Chapter 53: Musical Instrument Requiem Method

The eldest daughter of the Sun family was crying bitterly now, clutching the execution platform and wailing aloud, and behind her a large, terribly ugly big fool trailed along, crying with her.

“Husband~ I brought this upon you, I brought this upon you~”

The big fool shouted from behind, “Brother-in-law, Xiao’e can’t be found, and you are to be beheaded, I am so heartbroken!!”

Li Chaosheng stood holding the ghost-head blade, saying nothing, his gaze sharply sweeping the two on the scene. Zhao Baili, who knelt on the ground, had no reaction. His eyes were full of tears but he could not speak a single word.

Once you knelt on the execution platform, half your three souls and seven spirits were gone, and there was no energy left. Kneeling there, the only thing left was to wait to die.

Clang clang clang~

With three gongs, His Excellency the Magistrate, draped in a big red robe, arrived surrounded by a group of runners and sat in the execution-watch tent. The tent was woven from reeds and stood just behind the execution ground, its back to the prisoners and facing the gathered citizens.

Inside the tent was a narrow table, on which sat a bamboo tube filled with a cluster of red-headed bamboo slips. These slips were the tokens. Once a slip fell to the ground, a head was considered to have fallen as well.

His Excellency the Magistrate sat down before the table and exchanged a glance with Li Chaosheng. He slightly lifted the part of his robe that touched the bench and nodded at Li Chaosheng in a show of respect. On the surface Li Chaosheng was an unranked executioner, but the county magistrate knew that Li Chaosheng now belonged to the Nightwardens and could not afford to offend him.

Li Chaosheng returned the nod to His Excellency the Magistrate, and only then did the magistrate settle. Sitting on the chair, he became as grave as still water. An official must display official dignity. One may joke in private, but before the people under one’s rule one must create authority. If you joke too much, others may not take you seriously, even your subordinates will manipulate you, and you will be reduced to a figurehead.

Therefore in old times the high magistrates had to keep stern faces, the corners of their mouths hanging down, eyes level and sweeping left and right. With a wave of the hand a runner would take out a sundial to check the time.

Seeing the time, it was almost midday. His Excellency the Magistrate nodded. This was an ordinary homicide. The culprit was not a demon or spirit. There was no need to wait till 45 minutes past noon. A slightly stronger sunlight now would be enough to kill.

His Excellency the Magistrate picked up a red-headed bamboo slip from the table and glanced at Li Chaosheng. If Li Chaosheng had no objections, the execution could proceed. Li Chaosheng nodded. The magistrate then tossed the red-headed slip to the ground.

Behead!

Wang Er immediately stepped forward to bring the last meal for the decapitated. Zhao Baili did not have as good an appetite as Bai Chunfeng. He did not touch the meat, only rubbed it at his lips, did not drink the wine, and then Li Chaosheng struck his head off with one blade.

A wisp of blue smoke rose directly and landed onto the Human-Skin Catalog of the Killing Scripture. Li Chaosheng stepped down from the execution platform. The clerk immediately handed Li Chaosheng the Hanging-Red of two taels of silver. Li Chaosheng gave a word of thanks and then went home.

His Excellency the Magistrate rose and left, heading straight for the City God Temple outside the city. At the City God Temple he needed to burn an offering and report to heaven why he had executed this criminal. Then the old temple keeper would take fresh willow branches dipped in water and lash the magistrate’s big red robe. After this ritual the magistrate could return to the office in normal order, impervious to evil.

Li Chaosheng returned home to find Turtle Son soaking in a basin. The little fellow had been growing lately and this copper basin was clearly too small. It looked like he would need a new home soon.

Li Chaosheng took off his clothes and changed into a fresh set. He drew up a bucket of water from the well, washed his hair and face, and rinsed his ghost-head blade while he was at it.

When everything was done, Li Chaosheng took the dirty clothes to Mrs. Wang who sat by the street. Her husband had been dead for several years and she had a little girl to raise. Life was hard. She made a living washing for wealthy households and doing mending to earn some hard cash.

Mrs. Wang usually sat at her door with needles and threads beside her. If passersby found a tear or a popped seam, for a penny or two Mrs. Wang would mend it on the spot, no matter how sour or smelly the garment might be. It was hard work.

Li Chaosheng usually disliked washing clothes because it was too much trouble. Out of pity for Mrs. Wang and her daughter, he gave her a fixed one hundred big coins each month and got a sort of membership. Whenever he had dirty clothes he would give them to Mrs. Wang and she would wash and hang them. The next day her little girl would deliver them back. It was very convenient.

One hundred big coins a month was nothing to Li Chaosheng, not even enough to visit a brothel for a cup of tea. But for Mrs. Wang it was life-saving money, so she was endlessly grateful to Li Chaosheng. At least he guaranteed that the two of them would not go hungry each month.

After leaving the clothes with Mrs. Wang, Li Chaosheng bought some braised meat from the street, a good pot of wine, and a few large steamed buns, preparing a decent enough lunch for the day.

At home he tossed a large bun to Turtle Son and scraped some braised meat for him. The little fellow ate more now that he had grown.

Li Chaosheng set the table under the big tree in the yard, sat down to drink by himself and ate with great enjoyment. He felt the autumn breeze, drank the wine, ate the meat, and when in a good mood he even hummed a little tune.

“A blade, a blade, what kind of blade is that, a blade, a blade, a ghost-head blade, one cut, one cut cuts the human brain…”

Li Chaosheng sang a grotesquely altered version of the song “Ghost-Head Blade,” less cheerful and more murderous, but strangely fitting and steady with his identity as an executioner. (TL note: the song referred to here is actually a viral 2013 song by Yang Haolong titled ‘Butcher’s Knife’.)

As he ate he thought of Zhao Baili, the man he had executed today, and wondered what small gift the fellow had left for him.

Thinking so, his consciousness entered his Sea of Consciousness and the stele forest of the Killing Scripture.

Zhao Baili (Human) D, Eighth Grade.

D-Eight, that rating was truly low. He thought this and then heard the abacus click.

One life for one item, life and item each settle two clear, Obtained: one volume of the Musical Instrument Requiem Method.

Musical Instrument Requiem Method?

Li Chaosheng was a little stunned. What was this? On closer inspection he immediately smiled. It was a book about musical instruments used to send off the dead. But this book was of little use to Li Chaosheng. Li Chaosheng cultivated human techniques, while the Musical Instrument Requiem Method said that for each person who died you could play a tune to help the deceased ascend to bliss. The one who offered the music would later receive a portion of the dead person’s incense offerings. Ordinary people could be blessed with safety and fewer illnesses.

If a cultivator used that incense offering to cultivate spirit paths, so after death they might become a local earth or mountain god, or Yin-spirits.

Reading the introduction to the Musical Instrument Requiem Method, Li Chaosheng found it to be a useless trifle. He cultivated the Great Path of Longevity. These methods that only functioned after death did not appeal to him at all.

But after a small drink Li Chaosheng had a flash of inspiration. Just because he did not cultivate it himself did not mean he could not let others cultivate. Last time he had been awarded a Demon Core Cultivation Method and he had given it to Turtle Son. So, for this Yin-spirit cultivation method, even if he did not use it himself, he could give it to the paper men, Little Black and Little White.