Chapter 53: Opening the Gates of Hell

Chapter Fifty-Three

“The ghost calamity in Beggars’ Alley has been resolved.”

The moment Zhao Fusheng saw the Fan brothers, her left brow arched, but she immediately realized why they were waiting for her and smiled.

Her tone was calm, unchanged from before.

Everyone present was wondering in their hearts, yet none dared to speak rashly before her.

Though Zhao Fusheng had displayed skill in controlling ghosts before, she lacked practical experience and authority, relying solely on the dread of malevolent spirits. Later, it was true she had stopped the reawakening of the Zhao couple’s ghosts, but since the couple had only just died and their ghosts hadn’t fully revived, it could be said she succeeded by luck.

But the ghost calamity in Beggars’ Alley was different. The ghost here was connected to the unresolved case in the southern part of the city forty years ago—a powerful spirit that had already formed its own domain. She had entered alone, unaided, and yet managed to resolve the disaster. Such ability alone was enough that even the previous Commandant, Zhao Qiming, would not have dared claim to be her superior.

Zhang Chuanshi’s words had been spoken in fear and deference, but they echoed the true thoughts of many: Had Wan’an County, at the brink of doom, truly welcomed a bringer of fortune?

By her actions, Zhao Fusheng had awed the crowd. Fan Bi’si crushed any last doubts within himself and stood before her in respectful submission.

“The malevolent spirit here has been broken apart by me and will remain dormant for now, however—”

Zhao Fusheng’s words made everyone’s hearts skip a beat.

To “break apart a malevolent spirit” sounded simple, but the Fan brothers, with their years in the Demon Suppression Bureau, knew just how arduous a feat that was. Their faces turned pale, lips trembling.

Zhao Fusheng’s gaze settled on the county magistrate. The magistrate, sweating profusely, swayed under her stare, only regaining his senses when the advisor at his side nudged him. He hurriedly stepped forward, lifting his robe to salute.

“My surname is Pang.”

“The malevolent spirit is now sealed inside the Temple of the Sage. Send people to reinforce the patrols there and prevent anyone from wandering in,” Zhao Fusheng instructed.

“Yes, yes—!” Magistrate Pang responded at once.

Zhao Fusheng smiled slightly, saying nothing more.

At this moment, everyone was filled with curiosity. Fan Bi’si gathered his courage: “Fusheng, about the matter from a few days ago…”

“We’ll speak of it later,” Zhao Fusheng waved her hand, catching the scent of stew wafting through the air. “Let me have a meal first.”

With that, she walked past the crowd toward the elderly woman who ran the food stall that day.

“I can arrange a banquet at the county office for you, Madam—” Magistrate Pang called out, but Zhao Fusheng paid him no heed.

No one dared disturb her. They watched as she left the street and headed toward the humble stall in the distance.

Whether the ghost domain in Beggars’ Alley was lifted or not, the old woman seemed to have remained there all along.

When she saw someone approaching, the old woman froze, then recognized Zhao Fusheng and exclaimed in surprise, “It’s you—”

Her stall was deserted. Since the calamity in Beggars’ Alley, no one had come. However, the day after Zhao Fusheng entered, many unfamiliar faces had arrived, keeping watch in shifts throughout the day.

Zhao Fusheng approached, her gaze sweeping over the disarray. The woman looked weary, a tattered apron still tied at her waist, damp with water.

At her feet sat a large wooden basin filled with unwashed bowls and chopsticks. In the pot, only a thin layer of stew remained, simmered down to its essence.

When Zhao Fusheng had come before, there had been several little tables, but now only one remained. Broken tables and chairs were propped in the corner against the wall.

The ground was slick, the muddy earth stamped with countless chaotic footprints leading off into the distance.

Sharp as ever, Zhao Fusheng slowed her steps and nodded in acknowledgment.

She sat at the sole remaining table, placed her hands on it, and glanced back—

Fan Bi’si and the others stood obediently at their original spot. Many among the group wore expressions of regret and fear; seeing her turn, they shrank away, not daring to meet her gaze.

“When I entered Beggars’ Alley, you promised to treat me to a meal,” Zhao Fusheng said, understanding the situation perfectly but not exposing it. She grinned at the woman, “I’ve gone hungry for days, thinking only of your stew.”

The old woman’s anxious gaze flicked to the distance, where the once-fierce constables now stood as meek as lambs, evidently fearful.

She recalled the young woman before her had entered the ghost domain alone and now emerged safely—the calamity resolved, the survivors fleeing.

At once, she understood Zhao Fusheng’s identity.

“Alright.” The woman wiped her hands on her apron and fetched a clean bowl to ladle out the stew.

There was but a little left clinging to the bottom, thick and rich from simmering. The millet within was soft and yielding, and as Zhao Fusheng tasted it, the tension that had gripped her during her ordeal began to melt away.

The bowl was hot, but since she now wielded a malevolent spirit and her body ran cold, the warmth was comforting.

She sipped the soup in small mouthfuls.

This era lacked abundant spices; the soup held only the fragrance of millet, the sharpness of wild greens, and bits of unknown mushrooms, lightly salted. For Zhao Fusheng, it was truly the first real meal since arriving in this world.

The heat eased her stomach, and with it, the nerves that had been taut since her rebirth finally relaxed.

At first, the old woman stood nervously, hands clasped before her, afraid Zhao Fusheng would issue some command. But seeing her eat with genuine enjoyment, the woman’s anxiety gradually faded.

She had much to do.

Now and then, her eyes drifted to the pile of dishes in the basin, and she glanced at Zhao Fusheng. After a long while, she finally dared to move, and seeing she was not scolded, she knelt and began washing the bowls.

One ate, the other cleaned—there was a quiet harmony.

In the distance, the Fan brothers, Magistrate Pang, and other officials waited in silence. The old woman became more efficient as she saw Zhao Fusheng’s gentle nature.

“Elder, what is your surname? How should I address you?” Zhao Fusheng asked, breaking the silence as she ate.

Startled, the old woman nearly dropped a bowl. She caught it just in time, glanced at Zhao Fusheng, and replied with a smile, “My husband’s family…”

She paused, then continued, “My surname is Meng. The locals used to call me Granny Meng.”

“Are you from Wan’an County?” Zhao Fusheng inquired.

“No.” Granny Meng shook her head.

Perhaps because Zhao Fusheng was still so young, and their first meeting made a deep impression—she’d entered the ghost domain alone, looking so thin and frail that Granny Meng felt pity for her—even now, knowing Zhao Fusheng’s status, Granny Meng found it hard to be wary.

As Zhao Fusheng spoke kindly, Granny Meng’s furrowed brow slowly relaxed.

“I was originally from Changzhou, then married into Wu Li County in Tongzhou, and only came here ten years ago.”

Zhao Fusheng, who had once been just a country girl from Jiumen Village under Wan’an, had never set foot outside the county and knew nothing of the wider world. Hearing this, she thought: Granny Meng was not a local, and perhaps there was another reason for her coming here.

“Do you have any family left?” Zhao Fusheng took another sip and asked.

Granny Meng’s hands stilled. After a moment, she fumbled with the bowl and replied, “I have a child, but not with me. Now it’s just me alone.”

Zhao Fusheng nodded. They fell silent again. When she finished, Granny Meng, without needing to be told, heard the sounds behind her and quickly refilled the bowl.

After two bowls, Zhao Fusheng felt warmth spread through her limbs. Satisfied, she rose and said, “You did promise to treat me, so I won’t pay for this meal.”

At that, Granny Meng glanced at her and then smiled, “No charge, it’s my treat.”

Zhao Fusheng smiled back. “Thank you for your hospitality. If you ever need my help, come to the Demon Suppression Bureau in Wan’an County and ask for me, Zhao Fusheng. Just give my name.”

With that, she turned and walked toward the waiting Fan brothers.

While she ate, Magistrate Pang had readied the carriage. As soon as Zhao Fusheng finished, everyone crowded around to escort her.

Granny Meng watched the carriage depart, the county’s leading figures trailing in its wake. Some stayed behind, and as soon as Zhao Fusheng left, many hurried to her stall, calling, “Old lady, let’s settle up for the past few days—”

…

When Zhao Fusheng entered Beggars’ Alley, she was all alone. Now she returned surrounded by an entourage.

The Fan brothers walked at either side of the carriage, glancing at the county gentry following behind, feeling as if the Demon Suppression Bureau’s old glory had been restored.

“Fusheng, Magistrate Pang has arranged a feast to celebrate your achievement—” one began.

“Not today,” Zhao Fusheng shook her head, reaching into her sleeve to touch the cold ghost hand hidden there.

Resolving the Beggars’ Alley calamity had given her new confidence. For this case, she had received 150 merit points, minus 10 for suppressing the ghost—leaving her with 140.

With these merits, her authority was different than before.

“We’ll leave the celebration for after the next case,” she instructed. “Let’s return to the Demon Suppression Bureau. Have Magistrate Pang send people to clean the office, recruit some staff, and tell the local gentry: as long as I remain in Wan’an County, there will be no more ghost calamities.”

Her words were so bold that Fan Bi’si was momentarily stunned.

But he realized there must be a reason, and as he was about to speak, Zhao Fusheng continued, “Tell them not to leave. Those who stay will have my protection. If they leave now, they’ll find it hard to return later.”

“…Yes.” Fan Bi’si nodded.

After that, neither spoke. Zhao Fusheng ignored him, turning her thoughts to the Investiture of the Gods list.

She now had 140 merit points; unlocking the first god position required 100 points. She could do so now.

But Zhao Fusheng hesitated and decided not to unlock it yet.

Though the malevolent spirit she controlled was growing stronger, she remembered the Investiture of the Gods had warned her: a Calamity-class ghost did not qualify for investiture.

So, even if she unlocked the position, she couldn’t yet send away the ghost tethered to her.

To do so, she would first need the ghost to ascend to Disaster-class. But that meant using its power, fulfilling its laws, and gaining rewards.

However, with only a third of her lifespan remaining, she dared not use its power again.

It was a paradox, the problem looping back to the beginning.

After much thought, Zhao Fusheng decided not to unlock the god position just yet, and instead focused on Hell.

When she had first activated the Investiture of the Gods, she’d been prompted to unlock Hell, but lacked the merit points then.

She paused, then focused her will: Unlock Hell.

Immediately, the Investiture of the Gods stirred in her mind.

A gust of cold wind roared in her ears. Her consciousness plummeted into a bottomless abyss, as the system prompt sounded:

100 merit points deducted. The first layer of Hell is unlocked!

First Layer of Hell: Can contain ghosts of the “Specter” rank or below. Ghosts thus imprisoned will be suppressed by Hell. (Note: This layer is shallow and cannot confine multiple higher-ranked ghosts. If a ghost’s class exceeds Hell’s capacity, it may escape.)

Zhao Fusheng’s eyes shone.

The arrival of Hell was like gaining a hidden prison for malevolent spirits.

The Fan brothers had previously noted that the Han Dynasty’s methods of handling such ghosts boiled down to expulsion, disintegration, or sealing—but all carried risks and never truly solved the problem.

But now she could imprison ghosts, and they would be suppressed by Hell. Wasn’t this, for all practical purpose, the true disappearance of ghosts from the human world?

Suppressing her excitement, she tried to control Hell.

Her will quickly permeated the shadow, and wherever her consciousness reached, the first layer of Hell spread.

Shadows poured forth silently from the carriage.

The Fan brothers and Zhang Chuanshi, walking alongside, suddenly shivered.

The sun was bright a moment before, but now thick clouds covered the sky, casting gloom over the procession.

A chill crept up from beneath their feet. Fan Bi’si shuddered, Fan Wujiu rubbed his arms and asked, “Brother, why is it suddenly so cold?”

As soon as he spoke, the shadows withdrew, turning into a black current that slithered up into the carriage, back to Zhao Fusheng’s feet, then vanished into her body without a trace.

(End of Chapter)