Chapter 79: The Shaman’s Mask (Please Add to Favorites, Please Keep Reading)

On the way back to the county town, Shang Lu paid a visit to the place where he had buried his silver. He dug up a few silver ingots, broke them into smaller pieces, and tucked them into his pocket. After carefully filling the pit and scattering some weeds over it, he returned to town and headed for the blacksmith’s shop.

The blacksmith remembered Shang Lu very well. After all, making an iron codpiece was a first in his decades-long career—hard to forget an order like that. Still, the boss was surprised to see Shang Lu today. Last time, the young man had come as an ordinary patrol constable, but now he wore the dark uniform of a chief constable. To achieve such a position at his age—surely, a promising future awaited him.

Not daring to be neglectful, the blacksmith hurried over, bowing and scraping as he greeted him. “Sir, welcome!”

He quickly instructed his workers to bring out the finished iron codpiece, wiped it carefully with his sleeve, and presented it to Shang Lu with both hands. “Sir, the item you ordered is ready. Are you satisfied?”

Shang Lu accepted the iron codpiece. It was rather heavy, but nothing he couldn’t manage. He rapped it with his knuckle, and a crisp clang rang out—good quality. It should serve well to defend against the creatures in the strange mists that liked to attack that particular spot. He just wondered if it would hinder his movements while worn.

With that thought, Shang Lu glanced outside the shop. The blacksmith’s was located at a busy intersection; though the town’s mood was tense today, plenty of people still passed by. He asked the boss to take him out to the backyard.

There, amidst heaps of iron and coal, several forges and anvils stood. Shang Lu put on the iron codpiece and tested its fit and effectiveness. The protection was excellent; axes and blades sent only jolts through the metal without real harm, and his movement was not unduly hampered. The main drawback was some chafing, but that could be endured—it was only a matter of getting used to it.

“Good work. I’ll come to you again,” Shang Lu said, handing over the silver and settling the remaining bill. He did not leave at once but instead looked over the wares in the shop.

Most of the blacksmith’s customers were local farmers, woodcutters, and hunters. Thus, their main products were farm tools, axes, and similar items. But there were things Shang Lu could use as well.

He selected several hunting knives and hand axes, and bought some iron hooks and nails. The weapons issued by the county office consisted of a single ox-tail saber. Against tougher foes, the blade would often chip or roll after a fight, greatly reducing its effectiveness. Having a few spares was only prudent.

As for the iron hooks and nails, that idea had come to him after last night’s encounter with the corpse herder. Shang Lu planned to soak them in black dog’s blood or rooster’s blood. The next time he faced evil spirits or demons, perhaps these would be useful—breaking spells or dealing serious damage to supernatural foes.

If possible, Shang Lu would have liked to buy a suit of armor. But forging or possessing iron armor privately was a capital crime—the crime of rebellion. Even if he was reckless enough to risk it, the blacksmith would never dare. He could only regretfully abandon the idea.

“I’ll just have to kill more of those giant snakes in the strange mists, gather more snakeskin, and ask Mistress San to make me a fitted cuirass,” Shang Lu mused inwardly.

Unable to buy armor, he settled for two thick iron plates, had the smith punch holes in the sides, and intended to thread them with rope to tie over his chest and back as a makeshift breastplate. He wasn’t sure how effective it would be, but better than nothing.

The blacksmith was all smiles—Shang Lu had bought so much that he was now a valued customer. The boss even offered him a discount, hoping he would return often.

The blacksmith had arranged for porters to carry Shang Lu’s purchases home, but he declined. Instead, he borrowed a room in the shop, donned the iron codpiece and pulled his trousers over it—just right, and nearly impossible to detect. It was just a bit constricting.

He then strung the holed iron plates with rope, tied them to his chest and back, and threw a shirt over them—again, nothing visible. The larger knives and axes he hung at his waist, the smaller ones he hid in his sleeves and boots.

Once he was properly equipped, Shang Lu left the room, thanked the boss, and departed the blacksmith’s. Seeing him leave empty-handed, the boss clicked his tongue in amazement, wondering where on earth Shang Lu had hidden it all.

“Our new chief constable really is something out of the ordinary…” the blacksmith murmured as he watched Shang Lu’s departing figure.

With his gear assembled, Shang Lu was in no rush to return to the yamen. His shift hadn’t started yet; he had time for other matters. He didn’t go home, but instead headed straight to the town’s shaman temple, intent on asking the shaman for advice on dealing with evil spirits and demons.

In the past, his status was too low to seek the shaman’s counsel. But now he was the chief constable of Luoshui County, and with the recent disturbances, it was perfectly reasonable to seek such knowledge. Surely, the shaman would not refuse.

But when he arrived, he found the shaman absent. The temple attendants said that the shaman had come back at dawn for a short rest, then left again. She had gone to the city gates to set up wards, helping the constables search out evil spirits.

So Shang Lu hurried to the nearest city gate.

He didn’t find the shaman, but someone else stopped him.

“I remember your name is Shang Lu, isn’t it? So you’ve been promoted to chief constable? You’ve broken through to the Channeling Meridian stage? Not bad at all.” The one who stopped him was the young shaman official who had gone to Fallen Hawk Pool.

He had been missing for days, but now he had finally returned.

Shang Lu quickly saluted and casually asked about the situation at Fallen Hawk Pool. He had thought the shaman official wouldn’t say much, but to his surprise, the man replied directly:

“That place was haunted by a fish demon, but I dealt with it. The creature was cunning, hiding in the mud at the bottom of the pool, and I’m not a strong swimmer, so it took a few extra days…”

At this point, the young shaman official narrowed his eyes, a look of surprise crossing his face as he surveyed the town.

“What’s going on here? Why is there an aura of evil spirits hanging over the city?”

Shang Lu thought to himself, as expected of a shaman official—he could see at a glance that something was wrong. He was also curious, wondering what such an aura looked like through the shaman’s eyes. When he looked back at the city, he saw nothing at all.

Still, curiosity aside, Shang Lu quickly recounted to the young shaman official everything that had happened the night before.

After hearing the account, the shaman official’s expression grew grave.

“You say all these evil spirits were heading to Yunhua Mountain?”

“The rat demon said so,” Shang Lu replied. “I asked who had leaked the secret of Yunhua Mountain, but it only said the rumor was all over the roads—where it started, it didn’t know.”

The shaman official’s expression became even more serious. “Any word from my senior? Any news from him?”

“None,” Shang Lu shook his head, then added, “Perhaps the county magistrate or the chief clerk has received word, but I haven’t heard anything.”

The young shaman official felt something was very wrong. Instead of going to the yamen to ask the magistrate or chief clerk, he set off at once for Yunhua Mountain, determined to see for himself what was happening there.

He hadn’t gone far, however, when he turned back and handed something to Shang Lu. “Take this.”

Shang Lu looked down to see a mask, painted in red and black, with two horns atop the head, a mouth full of fangs, and bulging eyes—a fearsome, grotesque exorcist mask.