Chapter 1: These Days, Being a Constable Is No Easy Task

At the break of dawn, the constables of the Luoshui County Office gathered in the third division’s courtyard, yawning as they waited for roll call. The weather had been strange lately; though summer was not yet upon them, the heat was stifling. Even in the early morning, there was not the slightest hint of coolness. Heaven and earth seemed transformed into a giant steamer, leaving the constables irritable and eager to end their day before it had even begun.

This oppressive heat bred tempers as well. These days, everyone was quick to anger; the smallest provocation could spark a quarrel. Even Captains Niu and Ma, seasoned as they were, had grown short-tempered with the cursed weather. They hastily finished the roll call and dismissed the constables to find their own ways to idle away the hours.

Only Shang Lu was asked to stay behind by Captain Ma, who called him into the office.

“Next month is the performance evaluation. For now, you don’t need to report to the office for roll call, and I won’t assign you any cases. Rest up at home and focus on recovering your strength before the evaluation. You must hold onto your rank.” Captain Ma’s words brimmed with concern—a picture of a caring superior. Noticing Shang Lu’s downcast mood, he even offered reassurance: “Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. Even if you don’t pass, I’ll speak on your behalf to the county magistrate and try to secure a lower post for you.”

“Thank you, Captain Ma,” Shang Lu replied with a formal bow, appearing deeply grateful. Yet inwardly, he was coldly amused. He knew better than to trust Captain Ma’s honeyed words; if anyone in the office hoped he would fail the evaluation, Captain Ma was surely among them.

Having endured his superior’s empty promises, Shang Lu left the office. No sooner had he gone than a subordinate slipped in, glancing around before addressing Captain Ma with a grin: “Brother-in-law…”

Captain Ma’s face hardened. “How many times must I remind you—use my title when we’re at work.”

Sun Ying, his brother-in-law, quickly straightened up and addressed him properly before voicing his concerns. “I don’t understand why you’re giving Shang Lu another chance. If he passes the evaluation, how am I supposed to take his place?”

Captain Ma waved a palm-leaf fan and sneered, eyes narrowed. “Shang Lu has lost all his cultivation. He won’t recover in a month—or even a year. This is just to avoid gossip.”

Still uneasy, Sun Ying pressed on. “There won’t be any more mishaps, right? Last time, you had our family give you a hundred taels of silver, promising I’d get the position for sure. But the money’s gone and nothing came of it…”

Captain Ma’s eyes flashed with anger. He hissed, “Are you blaming me? Or do you want your silver back? Was the money for me? It all went to the magistrate and the chief clerk. For outsiders, a hundred taels wouldn’t even get them considered for a regular post. Dream on!”

Sun Ying dared not retort, though he knew full well that at least twenty taels had padded his brother-in-law’s own pocket. He forced a smile. “I wouldn’t dare blame you. I’m just worried there’ll be another accident.”

“You call it an accident. How many times could it happen?” After a few more scoldings, Captain Ma’s temper cooled and he mused on recent events. “Who would have thought? Shang Lu was at death’s door, about to be buried, yet he survived. But don’t worry—there’s no way he’ll pass the evaluation next month. The position will be yours.”

Receiving such assurance, Sun Ying left the office in high spirits. Spotting Shang Lu still lingering nearby, he suppressed a sneer and went about his own affairs without further incident.

Shang Lu exchanged a few words with familiar colleagues, gave some instructions to the bailiff assigned to him, and finally left the third division. He did not stay in the office dormitory, but rented a small courtyard house in town.

As he walked, his mind turned to the upcoming evaluation. In truth, he was not of this world. Two months ago, the original Shang Lu had died in the line of duty while apprehending a notorious criminal. On the seventh day after his death, just as his body was to be nailed into the coffin, Shang Lu had crossed over into this body, startling the mourners so much they nearly doused him with filth and dog’s blood, fearing a corpse had come back to life.

Shang Lu had been dazed at first, needing several days to come to terms with his new reality. Still, he was quite content with his post as a full constable—far better than starting with nothing. Though not an official, the position came with a formal place on the roster and a modest wage of only eight or nine taels a year. But no one in the office lived on their salary alone; unofficial earnings abounded. Otherwise, why would anyone pay a hundred taels to secure such a post? Even the lower-ranking bailiffs, who received no salary, had to pay dozens of taels for their positions.

His only worry was that Captain Ma would make things difficult for him. He had heard early on about Sun Ying’s attempt to buy the post. Yet, upon his return, before Ma could act against him, another blow fell: the triennial performance evaluation was coming, and anyone who failed would be demoted or dismissed—some even investigated and punished.

This news had shocked Shang Lu. He never imagined that even in this world, civil servants faced such fierce competition. The original Shang Lu would have had no trouble, but the current one was another matter. Though alive, he was gravely weakened, his cultivation lost.

As a minor functionary with no rank to be demoted, failure meant outright dismissal. At best, he might receive a ration of government grain in recognition of his injuries—hardly enough to live on.

So much had been sacrificed for his position: his parents had exhausted the family fortune and mortgaged their ancestral fields to pay the bribes and secure him a place. If he could keep his job, repaying the loans and their steep interest was possible. Had he died in service, the government’s death benefit would have covered the debt—barely. But now he was alive—and when he opened his eyes, the magistrate had already sent men to retrieve the compensation, not a single coin was left.

If he lost the job, the debt would surely go unpaid, and the ancestral land would be forfeit. Without land, and with only scant government rations, he would barely feed himself, let alone support a family or aspire to advancement.

He had to keep his position.

Leaving the county office, Shang Lu exhaled a long, heavy breath and steeled his resolve. If he was to keep his post, he had just one path: regain his cultivation and pass the evaluation. According to the laws of the Ba Kingdom, constables were required to have a certain level of martial attainment: regulars needed to have achieved Minor Bone-Cutting, while bailiffs needed to have entered the Bone-Cutting stage. Cultivation was the most critical part of the evaluation.

But when Shang Lu came to this world, his body had lost all cultivation. Though the original owner left behind a basic training manual, and Shang Lu had doubled his efforts since learning of the performance review, it was impossible to reach Minor Bone-Cutting in just a month or two. The original owner had trained ten years to reach that level!

Granted, the original’s talent and the quality of his techniques were nothing special, but Shang Lu doubted he could fare much better—unless fortune favored him with some miraculous encounter.

A miraculous encounter… He wiped the sweat from his brow. In fact, since his crossing, he had stumbled upon two such opportunities. One had allowed him to recover from near-fatal injuries in just over a month, to the point where he could walk, jump, and even resume training. The other, however, remained a mystery.

Shang Lu glanced around. The street was empty in the early morning, and there was no one near the county office. He closed his eyes and focused his mind on his lower dantian. Immediately, he “saw” within his body a dilapidated abandoned temple—a discovery he’d made during his first training session after arriving in this world. He had discreetly asked others, but no one had experienced anything similar.

Within the ruined temple inside his body stood five statues, all shrouded in mist, their features obscured. Despite many attempts over the days, Shang Lu had never managed to disperse the fog, nor had he received any response from the statues.

Opening his eyes, Shang Lu sighed quietly and continued homeward. He reached a narrow alley in the city’s west before the sun was fully up. The small courtyard he had rented since his “resurrection” lay within, its gate adorned with two lanterns—one red, one white—an unusual and striking sight.

The house’s location was good, its size suitable, but the rent was exceedingly cheap—not just because of Shang Lu’s position, but because many people had died there. The place had a notorious reputation in Luoshui as a haunted house, standing empty for years.

From the outside, the courtyard was indeed grim, exuding an air that warned strangers away. But Shang Lu was unafraid. He pushed open the gate, and a wave of chill air swept over him, banishing the oppressive heat in an instant—more soothing than any room with a fan or air conditioning.

Feeling refreshed in both body and soul, Shang Lu set aside his worries for the moment. Gazing at the big red “double happiness” character pasted on the main house’s window, he laughed and called out, “I’m home!”

The house and courtyard were empty, only the shadows of trees swaying in the breeze and the sound of their rustling leaves—almost as if replying to him.