Chapter Twenty-Four: The Chivalrous Knight

Shen Chang'an then gave the woman and child a sum of money, had Zheng Xin write a letter, and asked a familiar caravan to escort them out of Fang City toward Lin'an. With the Hall of Loyalty and Righteousness as their shield, even if Shen Chang'an hadn't completely eradicated those rats, it would be near impossible for them to cause further trouble in Lin'an.

The rat who had impersonated Fang Sicheng was still alive, however. Shen Chang'an had bound him in the Fang family courtyard, leaving him baking under the sun. Only when Zheng Xin had finished handling things did Shen Chang'an come before him.

“Tell me everything you know,” Shen Chang'an said coldly.

“Ha, tell you? You old Daoist, just because you know a few tricks, you think you can swagger around Fang City? I've seen plenty of you so-called righteous types…”

He hadn't finished when Shen Chang'an reached out, grabbed his ear, and with a violent yank, tore it clean off.

A blood-curdling scream tore from the man, terror flooding his face. Was this a righteous man? Weren’t men of the orthodox path supposed to be soft-hearted?

Shen Chang'an tossed the ear aside, sneering. “That child said you killed his father and used human skin to change shape. I almost believed it. But now I see, your flesh is real, not the product of human skin sorcery.”

The man gritted his teeth, nearly deranged. “I'm not afraid to tell you! This is our most powerful magic, allowing us to blend with humans! If you kill me now, then Fang Sicheng will…”

Shen Chang'an reached out again, seized his arm, and with a crack, dislocated it.

“And then what? Go on, I'm listening…”

The rat spirit couldn't speak anymore. Just what kind of righteous man was this? He was crueler than the demonic path—mutilating limbs at a whim, tearing off ears. What sort of righteous man behaved like this?

“Not talking? Fine. I don’t care to waste words on you. You have ten breaths. If you don’t speak by then, I’ll take your head.”

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…”

“Wait! I'll talk, I'll talk!” Seeing Shen Chang'an's large hand reaching for his head, the rat spirit finally broke, begging for mercy.

Shen Chang'an nodded. “Speak.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk, Daoist master, but what do you want to know? Give me a question! If you just tell me to talk, I don’t know what you want!” the rat spirit protested miserably.

Shen Chang'an snorted. “You know very well what you should say.”

“Yes, yes, I understand!” As Shen Chang'an reached for his head again, the rat spirit blurted, “The Summer Villa is our lair!”

“Not that.”

“There are over three hundred of our brothers in the Summer Villa!”

“Not that either.”

“Our money comes from nightly raids on other cities…”

“Are you toying with me?!” Shen Chang'an glared, his hand ready to strike.

“No! Daoist master, what do you want to know? Just ask me directly. I’m really too stupid to guess…”

Shen Chang'an raised his brow and said coolly, “Who is your true leader? Why haven’t you dared to say that?”

“Our leader…” The rat spirit hesitated, a strange expression flickering across his face. “We all take orders from a great serpent who calls itself Wu Yu. It’s our chief.”

“‘Calls itself?’”

“Well, it’s ‘chief’ because it's not the only boss. We rats have another leader, and there are two others besides. But the strongest is Wu Yu.”

“Tell me everything you know about these creatures.”

The rat spirit quickly spilled what he knew. Whether the information was accurate, Shen Chang'an couldn’t say, but he noted it all. It matched what was written in the ancient beast-hide tome: Snake, Insect, Rat, and Ant—four plagues. The ‘insect’ turned out not to be a fly as he’d thought, but a venomous centipede.

Next, Shen Chang'an asked about the layout of the Summer Villa. His questions were scattered, switching topics abruptly, sometimes pressing the rat with, “You should know what I want,” which left the creature too terrified to lie. Shen Chang'an also repeated certain questions to catch out any falsehoods, but the rat seemed genuinely bewildered and confessed everything truthfully.

After this interrogation, Shen Chang'an had a rough idea of the Summer Villa's arrangements. He felt more confident about infiltrating the place when the time came.

“One last question,” Shen Chang'an suddenly said, making the rat spirit stiffen.

“Ask anything, Daoist master.”

Shen Chang'an glanced at his current appearance. “Why did you impersonate Fang Sicheng?”

The rat spirit paused, then let out a lecherous giggle. “Daoist master, you might not know, but Fang Sicheng’s wife is famous for her weakness. Even though she knew I wasn’t him, she endured it for her son’s sake. That’s my taste…”

He hadn’t finished before Shen Chang'an grabbed his head and twisted it off with a violent wrench.

“Damn bull-horned bastard, die!”

Shen Chang'an tossed the head away, sat heavily on the steps, and stared blankly into the sky.

“What are you thinking, Daoist?” Zheng Xin came over and sat beside him.

Shen Chang'an exhaled, as if about to speak, but hesitated, a look of uncertainty on his face.

“You’re being awfully sentimental…” Zheng Xin observed. “I can tell you’re upset. If you want to say something, just say it.”

Shen Chang'an’s expression shifted. At last he said, “Do you think Sister Fang is a good person?”

“Yes,” Zheng Xin replied without hesitation.

“Then why can’t she live a good life?”

“She’s not strong enough.”

“So the weak don’t deserve to live?” Shen Chang'an murmured.

“What else can be done? That’s the way of the world—if you’re not strong, someone will devour you. Not just now, but always, past and future. Since ancient times, that’s how the world has been.”

“It shouldn’t be like this…” Shen Chang'an said softly.

“But it is, everywhere you look,” Zheng Xin replied.

Shen Chang'an opened his mouth to retort—my homeland isn’t like that—but caught himself. Was his homeland truly different?

He was merely born in the best of countries. If he looked at the whole world, was it not the same everywhere? Power, bullying, oppression, violence, discrimination—these things still happened, just not in his immediate surroundings. He was a lucky soul born in the right place; those without that fortune were still being crushed.

If even this world was thus, how much worse would one be where demons and monsters prowled, where oppression came not only from humans, but from fiends as well?

“This world…” Shen Chang'an sighed helplessly, but then, fire blazed again in his eyes.

“Daoist, you…” Zheng Xin watched him, surprised at the sudden surge of determination.

Shen Chang'an opened his mouth and declared, “Zheng Xin, I’m going to destroy the rats’ lair.”

“We already decided that, didn’t we?” Zheng Xin tilted her head, confused.

Shen Chang'an merely smiled and continued, “And after that, I’ll hunt down every great demon that brings calamity to the world.”

“You have quite the ambition…”

Shen Chang'an didn’t stop. “And whenever I see injustice, I’ll step in.”

“What are you trying to say?” Zheng Xin asked.

A faint smile touched the Daoist’s lips. “Nothing more. That’s all I wanted to say.”

Zheng Xin frowned. “You really do sound like a Daoist now, always talking in riddles. I can’t understand you at all. Are you mad?”

“Perhaps…” the Daoist laughed heartily, picked up his staff, and strode out of the courtyard.

Zheng Xin hurried after him, just as he suddenly recited in a loud, ringing voice:

“Zhao guest with a loosely tied foreign cord,
The Wu sword flashes frost-bright,
Silver saddle on a white horse,
Swift as a shooting star…
Though I die, my chivalrous bones are fragrant,
I am not ashamed among the heroes of the world.
Who can inscribe your story, sir?
White-haired, reading the Supreme Mystery.”

The poetry thundered in Zheng Xin’s ears, stirring some grand, untamed emotion within—a sense of transcending the mundane, even life and death itself. Hearing it once was enough to set her heart ablaze.

“Daoist, where did you hear that poem?” she asked.

Shen Chang'an laughed. “A poem from my homeland, written by the Immortal Poet, Li Taibai… Don’t ask about the allusions, they’re all from home. Too much to explain. Just listen.”

“Hmph, if you don’t want to say, fine. You Daoists never speak a sincere word…”

Shen Chang'an ignored her. Staff on his shoulder, he gazed in the direction of the Summer Villa.

The sun blazed overhead, the sky was cloudless, but above the Summer Villa, a single dark cloud blocked out the light.

Well now, what a fine ‘Summer Villa’—truly ‘cool and shady’ indeed!