Chapter 56: Burning Offerings to Settle Debts (Please add to your collection, please keep reading!)

Although Xu Biao was dead, the citywide manhunt had not ended.

The reason was that Yuan Guilong and the others who had “escaped” alongside Xu Biao were still nowhere to be found. Most importantly, the stolen silver that Xu Biao and his group had seized in their double-cross was also missing.

In the registrar’s heart, it didn’t matter if Yuan Guilong and his men had fled; what mattered was recovering the hidden silver. That was a fortune—worth even more than the Black Wind Gang’s assets confiscated in the past few days! If he could retrieve that silver, he would have the means to maneuver within the county office, turn his “fault” into “merit,” and not only escape punishment but earn a promotion for his achievements.

Because of this, the registrar’s hatred toward Chief Ma deepened yet again. In his view, Chief Ma was a complete fool: greedy enough to get himself killed, and even more foolish for killing Xu Biao. If Xu Biao had lived, even if gravely wounded, they could have interrogated him for the whereabouts of the silver. Now, with him dead, the trail was cold. The registrar had no means to question the dead. Such methods were the domain of the shamans and priests, but the registrar dared not ask for their help.

After all, the one truly in league with the Black Wind Gang was none other than himself. Asking the shamans or priests for assistance would be tantamount to walking into a trap.

So the registrar could only resort to the most mundane measures, urging the constables into an exhaustive search—he wished they could dig up every inch of earth, unearthing both Yuan Guilong’s group and the missing silver.

Regrettably, he never actually ordered them to dig up the ground, nor sent them outside the city to excavate; had he done so, they might well have found the bodies and the silver.

That night, the constables of Luoshui County were worn to exhaustion, and the city’s citizens were tormented, their homes in chaos, their complaints unending.

The constables didn’t just search the streets and alleys—they knocked on doors, barged into homes, ransacked rooms, and when they left, they never failed to pocket valuables. Any household that dared refuse entry would suffer even worse: accused of harboring fugitives, and that was not an offense a few coins could settle.

There was a saying: “Bandits scour like combs, soldiers like brushes.” These wolfish constables were little better than bandits or soldiers.

Only those with power, influence, or family in the county office escaped this calamity.

Shang Lu’s house was among those untouched. Not only because he was a deputy chief, but also because his residence was infamous throughout Luoshui County as a haunted house. Even the constables were wary—what they found as coins inside might turn to paper offerings when they left.

As for this, all Shang Lu could do was restrain his own squad as much as possible.

As for the constables of the quick-response and strong-arm squads, Shang Lu had neither the authority nor the means to restrain them.

Dawn arrived swiftly, and after a long night’s labor, the constables had nothing to show for it save the extorted money and silver. No trace of Yuan Guilong’s group, nor any sign of the missing silver.

With daylight, the search expanded—not just within the city, but checkpoints were set up along the roads outside, scrutinizing every traveler.

Even so, after another day of effort, nothing was found.

It was hardly surprising! Yuan Guilong and his men had been killed by Shang Lu long ago, their bodies buried deep underground. Unless someone pointed out the exact spot, even walking right over their graves, no one would discover them.

The silver was similarly hidden; if Shang Lu kept silent, no one could ever find it.

Though the registrar pressed him hard, Shang Lu never unearthed Yuan Guilong’s bodies to turn in. Like Xu Biao, they’d been dead for days already. Xu Biao had managed to cover it up with the excuse of practicing evil arts—but what about Yuan Guilong and his crew? Would they claim the same? While the excuse might barely hold, with so many corpses, sooner or later some clue would give them away.

Moreover, if he handed over the bodies, would he also be expected to produce the silver? Giving up the spoils he’d acquired would be sheer folly.

Thus, Shang Lu thought it best for Yuan Guilong’s group to “disappear” along with the silver.

The silver was taken by them—what did it have to do with Shang Lu?

As for the consequences, it would only mean being blamed for poor performance, scolded by the registrar. But he was hardly alone in that; everyone involved in the search operation received a thorough tongue-lashing from the registrar.

The registrar, it seemed, was also irritable from the strange, stifling weather—his temper grew ever more explosive, and any slight displeasure sent him into a rage.

For the past two days, no one in the office dared breathe too loudly, fearful of provoking him, cursing Chief Ma in their hearts instead.

Everyone believed that the current mess was entirely Chief Ma’s fault. If he hadn’t colluded with Xu Biao’s group, perhaps they would have caught them red-handed long ago, and, if lucky, everyone might have shared in the spoils.

Now, not only had they gained nothing, after a day and night of toil they hadn’t even earned a word of praise—only scolding.

“It’s all Chief Ma’s fault! May he suffer the thousand cuts and the boiling oil punishment in the afterlife!”

The constables silently wished Chief Ma would become a “familiar face” down below as soon as possible.

After being scolded by the registrar, Shang Lu took Du Feng out, feigning diligence in the search.

Passing a funeral shop, Shang Lu recalled something and went in to buy some paper offerings and paper ingots.

Du Feng followed him inside, curiously eyeing the paper lady figures in the corner, and asked, “Lu, what are you buying these for?”

“To repay a debt.”

“Huh?” Du Feng was startled—what kind of debt required paper money? A debt to the dead?

He was curious but hesitant to ask.

Yet his guess was right. Shang Lu bought these things to settle a debt with the dead.

When Shang Lu accepted the promissory note sent by Zhao Hai’s men, he’d made a promise—he would repay the loan and not take advantage of Zhao Hai.

Zhao Hai was dead, and real silver was useless to him; burning paper money and paper ingots for him was the most fitting repayment.

“I, Shang Lu, keep my word. If I say I’ll repay you, I will. Whether it’s gold, silver, or paper money, it will be paid.”

Shang Lu picked up a paper ingot, weighing it in his hand—it was light, but looked impressive in size.

Judging by size, a few paper ingots would amount to a hundred taels.

If only the State of Ba had a Bank of Heaven and Earth, Shang Lu would burn Zhao Hai paper money with face values in the billions or trillions—a hundred million times the return, proof of his honesty and conscience!

Whether this would cause inflation in the underworld was not Shang Lu’s concern.

Having purchased the paper offerings and ingots, Shang Lu didn’t take them home but burned them directly in the funeral shop, along with the paper promissory note.

The shopkeeper was a bit bewildered, but dared not refuse and could only cooperate.

Leaving the shop, Shang Lu sent Du Feng back to patrol the streets, while he returned home to activate his internal cultivation, refining his viscera and expanding his meridians in preparation for the next breakthrough.

In the blink of an eye, two more days passed.

The search remained fruitless, and the initial enthusiasm had faded; people began to slack off, sneaking around.

Shang Lu judged the time was right and planned to publicly break through to the Meridian-Pass Realm in the county office, lest a new chief be transferred in and disrupt his ambitions.