Chapter Eleven: Peril in the City

Kong Siqi spoke thus at the banquet, addressing all gathered with a voice trembling with excitement and emotion, leaving the guests utterly astonished.

A scholar expressing such heartfelt gratitude to a mere student, even one born into a family of literary lineage, was unheard of. Yet soon enough, they discerned the true meaning behind it: Kong Siqi had already copied the poem onto silk.

"On July Fifth, a Gift to Elder Brother Kong and Fellow Students of Shiyang Academy"

The poem composed by Song Mu was, in effect, dedicated to Kong Zong. This poem, a Song of Literary Inspiration, could infuse literary spirit, cleansing a scholar’s essence—such transformation could rightly be called a rebirth.

Kong Siqi’s actions were proof that the poem had indeed worked its wonders. The jade of the Kong family’s literary lineage was in Kong Siqi’s hands; whatever changes it had undergone, he alone would know. Thus, Song Mu had bestowed a great fortune upon the descendants of the Kong clan.

The guests now eagerly examined the poem, and when they heard the line, “Talented men emerge with each generation, each reigning brilliant for centuries,” all drew sharp breaths.

Such generous words needed no further explanation. As long as Kong Zong remained true at heart, in days to come, the Kong family would surely see another scholar rise!

This opportunity could extend the Kong family’s literary tradition for another hundred years.

Having understood the significance, many rose to offer warm greetings, the earlier astonishment swept away, praises echoing throughout the hall, making the atmosphere lively.

Song Mu became the evening’s focal point; it seemed, thanks to this event, the Song family was once again held in esteem.

Song Mu also spotted his second uncle, Song Liangda, seated with the Kong family’s elder cousin, laughing and raising his cup, yet wiping at his eyes from time to time.

His own nephew was no ordinary soul, but a precious gem hidden beneath dust, now revealed in splendor.

At Song Mu’s table, he had just toasted and sat with his mentor, Jin Changwu, the magistrate of Shiyang County, when another guest raised his cup in celebration.

“Master Song, my son Pan Wenhao is a good friend of yours. Today, I’ll shamelessly call you my worthy nephew. Uncle Pan offers this cup to you, to honor the scholars of Shiyang.”

It was Pan Shun, the county constable, whose lean face was alight with a warm smile; his gestures carried a sense of kinship. Song Mu smiled respectfully, rising to address him as Uncle Pan.

Seeing Song Mu’s courteous response, Pan Shun, surprised, spoke more kindly in front of the crowd, urging Song Mu to care for his son Pan Wenhao at the county academy, then said no more.

Most of Song Mu’s time was spent conversing with Kong Zong, speaking of the upcoming provincial exam, planning to attend together.

Song Mu gladly agreed, and amidst the constant toasting, found himself somewhat hurried. As the hour grew late and guests began to depart, Kong Siqi and others were thoroughly drunk. Song Mu took his leave from Kong Zong and the elderly matron of the Kong family, helping his equally intoxicated second uncle, Song Liangda, onto the carriage arranged by the Kong clan, bound for home.

“Mu boy, it’s been years since second uncle held his head high like this. Today, even the magistrate came to toast me.”

“Mu boy, you’ve done well. Study hard. The honor of the Song family now rests… rests on your shoulders.” Song Liangda, reeking of wine, mumbled in the carriage, his voice hoarse as if on the verge of tears.

Song Mu replied gently, urging the driver to hurry home, but suddenly, the carriage came to a halt.

Sensing something amiss, Song Mu peered outside. The driver, equally puzzled, spoke up.

“Master Song, someone’s blocking the road ahead, likely passed out drunk. I’ll go move them.”

The driver, familiar with such situations, got down and went forward to clear the men sprawled across the road. Song Mu lifted the curtain for a better view. The moonlight was faint, and a cool late-summer breeze sobered him. Looking at the group lying nearby, his heart stirred.

His mind’s ancient book suddenly trembled, its pages opening and fluttering, never revealing the final leaf.

Never before had the ancient book behaved so; usually it lay quiet within his mind, opening only when composing poetry, never displaying such a scene.

Song Mu, uneasy, sensed something strange. Meanwhile, the driver had reached the group lying in the road.

“Brothers, please clear the way, the carriage needs to pass.”

As he spoke, the driver reached to pull one of the prone men, but the moment he touched him, he recoiled and jumped back, screaming.

“My heavens! A ghost!”

His cry echoed far, and Song Mu, already uneasy, leaned further out of the carriage, calling ahead.

“Uncle, what’s happened…”

But before he finished, Song Mu shuddered.

A few crimson glows caught his eye—terrifying beams shining from the eyes of those men lying on the ground. In the darkness, the scarlet light was piercing, chilling.

As Song Mu’s voice faded, the red glow flickered, and those men rolled upright, all staring at Song Mu in unison.

In the next instant, a guttural, indescribable howl burst from one of their mouths.

The sound tore like cold wind through cloth, like a wild boar’s wail tumbling down a mountain, like someone whipping a feather duster beside your ear.

The driver, weeping and scrambling, climbed back onto the carriage. Song Mu’s skin crawled, but he quickly pulled the driver inside and shouted:

“Uncle, let’s go!”

Uncle, still shaken, watched as those uncanny figures—neither human nor ghost—approached the carriage.

Song Mu urged him on. The horse grew restless; the driver’s hands trembled as he turned the reins, but the narrow road made the carriage slow. The monsters drew ever closer.

Song Mu gritted his teeth, glancing at his unconscious uncle, then at the panicked driver, his gaze hardening.

Escaping on foot was impossible; confrontation was the only option.

As the monsters reached the carriage, Song Mu seized the reins from the driver and lashed the horse’s flank.

The horse, stung, neighed and charged at the monsters.

The carriage wheels rattled loudly in the silent night, Song Mu driving it forward with force. The monsters were now upon them.

With a crash, the horse trampled one creature, then the wheels lurched, crushing another. Inside, his uncle vomited uncontrollably; Song Mu tossed the terrified driver into the carriage as well.

He cared not what these things were—this world had demons and monsters, and he’d seen stranger things. But having come here, he was determined to survive.

Nothing was more terrifying than death.

Song Mu, teeth clenched, frantically urged the carriage onward, racing dozens of meters in the blink of an eye. Lights began to flicker on in nearby houses, as another chilling howl echoed behind them.

The sound was now some distance away. Just as Song Mu began to relax, a sudden shriek erupted from the carriage roof, and he found himself staring into the monster’s crimson eyes.

A face scarred and grotesque, baring yellowed teeth—some grown into long fangs—barely resembled a human.

“Ah!”

As Song Mu noticed, the creature lunged, pulling him down and tumbling off the carriage. His body scraped harshly against the dusty street, pain searing his back, while the monster gripped his throat.

Song Mu kicked desperately, but the creature seemed impervious to pain, screeching and lunging to bite.

At that moment, the glow of Song Mu’s student rank suddenly flared. A wave of energy burst forth, flinging the monster away, crashing it to the ground.

Meanwhile, a furious shout echoed through the city, and a figure soared up from the county academy.

“Hey! What foul creature dares commit violence here!”

…