A Knock at Midnight

The culinary heritage of Guanzhong stretched far back through the ages. Having served as the imperial capital for multiple dynasties, Chang'an drew chefs from every corner of the land, gathering delicacies from across the realm. Not only was the variety astonishing, but the customs surrounding food were refined and exacting. Staples went far beyond simple boiled dough strips and sesame flatbreads. There was also Qingjing rice brought up from the south—soaked in the juice pounded from sparkleberry leaves, then steamed nine times and dried in the sun nine times until the grains shrank tight and turned jet-black like polished jet beads, said to fortify the sinews, nourish the complexion, and lighten the skin over years of consumption. Then there was oil-tossed rice with over a dozen ingredients, Cooling Breeze rice that dispelled summer heat, Jade Well rice steamed alongside lotus root, not to mention chilled pagoda-leaf noodles and cherry biluo pastries. When it came to livestock—pork, mutton, beef, and horse—the methods of preparation were even more dazzling. Though the imperial seat had now shifted north, many of these traditions had never died out. In his previous life, Li Yan had been quite the gourmand, so his culinary skill was naturally impressive. Now that the weather was warming up, certain dishes were impractical to make, and with no ice cellar, processing most of a fat pig meant prioritizing preservation above all. Guanzhong smoked bacon was best prepared in the dead of winter; trying it at this time of year risked maggots and rot if even a single step went awry. Li Yan, however, had plenty of tricks up his sleeve. He rendered the lard, setting aside a portion for stir-fries and using the rest to submerge and seal large slabs of pork belly, keeping them fresh for an extended period. With the remaining meat, he made braised pork belly slabs, spiced stewed meat, and crispy fried meatballs. And of course, a large basin of seasoned pork mince was essential. The savory aroma drifted through the courtyard, luring the village curs to pace incessantly outside the gate. "Get lost!" Li Yan barked with a laugh. "When Blind Old Third came into the village, not a single one of you dared bark. Useless cowards, the lot of you." Even so, doubt lingered in his mind. These village dogs were bold enough to charge even if a wolf pack showed up. Why had they let Blind Old Third slip right into the village without a sound? Unfortunately, the matter was already behind them, and no one knew the answer. For lunch, they enjoyed noodles topped with savory pork mince; for dinner, it was rice porridge, steamed buns, and vegetables stir-fried in lard. Grandfather and grandson ate until their bellies were round, then squatted on the threshold enjoying the cool evening breeze, every worry slipping away. Village life was peaceful, yet monotonous. Once night fell, apart from a few men still tumbling in bed with their wives, the rest of the villagers put out their oil lamps and went to sleep early. The busy farming season had arrived, and tomorrow demanded an early rise for work in the fields. Before long, total silence settled over the entire village. *** Inside the main room of Widow Wang's home, the candlelight flickered dim and yellow. An offering table inside was piled with sacrificial goods. In the open space before it, over a dozen red wooden stakes were driven into the ground and bound in a circle with red cord. Inside the circle lay a little girl. The girl was only four years old. Unlike her unkempt, grime-faced mother, she wore clean clothes, and because she was kept out of the sun year-round, her skin looked tender and fair. At this moment, the child seemed trapped in a nightmare. Curled into a ball, her face was flushed red, her eyes shut tight, her eyelids trembling ceaselessly, and her forehead drenched in sweat. This was indeed Widow Wang's daughter. Widow Wang knelt on the floor beside her, pale as ash, staring anxiously at the child while glancing toward the doorway from time to time. It was as though she sensed something approaching. Holding three sticks of incense high above her head, she kowtowed repeatedly, mumbling under her breath: "Third Aunt protect us... Third Aunt protect us..." *** In the wing room, the soundly sleeping Li Yan suddenly snapped his eyes open. He sat up abruptly and reached behind himself in confusion, touching his back. To his touch, a patch of skin was freezing cold, yet the surrounding flesh burned hot, as if ice had been pressed against him on a scorching summer day. *What is this?* Li Yan's expression turned grim. He had trained in martial arts for years. Though his age and lack of combat experience kept him from breaking through to hidden jin, his physical perception and body control far surpassed those of ordinary men. If anything went wrong with his body, he would detect it immediately. This sensation felt familiar. It had appeared once before, right after he killed that wicked wolf, Blind Old Third. Yet it had faded so quickly back then that he had written it off as an illusion. Why had it returned now, and so distinctly? Could that beast have carried some foul taint, infecting him with pestilence? Li Yan did not panic. Instead, he attempted to activate the substitute idol. With this treasure of his, any physical injury—whether poison, blade wounds, or even disease—could instantly be shifted away. As long as the three life-flames atop it were not extinguished, he was nearly unkillable. Yet something strange occurred. The idol did not respond at all! His back remained icy cold, chilling even further by the moment. *Bizarre. Could it just be in my head?* *Thud!* Right then, a sound came from outside. It sounded like something rapping against wood. Though faint, it rang exceptionally clear in the dead of night. Li Yan's sharp brows knitted. He swiftly climbed out of bed, casually pulled on his trousers, unhooked the Guanshan blade from the wall, and cracked the door open a sliver to peer outside. Every movement was entirely silent. Here in Guanzhong, village life was quiet and plain, but that did not mean it was free of peril. Wolf attacks were only one hazard; far worse were the bandits. Granted, even Village Head Li—the sole landlord of Fort Li—might not yield much grease to scrape, but one could never rule out desperate outlaws driven mad by poverty. There were also the lowlifes who drifted through the Jianghu. According to his father, the Jianghu was filled with countless sects and trades, divided into all sorts of crafts. Some people conducted honest business, but far more relied on swindles and deceit. The Eight Gates, for instance, were split into the Bright Eight Gates and the Dark Eight Gates. The Bright Eight Gates comprised Jin, Pi, Cai, Gua, Ping, Tuan, Diao, and Liu; the Dark Eight Gates consisted of Feng, Ma, Yan, Que, Hua, Lan, Ge, and Rong. Among the Bright Eight Gates were those who told fortunes, read faces, and appraised feng shui. A few possessed genuine skill, but most were half-baked frauds making a living off their wagging tongues. As for the 'Ma' lineage of the Dark Eight Gates, they were lone-wolf grifters. Some posed as Daoist priests or Buddhist monks. The capable ones conned wealthy households, while the untalented ones drifted into rural hamlets to dupe simple folk. They might smear yellow eel blood on your front gate to make bats ram against it at night, staging the illusion of ghosts knocking at the door. Or they would grind saltpeter and sulfur into powder, hide it inside peach-blossom paper, and slip it into your lamp wick to make the flame flicker and sputter, creating the trick of a ghost blowing out the lamp. In short, they would frighten you half to death first, then arrive at your door posing as grand masters to swindle your money. The tricks of the Jianghu were truly endless and bizarre. If someone tried pulling that garbage on him, however, they were truly like the God of Longevity swallowing arsenic—tired of living. Li Yan sneered inwardly as he scanned the yard. Yet under the faint moonlight, the courtyard was utterly empty. *Thud!* Just as his doubts deepened, the noise sounded once more. This time he heard it distinctly—it came from outside the main front gate. It was very faint. Could it be a rat, or perhaps a cat? Even so, Li Yan dared not let down his guard. Narrowing his eyes, a cold light gleaming in his dragon-like gaze, he drew his blade an inch at a time and tiptoed toward the front gate. This blade of his was peerlessly sharp. If it truly was some petty thief or bandit, he could thrust straight through the wooden door and skewer them! Yet as he drew near the gate, Li Yan's expression changed instantly. He could sense that the other side of the door was completely empty—there was nothing there. Yet his nose caught a rank, bloody stench that felt chillingly cold. The smell was familiar. It was Blind Old Third! *Isn't that beast dead?!* A chill gripped Li Yan's heart, raising goosebumps all over his arms. Uncertain, he focused his senses again. There was plainly nothing there, yet the pungent stench grew even thicker than before, dripping with malice. *A specter?* What was unfolding before him had surpassed his understanding. Though he had felt Blind Old Third was peculiar back then, it had still been flesh and blood in the end. White blade in, red blade out—once slaughtered, it was done. What was he supposed to do now? Since when did even beasts have vengeful spirits seeking retribution? *Thud!* The sound came again. Li Yan froze, then tilted his head back to look up. This time he heard it with total clarity. It was coming from above the courtyard gate—judging by the position, right from his grandfather's plaque inscribed with "Valiant in a Hundred Battles." At the same time, he caught another scent. It was the scent of metal and wood, carrying a faint trace of altar incense. It was a bizarre sensation. Metal and wood had no real smell, yet the moment it hit his senses, that was the exact impression that sprang into Li Yan's mind. The stench from Blind Old Third carried an icy chill. The scent from the Hundred Battles plaque, on the other hand, carried an inexplicable, scorching heat. *Thud!* The two scents collided, producing another sound. Li Yan was suddenly struck by realization. He had never imagined that the plaque in his home was also a treasure. It simply never showed its brilliance under ordinary circumstances, only flaring to life when an evil, unholy entity came knocking. And then there was this bizarre sense of smell of his, capable of detecting things beyond the mundane. Now he could be certain: this had nothing to do with the substitute idol. It had come from the original host of this body. Just what was going on with all of this? Sweat beaded on Li Yan's palms. Facing an unknown, supernatural phenomenon like this, he felt helpless for the very first time, his fate entirely out of his own hands. As if catching his scent, the pungent reek of Blind Old Third outside grew thicker, and the impacts against the plaque came faster and faster. *Thud, thud, thud!* The sounds were faint, hardly noticeable in the black of night. Yet to Li Yan's ears, they hammered like drumbeats heralding death. He stood frozen. Remembering his grandfather sleeping soundly in the house, he dared not retreat, nor did he dare push the door open to step outside. Even the razor-sharp Guanshan blade in his hand could not grant him the slightest shred of security; his only hope lay in the "Valiant in a Hundred Battles" plaque holding the line. The knocking sounds came in steady succession. Li Yan could feel his back growing colder and colder, as if a block of solid ice had been pressed against it, radiating frost. At the same time, the venomous glare Blind Old Third had cast at the moment of its death replayed endlessly in his mind. *A curse?* Li Yan had his suspicions, but could not be sure. Fortunately, he could tell that as the two forces collided, both scents were slowly weakening. Without realizing it, an entire two hours slipped by. *Thud!* At last, following one final collision, the scent of Blind Old Third outside the gate drifted apart, vanishing without a trace. *Woof! Woof! Woof!* Barking dogs shattered the silence of the night. The eerie, chilled stillness was broken along with it. Li Yan let out a breath, though his expression remained dark. The chill across his back had still not faded...