50: The Righteous Man

Although the courtyard was crowded, there were few Taoist priests among them. When the steward saw Yi Fan, he stepped forward, clasped his hands, and asked, “Master Taoist, at which sacred mountain do you cultivate?”

Yi Fan replied with a faint smile, “Not far from here. I cultivate at the Yitian Monastery, behind the Lanruo Temple.”

The crowd erupted in commotion, drawing back with looks of fear. The steward retreated a few steps, his tone uncertain, “Master Taoist, are you jesting?”

Yi Fan only smiled in response, deepening the steward’s suspicion. After a moment’s hesitation, the steward continued, “Master Taoist, it’s not that I doubt you, but it’s truly difficult to believe. You must know, that mountain is crawling with demons and monsters; no ordinary person has ever returned alive. Even those skilled in martial arts must weigh the risks carefully.”

“So, I beg you, Master Taoist, to demonstrate some of your skills, that we may all witness your abilities.”

At these words, the crowd clamored, some voices rising in mockery and accusation, claiming Yi Fan was a charlatan, a fraud who preyed on people’s fear of monsters to deceive them.

Ignoring their noise, Yi Fan lifted his gaze to Zhang Manor. “Steward Zhang, I sense neither demonic nor baleful energy here. I wonder, then, whence comes this talk of monsters?”

The steward’s expression shifted, and he quickly grew respectful. “Master Taoist, your insight is extraordinary—truly you possess great powers. Please, come inside.”

He offered no further explanation, merely instructing others to disperse the onlookers, then led Yi Fan and a man surnamed Qin inside. The manor itself was heavily guarded; servants patrolled with stout clubs at the ready.

After passing through several archways and corridors, they arrived at a side hall. The steward sent for tea, then withdrew.

Now only Yi Fan and the man surnamed Qin remained. After a stretch of silence, the latter spoke first. “My name is Qin Zhifeng, from Xianghuan Village, a dozen miles outside the county of Guobei. Greetings, Master Taoist.”

Yi Fan nodded. “No need for formality, Layman Qin. I have been secluded in the mountains for some time and have not heard of the disturbances here at the Zhang household. I would be grateful if you would explain.”

Qin Zhifeng set his teacup down. “It’s a long story, but let us begin with the Zhang family. In peaceful times, the Zhangs were a middling household in Guobei—nothing like the great scholarly families, for most of their sons were soldiers.”

“But then the world fell into chaos. Scholars and their brushwork couldn’t save lives, while the status of military households rose. The Zhangs were among them, with several sons as commanders in Nanjing, holding real power. Even the county magistrate must treat them with respect.”

Just then, Yi Fan heard footsteps approaching. He raised his teacup. “Layman Qin, let us have some tea.”

Qin Zhifeng was startled, but seeing Yi Fan interrupt, he fell silent as voices sounded outside.

The footsteps drew near; three or four men entered, led by an elder of over fifty, ruddy-faced and full of vigor. Without preamble, the elder looked at the two and said, “This must be Master Yi?”

Yi Fan rose. “I am he.”

The elder scrutinized him, then nodded. “Not bad. Judging by your bearing and aura, you have some skill. But may I ask—do you truly possess the power to subdue demons?”

“I cannot claim great power,” Yi Fan replied, “but lesser demons are within my ability.”

“Good! If you can rid us of this demon, I cannot promise the impossible, but anything the Zhang family possesses, you may name it as your reward.”

Yi Fan pondered a moment. “In that case, may I ask for the details, that I might prepare accordingly?”

The elder nodded, glancing at the steward, who stepped forward and recounted the events in full.

Half a month prior, the young lady of the Zhang family had fallen ill. A foul odor came from her body—at first faint, but growing ever more pungent, to the point of making others retch. The Zhangs spared no effort, seeking doctors far and wide, even bringing physicians from over a hundred miles away, but to no avail. The stench only worsened.

Then, matters became more dire. At night, strange cries were heard from the young lady’s room. When a maid went to check, she was found dead, her neck savagely bitten through. It was a gruesome scene.

Yet by day, the young lady remembered nothing. Only in the dead of night did these events occur, and even binding her with ropes proved useless.

After five or six servants and maids had been killed, the Zhang family could bear it no longer. Realizing that demonic forces were at work, they summoned exorcists from afar—but these, too, met violent ends.

What was more terrifying, the demon began to leave the young lady’s room, attacking others and drinking human blood. Several more servants died, and panic gripped the entire household.

Were it not for the surrounding chaos and the Zhangs’ fair treatment of their people, many would have already fled.

At this point, the steward hesitated, glancing at his master. Seeing the latter’s calm expression, he continued, “To stem the panic, the master arranged for the young lady to be moved to a villa outside the city. Notices were posted, summoning so-called ‘righteous men’ lured by reward, but in truth, it was sending them to their deaths.”

Yi Fan glanced at Qin Zhifeng and saw his face pale, anger evident but suppressed, as he clenched his teeth in silence.

The steward pretended not to notice. “Today, we were to summon another five or six men, but with Master Taoist’s aid, should the demon be vanquished and the young lady saved, there will be no further need for such measures.”

Yi Fan did not reproach the Zhangs. In these troubled times, lives were worth little, and those with power and influence—like the Zhangs—were already doing well not to simply seize people for sacrifice.

After asking several more questions and forming a plan, Yi Fan said, “Time is of the essence. Let us go to see the young lady and make further preparations.”

Seeing that Yi Fan showed no fear but pressed to confront the demon, the elder rejoiced, laughing heartily. “Then I leave it in your hands, Master Taoist.”

The Zhangs prepared a carriage and, with a dozen guards, set out from the city. After a mile or two, they arrived at a manor where seven or eight men stood sentry, saluting the elder as he approached.

Inside, a maid brought tea, which the elder waved away. They proceeded to a side room where he asked the guard, “Is the young lady within?”

“Yes, master. She has not left her room.”

He nodded, instructing the steward and Qin Zhifeng to wait outside, then entered the chamber with Yi Fan.

Upon entering, Yi Fan frowned. A stench of utter corruption assailed him, as if from rotting corpses—enough to make one dizzy and nauseous. The elder’s uneasy expression told Yi Fan he was enduring it with great effort.

“Dai’er, your father has come to see you.”

He called several times, but there was no answer. Hurrying to the inner room, he found the bed curtains tightly drawn. As he hesitated to pull them aside, a sudden shriek made him jump.

“Dai’er, it’s your father. Come out and let me see you.”

His voice was filled with sorrow. “Do not fear. I have brought a true master to exorcise the demon and save you from suffering.”

From within came a cry, “Go away! Leave me alone! Don’t concern yourselves with me.”

This was followed by the sound of weeping. The elder sighed and turned to Yi Fan, bowing deeply. “Master Taoist, she is my only daughter. I beg you—save her from this torment, free her from the demon’s grasp.”

Yi Fan quickly helped him up. “No need for this, Elder. Please wait outside and leave this to me.”

Though he hesitated, the elder finally nodded and left, leaving Yi Fan alone in the room.