Inner Demons

Chapter 38: Killer Ghost

One saber ruined one of his eyes, and one sword ruined one of his legs.

Then he was kept in the escort agency by the old escort chief, who, in front of everyone, said, "As long as I, Qiao Fengchun, have food, Meng'e will have food. When I, Qiao Fengchun, am gone, Meng'e will be your eldest uncle."

But how could he really take advantage? He didn't go on escorts, but stayed in the Qiao Family, managing things, watching the younger generation grow up little by little, offering advice. When the Eldest Young Master could stand on his own, he spoke even less. After all, he was a cripple, and the incident from twenty years ago was long past. The Eldest Young Master still treated him as an elder uncle, but he didn't dare to accept it. The servants and maids in the courtyard were all children; they only knew he was an old family member, but they didn't respect him much, being a blind and crippled man.

Now. This escort mission, almost all the male members of the family had died. What remained were some orphans, widows, and women, on one hand relying on those two women for some silver to survive, and on the other hand resenting the Eldest Young Master.

He had lived so long, he knew what those people said behind their backs—

"How come only he returned? He led so many people to their deaths, why didn't he die?!"

The coldness of human nature, the indifference of the world. Two friendly escort agencies sent people to take a look, saw that the Eldest Young Master was clearly failing, left ten ingots of silver, and never came back.

So he could only use his meager money to hire a doctor for the Eldest Young Master. Keeping him barely alive, waiting for people from Qing'an to arrive.

The Qiao Family had another distant branch in Qing'an, with some highly respected elders and a thriving population. He secretly sent someone to deliver a letter, asking them to send people. He couldn't let the family fortune fall into the hands of that immoral beast Qiao Jiaming and those two prostitutes.

The old man thought for a while, then walked back to the bed and reached out to touch Qiao Duanhong's forehead.It was even hotter. His cheeks were a dreadful ashen gray, his eyelids trembled, and his lips were cracked.

He needed another dose of medicine. The old man thought for a moment, then limped to the door and pushed it open, heading towards the West Courtyard. The closer he got, the clearer the sounds became.

He heard that beast smugly saying, "...the Prefect saw that jade... said it could definitely be used... already been... why not send it to the Prefect... hahaha... just kidding, I can keep it for myself..."

And the flirtatious laughter of that little prostitute, "That old cripple... guarding? ...Let's see how many days he can guard... waiting for his death..."

The old man felt a tightness in his chest. He raised his hand to cover his mouth, coughing a muffled, hoarse sound, feeling a warm dampness in the web of his thumb and forefinger. Without looking, he wiped it away forcefully.

He knew it was blood. So angered by these three beasts that he coughed blood... truly old was old, useless now.

The three people inside were drunk and their senses weren't very sharp. So when he coughed, they didn't hear it. When he walked to the door, they didn't hear it. When he pushed open the small courtyard gate, they still didn't hear it.

There were lamps lit in the pavilion in the courtyard, and the three were drinking inside. Madam Qiao Liu was disheveled, leaning crookedly in Qiao Jiaming's arms, a scandalous sight. The old man's vision went black, and he reached out to support himself on the doorframe.

Madam Qiao Liu was newly taken in the year before last. Madam Qiao Wang had not conceived in ten years, and the Qiao Family needed an heir. Meng'e had only discovered last month that this woman had some connection with that beast, and had wanted to finish this escort mission, then advise Qiao Duanhong. Who knew such a thing would happen.

Now she was doing such indecent things right in front of Madam Qiao Wang!

Madam Qiao Wang didn't even look at them, slowly drinking her wine, lowering her head and muttering to herself: "...That old cripple isn't being well-behaved. Sending letters to Qing'an. Even if it reaches there... the Qing'an side, it's not like that dead good-for-nothing. Both branches are from martial arts families, but that side is... I heard they're even the richest family in Qing'an. How could they look down on this place? Besides, that old cripple is old. Who would he send? He sent Wang Qi. Who is Wang Qi? The old cripple doesn't know that's a distant relative from my mother's side."

After saying this, she covered her mouth and laughed. Turning her face, she saw Meng'e at the doorway.

But after a slight surprise, she just squinted and raised her wine glass, asking faintly: "Oh. Old Meng. Why are you here? How's Eldest Young Master?"

The letter wasn't sent. Meng'e felt a greater tightness in his chest, and his vision swam in waves. He lowered his eyes, not looking at their unsightly behavior, and supported himself by the door, trying hard to turn and walk back. But as he took a step, the smell of wine, meat, and perfume from the pavilion assailed him, and the fire in his heart became unbearable. He coughed with all his strength, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

Then he could no longer hold the door and stumbled to the ground.

When he woke up again, he found himself already in the Eldest Young Master's room. On the floor.

It seemed they had someone carry him in and then didn't bother with him anymore. There were originally nine household servants; four had been dismissed these days, leaving only five. One cook, two maids, two young servants. The two maids watched Qiao Jiaxin, and the two young servants watched this side, in reality just waiting for the Eldest Young Master to die.

He must not have been unconscious for long. It was still dark. He looked out the door; the two young servants were still guarding, and the door was ajar. The old man limped slowly from the floor, gasped for a while, then walked to the Eldest Young Master's bed. He looked worse, as if he were dead.

The old man quickly reached out to check his forehead, and found the fever had subsided. The Eldest Young Master was no longer feverish, his forehead was icy cold. This reminded him of his dead son. At that time, his body was pulled from the river, and it was the same temperature.

He stared intently at the Eldest Young Master's face for a while, then reached out and pulled up the quilt.

The letter wasn't sent.

And the Prefect... hmm. Also useless.

Meng'e felt his body suddenly become neither stuffy nor hot. It suddenly became very comfortable, and his heart was as still as water. He thought for a while, then turned and walked to the door.

The two young servants quickly stood up, rubbed their eyes, and reached out to stop him: "Oh, Master Meng, you're not well. Grand Madam ordered you to rest in the room. Don't go out tonight, alright?"

The old man looked at them silently for a while. The two young servants were surprised to find that his only eye was no longer cloudy. It had become piercingly bright. This brightness made them uneasy... This light shouldn't belong to this old man.

In the three or four years since they had arrived at the Qiao Family, this old man had never spoken loudly. He only hunched his back, limped, and smiled kindly at everyone. This uneasiness caused a subtle, ashamed anger to rise in their hearts.

So they pushed the old man hard, raising their voices: "Get in there. We're talking nicely to you, don't be ungrateful. This isn't the Qiao Family of that dead man inside anymore."

The old man held onto the doorframe and didn't fall. He said hoarsely: "The escort chief is gone."

The two young servants exchanged glances and sneered: "Why are you worrying about that? Worry about yourself."

Meng'e nodded, turned, and entered the room.

"Old fellow. Sigh. Not thinking clearly, can't let go." The young servant in the blue cap turned around, shaking his head, "I don't want to hurt him. I'm telling you, I've learned a few days of martial arts..."

Before he finished speaking, he heard the door creak again.

Both of them turned at the same time, their faces full of impatience: "I told you—"

Before the words fell, there was a whistling sound in the air. A broad-backed saber with gold threads and large rings struck squarely on one young servant's face. With a "thud," it embedded itself half a palm deep. The immense pressure caused his two eyeballs to pop out with a squelch, hanging by his face.

Then blood gushed out.

The young servant in the blue cap stared wide-eyed at the saber, his body unable to move due to the sudden shock and fear.

This saber was Qiao Duanhong's saber. It hung on the wall in his room.

He struggled to turn his eyeballs, seeing the person holding the saber.

It was... that old cripple. But his face was as cold as iron, and there was a light in his eyes he had never seen before.

"Ah... you..." He made these few sounds, subconsciously reaching out to grab the saber.

However, a cold light flashed, and with a squelch. His head also rolled down the steps.

The old man withdrew his saber, propped it on the ground, and panted wearily for a while. Then he reached out and wiped the blood from the blade, slowly smearing it on his face, and smiled. His teeth and his single eye gleamed in the darkness.

"You children."

"When I, this old man, was your age, I was called..."

"Killer Ghost, Meng'e."