Chapter 93: Collecting Debts

Chapter Ninety-Three: Debt Collection

Ahead, the flames roared furiously, impossible to extinguish, like all the demons and phantoms that had emerged from a gaping maw as vast as an abyss.

At last, the savage fire burned everything down to a bed of charcoal.

For many years afterward, the townsfolk of Sunlit Peace Town, who had once lived there in hiding and concealment, remembered the night of the Li family fire with extraordinary clarity. They never forgot how they were roused from deep midnight sleep by choking smoke and dust, never forgot how the people in the streets and alleys struggled awake from their hazy drowsiness, never forgot the shrieks, wails, and frantic footsteps echoing from every direction, and even less did they forget how that immense blaze lit up the entire town as bright as day.

Afterward, the authorities ruled it an accident. But more people knew that the Li household had finally received its due. They had hidden themselves away, afraid to show their faces on the streets. Was it really only fear of the Li family’s power and wealth?

The rumors grew ever more extravagant. Some even whispered of worshiping evil gods and carrying out bloody sacrifices. Such tales spread not merely because the fire had been so ferocious, but also because for so long everyone had been afraid.

The blaze had not only burned dozens to death; it had nearly erased every trace of the great Li manor.

The next morning, only after the fire had reduced everything to ash, did the townspeople dare, trembling, to see what remained. To their astonishment, aside from a few collapsed timber beams, half-charred black, and a field of shattered bricks and broken tiles, there was nothing left at all.

As for the Li family’s other holdings, some lacked anyone to manage them, while others fell into the hands of schemers, and before long they, too, declined.

There were always local loafers living nearby who loved to talk about what had happened years ago, deliberately adopting an exaggerated tone, eager to dredge up every odd tale from the darkest corners. It was said that in those days, some people had seen monstrous beings the size of houses in the fire, while others, peering through the window lattice, had glimpsed a Daoist in a red robe surrounded by countless shadowy forms.

Those few surviving Li descendants who had been away for years would often wake from sleep with the memory of that inferno, unable to master themselves. Without doubt, that memory carved an indelible mark into many lives. Yet even more powerful was the lingering belief that a life of wealth and fine food, obtained without toil, still hovered in their hearts. They grew more and more convinced that, in truth, the old matriarch was still alive.

How could the Li family’s great ancestress have died so easily? She must still be alive somewhere, living in some other form they did not know. But whether she lived or not, the offering rites to the Li family’s great ancestress had thus come to a complete and final end.

The Li family manor had become a bleak ruin. After the fire ravaged it, all former splendor and bustle were gone, leaving only endless silence and desolation. The air was thick with the pungent stench of scorched ruin and rot, the trace left by the fire and the portrait of the Li manor’s fate. Now and then a wind swept through, lifting the dust and ash from the ground as they whirled and danced in the air.

Within the ruins of that once-glorious estate, broken rafters and shattered tiles lay strewn everywhere, as though recounting the fire’s savagery. Even those once exquisite carved doors and windows had been reduced beyond recognition, leaving only blackened hollows.

But what no one knew was that in the embers of the fire at dawn, among these ruins, a slightly stout Daoist priest slowly approached. He wore a robe embroidered with threads of gold, and the worldly, calculating air about him sat uneasily with his identity as a priest, as if he had stepped out of the mire of the secular world carrying the stench of copper coin on his body.

His rounded face was now filled with displeasure and indifference. His gaze, sharp as a blade of ice, swept across the wreckage and finally settled on the Li family matriarch, who was already at death’s door.

“Se...nior... save...” the Li matriarch whispered in a weak, trembling voice. Her eyes were full of longing and supplication for life. Yet the fat Daoist merely looked at her coldly, as though she were no more than an insignificant ant.

“Save you?” His voice was low and sinister, as if it had risen from hell itself. A mocking smile curved his lips, full of scorn and contempt.

The Li matriarch’s body trembled faintly. She knew she had reached the end of the road. Still unwilling to accept it, she struggled desperately, trying to clutch at the last straw of survival. “I... I’m willing... to pay any... price... Save me...”

But the fat Daoist only smiled and shook his head. His expression was full of ridicule and disdain. “Heh. You’re beyond saving. It seems you won’t be able to pay the interest after all. As for the principal, that reserve of vital essence, I’ll have to take it back.”

His voice was low, with that same mercantile coldness, yet the meaning behind it made the Li matriarch tremble violently.

She collapsed helplessly amid the ruins, her eyes full of despair and terror, black blood and insects constantly spilling from the corners of her mouth.

As if suddenly granted a dying burst of strength, she forced out a frantic protest: “It can be done! Double it, no... five times... ten times!”

Her voice carried the last trace of madness and entreaty, trying to buy back her own life.

Yet the Daoist remained utterly unmoved. He flexed his fingers lightly, and the jade pendant hanging from his waist gave a clear, crisp ring. In the silence of that night, the sound was especially harsh.

Then he deftly extended a gold-threaded hook. His movements were practiced and swift. With the hook, he slit open the Li matriarch’s entrails and rummaged through the greasy mass of yellow and white matter inside. The sight was enough to make one’s flesh creep.

Amid the Li matriarch’s desperate, lifeless, bloodcurdling screams, the Daoist, expressionless, fished out a bloodstained silk sachet from her opened bowels.

The sachet seemed ancient, the pattern embroidered on it long since blurred beyond recognition, only faintly revealing some strange lines and shapes.

“Wait...” the Li matriarch squeezed out the words with great effort. “Innate... im...”

The Daoist wrapped the sachet disgustedly in a piece of cloth. Then he scraped the hook against the remnants of her garments, rubbing hard until all the bloodstains were gone, and only then did he put it away with satisfaction.

“What innate im...” he began coldly, his movements practiced and merciless, as if he had long since seen such scenes countless times.

“Pure?!” His eyes widened. He turned abruptly and stared at the Li matriarch.

But by then the Li matriarch had already opened her one remaining eye and lay dying in the ruins, becoming food for snakes, insects, and rats in the midst of her despair and agony.

“What innate purity?! Where did you see it?! Wake up!” Like a madman, the Daoist leaped down into the ruins. No longer the detached collector of debts he had been moments before, he allowed his gold-embroidered brocade robe to be smeared with mud and filthy blood and flesh. He grabbed the Li matriarch and shook her hard, while pieces of minced flesh crackled to the ground.

But the Li matriarch could say nothing more.

Grinding his teeth with a harsh rasp, the Daoist extended two fingers and gouged out the Li matriarch’s remaining eye. The nerves and flesh still attached to it stretched out in a long strand, and still not venting his rage, he slapped her head into a bloody pulp, skin and bone alike crushed to mush.