Faraway Wanderers - V1C4
Chapter 4
The Evils
"My last name is Zhang, I’m Zhang Chengling," the young boy said, sitting down with a dark expression. Despite his tattered clothes, the luxurious fabrics indicated they were expensive and not typical of a commoner's attire. "Zhou..."
He stopped, unsure how to address this beggarlike man.
“Just call me Uncle.” Zhou Zishu replied brazenly.
Zhang Chengling attempted a smile but failed to pull it off convincingly. He looked down at the dust-covered, grass-encroached floor inside the shrine, still overwhelmed and in shock. The devastating tragedy struck suddenly and unexpectedly, leaving his mind racing to process what had occurred.
Gu Xiang whispered, “Zhang Chengling? Sounds familiar.”
Zhou Zishu asked, “Is your father Sir Zhang, the lord of Nam He Holdings?”
Gu Xiang exclaimed in surprise, "Are you Zhang Yusen’s son?” Doubt and ‘How on earth does Zhang Yusen have such a useless offspring like this one’ were clearly visible on her face.
Zhang Chengling likely noticed it as well, causing his head to droop further and his fists to clench at his sides.
Zhou Zishu quickly interrupted Gu Xiang’s discouraging session. Realizing earlier that she tended to say whatever others disliked, he coughed and apologized, “I hadn’t known, my apologies.”
Gu Xiang began bombarding him with questions. “Your father has a notable reputation, huh... When we arrived here a few days ago, we learned about his prime days when he was younger. It was mentioned that the family and their business have been thriving lately. People also said that after finding success, he settled here and largely withdrew from society, avoiding involvement in affairs. The estate is said to host skilled martial artists as guests, so no one dares cause trouble. Who would come after you with a father like that?”
Her voice carried a dismissive tone, as the entire issue didn’t matter to her at all. The elderly woman seemed clearly indignant as she stood up, stating, “My lord is the most virtuous person you can meet—honorable, kind-hearted, and generous; he always helps others, even if he doesn't know them...”
Gu Xiang only scoffed, his tone mysterious, saying, “Alright, alright, auntie, we already know how great this little one's father is. But does this noble, generous father prevent you two from being chased late at night..."
Zhang Yusen recently turned fifty and was regarded as a person of virtue and prestige. Since focusing on his family life, he hasn't been heavily involved in jianghu affairs, but he would still expect invitations to major events. Zhou Zishu believed the deceased deserved respect, and although the girl’s behavior might have been unintentional, her remarks were still impolite. He interrupted, "Just now, who was that person trying to kill you?”
Zhang Chengling fell silent for a moment, then spoke under his breath, “He’s Xue Fang, the Hanged Ghost.[1]”
“What did you say?”
“What did you say?”
Zhou Zishu and Gu Xiang both exclaimed. Zhou was frowning, while Gu Xiang wore a look of quaint surprise.
Zhang Chengling emphasized each word as he repeated, “It’s Xue Fang the Hanged Ghost; I heard someone call him that with my own ears…”
He suddenly inhaled deeply, as if recalling and realizing something: the blood that night, the smoke and fire, the screams—they all flooded back to him simultaneously. He rose unsteadily, his face pale, jittery throughout, silent.
Gu Xiang jerked and pointed at him, asking, “Is he having a seizure?”
Zhou Zishu looked serious. He reached the boy and gently pressed the acupuncture point that would cause him to pass out. When Zhang Chengling relaxed and lost consciousness in his arms, he carefully laid him down. He sighed, “His mind has shut down from the overwhelming memories. Let him rest for a while first.”
He looked at the frightened woman and asked, “Is anyone conspiring against the Zhang family, Aunt?”
Seeing Zhang Chengling in that state, she lost all willpower. After crying many tears, she finally recounted the exact events. At midnight, the backyard suddenly caught fire; then, the men in black appeared out of nowhere, resembling hordes of demons falling from the sky.
The most frightening aspect was that all the guests, these “masters” able to sense even the tiniest grass movements, couldn't defend themselves and didn't realize what was happening before it was too late.
Only Old Li remained. He came to Suzhou five years ago, consistently watching over the Zhangs from a distance and refusing to enter their estate, believing that to enjoy the Zhangs' food, one should be a guest. He saw himself merely as someone repaying a debt of honor.
It was that eccentricity that narrowly saved the Zhang bloodline.
After a moment, Zhou Zishu sighed. “Old Brother Li was a unique person among us.” He looked back at the crying woman; she was just a servant and couldn't grasp everything. “Do you have any family?"
She nodded, “I have a nephew living down south.”
Zhou Zishu handed her a gold ingot. “Take this and leave; you’ve demonstrated your loyalty by accompanying the Zhang’s young master. Don’t let yourself suffer any longer in your old age.”
She accepted the money, biting it instinctively, then smiled awkwardly once she understood her action. The tears had ceased, and she spoke gently, "Yes, this one is too old now, just a burden for Young Master.”
Practically, staying at a location where a dead body was buried, and grass grew everywhere, was not a good idea, so she left immediately. Zhou Zishu assumed she was just a servant and unlikely to be pursued. She expressed her gratitude, then walked away, while he watched her expressionlessly.
It was midnight, and Zhou Zishu recognized the prickling sensation in his chest as the Nails acting up. It wasn't the kind of pain that mangles your body or the slow, simmering type associated with internal injuries. Instead, it felt like someone was tearing his meridians apart, strand by strand.
Fortunately, after over a year of enduring it, he had become adept at hiding the pain; nothing was visible on his face. He still wore his mask, making it harder for Gu Xiang to see his true expression.
Zhou Zishu attempted to shift his focus by considering the girl’s ignorance while talking about Zhang Yusen, and asked her, “Is the person with you at the tavern not here today?”
Gu Xiang startled, “How do you know he’s with me?” Then nodded, “Right, you heard us talking, didn’t you? That’s why, back when I asked you the question, you answered exactly like my master.”
She pressed her lips together, indicating her disapproval of his cheating act.
Zhou Zishu smiled and asked, “Is your master here at the moment?”
Gu Xiang sat on the incense table, legs swinging freely and not touching the ground. She tilted her head, her eyes looking downward, giving an appearance of innocence. Then she shrugged casually and said, “He went to see his old lover.”
Zhou Zishu looked at her with doubt. She was very beautiful, so he had assumed she was one of the man’s concubines.
Gu Xiang wrinkled her nose and glared at him, asking, “Why are you looking at me that way? Do you want me to watch outside his window and hear him with another man?”
Zhou Zishu coughed in faint embarrassment, rubbing his nose, “…”
Gu Xiang resembled a small animal baring its sharp teeth at him, then turned her head away, lost in thought. She gently poked the still sleeping Zhang Chengling with her toes and asked, “Do you believe him? That the man in black was the Hanged Ghost?”
Zhou Zishu hesitated. “He must have meant the Hanged Ghost from the Ghosts of Qingzhu Ridge…”
Brief mockery flickered in Gu Xiang’s eyes as she said, “You really know a lot. Just how many Hanged Ghosts do you believe exist in this world?”
Zhou Zishu shook his head and was about to respond when a sudden pain in his chest forced him to pause and appear contemplative. After a moment, he continued, “Legend has it that in Qingzhu Ridge on Mount Fengya, there's a place called Ghost Valley. Recently, criminals guilty of terrible crimes in the jianghu, with nowhere else to escape, have sought refuge there. However, once inside, they lose their humanity and erase all past grudges. Surviving in the Valley is perilous, often leaving them near death. These stories are quite terrifying, so enemies rarely talk about them. I’ve heard that Xue Fang the Hanged Ghost was once a notorious flower thief[2] with a body count of twenty-six young people—including males and females—one of whom was a close disciple of the E Mei Sect’s leader. He was pursued by the six main sects and had no choice but to hide in Qingzhu’s Ghost Valley.”
Gu Xiang blinked, “Then do you think he’s that disgusting Xue Fang?”
Zhou Zishu laughed. “Xue Fang has built his reputation over thirty years, embodying pure evil. How could he be easily defeated by someone as young as you?”
Gu Xiang’s anger nearly erupted, but after reconsidering, she agreed with him, nodding. "Indeed, if I truly killed the Hanged Ghost, my ancestors would rise from their graves — but since I have no parents and don’t know where the family graves are, they probably can’t come out. So, that man is definitely not the Hanged Ghost, right?”
Zhou Zishu saw no connection between people being resurrected and the Hanged Ghost, but, noticing the girl was pleased with his reasoning, he chose not to shatter her belief. The pain remained intense, so he remained silent, leaning to one side to rest until morning.
The Nails would always cause trouble after midnight, so he made it a point to sleep early to be ready for when the torment began. However, his usual routine was disrupted today, and he couldn't fall back asleep; all he could do was grit his teeth and endure it. The pain would ease only at dawn from the east, but by then, he felt almost paralyzed.
He tried to regulate his breathing, but suddenly Gu Xiang, who was dozing off while leaning on the Buddha’s altar, woke abruptly, her pretty eyes darting around. “Someone’s here,” she announced urgently.
Zhou Zishu frowned, clearly hearing it too. He tried to stand but only staggered back down. Gu Xiang looked surprised as Zhou Zishu slowly supported himself by grabbing the table and lowered his voice, saying, “Just numb legs from sitting too long.”
Gu Xiang’s disbelief grew even stronger, fueled by the weak excuse.
Morning was Zhou Zishu's weakest moment, and the quick meditation didn’t help much. However, he didn’t want to engage in a fight now either, so he said, 'Get the boy and hide.”
“Hide? Hide where?” Gu Xiang asked, gazing at him with her wide eyes.
Zhou Zishu was temporarily helpless.
A group of well-trained individuals, faces covered, burst through the window and advanced quickly, having no chance to act further. They glanced at the sleeping Zhang Chengling before rushing ahead. Zhou Zishu, still leaning on the table, watched one of them aim a sword at the young boy. In the chaos, nothing was clearly seen—only a brief shadow passing by. Suddenly, gaunt fingers, as thin and emaciated as the mask on Zhou Zishu’s face, gripped the attacker’s throat.
They spasmed and ceased breathing before anyone could even cry out.
The rest of the group noticed the cruel method and had to stop, taking precautions against this sickly-looking man who seemed unable to stand up straight.
Gu Xiang secretly stuck out her tongue and jumped down from the incense table to stand behind Zhou Zishu.
He could tell at first glance that those individuals only dressed to intimidate; they couldn’t be expendable assassins given their cautiousness. If it had been Tian Chuang, they would have prioritized the mission without hesitation, even risking their own or their friend's life. They definitely weren't the infamous Ghosts either, as the Ghosts could never operate this coordinated. It seemed clear that the Zhang family was being specifically targeted.
He calmly adjusted his sleeves as if the tattered garments he wore were his cherished robes trimmed with silver. Midway, realizing how foolish he seemed, he paused with a smile and remarked, “It’s way too early to be attacking an unarmed child, isn’t it? The first courtesy would be to say hello.”
[1] Ghosts of people who have done evil deeds in their life before death; they’re condemned to hell and are perpetually starving.
[2] Rapist
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