Chapter 43: Shrine of the Black Waters

The messenger delivering the orders this time was, unexpectedly, that same Mr. Feng. Wang Zhenling clearly remembered that Mr. Feng had not approved of turning against the City God during their last encounter, yet now the man's attitude had changed drastically.

After relaying the orders and just as he was about to leave, Mr. Feng lowered his voice and whispered to Wang Zhenling, "The matter you mentioned last time—you may proceed!"

The matter from last time?

Wang Zhenling understood instantly.

This meant that Chen Bushi had made up his mind to take action against the City God.

And Wang Zhenling’s appointment as County Captain’s Attendant, patrolling all the townships, was clearly designed to facilitate his actions.

The County Captain’s Attendant was an official under the County Captain. While the rank was no higher than the rural constable Wang Zhenling had been, the authority was different. The rural constable managed only the security of his own township, whereas the Attendant could patrol and oversee security across all the townships in the county—a significant advantage for carrying out his plans.

For some time now, Wang Zhenling had been on the verge of breaking through to the Out-of-Body Realm, yet the City God’s ghostly minions had kept him under close surveillance, making cultivation impossible. Resentment and anger had built up within him, and now, given the opportunity, he would not hesitate to strike.

He immediately set out to patrol the various townships with great fanfare, but after leaving Guangyang Township, he toured the others in Danling County instead of heading straight for Dafen Township.

Maintaining order throughout the county was the County Captain’s duty, and as his Attendant, Wang Zhenling’s patrols and the arrest of criminals were all part of his responsibilities. Wherever his carriages and retinue passed, peace prevailed, and even the lawless dared not show themselves.

But Wang Zhenling’s true focus was not on these official duties.

He was surveying the spiritual veins in each place.

Danling County covered a vast area. In later generations, a county magistrate was called the "Warden of a Hundred Li." But at this time, a county spanned far more than a hundred li. According to the administrative divisions—one hundred households to a li, ten li to a pavilion, ten pavilions to a township, ten townships to a county—a county covered at least a thousand li square. Here, a "li" was not a measure of length, but an administrative unit.

Of course, such an idealized, compulsively neat plan existed only in theory. In practice, Danling County had sixteen townships; the larger ones had seven or eight thousand households, the smaller, only a thousand or two. Altogether, the county had over sixty thousand households and a population of two to three hundred thousand—a large county indeed.

Otherwise, that Chen Bushi would not have come here to gild his resume. After all, if a place was truly poor and backward, it would not be a good place for career advancement.

One day, while Wang Zhenling was still leading his large retinue on patrol, several commoners suddenly stopped his carriage to bring complaints.

The County Captain’s Attendant patrolled the countryside precisely to handle such matters. He ordered the complainants to step forward and state their case.

They declared that they were not accusing a person, but the shaman of the Blackwater Society.

This shaman, who presided over sacrifices to the Blackwater Society’s god, was greedy beyond measure, frequently cursing the commoners and extorting wealth from them. Especially during drought years, the people of Dafen Township, hoping to entice the Blackwater god to send rain, had to offer up their possessions. There was even talk, one year, of human sacrifices.

Wang Zhenling was furious. “A mere private society’s petty spirit—what power could it possibly have to bring wind or rain? This is nothing but fraud and extortion. The authorities cannot ignore this; I shall see to the matter myself!”

He went at once to Dafen Township. Though the name contained “great,” it was but a sparsely populated little place. Situated near the Wujishan Mountains, it was mostly hills and little arable land, with barely over a thousand households.

When Wang Zhenling arrived, he saw that although it was not a festival day, many townsfolk were gathered by a mountain pool, praying and making offerings.

“This is the place,” Wang Zhenling sneered. He had yet to repay the City God for disrupting his cultivation, but now the opportunity had come.

He had seen many such scenes before; all the public societies were in the town centers. Those in the wilds were all private societies—so-called licentious cults, which in theory should be demolished by the authorities. But the law had grown lax, and the government could not control everything—private societies now flourished everywhere. Yet few were as brazen as this one.

Here, hundreds knelt and prayed by the pool, openly, even as the County Captain’s Attendant arrived with his carriage—they showed no sign of restraint.

This made Wang Zhenling’s eyes grow cold as he scanned the area. In the distance, the Wujishan Mountains undulated like a dragon, with earth veins converging. One vein extended to this very pool, forming a spiritual nexus.

“What a spiritual vein… this should belong to me!”

Wang Zhenling’s eyes gleamed. Of all the auspicious spots he’d seen on his rounds—aside from the county court and City God’s temple within the county seat—this was the best. He quickly made up his mind.

His patrols had been a pretext for seeking such earth veins and spirit points. If the county’s main luck could not be stolen, then to seize a spiritual nexus as an official was also a fine gain.

Now, his attention was fixed on this place.

Even more importantly, this society god was entangled with the City God.

The township bailiffs who came to receive him noticed Wang Zhenling’s gaze and were visibly uneasy. They privately blamed the Blackwater Society god for lacking tact—knowing full well the County Captain’s Attendant was coming, yet making no effort to be discreet.

Such licentious cults were tolerated not because the authorities could not intervene, but because they chose not to. If the new Attendant caught them in the act, it would be trouble indeed.

“What is this place?” Wang Zhenling asked coldly.

The bailiffs, elders, and constables present were all awkward, especially the township elders responsible for moral instruction. One of them stepped forward, forcing himself to say, “There’s been little rain lately, the crops are suffering, so the people have gathered here to pray.”

Wang Zhenling ignored him, still sneering. “What is this place?” he repeated.

His refusal to show face left the township elders red with embarrassment, but before anyone could answer, an old woman shaman, dressed in ritual garb and supported by the crowd, stepped forth. “This is the Blackwater Shrine,” she said gravely, “and I am the shaman who serves the Blackwater god—”

Wang Zhenling’s gaze turned sharp and he barked, “Who gave you leave to speak, you rural witch? How dare you interrupt!”

His words struck the old woman like a blow to the face; her cheeks flushed with blood, her mind reeled, and shame and fury nearly drove her to hurl herself at him.