Chapter 42: Blood

**Translation:**

Truly, misfortunes never come singly—the iron weight that was supposed to be left untouched for forty-nine days had vanished without a trace. Now, with the situation urgent but no time to deal with it immediately, I could only wait until my tasks were done before returning.

I stomped twice on the grave, as if Bai Jingren was still inside, and shouted, “Bai Jingren, behave yourself and don’t go running around, or I’ll burn you into powder for fertilizer!” Whether it was the sound of insects or my imagination, I couldn’t tell.

*Thump-thump, clang-thump-thump…* A series of knocks echoed from inside the coffin, as if signaling that it needed time to consider.

Damn it! I was already in a foul mood, and now this thing was knocking at me. I grabbed a large rock from nearby and pressed it down on the grave. Though it lacked the power of the iron weight, I hoped it would at least help a little…

Under the big jujube tree at the village entrance, Uncle Datan was already waiting for me. He had changed into a clean Mao suit, his Liberation shoes spotless. In his hands was a basket filled with pig-slaughtering tools—dozens of knives for scraping hair, gutting, and cleaning intestines, all freshly washed and still dripping with water.

A bone-cleaving knife with embedded copper coins hung at his waist. He stood by the car door, waiting for me to open it. Seeing movement inside the burlap sack I was carrying, he asked, “Poisonous snakes?”

I replied, “Uncle Datan, don’t worry, they won’t bite. Just some venomous critters—they’ll come in handy. Get in and sit tight. We’re heading to Jiangcheng.”

Uncle Datan crushed his cigarette butt underfoot, grabbed his tools, and settled into the car. By the time we descended the mountain, the sky was slowly brightening. I checked the time—it was already 4 a.m.

Uncle Datan quickly rolled down the window. “Nephew, slow down! Don’t end up feeding the beasts at the bottom of the mountain before we even reach Jiangcheng.”

I reassured him, “Relax, I know what I’m doing. The Mountain God won’t harm us.”

As we drove, I brought up the boar spirit. “Uncle, whatever happens today and tomorrow—it has nothing to do with you. You’re just here to slaughter a pig. Keep it all to yourself.”

Uncle Datan nodded. “I trust you’re a good man at heart. Tell me, what kind of pig are we dealing with?”

My mind gradually calmed. “A wild boar spirit. It escaped today and even took someone. I figure only your bone-cleaving knife can finish it off. Rumor has it, this boar has been lurking around the Jiangxi-Hubei border for over a century.”

Uncle Datan slapped the car window excitedly. “Nephew, after today’s job, I won’t charge you—I’ll even pay *you*! Tell me, is this boar bald-headed? Did it name itself Yang Pao…?”

I was stunned. “How do you know, Uncle?”

He grinned. “This is Heaven’s justice! My grandfather used to say there was a boar spirit that preyed on livestock. By my father’s time, it started hunting people. Now, in my hands, it’ll finally meet its end. How could I *not* pay you?”

I nodded. “Let’s see if we can actually kill it first.”

After a pause, Uncle Datan added, “There’s something else. I just remembered—that boar didn’t have a name originally. It was supposedly enlightened by a Taoist priest… something about a Flying Centipede…”

*A Taoist priest.*

What kind of Taoist would that be?

—

The car raced on, finally arriving in Jiangcheng at 7 a.m. As we exited the highway, gunshots erupted ahead—a drug-laden truck had been intercepted, leading to a shootout with narcotics officers. Two drug dealers were killed on the spot, and one officer was seriously wounded.

The ground was soaked in blood. Uncle Datan sighed, “Killing people is just like slaughtering pigs—both leave a trail of blood…”

A passerby snapped photos with a flash, only to have narcotics officers chase him down, smash his phone to pieces, and curse, “What the hell are you photographing?!”

Narcotics officers were tough as nails, but their mortality rate was terrifyingly high.

If some “well-meaning” netizen posted about them online, drug cartels would hunt them down mercilessly—with gruesome consequences.

After leaving the highway, we took the Third Ring Road.

Shen Yihu called, saying Chen Tucha had told him I’d had an accident. “What exactly happened? And Xiao Qi—don’t do anything reckless. This is a law-abiding society. Trust the police—trust *me* to help you.”

I cut him off. “Stay out of it. I know what I’m doing. If you interfere, we’re done as friends.”

Shen Yihu fell silent for a moment. “Xiao Qi, don’t walk a path of no return. There’s a limit to everything.”

—

After exiting the Third Ring Road, we drove for another ten minutes before reaching Bai Meng’s flower shop. “Uncle Datan, wait here. I’ll get you something to eat.”

He chuckled. “Food’s not important—just bring me some liquor. No liquor, no strength. And without strength, hunting a boar spirit isn’t worth it.”

I grinned. “Liquor? I’ve got liquor.”

I unlocked the shop, let Uncle Datan settle in, then went out for breakfast—returning with fried dough sticks, soy milk, steamed buns, and a small bottle of strong liquor.

To my surprise, Uncle Datan was already inside, chatting with Jun Ge about U.S. military drills, Russia and Japan’s dispute over the Northern Territories, and how Putin was a real tough guy.

Jun Ge explained, “Something came up at home. My phone died, so I only got back this morning.”

I didn’t press him—everyone had their struggles.

“Perfect timing. Let’s eat.” I set down the food.

Uncle Datan happily paired his buns with liquor, sighing, “If only we had some pork trotters, it’d be perfect.”

I plugged in my phone to charge, waiting for Meng Liuchuan’s call.

Jun Ge eyed Uncle Datan’s basket of slaughtering tools. “What’s this? Opening a butcher shop? You even brought knives?”

I decided honesty was best—especially since I needed his help.

“I’ll tell you, but don’t interfere. The truth is, Miss Xie is just my sister. The one I truly love was taken by the Japanese. I’m going to rescue her. What I need from you is to teach me how to use a gun.”

Jun Ge’s expression darkened. “The same Japanese who hurt Zongbao? Targeting family—that’s beyond the pale. No honor among villains.”

Uncle Datan, now tipsy, began chanting:

*”Raise the blade, slay the foe,*

*With blood, our land shall grow.*

*When flowers bloom at last,*

*Our children laugh—the shadows past.”*

Jun Ge slammed the table, impressed. “Uncle Datan, you’re a poet!”

The old man chuckled. “A verse from my ancestors, hoping their sacrifices would bring peace to future generations. Who knew even after driving out the Japanese, their descendants still couldn’t rest easy?”

Jun Ge grinned. “Uncle, in this mighty nation of ours, what’s there to fear from a bunch of pirates?”

*Damn right.*

I moved a potted plant aside, revealing a black Star 54 pistol—recovered from the fake Wang Han, left behind when he and Insect Lao Wu dissolved into blood.

Jun Ge, a ten-year military veteran, knew guns inside out. He picked it up, cocked it twice near his ear, and nodded approvingly.

“Fine weapon. A killer’s tool. In Hong Kong, they call it the ‘Black Star.’ In Taiwan, the ‘Big Black Star.’ There’s even a legend—’one shot, three kills’—where a bullet pierces one body, keeps going through another, then ricochets off a wall to take out a third unlucky soul.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Exaggeration much?”

Jun Ge handled the gun lovingly before sighing. “But killing with this… it’s brutal. You’re a college student—guns don’t suit you.”

I shrugged. “Just carrying it for courage.”

The Black Star had a satisfying weight. Two bullets remained inside.

Jun Ge looked torn between admiration and concern. “Brother… are you really going to fight the Japanese to the death? What exactly are their *onmyōji*? If they use dark magic, will bullets even work?”

I smiled grimly. “Don’t ask, brother. Even if you did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Uncle Datan, having finished his liquor and sleepless all night, spread out some newspapers on the floor. “You two keep arguing. I’m taking a nap…”

Jun Ge sighed. “Fine. You’re scrawny, but your will is steel. I’ll teach you how to disassemble this gun, its mechanics, and the basics of handling it. For close-range kills, just keep your hand steady, flip the safety off, and mind the recoil. If you need to sneak it in somewhere, break it down first and reassemble later.”

*Killing.*

I memorized every word, removing the magazine and dry-firing twice. The Black Star was my last resort—a final chance if all else failed.

Meng Liuchuan finally called, asking if I’d called the police.

I replied coldly, “Killing you doesn’t require police.”

He hung up without another word. No further calls came. Exhausted, I closed my eyes—only for the image of that blood-soaked highway to flash in my mind.

Then, a knock sounded at the door.