Beginning with the Ubume Bird Chapter 118

Chapter 118: Chapter 17 Undercurrents and Mainstreams

The night was endless, as if Confucius would never be born throughout the aeons.

Ganhua Alley.

Yunhu stood alone on the street, surrounded by red-brick tile-roofed houses of varying heights.

Shell casings and parts were scattered on the ground, and remnants of flesh and blood were embedded in the uneven asphalt granules, already dried.

He shivered as he exhaled a breath, his fingers picking up a bloodstained duckbill cap before turning to leave.

At dusk past the western market, I return alone with tears streaming down my face.

The market folk all jest and laugh, who knows my heart is in sorrow!

— “Passing by the Vegetable Market” by Xu Chengyao

The sky was covered with a layer of milky hue, the sunlight hazy, yet it couldn't penetrate the dark clouds.

Butchering pigs is menial, killing people is a noble art!

Liu Zi, I should have known to have you carry the knife handle, Jia Er, that damn kid, was truly a dawdler. A pack of pickles, taken to his grandma's house?

Oh, that's not right, I am his grandma.

Liu Zi, you must understand, only when the Ministry of Justice's Prison Department in the Great Qing executes with the most skilled hands and quickest work, can one earn the title “Grandma.”

Those who eat the food provided by the dead, the Corpse Examiners who sew up bodies, and the Color Craftsmen who make paper effigies, all stand aside!

Who's the first one? It's us; it's the executioner who beheads people.

In the third year of Tongzhi's reign, I helped my aunt dissect the female general Zhou Xiuying of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom.

That woman was slender; her skeletal remains were cleanly stripped, and I, your Grandma, didn't even blink.

From that year onwards, I've been holding onto this bowl of rice for over fifty years; in daylight I used a winter melon to draw a white line, practicing on it as if it were a human head, and at night, I used incense sticks and had to cleanly slice through a charcoal briquette to count it as success.

From being an assistant “nephew,” to “second aunt,” and then to “chief aunt,” by the age of forty-three I was handling things on my own, and people addressed me respectfully as “Old Madam Deng.”

Liu Zi, do you know about the eight ministers from Xianfeng's era? How capable they were! All beheaded! Who held the knife? Me!

In the autumn of the twenty-fourth year of Guangxu's reign, right outside the Xuanwu Gate at the vegetable market, six human heads. Among them was a man from Sichuan named Liu Guangdi, whose body stood upright even after his head fell; he truly was a brave man.

Inside and outside the south gate, it was packed tight like a blockade.

What were those people there for? To watch me beheading!

Cheering for who? For me!

Liu Zi, that was truly the most glorious moment of my life.

Liu Zi, don't you look down on our profession. We represent the national law, a badge of honor!

I only ask you one thing, which dynasty didn't need people to behead others for the emperor? To behead, they can't do without us! They can't do without this blade!

I could never have imagined that in our generation, the god of the earth himself would be plucking at his ears, and the wheels of change have been set in motion!

The officials no longer fancy beheadings; they've switched to using guns, damn it all.

Eh? Why hasn't the young fella come back yet?

Hmm~ but I can't forget it, Liu Zi.

Others say this line of work diminishes one's moral virtue? Nonsense!

Even the foreign devils say that after death one ascends to heaven, and that we provide a stepping stone to heaven, oh Liu~

Hold on, there's a living person.

Little Er has met his end.

Don't you spout nonsense, Grandma here isn't blind! I know he's tied with our belt.

What's the rush? You scaredy-cat!

The year we beheaded Liu Guangdi was the twenty-fourth year of Guangxu's reign. Liu, calculate for me, what year would that be in the Gregorian calendar?

Oh, 1898, has it already been a full hundred years?

A hundred years, and all we waited for was a little brat…

“Do you think you can run from me!?”

The oil-paper wrapped parcel was thrown into the air, slices of lotus root, shredded radish, bean curd skin, wood ear mushrooms, and kohlrabi spilled all over the ground.

Li Yan walked into the market entrance, a black and red belt tied around his waist, his tall and thin figure swaying in the street, his original ruddy complexion abnormally pale, like a ghostly specter.

Along the way, he encountered a small stone lion in the alley, and Li Yan did not dodge or avoid, but passed straight through it without any impediment.

Li Yan found himself before a skinny, petite old man with a queue tied behind his head, white hairs shimmering before his forehead, his face smeared with chicken blood that hadn't quite dried, steadily puffing away at his tobacco pipe.

Next to the elderly man stood a white-faced young man, his expression a mix of sorrow and fury.

The petitie old man set down the stem of his smoking pipe, his eyelids turned upwards revealing a menacing glint. With a swift kick, a human head rolled toward Li Yan's feet. Upon looking, Li Yan realized it was his own head.

Li Yan, unfazed, kicked the head aside, and stepped closer to the two, muttering:

“I've heard that when people were beheaded in ancient times, the executioner, catching the criminal off guard, would stride out from the crowd, and with the rise of the blade and fall of the head, the severed head would not close its eyes. Upon hitting the ground, it could blink three times, the corners of the mouth turning upwards as if to smile towards the eternal springs.”

“Today, I shall send you both off with a smile to the eternal springs.”

The response he received was the swift glint of a blade lunging his way from the petite old man.

Old Madam Deng bellowed furiously, her face adorned with chicken blood which seemed almost divine.

This was a fly-infested eatery immersed in steaming mist, dimly lit, sewers awash, with steamers full of human heads whose mouths opened and closed, creating a chilling atmosphere.

The headless chef, his apron drenched in bloodstains, trembled uncontrollably, not daring to peek from behind the beverage cabinet. The two men seated at a table seemed far more terrifying than he did.

The table was covered with beer bottles, and the two men sat opposite each other.

“Is everything set?”

One man, poking at the table, reeked so strongly of alcohol it might as well have been his calling card.

Seated opposite him was a man in a suit, wholly engrossed with the game controller in his hands, his thumbs pressing rapidly.

Suddenly, the suited man's fingers halted, his expression darkening.

“Damn, I lost.”

The Drunkard eyed the man in the suit with an intensity that if looks could cut, it would be like a knife stabbing him in the face.

“Ahem, ahem~”

The suited man coughed twice, hastening to pocket the controller and extending his hand towards the Drunkard.

“An introduction is in order, Ren Ni.”

“Wushan.”

“Here is what you requested: all the documented records concerning the recent Yan Fu incident, including lineage, specialization strength, purchase records, and so on. It's all here.”

Wushan took the yellow document envelope that Ren Ni handed to him.

“This isn't my first time dealing with a Feather Lord's person. How come I've never seen you before?”

“I'm new here.”

Ren Ni's answer was brief and to the point.

“Is that so?”

As Wushan tore open the envelope, Ren Ni added with a smile, “After all, this is an off-the-books grey transaction, not entirely by the book. Even if 'Hou Tu' turns a blind eye, the other Ten Masters are watching, we can't let Earth Endurance step in. Recklessly using special items not meant for this particular fruit can lead to criticism. So, please forgive the fact that it's just a paper version.”

Wushan opened the envelope and scanned its contents rapidly:

“Bifang, Xuan Ming, Tang Ni, Gu Huo Bird, Taotie, huh, there's even an underdeveloped legacy of the Five Immortals Category, Kui? I've encountered it a few times; it's one of the few with strong combat capabilities.”

Wushan's eyes narrowed, fixating on two characters on the paper.

Bai Ze.

At last, he had found it…

“It's normal enough. Events like these, aimed at resource-recycling and survival, are quite rare. There's a lot of chaff among the vast numbers, and not a few strong contenders. Oh, by the way.”

Ren Ni pointed at a name on the paper.

“This man here, the Feather Lord doesn't like him much. Would it be convenient to take him out for me? It should be no problem for you.”

Wushan gave a cursory glance.

“Gu Huo Bird? Too weak a legacy, not interested. Nor do I intend to brown-nose.”

“Is that so.”

Ren Ni shrugged his shoulders, “That's a pity.”

Wushan set aside the documents, his gaze locking onto Ren Ni.

“Any issues with the information, Mr. Wushan?”

“No, nothing.”

Wushan shrugged casually, then lowered his head to examine the particulars of the document concerning the owner of the Bai Ze inheritance, named Zhao Xin.

A junior high school-age girl with a delicate beauty.

Chapter end