Volume One: Miscellaneous Duties in Changshui County Chapter Forty-Three: Stealing the Business of the Thousand Mechanisms Pavilion

The initial purchase price was only ten copper coins; add a zero and it was sold directly to the next buyer. The middleman—the steward standing before him—earned ten coins, while the Thousand Mechanisms Tower, represented by Manager Chen, pocketed eighty.

“Do you know what price the Thousand Mechanisms Tower sells this herb for?” Lu Jiuzhang asked.

“Sir, of course I know, but if I don’t sell to them, no one else will buy,” the steward replied bitterly. He envied the profit the Tower reaped, but there was nothing he could do—he couldn’t force them out and take over the business himself.

“I remember there are a few other herbal shops in Changshui County. Can’t you sell to them?” Lu Jiuzhang inquired.

“The other shops offer even lower prices, just sixteen or seventeen coins. Selling to the Tower gets me the most. Manager Chen claims these herbs are shipped from Anxi Prefecture, grown by a sect famous for its spiritual medicine, so the prices are high.”

“Strange as it may sound, people actually believe him, especially the wealthy families in town. They only buy from the Thousand Mechanisms Tower,” the steward added, still bewildered.

To Lu Jiuzhang, it was nothing more than a simple marketing ploy. The Tower’s name carried such weight that people took their word for it.

“So, the spiritual herbs you collect, you sell them all to the Tower as well?” Lu Jiuzhang steered the conversation to his true intent.

“Exactly. Take the Nine Suns Grass, for example. We might find a few stalks a year, and they all go to the Tower. Not just me—herb gatherers from other villages do the same. Changshui is remote, spiritual energy is scarce; we find forty or fifty stalks a year at most. If you count other spiritual herbs, perhaps a hundred in total. Still, we barely earn enough for our trouble, while the Tower makes a fortune.”

Lu Jiuzhang nodded, then revealed his purpose. “If you have spiritual herbs, you may sell them to me. Whatever Manager Chen pays you, I’ll add five taels of silver. If you introduce others to me, I’ll reward you with two taels per referral.”

Lu Jiuzhang was cutting into the Tower’s business.

“That’s wonderful, sir! We’ve always struggled to find buyers. Otherwise, who would put up with the Tower’s nonsense? They’re always nitpicking, claiming there’s some flaw here or there, just to dock our pay,” the steward vented, his anger at Manager Chen of the Tower plain to see.

“This is my address in Changshui County. Come to me directly,” Lu Jiuzhang said, writing down his address on a slip of paper.

...

When he returned to the village entrance, his colleagues had nearly finished their inquiries.

Only Zhou Cheng approached with a troubled expression.

Clearly, the matter was far more difficult than they had imagined.

“Let’s share what we’ve learned,” Zhou Cheng looked at the group.

“I’ll start. An old man told me the monster in the mountain prefers men, especially strong young ones. They say it is skilled in the arts of the bedchamber, making its victims feel pleasure beyond compare, then biting their necks and draining their blood at the height of ecstasy,” Wang Yunshan reported.

“What, Lao Wang, are you tempted to try yourself?”

“Come on, you’re not young anymore. Your wife can’t keep up with you, and you still sneak off to the Red Blossom Pavilion. Aren’t you afraid your wife will find out and bar you from the bed?”

“Tsk, tsk, let’s not mock him. He’s just a man with a man’s desires. Next time, take me with you, at least I can keep watch for you.”

The group erupted in laughter.

Wang Yunshan flushed red. “I’m not that kind of man. I rarely go to the Pavilion,” he protested, though he thought he’d been discreet. Clearly, his secret outings had not gone unnoticed.

“Silence!” Zhou Cheng barked, glaring at everyone before turning to Wang Yunshan. “As a member of the Demon Slayers, how can you believe such nonsense? You’re docked a month’s wages when we return!”

At that, everyone fell silent, and even Wang Yunshan looked disgruntled. Losing a month’s pay just like that—such was the lot of a menial worker.

A few others reported their findings, none differing much from what the Demon Slayers already knew. Zhou Cheng added, “The monster is said to dwell in the back mountain. The village chief told me this isn’t the first time a monster has appeared there. Several years ago, it was a tiger demon; a decade or so before that, a serpent demon. Chief Zhong came to investigate some years back. He suspected something unusual on the mountain allowed beasts to become demons, but found nothing after searching it thoroughly. This time, too, the incident occurred in the back mountain.”

He gazed toward the towering peak behind the village, ringed by endless mountains. Aside from its steepness, it seemed unremarkable.

“We rest a while, stock up on provisions, and then set out to investigate the back mountain,” Zhou Cheng commanded.

...

At that moment, in the Demon Slayers’ headquarters, Chen Xuanfeng entered the archive room.

He searched for about the time it takes an incense stick to burn before pulling a ledger from the shelves. Consulting the index, he quickly found the page he sought.

It read: “On the twenty-eighth day of the fourth month, I journeyed to Sanyi Village, Changshui County. Sanyi is the most remote village in the county, with one hundred and eight inhabitants.” The number was circled, as if it held particular significance.

Chen Xuanfeng read on: “Sanyi Village experiences monster sightings every few years, always in the back mountain. I went there to slay the demon but found nothing unusual.” It was signed by Zhong Zhengming, Chief of the Demon Slayers, several years ago.

Chen Xuanfeng then found another ledger, written more than a decade earlier by Vice Chief Zhong Zhengming, also concerning Sanyi Village. Even then, Zhong was already a rank-eight martial artist.

This old fox—had he reached the seventh rank yet? Chen Xuanfeng wondered.

He continued combing through the archives, finding records left by previous chiefs, stretching back nearly a century. He found it curious: Sanyi Village, every five or ten years, suffered a demon incident, yet its population always hovered just above one hundred. In such a small village, even a large animal could do great harm, let alone a demon. In years of drought or flood, when crops failed, villages like this should have withered away.

And yet, Sanyi Village endured, clinging tenaciously to life at the foot of the back mountain.