Chapter Thirty: The City God of Danling

A typical county would have no more than two or three hundred ghost soldiers, yet Danling County boasted as many as five hundred. Of course, the quality of these ordinary ghost soldiers fell far short of those heroic spirits who had once besieged the Wuhua Society. Those were truly the valiant souls—courageous in life and formidable in death, unyielding even after falling in battle, their spirits remaining fierce and undaunted, honored as heroes among ghosts. They had perished for their country on distant battlefields, dying with integrity and refusing to submit, forever commemorated in state rituals. Only a great family such as the Chen clan of Hezhong, with close ties to the imperial house, could borrow the service of such formidable troops.

In comparison, the ghost soldiers from ordinary localities were of much poorer caliber. Still, what gave Wang Zhenling some comfort was that Danling County possessed five hundred ghost soldiers—more than double that of a typical county seat. The surrounding counties, too, maintained higher numbers of ghost soldiers than elsewhere. The reason was simple: all these counties lay in proximity to Mount Wuji.

Zhuling County was somewhat better off, being a hundred or two hundred miles from Mount Wuji, with another county in between. But Xiaji County, for instance, sat right at the foot of the mountain, where more than two thousand ghost troops were stationed year-round, effectively making it a military town. The reason for this was that Mount Wuji was a sacred mountain, once home to the famed ancient Wuji shamans. Though such shamans no longer existed, people still regarded the mountain as a sacred place, attracting many cultivators who built hermitages deep within the forests to pursue their spiritual paths.

The authorities had dispatched troops several times to root them out, but the mountain's vastness and dense forests made it easy for cultivators to elude capture. Whenever soldiers pressed in, the recluses vanished without a trace, and the expeditions returned empty-handed. In truth, the frequent appearance of cultivators around Danling County was closely connected to this mountain. Thus, the heavy garrisoning of ghost soldiers in Danling, Xiaji, and neighboring counties was a direct result.

“Mount Wuji is just a hundred or so miles away. If I’d known earlier, perhaps I would have sought refuge there…” Wang Zhenling sighed inwardly. Yet, by now he had long since lost any desire to join those who had taken to the mountain.

As Wang Zhenling’s horizons widened, he came to realize that the current world’s paths of cultivation were incomplete. Most practitioners everywhere were still groping in the dark, searching for ways to advance, and might not even possess methods superior to his own. More importantly, the quality of cultivators in this world was uneven. Many sought power with no regard for anything else; the sort of human sacrifice and sorcery practiced by those in the Wuhua Society was, regrettably, not uncommon.

“For now, it is better to hide within the government’s embrace, to be a great hermit in the marketplace. As the saying goes, ‘it is easy to cultivate within officialdom’—how true those words are…” With that, he left mundane concerns behind, delegating all affairs to Wang Hu and Zhu He, who had accompanied him to his new post at the township office.

Zhu He, a man of considerable ability, proved most useful, and Wang Zhenling entrusted nearly all miscellaneous business to him. Grateful for having been spared his life previously, and kept in check by Wang Hu’s supervision, Zhu He could be relied upon to carry out his duties faithfully.

Now, Wang Zhenling sat in meditation within his quiet chamber. As he calmed his mind, wisps of white energy rose and flowed into the Moon Wheel Celestial Palace within his consciousness. When he had first served as a rural patrol officer, he drew on the official aura of a single village—hardly less effective than cultivating in a hermitage. But now, stationed at the township office, he could draw on the fortunes of an entire county. This theft of official aura for cultivation felt ten times more potent than practicing in the Jun Heaven Grotto.

The official aura streamed ceaselessly into the Moon Wheel Heaven, filling the diagram of inner contemplation until it grew ever more lifelike and detailed. Most critically, the powers purified by the Moon Wheel Celestial Palace continually rained down upon his primordial spirit, making it ever more lucid and robust.

Yet he was unaware that, as he cultivated, something was happening less than a mile away at the City God’s underworld court, where the City God himself was also drawing upon this aura for his own practice. Suddenly, the deity awoke with a jolt.

The City God’s underworld, a shadow of the temple in the mortal realm, was vastly grander—its halls and courtyards stretching for more than ten compounds, outstripping even the township office in scale. At this moment, the City God sat serenely within the Spirit Pool in a great hall at the rear. With every breath, streams of fortune poured down like rain into the pool.

The Spirit Pool measured nine feet across, half red and half white—white dominating, red but a trace. At first glance, it seemed just a pool of water. But upon closer inspection, one would glimpse within it a world unto itself, with surging waves and shifting clouds, as boundless as the sea.

With a single step, the City God caused the pool’s spiritual waters to reverse course, flowing entirely into his body. As he strode from the hall, the pool vanished completely, its vast power absorbed into himself. For a moment, he blazed with divine brilliance, an awe-inspiring presence radiating celestial authority.

But now the City God’s face was contorted with rage. “Who dares to steal the official fortune? Someone, investigate at once!” Until now, he himself had drawn freely from this power, but the moment another did so, he could not tolerate it—in fact, he resented it all the more.

Immediately, several ghost soldiers and underworld officials received his command, knelt in obeisance, and hurried off to conduct their search. “Anyone capable of siphoning official aura must be from within the administration itself. Such a thing has never happened before, unless a new official was recently appointed… Someone, look into which new official has just taken office in this county!”

Soon, a report came: “Only the patrol officer of Guangyang township fell in battle recently. Wang Zhenling of the Wang clan has filled his post.”

A sharp gleam flashed in the City God’s eyes. “So, as soon as this new patrol officer arrives, the theft begins. Could it be…?”

His gaze flickered with suspicion, already settling on Wang Zhenling.

Meanwhile, in the township office, Wang Zhenling suddenly felt a slight throbbing and swelling at the center of his brow—an unmistakable sign that he had overexerted himself in cultivation that day. The official aura was limitless, but his own capacity to bear it reached its limit.

He felt, in that moment, like a mouse turned loose in a granary—surrounded on all sides by mountains of grain, free to gorge himself as he pleased with no one the wiser. The only frustration was that his own stomach was too small; no matter how much he was allowed to eat, how much could he actually consume?

Just then, his heart gave a start, and he broke off his meditation. Faintly, he heard a shout: “Who dares trespass upon the township office?” Such a shout was inaudible to ordinary folk, but issued from the ghost soldiers guarding the local government shrine.

“I am an envoy of the City God. Detecting an anomaly in the official fortune, I suspect someone is stealing it. I have come to investigate…”

These words drifted to Wang Zhenling’s ears, and he was startled out of his wits.