Chapter Thirty-Seven: Preparing for Invaders and Driving Out Spirits

In the blink of an eye, that shadow had already fled several miles away, rejoining its companions—the very cultivators from Misty Valley. Yet now, their faces bore none of the cold, ruthless expressions they had worn upon first emerging from the mountains; instead, they were overtaken by terror and panic.

“We have never before dealt with the officials of this world. Who could have imagined that in this realm, a mere county magistrate could possess such formidable power? With a single official seal, he shattered our formation…”

In Wang Zhenling’s previous life, most people regarded the county magistrate as a minor official, nothing more than an insignificant seventh-rank bureaucrat! Yet they failed to realize another saying—the magistrate who can obliterate an entire clan!

The so-called “seventh-rank sesame official” was but a term of derision in the bureaucracy, or the condescending view of actual high officials at court. In truth, to the common folk, a magistrate could at any moment confiscate a family’s property and annihilate their lineage. And that was the status of a seventh-rank magistrate in the Ming and Qing dynasties; in these earlier times, the administrative hierarchy was even more streamlined.

Locally, there were only two levels: the commandery and the county, with the prefecture serving merely as an oversight body. Thus, in these days, a county magistrate was, in theory, on par with many of the central government’s high officials and could be summoned to the capital at any time to wield real power.

A commandery governor, moreover, was the equal of the Nine Ministers; in theory, any one of them could assume such a role at court. All the more so now, when the authority of a county magistrate within his jurisdiction was at its zenith—a true mid- to high-ranking official, not some trivial functionary.

To think that even a “mere” county magistrate was so formidable! At the time, they had scoffed at the riverine Chen clan, who had been nobles for generations, but now, in retrospect, what a laughable mistake that was!

“What are we to do now…” The Misty Valley cultivators hung their heads in despair. They had believed that, having crossed into this world and attained such a level of cultivation, they could roam unhindered. Now they realized that their skills paled even in comparison to a county magistrate…

…

Since the City God had set his sights on him, no matter where Wang Zhenling went, the city’s spirit officials would be watching. So, Wang Zhenling simply stated that he had already completed his inspections throughout the villages, and returned straight to the township pavilion, his mind still turning over ways to deal with the City God.

That morning, Wang Zhenling went to the office of the rural patrol, expecting it to be a routine visit as usual. After all, Guangyang Township was relatively peaceful.

With the presence of spirits and deities, even if someone committed a crime, it would be easy to bring them to justice. Ever since Wang Zhenling had subdued Zhu He, that astute and diligent man had handled official business admirably. Moreover, with his own clansman Wang Hu serving among the township clerks as his eyes and ears, Wang Zhenling had little fear of being deceived.

This afforded him the leisure to cultivate or pursue other matters. Yet unexpectedly, during his usual rounds, both Zhu He and Wang Hu intercepted him together, saying, “Master Wang, after the autumn harvest, as the weather grows cold, it is once again the season to prepare for bandits and ward off spirits. We ask you to take heed.”

Though Zhu He was capable, such matters could not be handled on Wang Zhenling’s behalf.

“I understand. How has this been done in previous years?” Wang Zhenling inquired.

“Each village gathers its able-bodied men for training in case of bandit raids. The local shrines and their deities must also be on alert. In short, the patrols should visit each village to inspect and supervise… This matter is of utmost concern to the great clans—if the patrols do not take the lead, it will not go well.”

Zhu He was hesitant to speak so bluntly, so Wang Hu stepped forward to remind him.

Wang Zhenling realized at once that this was indeed the case. Defending against thieves and bandits was a matter of life and death, and every local clan took it seriously. As the chief of township security, if he failed to show up for such matters, he would surely be met with widespread resentment.

“I understand. And what of the exorcism of spirits?”

“That, too, requires the patrols to consult with the shamans of each shrine.”

Wang Zhenling nodded slightly and agreed. After all, any given village shrine was fortunate to have as many as three or five ghostly attendants. The township shrine had perhaps twenty. Altogether, there were only fifty or sixty spirit attendants in the entire township, and they were scattered among the villages. Should danger arise, it would be difficult to rally them quickly.

At times like these, the power of the living was indispensable!

Fortunately, Wang Zhenling had Lord Hu’s assistance. Lord Hu was the tutelary deity of Guangyang Township, and with his support, matters would proceed much more smoothly!

When Wang Zhenling made his rounds to the various villages, not only did the village chiefs, but also the clan leaders of the great families, all agreed to make preparations against bandits. Even the village shamans showed him great respect, promising to follow his direction when the time came…

…

It was the day of the great market, held once every fifteen days—a time when thousands of people would gather, making trouble most likely to occur.

Wang Zhenling, saying he was conducting rural inspections, could not afford to relax his vigilance, and patrolled the market with township clerks and militia in tow. Wherever they went, if not for the intimidating reputation of the “Tiger Who Clears the Streets,” they still received respectful bows and people made way for them.

This made Wang Zhenling’s attendants all the more proud, strutting about and borrowing his authority. However, Wang Zhenling kept them strictly in check, allowing them to show a bit of swagger but never to actually bully or oppress the people. Serving as an official in his own homeland, he had no wish to bring shame to his family.

Everyone knows: a rabbit does not eat the grass near its own burrow. However notorious the great clans might be elsewhere for hoarding and profiteering, at home they would build bridges, repair roads, and donate to shrines, all to preserve a good local reputation.

These markets, held every fifteen days, were bustling affairs indeed. Yet Wang Zhenling could not help but recall how Zhen Yunzi had been apprehended at just such a market and ultimately suffered as a result—his feelings were mixed.

At this moment, a messenger arrived on horseback: the county bailiff Chen was summoning Wang Zhenling back to the county seat for instructions.

In officialdom, the most important thing was to have a powerful patron. Wang Zhenling enjoyed his current comfortable circumstances precisely because he had Chen Bushi—a member of the riverine Chen clan—as his backer. When the patron summoned, there could be no delay.

He hurried to the county office. Upon meeting Bailiff Chen, he found the man full of vigor; after a few words of praise, he began to assign official duties.

These, of course, were state matters, not like the private business of eradicating the Wuhua Society last time. The most important duty of the government was taxation, and with the autumn harvest approaching, it was nearly time for the state to levy taxes.

Such matters were of the utmost importance—on a grand scale, they determined the operation of the entire government; on a smaller scale, they were directly tied to the salaries and livelihoods of every official. Hence, each level of government took this most seriously and began preparations well in advance.