Chapter Eighteen: Assassination

The expert from the Cheng Tian Dao wore a grim expression and said, "Rest assured, Envoy. We shall act immediately and slay Wang Zhenling."

"Go then. You have only five days," the imperial envoy replied coldly.

"Five days is more than enough," the Cheng Tian Dao practitioner echoed with a chilling smile.

It was unimaginable that a mere nobody like Wang Zhenling, whom they had never once considered a threat, would cause them such immense trouble.

Ever since that night, Wang Zhenling’s situation had changed significantly. At the very least, within the county government offices, while no one dared to openly associate with him, their underlying attitude toward him had shifted dramatically. What was once a desire to avoid him at all costs had turned into sympathy, and even respect.

After all, even the minor officials in the county office studied the Confucian classics. They held a profound respect for someone like Wang Zhenling, who was considered a "seed of Confucianism." Every such seed, even if they did not eventually become a sage, was destined to become a great Confucian scholar admired by the world.

Thus, although Wang Zhenling’s fundamental circumstances had not changed, his immediate environment had improved greatly. However, the situation remained delicate, and Wang Zhenling had no intention of acting ostentatiously; he continued to hide in his official residence, reading and cultivating. He even began to integrate the Confucian texts he had read in his past life with the Confucian principles of this world, conducting deep study and reflection. After all, if he was to pose as a Confucian seed, his understanding of their philosophy could not be shallow, or he would easily be exposed. He needed not only to be well-versed in the local Confucian doctrines but also to use theories from his previous life to bolster his persona.

In Wang Zhenling’s view, the Confucianism of this world was more akin to the Han Dynasty’s interpretation, emphasizing the interaction between heaven and humanity and the divine right of kings—it was a theology of correspondence between heaven, earth, and man. Following the collapse of Han Confucianism came the dark ages of the Three Kingdoms, the Wei and Jin dynasties, and the Tang and Five Dynasties. It was not until the Song Dynasty that scholars reconstructed Confucianism, though it was entirely different from the Han tradition. Lacking the massive theological framework of the past, Song Confucianism had to learn from Buddhism and Taoism, focusing instead on internal cultivation. From the Confucian revival in the early Song to the perfection of the study of principle and energy, if one viewed it from a mystical perspective, the shift from Han to Song Confucianism was a collapse and a regression. Regardless, Song Confucianism did see significant developments in other areas. By the Ming Dynasty, the School of Mind had flourished, but it was already a spent force, and by the Qing Dynasty, it had turned into a stagnant pool.

***

Wang Zhenling remained secluded, contemplating these matters. Suddenly, one day, he heard a scream coming from outside the county office. Startled, he glanced out the window. It was broad daylight; how could such a scream erupt within the county office? Confused, he heard several more cries of agony.

Outside the Danling County office, three assassins had suddenly broken in. Initially appearing as ordinary, dust-covered travelers, they had discarded their cloaks to reveal gleaming blades hidden beneath. They cut down several guards at the entrance and charged inward. Who could have imagined such fierce, death-defying men would dare to storm a government office? Fortunately, in this era of martial vigor, not only the guards but even the ordinary clerks carried weapons, and they immediately engaged the assassins to block their path.

Little did they know, these three were masters capable of projecting sword energy. To make matters worse, they wore heavy armor beneath their cloaks, rendering them nearly impervious to blades. In no time, they had killed seven or eight guards and clerks, pushing their way into the inner compound toward Wang Zhenling’s residence. The county office, like the various districts within the city, was protected by walls, acting as a fortress within a city. While outsiders would normally be ignorant of the layout, these three assassins seemed intimately familiar with it, charging directly toward Wang Zhenling’s quarters.

It was broad daylight; the fact that these assassins dared to storm the county office proved they were truly desperate men. Yet, it was precisely because it was daytime that the spectral guards could not be summoned, leaving only ordinary men to defend the site. This was a vulnerability in the county's defenses. As Wang Zhenling listened to the continuous screams, the sound of the struggle drew ever closer.

"They are coming for me!"

This thought flashed through Wang Zhenling’s mind. He deduced the reason for their daytime assault and realized they were masters specializing in physical combat. Otherwise, had a practitioner of the Way of Qi attempted to break in, even without the spectral guards, the suppression of the county’s official fortune would have been triggered.

"How naive. They think the spectral guards cannot be deployed in the daylight? That may be true elsewhere, but not in this county office!" Wang Zhenling sneered inwardly. He had not forgotten the methods used during the trial of the previous City God of Danling.

He grasped his official seal, intending to commune with the bureaucratic aura and cast a spell. Yet, at that very moment, he was struck by a surge of overwhelming palpitations. His heart felt as if it were being violently hammered, and a blinding light pierced his eyes, making it nearly impossible to keep them open. In an instant, his consciousness was pulled by an immense force into a vast, dark vortex.

"Let me out..."
"I am wronged! I am innocent!"
"You corrupt official, I do not submit! You frame the righteous!"
"Mercy! Mercy! I will never do it again, let me out!"
"I am in such pain..."

A cacophony of voices erupted from all around, flooding into Wang Zhenling’s ears. Then, in the darkness, countless sinful ghosts emerged, waving their arms and reaching toward him as they wailed.

"Having suppressed so many ghosts, could this be the City God’s prison? But why am I here, and where are the City God’s spectral guards?"

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than he saw the spectral guards—their faces covered in blood, the magical markings on their foreheads erased—being cast into the depths of the ghostly prison.