A chill surged in Yu Shikui’s heart. It was already midnight, the eerie wind howling with a ghostly presence. Could it be the spirits of the villagers from Wangshan Town, the first victims of the plague who were not saved, causing trouble?
Or is it a wandering ghost passing by?
He was a civil servant, yet his hands were not without blood.
Although he did not do it personally, when it cos to holding soone accountable, they would surely find him.
"Who’s there?"
Yu Shikui sat on the bed, dressed only in his nightclothes, not daring to move, but his eyes darted around wildly, trying to identify the source of the gusting eerie wind.
This was the tent Wen Hao had occupied before, spacious and bright, with the heavy curtains drawn tightly down on all sides, leaving no place for wind to enter.
He examined carefully and felt as though there was indeed no wind.
Could it be that he was overly tense?
Indeed, because things had gone so unsmoothly this ti, and the imperial envoy, that young upstart, did not favor him, his mood was vexed. Perhaps this was why he was imagining things.
He got out of bed, deciding to check around anyway.
Though it was a room sealed on all sides, after all, it was rely an army tent, pitched in the wild.
Using the faint light from the hazy moonlight filtering through, he fumbled for the flint, and with a flicker, the glow from the flint relieved him. He moved the lit flint closer to the candle, about to light it.
Suddenly, another gust of wind; the flint was snuffed out, and the candle remained unlit.
This breeze even touched his hand; he felt it very clearly.
His heart skipped a beat, that feeling where a taut heart suddenly tightens further in a fright.
Was it that he really had nothing to be paranoid about, or was there a real issue?
At this mont, he only felt a chill on the back of his neck, as if a breeze was blowing against it.
Tales from his hotown before he entered service surfaced in his mind. The elders once said that ghosts liked to frighten people from behind, with an icy breeze against the neck being their common trick.
Is there... really a ghost?
There were guards outside his tent; his attendants from the Governor Mansion were in the surrounding tents.
How could it be that without any forewarning, sothing—or soone—reached his Central Army Camp? Could it have been a trap Wen Hao deliberately left, aiming to deal with him?
No, who was he, Yu Shikui? Barely in his early thirties and already a magistrate of a county, with boundless prospects. How could he be outwitted by soone with ulterior motives?
Wen Hao trying to frighten him? That would be a completely wrong calculation!
Yu Shikui abruptly turned around, intending to expose whoever was playing ghostly tricks.
However, when he turned, he froze in place, eyes widening, legs growing weak, retreating backward involuntarily, catching himself on the table just barely, preventing a collapse to the floor.
What did he see?
In front of him, a cascade of long hair and eyes full of bloodstains appeared.
Hair trailing to the ground!
Bloodstains right before his eyes.
It wasn’t that the hair was particularly long but rather that there was an upside-down figure, seemingly a person and yet not, no—this was a humanoid shape, clad in prison clothes, dangling upside down before him, the long hair covering the face, the prison garb mottled with black patches. It was because the night was so dark he dared confirm it—it was blood. Isn’t blood black in the night?
He opened his mouth but, paralyzed by extre fear, couldn’t articulate a single word.
The inverted figure approached closer, an owl-like, yet not owl-like voice, sharp and hoarse like a knife sharpening against stone, piercing the ear and heart, sharp and lingering, unlike sothing from a tongue but rather emanating from a chest cavity: "Return my life..."
This cry nearly frightened Yu Shikui into falling backward onto the ground.
Indeed, he did fall, but there happened to be a chair behind him, and he sat there trembling.
At this mont, his mind whirled rapidly. Prison uniform, bloodstains, hanging upside down, demanding life returned...
With a voice betraying his terror, he stamred, "You, you... are Bai Yi?"
He had personally condemned Bai Yi to prison, contriving a case of a notorious bandit committing robbery and murder, utterly unforgivable, and had supervised the execution.
This Bai Yi was, of course, no bandit; he was rely a scholar who, with the help of his grandfather, took another’s na to beco the lowest-ranking Scholar.
This person naturally failed the examination.
It’s unknown where he got his confidence; he insisted there was fraud in the examinations and a cover-up.
Since Marquis Anning took action, how could he leave such a loose end? The plan was to eliminate him, but he fled the Capital City at first opportunity.
Unexpectedly, the first year Yu Shikui served as Northern County Magistrate, he encountered Bai Yi, having both authority and people, he monitored Bai Yi and discovered he had found evidence from unknown sources, preparing to petition the court in the Capital.
Seven years prior, he sought to expose this incident.
This truly courted death.
Though he would not necessarily succeed in his petition, nor regain his position, Yu Shikui himself, with a conscience haunted, could not allow this to happen.
Yu Shikui systematically ensnared Bai Yi into a trap. This scholar, intending to seek justice, beca a notorious bandit, tongue cut, brutally beaten, shackled in a prisoner cart, clothed in blood-stained prison attire, pelted with rotten vegetables and eggs by uninford commoners along the way, then beheaded at the market square.
This person was deeply imprinted in his mory; after all, it was the first ti he flouted the law, using his power to dictate another’s life and death, leaving one with no ans to argue, dying with unjust grievance.
In the dead of night, he had been startled awake from nightmares, but upon waking, reflecting on all he possessed, the luxury, the status, he felt it all worthwhile.
Only by standing atop could one be unchallenged, turning truths to lies, seizing what one desires.
Three years had passed since that incident.
Yet why did Bai Yi’s ghost co for him now?
Yu Shikui had no awe within when fabricating lies against others, but now he trembled violently, body like a sieve.
Another drawn-out, mournful, piercing voice echoed: "Return my life..."
Yu Shikui could bear it no longer; he toppled backward entirely, chair crashing to the ground. But the inverted figure drew nearer, blood-stained body and face.
Yu Shikui saw those black clots of blood and suddenly rembered; it was said those who died in red beco fierce spirits. Bai Yi hadn’t worn red when he was executed, but his prison garb had all been stained by blood.
Was this his vengeful spirit demanding justice?
At this mont, even amidst utter fear, Yu Shikui’s mind spun rapidly: Running, that was impossible.
He was a man, barely in his thirties yet already appointed as a county magistrate; how could he be thwarted by a wronged and vengeful spirit?
In life, I did not fear; why fear the dead?
He needed to save himself!
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