Chapter 71: The Strange Corpse (Please Add to Favorites, Please Continue Reading)

Shanglu stepped closer and saw that what Third Lady was rummaging for inside the Earth God’s shrine were actually some fruits. They must have been offerings left by the villagers when burning incense—fruits dedicated to the Earth God. Since the shrine had been taken over by the rat demons’ family, naturally these offerings had become their spoils, hidden away inside the hollowed-out statue of the deity.

Yet, it didn’t seem as if the rat demons devoured these fruits as food. Most of them were overripe and fermented, giving off a rich, sweet aroma of wine. The moment Shanglu caught a whiff of that fragrance, his mouth watered, and he felt an irresistible urge to taste it. He’d never experienced such a craving—not even when drinking the signature wine at a famous tavern in Luoshui County.

Casting a quick glance around, Shanglu saw that the constables were all busy searching the area and no one was paying attention. Lowering his voice, he asked, “Third Lady, are these fruits special?”

“They’re just ordinary pears, apricots, and such,” she replied without turning her head. “But after being touched by incense smoke and then pickled and brewed through the rat demons’ special means, they’ve become imbued with spiritual energy. They’ll be helpful for your cultivation.”

So that’s the reason, Shanglu thought, nodding repeatedly. Truly, Third Lady was thoughtful—always seeking ways to help him strengthen his spiritual power.

Carefully, Third Lady gathered the fermented fruits one by one, using a chill wind to sweep away the dust and dirt clinging to them, then placed them into a clay jar. This jar had been inside the belly of the Earth God statue, already filled with plenty of fermenting fruit and some yellowish-green juice.

Earlier, when Shanglu had smashed the statue, much debris had fallen into the jar, clouding the juice. It seemed he’d need to filter it thoroughly later, removing the dregs. Still, it was fortunate the jar itself hadn’t been broken.

Shanglu moved to help, but Third Lady slapped his hand away. “These fruits are delicate and overripe—your hands are too rough and you’ll crush them. Go collect the rat demons instead.”

“Can those rats be eaten?” Shanglu asked, then smacked his own forehead—what a foolish question. Even in his own world, there were plenty who ate rat meat. Although this brood of rats were all evil spirits, bizarre and uncanny, both the spleen spirit and liver spirit within his five-viscera temple had already been awakened. Even if their flesh harbored poison or strange energies, his spleen spirit could digest them and the liver spirit would purge the toxins. To others, these rat demons might be lethal poison, but to Shanglu, they were nourishing flesh that could further his cultivation.

With these thoughts clear in his mind, Shanglu turned at once to gather the plump bodies of the rat demons strewn on the ground. On second thought, he also collected the scorched shadow puppets, piling them together with the rat corpses. Whether edible or not, he’d take them back for now.

Constable Liu and the others finished their search and reported back to Shanglu, saying nothing unusual had been found. Shanglu gestured to the heap of rat corpses. “Take them up and follow me to the funeral shop.”

The constables had assumed Shanglu meant to burn the rat demons’ bodies, never expecting he’d want to take them away. Their curiosity was piqued, but they didn’t dare ask, simply suppressing their questions. None of them imagined Shanglu would actually eat the rat demons. The bodies of evil spirits were generally considered dangerous and strange—unless one knew the proper methods, eating them would only bring poison or misfortune.

With their doubts unspoken, the constables each picked up a few pieces of rat demon carcass and hurried after Shanglu toward the funeral shop. None noticed that, after they left, a clay jar slipped away under the cover of night, floating swiftly toward Shanglu’s lodgings.

Before long, Shanglu and his party reached the funeral shop. They encountered no more evil spirits on the way, though they did hear some shouting. Shanglu sent a constable to investigate, who returned to report it was just other yamen runners patrolling and searching for evil spirits.

“So it seems,” Shanglu mused inwardly, “that besides the rat demons and the corpse herder with his paper effigies, there are other supernatural beings causing trouble tonight—seeking information about Yunhua Mountain…”

When they arrived at the funeral shop, another team of constables was already present, the place sealed off and a coroner summoned to examine the bodies. Inside, five corpses lay arranged in a row.

“What happened?” Shanglu strode into the shop, studying the bodies as he asked the question.

“Chief Shang!” The constables guarding the funeral shop saluted him. The lead constable quickly reported, “When we arrived, the proprietor Zhang Sheng and his family of five were all dead.”

“Their deaths are strange,” he continued. “Their mouths stuffed with paper money, and their bodies marked with odd symbols drawn in blood—likely some kind of spell. According to the coroner, they were all killed tonight. The cause is bizarre: from the scene, it looks like each one strangled another, as if they murdered their own kin with their bare hands…”

Shanglu didn’t believe for a moment that Zhang Sheng’s family had strangled each other. Clearly, the corpse herder had murdered them. Most likely, the family had seen the corpse herder or discovered his secret and were silenced. At the same time, the corpse herder was preparing to enter Yunhua Mountain to explore the hidden realm. For such a person, corpses would be the most reliable helpers. That was why Zhang Sheng’s family had died in such a peculiar fashion. Having suffered a setback at Shanglu’s home and with the constables arriving swiftly, the corpse herder hadn’t had time to fully refine the bodies and was forced to abandon them and flee.

Understanding this, Shanglu asked, “Did anyone summon a shaman to call back the spirits and question the dead?”

The lead constable raised a hand and pointed to a corner of the shop. “The shaman is already here, performing the ritual.”

Following the gesture, Shanglu saw an elderly woman with white hair and beard, dressed in a shaman’s robe, shaking a soul-calling banner and pacing in a strange, ritualistic manner while chanting incantations. Most of the words were indecipherable, except when she called the names of Zhang Sheng’s family or beckoned their souls to return, which could be understood.

Beside the old woman, a young girl beat a hand drum in accompaniment. Shanglu didn’t disturb the ritual, but quietly assigned a few constables to stand guard and protect the shaman. He also found a bamboo basket in the shop and packed the rat demon corpses inside, keeping the family together.

Basket slung over his arm, Shanglu approached the five corpses for a closer look. Though he didn’t know any spells, his encounters that night with paper effigies, rat demons, and shadow puppets had opened his eyes and taught him much.

After a careful examination, Shanglu confirmed his suspicions: the corpse herder hadn’t killed for no reason. He truly intended to refine Zhang Sheng’s family into corpse puppets for his own use. Whether the spirit-summoning ritual would yield answers depended on whether the corpse herder had already meddled with their souls.