Volume One: The Journey of the Useless—Fiery Demon Slayer Chapter Fifty-three: Informing the Authorities—Outer Sect Disciple

After the previous ordeal when Chang Yu was abducted, Chen San and the others were more cautious this time and only booked two large rooms at the inn. Each room had three beds—one for the four young men, and the other for Chen San and his party. Chen San and Yang Chengzi shared a bed, while Chang Yu and the master each had their own. At first, Chang Yu was reluctant. It was hardly proper for a young maiden to sleep in the same room as a bunch of rough men. But Chen San, ever the miser, refused to spend extra, and since she hadn’t brought any money herself, she had no choice but to acquiesce.

Once Chang Yu agreed, Yang Chengzi immediately lay down, a smile playing at his lips. He’d been worried Chen San’s big mouth would let slip the details of Chang Yu’s previous kidnapping, but thankfully, Chen San wasn’t that foolish.

So, they all slept soundly through the night. At dawn, Chen San and the others asked the innkeeper about the location of the magistrate’s office in Hui Feng Town. The innkeeper told them it was at the northern end of town, neither too close nor too far. The group discussed their plan: Chen San and Yang Chengzi would go to the magistrate, while the rest would stay at the inn.

Hui Feng Town’s streets bustled with people in broad daylight. Chang Yu couldn’t resist the urge to go out for a stroll, but the monk Suichang refused and frightened her with stern warnings, managing to scare her into staying obediently in the room. With nothing else to do, she began flipping through a Daoist scripture from Yang Chengzi’s bundle, reading it with surprising diligence.

Chen San and Yang Chengzi walked northward for about half the time it takes to burn an incense stick before spotting the magistrate’s office. The gates were wide open, and since there was no one beating the drum to lodge a complaint, the two simply walked inside.

A bailiff from Hui Feng Town came out to greet them. He learned that Yang Chengzi was a Daoist from Mount Mao with urgent business for the county magistrate and wasted no time, rushing inside to report. Chen San found a bench and sat down unceremoniously. Soon, the county magistrate hurried out, adjusted his official hat, and ordered two grand chairs to be brought out, along with tea. He exchanged pleasantries with Yang Chengzi and even managed a few words with Chen San. Since Chang Yu and the master were still at the inn, Yang Chengzi kept things brief, quickly reporting the situation in Jingyao Village.

When the magistrate heard that all the villagers of Jingyao had been slaughtered by a sorcerer, he was so frightened that he dropped his teacup, unable to speak for a while. Yang Chengzi urged the magistrate to find more Daoists to handle the matter. The magistrate nodded repeatedly, not daring to delay, and immediately ordered his men to ride to Mount Mao and summon more Daoists. Yang Chengzi also told them to send several people, as it was unlikely a single person could have destroyed an entire village.

Before Yang Chengzi and Chen San had even left the magistrate’s office, the bailiffs were already galloping toward Mount Mao. The two made no further delay. Chen San, ever shameless, even asked the magistrate for some money, much to Yang Chengzi’s embarrassment. But compared to the time spent telling fortunes in the street, Chen San’s way was much quicker, so he allowed it.

Chen San pocketed the silver, and the two hurried back to the inn.

When they opened the door, Yang Chengzi saw that Chang Yu was reading his Daoist scripture. He was a little surprised but said nothing, as it was just an ordinary text, something to pass the time.

After briefing the master on what had happened, and with Chen San having already arranged provisions with the innkeeper, they set out for Beixian Village.

Though called a village, Beixian was no small place—there were over a hundred households, making it almost as large as a small town like Chen Family Town. Not only were there farmers, but also many people who went to Hui Feng Town to trade. There was also an acquaintance of Yang Chengzi’s living there—Lu Qichang, an outer disciple of Mount Mao.

Though not Yang Chengzi’s direct disciple, Lu Qichang was eager to learn and undeterred by hardship. Yang Chengzi had taught him some basic spells while his own master was away, making him half a teacher to Lu Qichang, who thus knew a few exorcism techniques.

Lu Qichang was honest and upright. Though only an outer disciple, Yang Chengzi could tell he had studied on Mount Mao so he could return home and be of help to his village when needed.

There were many such disciples from Mount Mao. They hadn’t fully entered the Dao, but having learned some simple techniques, they could return home to act as local Daoists, perform rituals, tell fortunes, and read feng shui in town. Life was comfortable enough.

Yang Chengzi knew Lu Qichang lived in this village, but not which household, as he had never been here before. After a long day’s journey, they finally reached the village entrance to the north. There weren’t many people about, but the fact that someone was there suggested the village was still safe for now.

Chen San didn’t know Yang Chengzi had an acquaintance here. He slapped Yang Chengzi on the shoulder, raising his brow, “Well, Daoist Yang, whether we sleep on the ground tonight depends on you. Come, let me give you a shoulder rub—relax, and work your magic on the village chief to get us a couple of decent rooms.”

With that, he started kneading Yang Chengzi’s shoulders, his face full of obsequious flattery. Chang Yu looked on in disgust, cursing inwardly that Chen San had already said everything she wanted to say, and even acted so shamelessly. Unable to stand it, she gave him a swift kick in the backside.

Chen San was caught off guard by the kick and turned around with a frown. “Why’d you kick me? Is that something a proper young lady should do? Haven’t you read the classics? Didn’t they teach that girls shouldn’t kick people?”

Chang Yu rolled her eyes. “Didn’t you already say and do everything I wanted to? And with such a disgusting look on your face, acting all fawning—aren’t you ashamed? A grown man getting handsy with a Daoist. If I were a donkey, I’d kick you dead.”

Chen San bristled. “So what if I got handsy? We shared a bed last night—you didn’t like it? Why don’t you sleep with him, then? I’d rather have a bed to myself.”

Chang Yu’s cheeks instantly flushed scarlet. “Who wants to sleep with him? You scoundrel—why’d you have to say that out loud?”

Chen San was about to make another comment when Yang Chengzi shook his head. “Enough, stop fooling around. I have a friend in this village—an outer disciple of Mount Mao. If we find him, we’ll have a place to stay.”

Chen San turned at once. “Really? There sure are a lot of Mount Mao disciples. Even out here there’s one.”

“It’s not so far—just a ten-day journey or so. Places like this tend to have more outer disciples.”

Chang Yu was puzzled. “Why’s that? Why are there so many outer disciples this far out?”

“A ten-day journey isn’t too near or far. If something happens, an outer disciple can handle it; there’s no need to send someone all the way up the mountain to fetch a Daoist—it takes too long. So some villages send people to Mount Mao to learn a few simple yin-yang techniques, so they can handle rituals and feng shui without waiting for a Daoist to arrive.”

“And if they run into something they can’t handle?”

Chen San shook his head. “Then they fetch a Daoist, of course. Isn’t that obvious?”

Chang Yu was so exasperated she could only sputter, “You—” and made to hit Chen San, who dodged behind Yang Chengzi.

Yang Chengzi could only shake his head at the two of them. “Let’s just ask someone for directions. I know which village, but not which house—this is my first time here.”

Just then, an old woman came out of the house near the village gate. She was very old, tottering as she walked, carrying a bowl of water as if to deliver it to someone. Chen San dashed over like a hound loosed after a rabbit, startling her so badly she nearly spilled the water and almost fell. If not for Yang Chengzi’s quick reflexes in catching her, Chen San might have caused a real disaster.

The old woman must have been seventy or eighty; a fall would have been disastrous. Seeing Yang Chengzi steady her, Chen San realized his blunder and grimaced awkwardly.

Chang Yu muttered quietly, “Look at you—clumsy as ever. You nearly scared an old woman to death just trying to ask a question.”

Yang Chengzi steadied the old woman. “We’re so sorry, madam. My friend is a bit rash—he didn’t mean to frighten you. You happened to come out just as we needed directions. I hope we didn’t scare you.”

The old woman took a few breaths before saying, “You nearly startled these old bones to pieces! How can you walk without making a sound?”

In truth, it wasn’t entirely Chen San’s fault; the old woman was rather hard of hearing and hadn’t noticed them.

Chen San bowed repeatedly in apology. “Madam, I truly didn’t mean to startle you. We’re looking for an acquaintance in this village. It’s our first time here and we’d like to know which house he lives in—it’s getting dark, so we were a bit anxious.”

“Who are you looking for? What’s his name?”

Chen San was about to answer when he realized he didn’t know Yang Chengzi’s friend’s name. Yang Chengzi stepped in, “His name is Lu Qichang, a Daoist who once studied at Mount Mao.”

The old woman nodded. “Ah, him. I’ll take you there. I was just about to bring water to my son, so I’ll show you the way.”

She glanced down at the broken bowl and sighed, “Another good bowl ruined.”

Feeling guilty, Chen San quickly fished out a few coins—enough to buy several bowls—and offered them to the old woman, who accepted them without hesitation.

“Young man, don’t be so reckless in the future. This time it’s just a bowl, but if you scare someone to death, that’s a much bigger matter.”

Though her words were a bit harsh, Chen San knew he was in the wrong and could only nod obediently. He returned to the house and brought out another bowl of water.

Yang Chengzi took it from her to avoid any more spills, and as they walked, he asked, “Madam, it’s nearly dark—won’t your son come home for dinner? Why do you have to bring him water?”

The old woman sighed. “It’s just the two of us, mother and son. My husband died early, and I’m too old to work the fields, so he has to do it all alone—there’s nothing to be done.”

Something seemed off to Chen San, so he asked, “Hasn’t your son married?”

Before he could finish, Yang Chengzi shot him a glare. Chen San wasn’t sure why, but realized he’d blundered again.

The old woman’s face clouded with sorrow. “He did marry, but his wife died in childbirth, and neither mother nor child survived. There was a lot of nasty gossip in the village—saying he was cursed, that he doomed both wife and child. So he’s never remarried, and no one wants to matchmake for him.”

Chen San now understood why Yang Chengzi glared at him—he must have seen it in her son’s face. This time, Chen San kept his mouth shut, not saying another word until they met Lu Qichang.

They walked north through the village for a while, reaching the edge of the fields, where they found the old woman’s son. She called him Daniu. Daniu was hospitable, running over from the fields to drink a bowl of water and chat with Yang Chengzi. He wanted to take Yang Chengzi to find Lu Qichang himself, but there was still work to be done and dusk was approaching. Since his mother was headed that way, he asked her to lead the way instead.