Chapter 598 | Demonic Beings? Obviously Auspicious Omens!

Shen Liang stood frozen on the spot, his mind a complete blank.

He had reverted to his appearance from when he was alive.

A young man in his twenties, refined and scholarly, exuding the unique clean-cut aura of a scholar.

Then Shen Liang realized he was still clinging to the mangled, bloody Wu Gou like an octopus, and his face suddenly flushed with embarrassment.

Shen Liang hurriedly and clumsily released Wu Gou, apologizing incessantly.

“I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean to. I’ve offended you, I’ve offended you.”

“I’m so sorry, little master. I was truly out of line.”

The malevolent thoughts from his wrongful death still struggled deep within him, like a trapped beast hissing and roaring, but the sound was growing smaller and weaker.

Shen Liang could feel that the resentment was still there; it hadn’t vanished, but was being forcibly suppressed by the force of laws, pushed into the deepest parts of his spiritual consciousness, unable to make much of a splash for the time being.

But the memories remained.

The memory of his legs being broken by his employer, the memory of being pushed into the floodwaters, and the memory of that smiling face on the shore while he struggled in the water.

Waves of venomous emotion surged, only to be constantly pushed back down by the rules of Xuandu’s Ghost Mansion. Shen Liang’s consciousness flickered between clarity and haze. Just as he felt he was about to go mad from the alternation between hatred and peace, a Buddhist chant suddenly reached his ears.

It was clear and pleasant, like a spring bubbling in a mountain glen or a gentle spring breeze brushing against his face.

The Brahma chanting was steady and rhythmic, every word distinct, as if someone were whispering in his ear, yet also sounding like an echo from very far away.

Shen Liang was stunned for a moment and looked up.

Wu Gou had closed his eyes at some point, palms pressed together as he recited the Cleansing Heart Mantra.

His lips moved, and golden Sanskrit characters flew out from between them one by one, shimmering with a soft light in the air.

Those Sanskrit characters danced around Shen Liang; some landed on his shoulders, some rested on his head, and some entered his brow.

Shen Liang felt a hum in his head, as if something had been opened.

He could feel those Sanskrit characters combing through his spiritual consciousness, flipping through his memories section by section, wiping away the venom and hatred covering their surface bit by bit to reveal their original form beneath.

Upon Wu Gou’s back, that flesh-and-blood lotus bloomed once more.

Eight petals unfurled from both sides of his spine, and from the tips of the petals, countless flesh-and-blood tentacles as thin as hair extended.

The tentacles slowly reached toward Shen Liang, piercing into his body one after another, into his sea of consciousness, and into the depths of those memories soaked in resentment.

The tentacles began to suck.

Amidst the Buddhist chanting, Shen Liang only felt his mind becoming clearer and clearer.

The sounds that had always haunted him—the rushing water, the sound of bones breaking, the laughter on the shore—all grew quieter and more distant, as if wrapped in thick cotton, becoming indistinct.

Some very, very distant memories seemed to suddenly begin to revive.

He hadn’t thought of those memories for a long, long time—so long that he thought they had disappeared forever.

But now, guided by the Buddhist chant, they surfaced one by one like bubbles from the bottom of the water.

Shen Liang looked down at the water’s surface.

The murky floodwaters had become clear at some point, like a mirror reflecting his face.

Clean-cut and quiet, with soft features and a hint of scholarly air.

Shen Liang, a native of Lin’an County in the Southern Tang, was an only child. His father died early, and his mother raised him by washing clothes for others.

He had been clever since childhood, possessing a photographic memory. His teacher said he would surely pass the imperial examinations and bring honor to his family.

But his family was too poor to afford his schooling.

At sixteen, he dropped out and, through an introduction, became an apprentice at the largest rice shop in the county seat.

The owner of the rice shop was surnamed Zhou, known as Squire Zhou. He was in his forties, with a round face and a smiling expression, appearing very kind.

When Shen Liang first arrived, he knew nothing. Squire Zhou didn’t look down on him and had the accountant teach him how to use the scales, keep accounts, and identify different types of rice.

The accountant was surnamed Wu, an old man in his fifties. He had a bit of a temper, but he treated Shen Liang well.

Shen Liang worked hard and was quick-witted; in less than half a year, he had learned all the tasks.

Squire Zhou was very satisfied. He gave Shen Liang a raise and let him live in a small room behind the rice shop to save him the daily commute.

Shen Liang was overjoyed. He wrote to his mother, telling her he had met a good person and that she didn't need to worry.

Those years were the most comfortable of his life.

Every morning, he would first clean the rice shop inside and out, then open the door and wait for customers.

Squire Zhou had a good reputation and business was booming, with a constant stream of people coming to buy rice.

Shen Liang had a silver tongue, calling everyone “uncle” or “aunt.” After weighing the rice, he would help carry it to the door. The neighbors all liked him.

During festivals, Squire Zhou would give the workers red envelopes and treat them to meals at restaurants.

Every time, Shen Liang would send his saved wages home, keeping only a tiny bit of pocket money for himself.

He wanted to save enough money to renovate the old family house and hire a doctor to look at his mother’s legs.

His mother’s legs were bad, and she couldn't walk far; it pained his heart.

He also thought that after working a few more years and saving enough capital, he would open a small shop of his own. It wouldn't need to be big, just enough to support his mother.

Back then, he felt that life had hope. He believed that as long as he was willing to work hard, life would get better.

Later, when Accountant Wu retired to his hometown, Squire Zhou gave Shen Liang the job of accountant.

Shen Liang was overwhelmed by the favor and worked even harder.

He kept the rice shop’s accounts perfectly clear, recording every transaction plainly. Even Squire Zhou said that Shen Liang was the most reliable accountant he had ever seen.

During those years, the rice shop’s business grew larger and larger. Squire Zhou made a lot of money and treated Shen Liang even better.

He praised Shen Liang to everyone, saying he was his most capable subordinate and his right-hand man.

Shen Liang felt wonderful hearing this, believing he had truly met a benefactor in this life.

He even began to plan that after working a few more years and saving enough money, he would buy a small courtyard for his mother in the county seat and bring her to live with him.

There were doctors in the county seat, making it convenient for medical care, and she wouldn't have to live alone in the countryside.

He had such beautiful thoughts, believing that life would continue to be this good.

Then the flood came.

That summer, the goddess of the Southern Tang did not bestow her blessings as scheduled. For some reason, she seemed to have suddenly vanished. The land and water lost their balance, and torrential rain fell for a month without stopping.

Rivers breached their banks, and floodwaters rushed into the county seat like a runaway horse.

The crops were all submerged, more than half the houses collapsed, and countless people were displaced.

Squire Zhou’s rice shop was on high ground and wasn't flooded, but the townspeople had no harvest, and rice prices skyrocketed.

Squire Zhou removed the shop’s door panels, leaving only a small window to sell rice in limited quantities.

A measure of rice, which usually cost only a few dozen wen, rose to several hundred wen during that time and continued to climb.

Some people couldn't afford rice and were starving. They knelt at the rice shop door, begging Squire Zhou to be kind and sell it cheaper.

Squire Zhou said with a smile that there was nothing he could do; his supply costs were also high, and he couldn't sell at a loss.

Shen Liang looked at those elderly people and children who were too hungry to walk, and his heart ached terribly.

He went to Squire Zhou and suggested they lower the prices. Even if they didn’t make a profit, they shouldn't let the neighbors starve to death.

Squire Zhou didn’t speak but looked at him with a smile, patted his shoulder, and said, “You’re still young. You don’t understand business.”

Then, after a long silence, he added, “If they don’t die, I’ll be the one to die.”

Shen Liang didn’t understand.

He truly didn’t understand.

He didn’t understand why the usually amiable Squire Zhou had become so cold at a time like this.

He didn’t understand why they would rather let the rice stacked in the warehouse go moldy than distribute it to the people who were about to starve.

He couldn't figure it out, but he couldn't bear to watch those people die.

So he secretly opened the granary.

Every night, while Squire Zhou was away, he opened the back door of the granary and let the starving people in, allowing each to carry away a bag of rice.

He didn’t ask for money, not a single cent.

He simply felt that one cannot stand by and watch others die.

The matter was quickly discovered.

When Squire Zhou rushed into the granary with his servants, Shen Liang was helping an old woman hoist a bag of rice onto her shoulder.

The old woman was so terrified her legs went weak. Shen Liang helped her to the side and turned to face Squire Zhou.

Squire Zhou was still smiling, but that smile was different from before.

Shen Liang couldn't say exactly what was different, but he felt that smile made his skin crawl.

Squire Zhou didn’t speak; he just waved his hand.

The servants rushed forward and pinned him to the ground.

Two clubs, each as thick as a man’s arm, came crashing down on his legs.

Crack.

Shen Liang’s vision went dark from the pain. He rolled on the ground, begging his master for mercy, saying he meant well, saying he was willing to use his wages to pay for the rice.

Squire Zhou stood before him, looking down with a smile, without saying a word.

Shen Liang wanted to say something, but he was in too much pain to speak.

He was dragged to the riverbank.

The murky floodwaters were still churning, with withered branches and rotting leaves floating on the surface alongside bloated animal carcasses.

Squire Zhou personally pushed him into the river.

Shen Liang struggled in the water, crying for help, begging for mercy, shouting that he still had an old mother at home to support.

The people on the shore just watched.

Squire Zhou stood at the very front, smiling as he watched him thrash in the water, watching him slowly sink.

Shen Liang swallowed a bellyful of water and sank to the bottom.

His last thought before death was—

Why?

Why would someone who was so good to him normally become like this at a time like this?

What did he do wrong?

He just wanted to save people.

Shen Liang stood on the water’s surface, looking at his clean-cut reflection, his eyes reddening.

Those buried memories rushed back like a tide, scene by scene, crystal clear.

The good, the bad, the warm, and the cold.

He remembered Squire Zhou smiling and praising his capability, giving him red envelopes and telling him to treat his mother well, and he also remembered Squire Zhou smiling as he pushed him into the river.

The same smile, the same person.

He couldn't figure it out.

He really couldn't figure it out.

How could someone you spent every day with for ten years turn into a completely different person in the blink of an eye?

Were those years of kindness, those years of care, those years of praise—were they real or fake?

If they were real, how could he bring himself to do it?

If they were fake, then what was he to him all those ten years?

Just a well-trained dog?

Shen Liang’s tears finally fell, dropping one by one into the clear water and creating small ripples.

Wu Gou opened his eyes at some point, waiting until Shen Liang had finished crying before speaking softly.

“Benefactor, what did you just remember?”

Shen Liang sniffed and said aggrievedly, “Some old matters from when I was alive.”

Shen Liang began to recount everything according to his memories.

After listening, Wu Gou frowned slightly. He heard something amiss in Shen Liang’s words.

The Wenchang destiny not only made one clever and studious, allowing one to discern the truth of speech, but it also granted a near-instinctive insight.

It allowed one to hear the hidden meanings in others’ words, discover irrational details in seemingly simple narratives, and see the underlying truth of matters.

Wu Gou hadn’t inherited the Wenchang destiny for long, and he wasn't very practiced in using this insight, but the contradictions in Shen Liang’s story were too obvious; it was hard not to notice.

A merchant might prioritize profit, but that doesn't mean they are devoid of sentiment. It is difficult for someone who has been good to you for ten years to change completely overnight.

You worked for him, helped him make money, and he gave you wages and a place to live; that was a fair exchange.

But his praise wasn't just within the business; he praised you to everyone he met.

That was adding luster to your name, helping you build a reputation.

Why would a rice shop owner help an accountant build a reputation?

Unless he truly appreciated you, truly saw you as one of his own, and hoped that even if you left his rice shop in the future, you could rely on that good reputation to find another livelihood.

Would such a person break your legs and throw you into a river over a few bags of rice when a flood came?

It was irrational.

No matter how greedy or ruthless he might be, he wouldn't destroy a capable subordinate he had used for ten years, who was easy to work with and could continue to be used, over a few bags of rice.

How much were a few bags of rice worth?

How much was an accountant worth who had been used for ten years, was familiar with all business processes, and could handle things on his own?

Even a fool could do that math, let alone a shrewd businessman who had been in business for decades.

Therefore, there must have been another reason for Squire Zhou’s change of heart.

“If they don’t die, he’ll be the one to die.” What did that mean?

Wu Gou’s frown deepened at the thought.

He only knew a few fragmented pieces from Shen Liang’s brief account—the flood, the rice shop, opening the granary, the broken legs, being pushed into the river.

But these fragments were too few, too few to piece together a complete picture.

Perhaps Squire Zhou himself was facing some kind of immense pressure at the time.

Perhaps the flood brought not just famine, but something even more terrifying.

Perhaps someone forced him to do it.

Perhaps Squire Zhou was crying in his heart while he stood on the shore smiling that day.

Wu Gou couldn't be sure.

He only knew one thing: this matter was not as simple as Shen Liang thought; it couldn't be summarized as just a good person not getting rewarded.

But what the truth was, he couldn't see yet.

But that didn't matter.

What he needed to do now wasn't to reconstruct the truth, but to first fish this poor ghost who had been soaking in water for a hundred thousand years out of it.