Chapter Two Breathing Fire and Rising Flames, Promoted to Chief Constable

Closing his eyes, he entered the system to take a look.

He saw the full array of the Seventy-Two Earthly Fiend Arts neatly arranged within his mind’s system, dazzling him with the choices. There were passive spells such as Great Strength, Energy Guidance, Medicine Assimilation, Rock Leaping, Snow Resting, Fasting, and Blade Swallowing. There were also life-saving arts like Mountain Bearing, Divine Movement, Invisibility, Calamity Dispersal, along with some complex and obscure auxiliary techniques.

Han Chong’s thoughts raced as he weighed his options. By conventional wisdom, learning an escape or defensive art first would be prudent. Yet, this system only granted the next skill upon slaying a foe stronger than oneself! If he chose to flee now, he would never make any progress.

Thus, he was compelled to select an offensive technique first to survive in this world teeming with demons and ghosts, to press forward against the odds. Of all the arts, only Swordsmanship, Flame Spitting, and Demon-Slaying boasted the greatest attack power.

Swordsmanship: With this, one could control the sword with qi, achieving unity of sword and self, even riding the sword’s light to traverse thousands of miles in a blink—also known as the Heavenly Escape Sword Art. At level one, each breath consumed six points of vital energy.

Demon-Slaying: Capable of slaying demons and even immortals, this secret art subdued evil and banished spirits, encompassing various celestial methods, and could destroy incorporeal monsters as well. At level one, each breath consumed twelve points of vital energy.

Flame Spitting: This allowed the user to inhale and exhale blazing flames, incinerating wicked spirits. At level one, each breath consumed two points of vital energy.

Swordsmanship could even grant flight, sword and self as one, a peerless tool for both attack and retreat. However, its energy consumption was so rapid that he feared he would plummet before even taking off, and besides, he lacked a spiritual sword to wield.

Demon-Slaying was equally formidable—the very name exuded overwhelming might. But with a twelve-point energy cost per breath, he couldn’t muster enough power for even a single strike. A true pity!

After careful consideration, Flame Spitting seemed the simplest and most direct, and, being unpredictable, could both absorb fire and spew it forth to burn evil spirits—demons and ghosts would surely struggle to withstand it.

Resolute, Han Chong confirmed his choice.

Immediately, a pair of tiny characters appeared atop the jade disk in his palm, and from the vermillion dot at the center extended a faint pointer—perhaps a sign that his vital energy was still too feeble.

Within the system’s skill panel, Flame Spitting now displayed as Crimson Flame Mundane Fire. It could be upgraded either by spending skill points or through practice, allowing the user to command ever more potent fire.

A strange enlightenment blossomed in Han Chong’s mind, as if he had always known how to breathe fire, as natural as speaking or writing.

Crunching and snapping sounds filled his ears. The crooked-necked tree was already swaying precariously. Any further shaking, and he’d fall and break his bones before the fierce ghost could even bite him.

Climbing down until he was about ten feet above the ground, Han Chong leapt from the tree, landing hard but safely on the ground.

He saw that the trunk of the crooked tree had been gnawed away by the blue-skinned ghost, leaving only a sliver before it would have snapped completely. That was close!

The blue-skinned fiend, seeing Han Chong descend on his own, froze in surprise before letting out a furious howl and lunging toward him.

Han Chong, staring down the demon more fearsome than any wolf or tiger, forced himself to swallow his fear and bellowed, “Evil spirit, meet your doom!”

Puffing his cheeks, he unleashed a jet of crimson flame like a living flamethrower.

Heart-rending wails echoed throughout the Lin Residence, setting teeth on edge.

Han Chong poured forth every ounce of power into the flames, continuing until his vital energy was utterly spent and the blaze finally sputtered out.

By then, the blue-skinned ghost had collapsed, its body charred and smoking with such a stench that it nearly made him retch.

[Ding! Congratulations, Host, for slaying one blue-skinned fiend. You have advanced to the first level of the Essence Refinement Realm. Current vital energy: 20 points!]

[Ding! Congratulations, Host, you have gained one skill point. You may select a new skill or upgrade an existing one!]

At last, it was over!

Han Chong staggered back several steps, slumping to the ground, his face even paler, sweat pouring from every pore.

This ordeal had truly been enough to unsettle even the bravest soul, leaving one’s very spirit scattered.

---

For a long while he sat in a daze, gazing at the blackened ashes that remained of the fiend, before finally letting out a long breath.

The Flame Spitting Art was indeed formidable! Though its basic form produced only mundane fire, another level might well yield the legendary spiritual flames.

Without hesitation, he upgraded the skill by one level.

The skill panel changed at once, now reading “Basic Spiritual Flame,” though each breath now required four points of vital energy.

Han Chong opened his mouth to test the art. Within the crimson flames, a trace of blue radiance shimmered—mysterious and unfathomable.

Spiritual fire was beyond the ordinary, able to vanquish any spirit or demon.

Rising, he dusted off his hempen robes, stretched, and began to search the courtyard step by step.

Throughout the manor, the servants and maids had not dared open their doors from the start, only sneaking peeks through the cracks when they heard the screaming. Now they saw a young constable striding boldly back from the rear garden, and each was filled with trepidation and confusion.

Han Chong finally reached the master bedroom of the blue-skinned fiend, pushed open the door, and entered.

Ten large red-lacquered chests, each brimming with silver ingots, greeted his eyes. The corpse of a woman still lay on the bed.

It was his first time seeing so much silver. He hefted one ingot—heavy as iron—and turned it over to find the official seal of the Great Feng Treasury.

So the county’s stolen treasury silver had indeed been taken by this blue-skinned fiend.

But how strange! Why would a ghost steal mortal silver, and how did it gain the power to commit such a crime?

There must be an accomplice!

Who could conspire with a ghost? Who could deceive all under heaven?

Could there be an insider within the county yamen itself?

...

Returning to the courtyard, Han Chong knocked on each door in turn, calling out all the maids and servants.

“All of you, stand here in the courtyard. I am Han Chong, a constable of Qingqian County.”

“The master of this house, Lin, was in truth a blue-skinned fiend disguised in human skin. I have dispatched him according to the law—there is no need for you to fear!”

“You two, go at once to the county yamen and report that I have recovered the stolen treasury silver—send men to transport it back!”

Adopting the speech of ancient officials, Han Chong selected two male servants and ordered them to fetch reinforcements from the county office.

“Thank you, sir, for saving us! Even if we worked ourselves to the bone, we could never repay your great kindness!”

Over twenty maids and servants, weeping with joy, knelt to offer their thanks.

“Dawn is near. Build a fire here in the courtyard, then start preparing breakfast,” Han Chong instructed, sitting down to eat what food he could find, pondering and searching for clues in his predecessor’s memories.

Three hours passed. The sky lightened, roosters crowed and dogs barked, and at last a large contingent of yamen runners arrived.

Han Chong rose from his seat, swiftly sifting through his memories.

Among the newcomers, a man in light blue official robes with a silver belt, a bulbous red nose, slanted pale eyes, and a face full of freckles was the county magistrate, Li Cheng.

Behind him stood a burly fellow with a broad nose and wide mouth and a face flushed red as fire—this was Deputy Chief Constable Kong Liyan. A dozen other constables followed.

“Greetings, my lord!” Han Chong cupped his hands and bowed, secretly observing the magistrate’s reaction.

Li Cheng’s slanted eyes darted about, his thin lips pressed tight—he did not spare Han Chong a single glance.

“Hm. I was just about to summon you regarding the theft of the treasury silver and the supposed suicide of your predecessor, Constable Han. And yet you sneak off to this place. What are you up to?”

---

The magistrate’s smile was all surface—a sinister, mocking tone evident in his words, and the constables behind Han Chong closed in, ready to arrest him at a moment’s notice.

Han Chong’s mind raced. This case was indeed suspicious. The magistrate had previously maintained good relations with his predecessor’s foster father, Han Deyuan. Why the sudden hostility, as if intent on eradicating their entire family? Had the man gone mad?

Yet his expression was calm, his speech coherent and sharp—hardly the mark of a madman, but as cunning as a fox.

“My lord, when the treasury silver was stolen, your humble servant was beside himself with worry. An informant reported that Master Lin of this manor was involved. I was so anxious that I did not even return home or eat, but instead staked out the Lin residence for two days and two nights, finally discovering the whereabouts of the stolen silver.”

“As it turns out, Master Lin was actually a blue-skinned fiend in disguise, whom I personally slew!”

Han Chong chose his words carefully, not wanting the magistrate to sense a flaw, while also using the accomplishment of recovering the silver to shield himself against further trouble.

At the mention of the fiend’s death, the magistrate’s muddy eyes suddenly sharpened, a flash of murderous intent sending a chill through Han Chong. It was a look that seemed to promise he would be torn limb from limb.

But the magistrate quickly composed himself, his gaze returning to calm, though Han Chong still felt a chill in his bones.

“Oh? So Master Lin was a fiend in disguise? Do you have proof?”

“Yes, my lord. Please, follow me to the bedchamber.”

Han Chong led the group into the bedroom.

“My lord, behold—here are ten chests of treasury silver. And on the bed: I saw through a peephole as the fiend stripped off his human skin and drained this woman’s life. The skin and corpse are still here!”

All were horrified at the sight of the woman’s shriveled body and the shed human skin. Even Kong Liyan, the burly deputy chief constable, stared wide-eyed with shock.

Yet Han Chong noticed that the normally bookish magistrate remained calm, though a faint anger seemed tightly restrained.

“Men!” the magistrate barked.

“We are here!” the constables replied in unison.

“Count the silver and load it onto carts for return to the treasury. As for this woman’s corpse—bury her here.”

“Han Chong, for recovering the treasury silver, you are promoted to Deputy Chief Constable. Kong Liyan is now Chief Constable.”

Suppressing his fury, the magistrate turned and strode out, leaving the room.

“Well done, lad! Quite the accomplishment, breaking such a major case and earning a direct promotion!” Kong Liyan slapped him on the back, nearly knocking Han Chong over, while the other constables crowded in with grins and congratulations.

“Ha, Chief Kong, you flatter me. It was only thanks to everyone’s support that I managed such a lucky feat,” Han Chong replied, though inwardly he scoffed at their hypocrisy—when his predecessor was down and out, they had all abandoned him, but now they rushed to curry favor.

Returning to the county yamen with the others, Han Chong intended to head straight to the prison to investigate the supposed suicide of Han Deyuan, but was instead informed that the magistrate required his presence in the rear office for urgent matters.

Not good—this was an obvious attempt to halt his investigation, to lure him away from the truth.

Drawing on his two decades of television-watching experience, Han Chong immediately sensed danger in the air!