Chapter Twenty-Six: The Gathering of Shadows

“Tree Fiend!” Both Manager Zhou and Xiao Wu were startled at the words, instinctively stepping back two paces, unwilling to approach the half-dead wintersweet tree for fear that proximity might render them half-dead themselves.

“Manager Zhou, Brother Xiao Wu, there’s no need to panic. Under the blazing sun, no ghosts dare emerge. Brother Xiao Wu, could you fetch a shovel for me?”

Jiang Pingchuan tossed aside the segment of wintersweet tree in his hand, watching as Xiao Wu dashed to the front hall and returned swiftly, handing him a shovel.

Jiang Pingchuan nodded and walked toward the languishing wintersweet tree, shovel in hand.

“Pingchuan, what are you planning to do...” Manager Zhou looked on, puzzled as Jiang Pingchuan approached the tree with the shovel.

He had never seen anyone exorcise evil like Jiang Pingchuan. There were no ritual implements, nothing remarkable at all.

Xiao Wu followed Jiang Pingchuan, feeling a sense of safety in his presence.

“Of course, I’m going to dig up and burn this half-dead tree that keeps blinking at us,” Jiang Pingchuan replied without turning his head, crouching to examine the ground at the tree’s roots. He noticed something unusual.

“Manager Zhou, have you moved this wintersweet tree recently?” Jiang Pingchuan scooped up earth from the roots and kneaded it in his palm, enveloping it with a surge of true energy. He sensed this was not merely a natural tree fiend.

Manager Zhou, puzzled, followed and crouched beside him, scrutinizing the dust at the roots, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Xiao Wu, eager to investigate, reached for the dust but Jiang Pingchuan slapped his hand away.

Xiao Wu didn’t understand why Jiang Pingchuan stopped him. Jiang Pingchuan discarded the soil, frowning.

“Pingchuan, is there something wrong with this soil? The wintersweet tree has been here for over a decade; I haven’t touched it,” Manager Zhou said gravely, observing nothing strange about the earth.

“This soil’s been disturbed, and it’s not ordinary earth. It reeks of evil energy. If my senses are correct, this is corpse-nurturing soil.”

Jiang Pingchuan rose, shovel in hand. At his words, Xiao Wu and Manager Zhou’s faces darkened.

Xiao Wu, in particular, felt fortunate that Jiang Pingchuan had stopped him from touching the soil; otherwise, who knew what sinister thing he might have provoked.

“How could there be corpse-nurturing soil here? I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Manager Zhou stepped back two paces, wary of the soil’s yin energy seeping into him.

“We’ll discuss that later. Step back, both of you,” Jiang Pingchuan said, declining to answer Manager Zhou’s question.

He could tell this town was unusual. He wasn’t surprised that Manager Zhou knew nothing about corpse-nurturing soil; after all, those who understand its use are often half-human, half-ghost by now.

Jiang Pingchuan began digging around the tree roots with the shovel. Soon, he had excavated a wide pit around the wintersweet tree.

His face was grim as he surveyed the deep hole. The roots below grew vigorously, intertwining in a dense, radiating web, drawing nutrients from the soil.

What enraged Jiang Pingchuan was the discovery below the roots: someone had placed seven black urns in a feng shui formation designed to attract yin energy.

Jiang Pingchuan bent down and unearthed the seven urns, setting them on the ground. As he withdrew the last urn, a chilling breeze brushed past his ear, carrying a faint, buzzing voice.

“Why are you moving us? We were living well. Why meddle in our affairs...” The wind’s voice buzzed in Jiang Pingchuan’s ear.

He snorted coldly. His aura surged, revealing the power of a cultivator at the sixth stage of Qi Refinement. Since arriving here, Jiang Pingchuan noticed there were few, if any, cultivators.

Moreover, his Dao crystals were suppressed, locked at six, while the other two seemed dormant, no longer circulating energy.

Yet, in Jiang Pingchuan’s view, in a place devoid of cultivators, a sixth-stage Qi Refinement practitioner could dominate. He paid no mind to the wind’s threat.

“Manager Zhou, I think you’d best recall whether you’ve offended anyone lately, or whether anyone has visited and touched this wintersweet tree,” Jiang Pingchuan said, placing the last urn on the ground and dusting off his hands. It was obvious the tree had been tampered with, turning the area into someone else’s corpse-nurturing ground.

“No, I haven’t offended anyone, nor has anyone visited my home recently.”

Manager Zhou pondered deeply, ensuring he hadn’t misremembered before answering Jiang Pingchuan. Xiao Wu, too, searched his memory.

“Brother Pingchuan, the manager is known for his kindness and gentleness; everyone in the village knows he’s a good man, unlikely to offend anyone. But if there’s anyone with a grudge, it’d be just one person—the son of our county magistrate in Sanjiang, Gao Yao.”

After much thought, Xiao Wu voiced his opinion. Jiang Pingchuan looked at Manager Zhou. When Xiao Wu mentioned Gao Yao, Manager Zhou’s entire demeanor changed.

Manager Zhou became furious yet helpless. Jiang Pingchuan sensed there must be some hidden story he was unaware of.

“The county magistrate’s son?” Jiang Pingchuan looked at Manager Zhou and Xiao Wu, seeking clarification. Xiao Wu saw Manager Zhou frown in silence, sighing in anger and stamping his foot.

“Brother Pingchuan, you don’t know Gao Yao, the magistrate’s son. He relies on his father’s position, committing all sorts of misdeeds, bullying men and women alike, causing endless trouble for the people of Sanjiang. My young mistress is born beautiful, and Gao Yao harbors wicked intentions, wanting to take advantage of her. That’s the only reason there’s been friction with our manager. But Gao Yao hasn’t shown up recently.”

The thought of Gao Yao’s vile face made Xiao Wu sick to his stomach. Jiang Pingchuan nodded; by this reasoning, the most likely suspect was Gao Yao.

“Pingchuan, what should we do with the tree?” Manager Zhou sighed.

Jiang Pingchuan understood that businessmen like Manager Zhou could hardly stand against the authorities; seeing his worry, Jiang Pingchuan surveyed the surroundings and made up his mind.

“First, fetch some aged mugwort and fill the pit, then burn the wintersweet tree on the spot. Afterwards, pile mugwort in the four corners of the courtyard and set it alight to fumigate the area.”

Jiang Pingchuan noted that aside from not knowing who had tampered with the tree, everything else could be dealt with easily.

Burning the wintersweet tree with aged mugwort would produce smoke that dispelled evil. With the sun still high, it was the ideal time for the ritual.

Xiao Wu, upon hearing this, hurried to a side room—likely Manager Zhou’s storeroom—and soon emerged carrying a stack of aged mugwort. He was about to toss it into the pit when Jiang Pingchuan stopped him, shaking his head.

“Brother Pingchuan, is there something wrong with this mugwort?” Xiao Wu asked, puzzled by the interruption. He was certain he hadn’t brought the wrong thing.