25. The Bone-Weighing Coin

Beheading is a skillful craft.

The common folk understand nothing of its intricacies—they only seek the spectacle, the excitement!

At the sound of the horn, twenty-four constables in black led forth twelve river bandits—said to be the very pillars of their den—bound tightly with ropes and lined up before the chopping blocks. The executioner’s bench was newly replaced, its surface smooth and exuding a faint, ancient scent of timber. Even the blood-soaked felt beneath was new, the old one having grown black and tattered, no longer fit to display the county’s renewed spirit. Beneath the execution platform, a thick layer of fresh yellow earth was spread, its earthy tang filling the air and grounding all present in a sobering reality.

Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of onlookers pressed against the barricades held by the soldiers—though, in truth, they were but twenty or thirty paces from the gallows. Meilan County was small, lacking a square grand enough for such an assembly. The magistrate himself sat within a pavilion, flanked by constables shading him from the sun, presiding with high spirits and grand oration.

The people responded with one voice.

It’s often said the common folk despise corrupt officials, but in truth, they loathe river bandits and robbers even more. Corrupt officials take their money; bandits take both money and lives.

“Eighteen years from now, I’ll be a hero again!” one of the condemned shouted.

The magistrate’s face turned cold. Instantly, two heavy slaps from the constables struck the bandit’s cheeks, leaving them swollen and red.

Others began to shout:

“I don’t want to die.”

“It’s so cold.”

“Show mercy, great magistrate.”

“Begging mercy from this official is useless. Whether you raise your head or bow it, it’s all the same blade. Once you chose the outlaw’s life, you should have known.”

“Damn it all—if I was a strong man in life, I’ll be a fierce ghost in death!”

“Ha! I’ve killed seventy-five in my time, taken more young women than I can count, and feasted with the bandit chief night after night. It was worth it!”

On the pavilion eaves above, a large black cat glanced up at the sky. The river’s mist brought clouds, softening the sun, and a few rays of spring warmth made the cat yawn languidly.

Lu Xun felt little tension—he was merely a spectator at this execution, not the one facing the blade. Of course, when he had been executed, his curses had been few. The blade had been far too swift.

As for these river bandits—well. They deserved what was coming.

He waited here to weigh the earnings from their ashes.

He wasn’t alone. Along with the old cat, many others gathered—some carrying coarse hemp bags, waiting for the blood from the severed heads, believing that dipping a steamed bun in it could cure consumption. Brothel keepers stood by with small porcelain bowls, hoping for the glue said to cure their girls’ maladies. Shamans, temple attendants, and other practitioners of the dark arts waited too—skin and bones made excellent ritual tools, and the internal organs could raise ghosts.

With no relatives coming to claim the bodies, these unowned remains could be bought with silver.

So, aside from the thrill-seekers, the rest were vultures.

The magistrate, interrupted by the bandits, abandoned his self-congratulatory speech and returned to the shade, not bothering with auspicious timing. He snatched the command baton, glanced at the clear sky, and barked, “Execute!”

The baton clattered to the ground.

The executioner spat a mouthful of cold water onto his blade, droplets springing across the broad steel and splattering onto the bare skin of the condemned. Some lost control of their bowels from terror; even the bravest shivered, muttering about being heroes in the next life, trying to convince themselves to accept death.

Those who appeared the toughest sometimes broke under the jeers and curses of the crowd.

A swing of the blade—misjudged—and a head wasn’t cleanly severed, leading to a gruesome sawing as the executioner held on, the screams finally ceasing. The ground was anything but silent. Twelve round heads rolled onto the fresh yellow earth, blood soaking it to brown.

“Bring the next batch!”

Another command rang out.

More captains and lieutenants were brought forward—another twelve.

“Execute!”

Three batches in all—thirty-six men.

The remaining batches were sent to the neighboring two counties; even Jiujiang Prefecture took their share. Any leader among the bandits was executed on the spot, for to be a leader was to be one of their own, having sworn the blood oath.

The local yamen were nothing if not efficient.

The bodies were quickly arranged in order—no need to stitch the heads back on. One heap for heads, another for bodies. Those wanting to dip their buns in blood could pay for the privilege. The rest of the remains were plainly priced, and with silver, you could take what you wanted, for whatever purpose. The authorities did not care.

The surging crowd was perfect cover for the black cat, who slipped among them, pawing and picking as he pleased. He had no silver—just a long-haired thief, but he’d pay his dues once he had coin. Killing the River Dragon Chen Sheng might earn him a reward, if the county issued the promised fifty taels.

“Watch my tail!” Lu Xun grumbled as he squeezed out of the crowd, bedraggled but satisfied.

He slipped back to the guardhouse amid the chaos—a place that was quickly becoming his own domain.

[Skull of Huang Xuan, Gatebeam of the River Dragon’s Bandit Den]
Type: Shell (Human)
Quality: Ordinary
Skill: Southern Fist
Annotation: As swift as the wind, as still as the forest, as fierce as fire, as immovable as the mountain, as mysterious as the shade, as thunderous as the storm.
“Rape and pillage.”
“Crush.”
[Bone Ash acquired: Three qian]

Lu Xun moved on to the next skull.

“Murder, cannibalism, especially eating hearts and livers.”
“Crush.”
[Bone Ash acquired: One qian]

“Defiled the chief’s beautiful concubine.”
“…”

“Abducted an official’s daughter.”
“Crush.”

“Drowned in debauchery.”

“Wished to become a carefree ghost.”
“Crush!”

[Bone Ash acquired: …]

Lu Xun crushed them all, leaving none.

He focused his mind on the accumulated ashes.

[Bone Ash: Two taels, one qian]
[Do you wish to strengthen the Three-Legged Cat’s Skull?]

Delighted, Lu Xun answered without hesitation, “Yes.”

[Spell: Cat’s Walk (Entering the Hall)] → [Spell: Cat’s Walk (Transcendent)]
[The Three-Legged Cat’s Skull has unlocked its full power.]
[Spell: Cat’s Walk (Transcendent) grants the trait: Walking]

[Walking]
Type: Divine Skill
Effect: Slightly increases speed (+2%)
Annotation: I have trodden the mountain’s peak, climbed Mount Kunlun, traversed ninety thousand li of land and sea; my feet will never fail me! — The Traveler Sage, Xu Hongzu.

Lu Xun could hardly feel it, but sensed, deep within, his body growing more resilient.

He focused again.

[Three-Legged Cat’s Skull]
Type: Fur (Beast—Cat)
Quality: Ordinary
Spell: Cat’s Walk (Transcendent)
Annotation: Raised by humans for three years, then nightly would squat on the roof, facing the moon, absorbing its essence, until at last, it became a spirit. Mount Zhanyuan abounds in water but lacks grass and trees, making ascent impossible. There dwells a beast, furred like a civet with a mane, called the Lei; it is both male and female, and eating it imparts magical skills.

By contract and perseverance, the employer is rewarded; entering the hall and inner chamber.
With two taels of bone ash, the magic is complete, transcendent.

Strength seemed to rise from the depths of his soul, making his body lighter. With a gentle leap—pushing off nothing but air—Lu Xun easily vaulted onto the beam.

“This isn’t just the trait’s power, is it?” he mused. He realized at once—it was the power of Cat’s Walk. Now, even without consciously invoking it, he could always remain in that state.

Truly transcendent.

Only, his meager magical energy had once again dwindled.

“Don’t mess around, Three-Legs. The little one just told me—Chief Zhao’s found a household worshipping the Five Spirits.”

“Meow—let’s go!”

Lu Xun leapt down from the beam.

Man and cat strode out of the guardhouse together.