Zhao Fusheng and the others were already far out of the flower beds. He was standing in the middle of the ghost flowers, drenched in red sap, and a chill ran through him.
“Your Honor, wait for me!” he called.
Then he took long strides and hurried after them.
By the time the four reached the village archway, there was movement in the village.
Firelight flared up one place after another in the distance. At first there was only whispering, but the voices gradually grew louder. A grim, oppressive feeling spread through the air, and soon the sound of scattered footsteps gathered together.
In the dark, countless eyes were watching them.
Wu Shaochun, being young, was unsettled by the secret scrutiny. He edged closer to Zhao Fusheng and whispered:
“Your Honor...”
“Don’t panic.” Zhao Fusheng shook her head and said nothing more.
Kuailiang Village had a fierce, tough reputation and plenty of manpower. Earlier, they had also put Fourth Madam Zhuang to death by private punishment, which had caused the ghost calamity, and the people here had made a poor impression on Zhao Fusheng. The bureau had only four people, so the two sides were not evenly matched, but she carried a ghost in her body and did not much fear ordinary villagers.
As the four spoke, the footsteps drew closer, and then an elderly voice asked:
“Mancai, where are these outside guests you spoke of?”
“Mancai?”
The name puzzled Zhao Fusheng. She traded a quick glance with Zhang Chuanshi and Wu Shaochun, and Fan Wujiu frowned and said:
“Mancai? Kuai Mancai?”
No one answered him. A man walking along answered the old man instead:
“Great-Sixth Uncle, over here!”
A moment later the four smelled a sharp smoky tang. Lamplight rose from the bamboo grove in the distance, and a group of people appeared at the far end of the path.
The one in front carried a pitchfork. He looked toward the archway at the village entrance, saw the four of them, and his eyes lit up. He pointed and shouted:
“Great-Sixth Uncle, over there, four people!”
Zhao Fusheng took in the newcomers. A large crowd had come out of the village, at least seventeen or eighteen people by her rough count. They carried seven or eight torches among them, and on seeing the four, they strode forward and slowed to a stop two or three zhang2 away.
A white-haired old man stood hemmed in at the center of the crowd, eyeing the bureau party warily.
Seeing this, Wu Shaochun and Fan Wujiu took up a defensive stance, each standing to one side of Zhao Fusheng. Zhang Chuanshi, the least useful of them, saw the villagers with hoes, manure forks and sickles. Remembering that Magistrate Pang had said Kuailiang Village was a rough and tough place, he was afraid of being beaten in a melee, and slyly ducked behind Zhao Fusheng, showing only his eyes as he peered across at the other side.
The two sides faced off, both on guard.
Zhao Fusheng studied the old man in the middle of the crowd.
He looked to be about seventy, with a gaunt face and dark skin, his white hair combed up to reveal a forehead criss-crossed with wrinkles. His brow ridge was high and his eye sockets deep, and despite his age he was full of vigor and carried considerable authority. Evidently roused from sleep in the dead of night, he had hurriedly pulled on dark trousers and straw sandals, tied a sweat cloth at his waist, and draped a short green jacket over his shoulders. He was staring at Zhao Fusheng with a strange expression.
“You’re saying Precinct Chief Zhou sent people to—”
The old man’s eyes landed on Zhao Fusheng, but he tipped his head back and spoke to the pitchfork-wielding man beside him:
“These are them?”
The burly man said:
“Great-Sixth Uncle, I talked with them just now but didn’t see anyone. The one who spoke was a woman, though.”
Normally, whether official or elder, the one who has the final word is someone of advanced years. Of the four bureau members, Zhang Chuanshi was the oldest and looked the most like a leader. But he was so spineless that he had hidden himself behind the others the moment they arrived. And the old man addressed as “Great-Sixth Uncle” had noticed that Zhao Fusheng was shielded by Fan and Wu, yet stood composed and neither servile nor haughty under the villagers’ stares, so he already had his answer.
He tugged his clothes straight and thrust his arms into the sleeves. Before he could speak, Zhao Fusheng asked:
“Kuai Jusheng? Are you Sixth Uncle Kuai of Kuailiang Village?”
At her direct use of the name “Kuai Jusheng,” the other villagers all showed flashes of anger. Before Sixth Uncle could speak, they fanned out of their own accord and surrounded the four from the bureau.
“You—” The man with the pitchfork showed hostility in his eyes and was about to bellow when the old man, having finished putting on his clothes, frowned and called out:
“What are you doing? What are you doing! A guest from afar is still a guest. What kind of way is this to behave?”
“Sixth Uncle, this slip of a girl dares call you by name—” the pitchfork man answered.
“A name is made to be called. Kuai Jusheng, Sixth Uncle, they are all just forms of address. Don’t let the guests see you make fools of yourselves. Come back here!”
The old man waved his hand and told the villagers not to be rude.
Zhao Fusheng smiled.
Fan Wujiu, on the other hand, had no idea when to let things lie. He and Fan Bisi had been raised from childhood by Zhao Duan, born into a family of ghost-controllers, and their nature was to never let go of an advantage once they had it. Hearing the old man speak, he felt no gratitude. The bureau was supposed to receive this kind of courtesy wherever it went on a case, so as soon as the old man’s words fell, he said:
“Good thing you’ve got some sense, old man. Otherwise we’d have had to teach this pack of unruly rabble a lesson sooner or later.”
“You—”
Fan Wujiu’s words instantly enraged the already unwilling villagers, and the crowd surged up, shouting that these outsiders should be seized.
“...”
Hiding behind Zhao Fusheng, Zhang Chuanshi glared at Fan Wujiu:
“You blockhead, if you want to pick a fight at least check whether we’ve got enough men! If we get beaten, I’m going to your brother for the medical bill when we get back.”
“Quiet!” Zhao Fusheng barked.
“Enough!” Sixth Uncle shouted as well.
Zhao Fusheng looked at the villagers, the smile vanishing from her face and her expression turning cold in an instant:
“I didn’t come here to trade barbs. From here on, I ask and you answer. No idle chatter.”
She commanded awe without any show of anger.
Feeling the pressure, Sixth Uncle’s heart jumped, and he told the other villagers not to make trouble.
Having warned them, Zhao Fusheng paid no attention to what the villagers were thinking, and asked directly:
“Kuai Jusheng? Sixth Uncle Kuai?”
The old man paused, then nodded:
“That’s me.”
For all his years, the man was not muddled or doddering, and he seemed quite sensible about reading the situation. This turned Zhao Fusheng’s impression of him around a few more degrees.
“I heard you call out ‘Mancai’ just now. Is that Kuai Mancai?”
Sixth Uncle didn’t know why she asked, but he could tell by now that Zhao Fusheng was no ordinary visitor, and he answered cautiously after thinking a moment:
“Your Honor, everyone in Kuailiang Village is of the same clan and lineage. The men and boys all bear the surname Kuai. Mancai’s full name is indeed Kuai Mancai.”
Fan Wujiu said in surprise:
“Didn’t Kuai Mancai die?!”
That one sentence stirred up fury at once.
“Nonsense!”
“Sixth Uncle, I say this brat came on purpose to pick a quarrel!”
“Tie them up!”
...
The crowd was seething. Zhao Fusheng watched the uproar coldly, without a flicker of alarm.
“Hold on, everyone.”
Sixth Uncle was angry too, but he was sharp, and seeing Zhao Fusheng so unruffled and seemingly unafraid even now, he guessed she had something to rely on.
When Kuai Mancai had come to report, he had said the visitors claimed Precinct Chief Zhou had heard of the trouble in Kuailiang Village and sent people to look into it. The precinct chief was court personnel, and although Kuailiang Village was a power unto itself, commoners did not fight officials, and that had been the rule since ancient times.
Sixth Uncle swallowed his anger. He clasped his hands together and gave a bow:
“Mancai said you called yourselves guests invited by Precinct Chief Zhou, which makes you envoys of the court. Our Kuailiang Village has always obeyed the law. We have never been late with our tax silver, and we answer corvée calls3 eagerly. What have we done to anger you so, honored sirs?”
According to Zhuang Laoqi, the ghost calamity in Kuailiang Village had come from the village privately executing Fourth Madam Zhuang, causing a malignant ghost to revive, and this Sixth Uncle was the ringleader of the case.
Zhao Fusheng had thought poorly of him from the start, and had jumped to the conclusion that he was a hidebound, savage, stubborn, vicious old man. Now, seeing how orderly his speech was, and how he swallowed his pride again and again, he did not seem like someone brutish and unreasonable, and she was somewhat surprised.
“Why don’t I invite you honored guests into the village? I’ll have my family boil some hot water so you can wash your faces and hands, then cook something to host you. If there’s been a misunderstanding, we can sort it out one point at a time. What do you think, Your Honor?”
Zhao Fusheng’s gaze swept over Fan Wujiu and Wu Shaochun, then flickered, and she nodded in agreement:
“All right.”
With both leaders having stated their positions in turn, the clash of tempers dissolved on the spot.
Sixth Uncle let out a breath of relief inwardly.
He glanced at Fan, Wu and Zhang. Zhang Chuanshi, hearing that there would be washing up, food and drink, beamed. Fan Wujiu and Wu Shaochun seemed to follow Zhao Fusheng’s lead in everything and raised not a single objection to what she said. That told him what he needed to know, and he turned and gave orders to the people beside him:
“Our guests have arrived. You quick-footed ones, run home ahead and tell my old lady to get the fire going and kill a chicken.”
As soon as he finished, someone spoke up:
“Sixth Uncle, your household isn’t well off. Better save those two chickens for laying eggs. Come to my place, I’ll have my wife kill a chicken.”
“Come to my house! Last year my luck was good, I dug a lot of white perilla and sold it for a nice sum. I bought a few fish and made them into salted fish and hung them at home. They’re still there, and they smell wonderful. Perfect for entertaining guests.”
The crowd had been wary of the bureau’s arrival, but after Sixth Uncle spoke, they dropped their earlier hostility and turned warm, competing with each other to invite Zhao Fusheng’s party to their homes.
“Don’t fight over it,” Sixth Uncle said with a smile. “The guests have come. They’ll go to my house first, and afterwards they can decide for themselves where to visit.”
He carried great prestige in the village, and once he said this, no one argued.
“This way, please!”
When Sixth Uncle gestured, Zhao Fusheng nodded and stepped forward.
Fan Wujiu and the other two followed close behind her. The villagers put away their farm tools and gathered around them.
