Chapter Forty-Eight: Shameless Beyond Measure

Carrying a large bundle of Confucian classics on his back, He Chang’an followed behind Xu Jian, stepping through the entrance of the Demon Suppression Tower’s formation. He felt a strange sensation. His whole body tensed, then relaxed; a shudder ran through him, so comfortable he almost wanted to moan.

"Don’t be nervous. It’s always like this the first time. Once you get used to it, you’ll actually find it quite pleasant," Xu Jian turned to glance at He Chang’an, his gaze tinged with a trace of pity, making He Chang’an feel a little embarrassed.

To others, the Demon Suppression Tower might be a fearsome place. But for He Chang’an, perhaps it could even turn out to be a place of great fortune—who could say for sure…

The moment he crossed the threshold, the little black rod within his dantian’s spiritual sea quivered, awakening eagerly, its restlessness making He Chang’an a bit uneasy.

This little thing—surely it wouldn’t cause trouble?

The Demon Suppression Tower had nine levels in total. Contrary to He Chang’an’s expectations, it did not spiral upwards, but rather wound downward along cold bluestone steps.

‘An inverted tower?’

Before entering, Xu Jian, Jiang Jifeng, and Wu Jincao had generally explained that the tower was divided into nine levels. The first level suppressed primary-level demons and ghosts; the second, those of the second tier; the third, the third tier… and so forth. Accordingly, the ninth level held a ‘ninth-tier demon lord.’

‘It’s the reverse of the human cultivation system—here, the higher the number, the stronger the being. Who came up with these rankings? So irresponsible…’

…

Half an hour later, Xu Jian had settled all necessary affairs and was ready to leave. It was clear that this fair-skinned, well-fed middle-aged man was a conscientious supervisor—he explained every taboo and precaution in detail, missing nothing.

He repeatedly warned He Chang’an that the Demon Suppression Tower was a good place for martials to temper their souls, but the risks were great, and he must not be hasty.

"Above all, do not descend to the next level. Second-tier and higher demons and ghosts can pollute the soul. Without reaching seventh-rank martial status, entering rashly could spell disaster." Before leaving, Xu Jian gave this stern warning once more.

He Chang’an was deeply grateful, nodding earnestly in agreement.

After seeing Xu Jian off, He Chang’an plopped onto a stone bench, eyeing the pitted stone walls and listening to the incessant drip of water. His face took on a slightly greenish hue.

‘Damn it, I just got a couple days of fresh air, and now I’m back.’

It turned out that the dungeon where he’d previously been imprisoned was actually the ‘dormitory’ for demon-slaying officials on duty at the Demon Suppression Tower…

Fortunately, his status was different now. Before, shackled in irons as a prisoner; now, in new clothes, he’d transformed into a proper, respectable jailer.

He Chang’an spread a sheepskin on the stone bed, topped it with a dogskin blanket, rolled up a few Confucian classics as a pillow, and lay down to sleep.

Twelve hours later, his shift would begin.

…

In Yellow Mud Alley, Ajiu crouched beneath a low eave, staring at the steamed buns. Suddenly, two round, bulging parcels wrapped in coarse floral cloth swung before his eyes, making his heart race with unease.

"Ajiu, craving buns? I’ll buy some for you," he looked up to see Alan grinning at him, her perfectly aligned teeth flashing in her smile.

Ajiu shrank his neck and said nothing. Poverty stifles ambition, as the saying goes; a skinny horse grows long hair. Owing her tavern twenty coins for wine, he knew he was at fault.

Alan puffed out her chest with pride. "Ajiu, how’s my new dress? Isn’t it pretty?"

Ajiu scooted back a little, hunched his shoulders, and smiled awkwardly, "It’s nice."

"How nice?" Alan straightened up further, rising on tiptoe, her pretty face aglow with joy.

"Um, blue with little white flowers—very nice," Ajiu looked her over seriously and replied honestly.

"And what else?"

"Well… the stitching is very fine, nicely made."

"And?"

"And… Alan, about the twenty coins I owe your tavern for wine—I’ll pay you back…" Ajiu truly couldn’t see what was so wonderful about a blue floral dress…

"Ajiu, you!" Alan stamped her foot in anger, her lips puffing into two little mounds. "Honestly, you’re blind! Thick-headed as a block of wood!"

Ajiu looked at her, helpless and at a loss—he really couldn’t see what was so special about the dress.

"By the way, Ajiu, why don’t you come work at my family’s tavern? Three coins a day, meals and board included—how about it?" After fuming for a while, Alan saw that Ajiu was utterly clueless, so she suddenly broke into a smile. "My father’s old now, and brewing wine is heavy work. He can’t keep up, so we’re looking to hire help.

If you want buns, I’ll steam you two baskets every day—big, soft, hot, and stuffed with meat—how about that?"

Her gaze was intent, her offer sincere.

Ajiu’s eyes brightened; rubbing his hands together, he smiled sheepishly, "Really? Meals and board covered? As long as there’s food, that’s enough—I have a place to stay now.

And Alan, my favorite is lamb buns, with garlic paste and oil—delicious!"

Alan tried to puff out her chest again, but hearing his words, she suddenly grew annoyed and kicked a small stone off the roadside. "Stupid Ajiu, get to work already!"

Ajiu followed behind Alan, heading deeper into the alley, glancing back at the bun shop from time to time…

…

At the academy, Li Yishan had been released. The little nun, too, was freed from the Confucian bindings and could finally speak.

But after witnessing a third-rank scholar’s methods, her words were now cautious and meek; she sat demurely to one side, eating and drinking heartily like a wronged little bride.

She could really eat. Watching her, the headmaster, Du Shisan, and Wen Taiyuan were all inwardly alarmed, each thinking, ‘If she keeps eating like this, we’d better send her off soon, or the academy will go broke.’

Li Yishan, meanwhile, was in good spirits—eating and drinking as he pleased, idly tossing off a line or two of poetry, and truly proving himself a man of hidden talents.

"Gentlemen, a mere scoundrel like He Chang’an won’t get far," he said, back straightening a little with each word, clearly pleased that the three headmasters had personally agreed to cancel his debts.

"Bring me two jugs of good wine, a few dishes, and slice some mutton, and I, Li Yishan, without need for the Grand Yan divining stalks, can deduce his whereabouts with a flick of my fingers."

"Yishan, have you no shame? You’re supposed to be divining, and yet you need good food and wine?" the headmaster rebuked him, face dark.

"And you just ate—are you hungry again?" Wen Taiyuan added, a trace of irritation in his voice.

Du Shisan, however, understood the way of things and laughed, "What’s two jugs of wine and a few pounds of mutton? Simple! There’s an old jar of Huadiao in the headmaster’s study, sent over by the Minister of War—"

"Silence!" the headmaster’s aura surged as he shouted, "That jar of wine—I gave it away!"

"Gave it away?" Du Shisan, Wen Taiyuan, and Li Yishan asked in unison.

"Truly, I gave it away!" the headmaster flung his sleeve in anger and made to storm out, but the three blocked his path.

"Here, sincerity reigns—truth is paramount!" the three scholars declared together.

"I—you… That wine…" The headmaster’s face turned crimson, a surge of righteous energy enveloping him as he loudly declared, "One must be faithful to others, and words must match deeds!"

With that, he transformed into a beam of pure light and shot away.

Du Shisan, Wen Taiyuan, and Li Yishan all spat in unison, "Bah, shameless old rogue!"

"Hmph, scholars are always cheating," the little nun, having cleared the table, dabbed her mouth with her sleeve and added another jab: "Bah, shameless old rogue!"