Chapter 14: Nothing But Useless Trash

Snake gall is a precious thing, known for its effects in clearing heat, sharpening vision, dispelling wind, and detoxifying poisons. Yet the strange and uncanny nature of this serpent left Shanglu uneasy, worried that the gall itself might be tainted with some peculiarity. If he were to consume it, only to become some grotesque abomination—neither truly human nor ghost—would that not be disastrous? And yet, he found himself unable to simply destroy it. The gall was flawless in appearance, translucent and lustrous like jade, exuding the aura of a potent elixir no matter how one looked at it.

For a time, Shanglu hesitated, torn between caution and temptation. Thankfully, he had Sanniang to consult.
“Sanniang, do you think this serpent gall can be eaten?”
He lowered his head and addressed the oil-paper umbrella nestled in his arms. Since Sanniang had known precisely how to deal with the demon serpent, she was clearly well-versed in such baleful spirits.
“Eat it…”
Even before Shanglu finished speaking, that indistinct yet gentle voice sounded again in his ear. At the same time, a cool breeze arose, meticulously blowing away the scraps of flesh, filthy blood, and earth clinging to the gall.
That settled it—if Sanniang said it could be eaten, there would surely be no problem. Not to mention, she had thoughtfully cleansed the gall herself, so there was no fear of having misheard her, of mistaking “don’t eat” for “eat.”

With that reassurance, Shanglu picked up the gall between his fingers and prepared to swallow it. Suddenly, a thought struck him. Rather than eat it immediately, he squeezed the gall until green bile oozed out, then smeared it over a red, swollen, and itching wound.
A sensation of refreshing coolness instantly spread around the wound. Though the pain remained and the flesh was not yet healed, the burning itch and swelling subsided noticeably, and the inflammation began to recede before his very eyes.
Assured now that the bile could counteract the serpent’s venom, Shanglu quickly squeezed out more and coated all his wounds before tossing the gall into his mouth.

A violent bitterness flooded his mouth at once, contorting his features in agony—he nearly spat the gall out. Fortunately, reason overcame reflex; Shanglu forced himself to swallow the gall whole, not daring to chew it or even let it linger a single second longer on his tongue.

Of course, it’s best not to swallow raw snake gall, as it may harbor parasites.
But Shanglu was unconcerned.

After all, given the monster’s bizarre nature, who could say whether any parasite could even survive on such a creature? And once the gall entered his body, it would soon arrive at the Temple of the Five Viscera. Parasites, if there were any, would simply become offerings, sacrificed to the Spirit of the Spleen.
To the Spirit of the Spleen, even the most vicious parasite was merely protein—crisp and crunchy, easily transformed into vital essence and blood.

After swallowing the gall, Shanglu focused his mind on his lower dantian. Sure enough, within the temple of his five viscera, he saw the serpent gall laid out upon the offering table. Simultaneously, a wave of coolness rose from his stomach and spread throughout his body.
Shanglu knew this was the vital essence produced by the Spirit of the Spleen after refining the gall. Strictly speaking, he ought to start training at once to absorb the gall’s effects to the fullest. But here and now was hardly a suitable place for cultivation, so Shanglu forced down the impulse and resolved to wait until he returned to his residence in the county town.

Withdrawing his spiritual focus, Shanglu sheathed his battered ox-tail saber, gathered some dry grass and branches, piled them atop the demon serpent’s remains, and struck a spark to light them.
The strange mist had now dispersed, but the ground was still damp, and the firewood was moist from the dew.
It took a considerable effort to get the fire going, and the smoke that billowed forth was thicker than the flames, making him cough and his eyes burn.
At last, the fire blazed up, illuminating the surroundings, drying the bloody earth, and consuming every scrap of flesh, scale, and bone left by the demon serpent.
When all was reduced to ash, Shanglu dug a pit, buried the bones and the charred earth together, tamped it down, and continued on his way.

By now, the sun had long since set, and the world was plunged into darkness. Only the wan yellow moon cast a feeble glow, just barely lighting the road ahead.
Even on the official highway, few people traveled at night. Seeing this, Shanglu no longer concealed his strength and employed the Birdstep technique to hurry along at full speed.
He remained vigilant, scanning his surroundings for any danger lurking in the night.

Not until he glimpsed the walls of Luoshui County did Shanglu put away the Birdstep, slowing his pace.
As he drew near the city, the sentries on the wall spotted him and called out, “Who goes there?”
Shanglu raised his head so they could see his face clearly, and shouted back, “I am Shanglu of the constabulary. Brothers, would you lower a basket and haul me up?”
“Shanglu?”
One of the guards atop the wall recognized him. He leaned out with a torch to have a better look.
Once he was sure, he called for the basket and, curious, asked,
“Constable Shang, where did you go? Why didn’t you make it back before the gates closed?”
Shanglu replied, “I went to visit my family in the countryside. Something unexpected happened on the way back and delayed me.”
Soon, a basket was lowered from the wall, and Shanglu was hauled up.

It was only when Shanglu climbed atop the wall that the guards noticed his constable’s uniform was stained with blood and riddled with tears.
Their curiosity was piqued, and they peppered him with questions.
Naturally, Shanglu had no intention of revealing that these were wounds from battling a demon serpent. He made up a story, cursing as he went, “Damn it, don’t even mention it. I had the worst luck—ran into a pack of rabid dogs on my way back and nearly got torn apart.”
One guard was unconvinced. “Aren’t you a regular constable? How did a few dogs leave you in such a sorry state?”
Shanglu sighed, his expression in the torchlight one of utter dejection.
“If it were before, not to mention a pack of dogs—even if I’d met wolves, I wouldn’t have been afraid. But I’m injured and my cultivation’s broken, aren’t I?”

At this, the guard remembered the rumors of Shanglu’s “death and resurrection, and total loss of power,” and felt a pang of guilt for prying into his wounds.
He wanted to offer some words of comfort, but couldn’t find them, and could only mumble that everything would get better.

Seeing the guard’s guilty face, Shanglu couldn’t help but wonder if the fellow, during a break from his shift, might sit up in his sleep and slap himself twice.
Thanking the guards, Shanglu descended from the wall and made straight for home.

On the way, he encountered a patrol constable, who, seeing his bedraggled state, asked the same questions as the guards atop the wall.
So even before midnight, word spread through the constabulary that Shanglu had been attacked by mad dogs and had barely escaped with his life.

Even Sun Ying, who was not on night duty, heard the news.
At first, Sun Ying let out a long sigh of relief.
Shanglu’s sorry state and brush with death at the jaws of dogs clearly showed his abilities had not recovered in the least.
With the performance evaluations just around the corner, someone like Shanglu would never pass muster.

But at the same time, Sun Ying felt a pang of disappointment.
“Why couldn’t those dogs just have finished Shanglu off? And as for his haunted house—everyone says it’s full of ghosts, so why hasn’t anything sucked him dry yet? Useless, all of them, utterly useless!”
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Sun Ying simmered with resentment in the oppressive heat, wishing he could transform into a mad dog himself and tear out Shanglu’s throat.
This unseasonable swelter was enough to drive anyone to irritation and rage.