Chapter Ten: The Old Man of Crimson Fate

I had to be the old squad leader’s chief mourner, and I had long wanted to take on that role. If not for Zhao Haikun’s vague, halfhearted attitude, I would have said it long ago.

I understood the etiquette of such things. More than that, I knew that only by wearing mourning garb for the old squad leader could I gain the standing to have a say in this funeral, the right to stop the fraud and nonsense of the so-called celestial master, and the right to intervene in the Zhao family’s affairs.

It was an astonishing declaration, but it had been made only after careful thought.

What pleased me, however, was that my words won the support of many people, especially my comrade from the same year’s enlistment, Zhao Hong.

He, too, could no longer bear this complete farce.

Like Hongye, Zhao Hong came up behind me and spoke in support: “The old squad leader’s business is our business. Comrades are brothers whose bones may be broken, but whose sinews remain connected. If my brother keeps watch over the coffin, I’ll keep watch too!”

With Zhao Hong backing me up, I immediately felt my confidence harden, and it left the Zhao couple with even less room to object.

If they would not recognize me as a disciple, then they had to recognize me as a comrade.

So that was how I, Xian Hongye, and Zhao Hong formed a united front, glaring coldly together, determined to see whether this celestial master could break through the iron wall formed by the three of us.

Unlike our imposing bearing, the celestial master was now in an extremely awkward position.

The matter was no longer his to decide, and certainly not something he could change with a few words of deception to the Zhao couple.

The liar surnamed Duan staggered up from the ground, glaring at me with intense resentment, while not forgetting to threaten us: “You dare sabotage this poor Daoist’s art! Fine! When Zhao Haipeng’s vengeful ghost kills you, don’t come crying that I was not honorable!”

His words and actions did not match. After tossing out that harsh line, he turned as if to flee, even remembering to grab his broken wooden case and the vest stuffed with money as he went.

At last, that brat had backed down.

But just as the fraud turned to run, another problem suddenly arose.

A bloodied thing came racing swiftly from the corner of the courtyard wall and silently bore down on him.

Blood splashed across the ground.

It was moving so fast, and was so drenched in gore, that it really did look like a human head. That sight made our eyes widen and our nerves tighten once more.

That mangled mass of flesh and blood set the ladies present shrieking, and it left me even more baffled.

Where on earth had this sudden “demon thing” come from?

In the midst of its frantic dash, it slammed squarely into the celestial master’s leg and stopped at once, curling into a trembling ball while blood continued to bubble out in gouts.

Only then, as it came to a halt, did I finally see clearly what the blood-soaked thing truly was. It was none other than the old rooster with its tail clipped short, whose head had been cut off by the celestial master’s shears.

The headless chicken body had come back to seek revenge.

Because I was a cook trained in the savory trades, I knew chickens very well. There is a vulgar name for this creature: “Scarlet Fate.” The origin of the name is closely tied to a very peculiar physiological phenomenon in chickens.

Put simply, that phenomenon is that “even when beheaded, it does not die; bathed in red blood, it can still live.”

A chicken’s vitality is far stronger than that of ordinary animals. Many times, even if you cut its head clean off and sever body from head, its body can still live for a long time without a head, all the while running as blood pours out.

Foreigners even conducted experiments on this. So long as the proper measures are taken, a headless chicken can reportedly survive for two or three hours without issue; the longest-lived one, they say, survived eighteen months.

Perhaps it was because of this stubborn vitality that chickens have long been regarded as creatures of intensely strong yang energy, and the older they are, the stronger that energy becomes. If a rooster lives to ten years, its yang energy can even turn into a blood toxin. By reputation, this is a “yang poison” more vicious than arsenic, with a single drop of blood able to poison a red-headed centipede.

That is why there has always been a saying among the common people: “An old turtle from a thousand years weighs no more than a feather; blood from a ten-year chicken is poisonous as a blade.”

So any respectable cook would absolutely never serve old chicken to a customer. Never mind a ten-year-old bird; even one over two years old should not be brought to the table. The reason is simple: its yang energy is too overwhelming and has already become poisonous. To eat it recklessly would do more harm than good.

Thus, when that headless rooster swayed its body and crashed into the celestial master, I quickly calmed down.

It was nothing unusual at all. Nothing worth making a fuss over.

But unlike our composure, the celestial master, who knew nothing of the cause, was startled instead.

He had no professional discipline as a swindler at all. He did not even have the courage to look at the corpse in the coffin when it opened its eyes, much less face this bloodied headless chicken that could still run down the street.

After a glance at the blood-soaked, headless rooster, the celestial master shuddered violently and let out a cry.

Then, pointing at the bird, he shouted, “You vengeful ghost! You even dare send a dead chicken to scare me... I, I’ll go back and invite my ancestral master to deal with you!”

That sentence was tantamount to admitting he had lost his nerve. There was no trace of his earlier swagger in his voice anymore; instead, he sounded as though he were already looking for an escape. Truly, he had been frightened senseless by this suddenly risen-from-the-dead chicken.

As he spoke, he no longer cared about saving face. Trembling all over, he backed toward the Zhao family’s gate, not moving quickly at all. Clearly his calves had gone soft from fright at the resurrected rooster, and perhaps he was also wary of provoking the chicken further.

But as the saying goes, “when the tree longs for stillness, the wind will not cease.” The more afraid the celestial master seemed to be, the more trouble kept finding him.

Just as he had retreated only a few steps, the headless rooster standing motionless on the ground suddenly blasted a stream of fresh blood straight onto the celestial master’s face.

Chicken blood sprayed more than four feet from the carcass, striking the celestial master’s face just as he was turning back, uneasily and on edge.

The celestial master turned red-faced, like Guan Yu.

That mouthful of blood completely knocked the fraud back to his true colors, and it became the last straw that broke the camel’s back.

After being splashed with the chicken blood, he mentally collapsed. While running, he shrieked at the top of his lungs, “A ghost! It’s a ghost!” and stumbled, weaving drunkenly, out through the Zhao family’s gate.

His panic brought chaos and laughter to the scene.

I understood the principle behind it, but my sister-in-law Yuxiu did not. From what I could see, Zhao Haikun did not know either. Though he was a cook in the kitchen of the five internal organs, he worked the pastry side, the white-board kitchen. It seemed... he did not know.

The two of them had clearly been frightened silly by this sudden turn of events. Once the celestial master ran, the Zhao family’s hosts lost their composure as well.

Gui Yuxiu, glancing fearfully at the still-spraying headless rooster, shouted after the celestial master, “Master, you can’t just ignore us...”

Zhao Haikun, by contrast, seemed calmer, but he still gripped his wheelchair and called to his wife, “Hurry and take me out! We absolutely cannot let the master get away! If he runs, what are we supposed to do...”

Amid a chorus of shouts and cries, Gui Yuxiu pushed Zhao Haikun’s wheelchair out after him. Ah Si and Zhao Hong, eager to enjoy the spectacle, also rushed out through the Zhao family’s gate. Most amusing of all was the headless rooster, which had originally stood still; perhaps stirred by the sound waves of the commotion, it too suddenly took off and followed the crowd.

The funeral hall for the old squad leader was instantly a good deal emptier.

I very much wanted to seize the chance to go out and give the fraud a beating, but my leg only moved once before I restrained myself and did not follow everyone else out to watch the excitement.

I had more important things to do.

Once the scene quieted, I turned back and walked to the old squad leader’s coffin. Looking at the man inside, whose eyes were still faintly open in death, refusing to rest in peace, I let out a long sigh.

I reached out with a slightly trembling hand, slowly closed the squad leader’s eyes, then gently placed that black bowl, the one called “the bowl that subdues heaven,” upon his forehead.

My throat tightened as I said, “Squad leader, rest easy and go in peace while I keep watch for you. Whatever happens to the Zhao family is my concern now. No one will trouble you anymore, Master.”

After saying those words, I knelt deeply and bowed my head hard to the ground.

At that moment, a gentle, slender hand rested lightly on my shoulder.

I looked up along the hand and saw that it was Xian Hongye, the only one who had not gone out to see the commotion.

I rose and asked, “Why aren’t you going out to take a look?”

Hongye frowned in disgust. “It’s all blood. What’s there to see? ...I need to tell you something serious.”

Seeing her solemn expression, I could not help but knit my brows as well. “What is it?”

She got straight to the point. “What do you think of that celestial master? Was he really that capable?”

I lifted my eyes and looked at her with a very strange expression.

What a question. That celestial master was nothing but a con man, cowardly and skinny as a rake. He was the worst swindler I had ever seen.

So I answered without hesitation, “That guy’s just a street hawker selling worthless nostrum paste. He has no real skill.”

“You’re wrong,” Xian Hongye said gravely, correcting me. “That old man’s cultivation is extremely high. He was pretending to be mad and foolish just now, and...”

As she said this, her expression suddenly turned frightening. Word by word, as though afraid I might not hear clearly, she told me, “When the celestial master was performing his rite just now, he nearly cost you your life!”

Hongye’s words were like a bolt from the blue.

I knew she was a woman with keen powers of observation. If she said something, it must be grounded in evidence; it could not possibly be mere sensationalism.

But to believe that a ridiculous fraud like him had deep powers and had nearly killed me was still extremely difficult.

I could not even convince myself.

Besides, why would he want to kill me? There was no personal grudge between us. True, I had ruined his scam and kicked him twice, but surely it was not enough for us to become mortal enemies and try to take each other’s lives.

I knew that with my own head alone, I would never figure out the reason for all this. If I wanted to understand the key to it all, I would have to ask Hongye, who was skilled at observation and deduction.

But just as I was about to continue questioning her about the crux of the matter, we suddenly heard a pitiful howl from outside the Zhao family’s gate.

Then a hoarse voice wailed faintly from the doorway: “Someone’s dead... someone’s dead...”

At that, Hongye and I both startled at once and ran toward the gate of the Zhao residence, forcing the matter of the celestial master to be put aside for the moment.

What a thing: one wave had barely subsided before another arose.