Demon Slayer of the Tang Dynasty
He Chang'an, a retired special forces soldier, found his soul transported to the Great Tang. The moment he opened his eyes, he realized he had been "kept" by a female ghost... Wait, isn't this the Ta
Tang Dynasty Calendar, July fifteenth, the Ghost Festival.
Tomorrow marks the end of heat.
He Chang’an awoke gently, eyes still closed, as an unfamiliar, subtle fragrance drifted to him—sweet, astringent, tinged with the salt of sea breeze.
This is... wait! This is not the Super 8, nor any familiar inn, and certainly not his bachelor’s apartment. His limbs felt weak, the bedboard beneath him was so hard it bruised his kidneys... No, not the scent of X Lili either.
Moreover, a jumble of strange memories had appeared in his mind—what were these? Tang Dynasty... Weiyang County Office... constable... scattered silver coins... protection fees... temporary staff, listening to music in taverns, habitual freeloading?
No, last night he drank alone, having bought a packet of peanuts, two duck eggs, and a half-pound sausage... How could he have gotten so drunk?
This must be a crossing—he had crossed over.
‘Fortunately, it’s the Tang Dynasty, where aesthetics remain unspoiled, with curvaceous, full-bodied beauty...’
But this slight body was hardly robust, unfit for storms and hardship, as skinny as a monkey—how did he become a county constable? Handsome looks meant little in a world where faces weren’t currency.
Did he have connections above?
Right, in Tang custom, the so-called constable sounded glamorous, but in truth it was just a catch-all for low-ranking staff at the county office—temporary workers, badly paid, with minimal entry requirements, making it an ideal haunt for local ruffians.
From tomorrow onward, he