Chapter Twenty-One: Officials as Slick as Oil

A fierce, gloomy wind howled, carrying with it an eerie aura of ghosts, while outside the rural pavilion, the sunlight suddenly blazed with intensity, as if it meant to transform into a raging fire and burn its way inside, reducing the three specters to ashes.

Yet, the white mist atop the pavilion took the form of a cloud, shielding them from the searing sunlight.

Of course, only Wang Zhenling could see these phenomena; ordinary people perceived nothing of the sort.

As for the three ghosts, none dared act out. Instead, upon seeing Wang Zhenling holding the official seal emitting a faint white glow, they all prostrated themselves before him. “We pay our respects to the new Night Patrol Officer!”

“Why are these only grievance ghosts?” Wang Zhenling’s brow furrowed slightly. “Was it not said that all ghost soldiers are supposed to be fierce spirits?”

These ghosts were the ghost soldiers maintained by the rural pavilion.

Yet, when Wang Zhenling questioned them, he found them dull and unresponsive. He had no choice but to summon Zhu He again and ask. Zhu He’s eyes flashed with a hint of scorn, quickly masked, as he replied, “Sir Wang may not know, but while it is said that all ghost soldiers should be fierce spirits, these are hard to come by; most have been imprisoned in the City God’s Ghost Prison. In our humble rural pavilion, we cannot gather enough fierce spirits to serve as ghost soldiers, so we must make do with grievance ghosts instead. Still, though these are grievance ghosts, with the armor and weapons bestowed by the City God’s Underworld, they are no weaker than ordinary ghost soldiers!”

Is that so?

Wang Zhenling made no comment but waved his hand, dismissing Zhu He.

This left Zhu He momentarily stunned. He had expected Wang Zhenling to be displeased and seize the opportunity to make trouble. He had already prepared excuses and strategies to deal with Wang Zhenling, but unexpectedly, Wang Zhenling merely asked a single question and let the matter drop.

With a punch prepared for so long landing on empty air, Zhu He withdrew meekly, a sense of anticlimax in his heart.

“Patrol Officer, that fellow is not to be trusted,” Wang Hu whispered to Wang Zhenling.

Wang Zhenling nodded slightly but did not dwell on it. What was there to fight over in a mere rural pavilion? Still, if he did not show his subordinates some measure of severity, sooner or later, they would surely try to bully him.

He first inspected the ghost soldiers under his command. Supposedly ten in number, only three were present—and grievance ghosts at that, which greatly displeased him.

Yet he could not act out, for this was customary.

Though each rural pavilion was meant to have ten ghost soldiers to maintain order, they could not be at the sole command of the Night Patrol Officer.

Within the pavilion, authority was divided among three powers, each entitled to a share.

The chief Rural Bailiff was allotted four; the Three Elders and the Night Patrol Officer each received one.

Such was the case throughout all the lands under Heaven’s Mandate. No matter how dissatisfied Wang Zhenling was, he had no grounds for complaint.

Still, the quality of these ghost soldiers left much to be desired.

Though equipped with standard-issue underworld armor and weapons, enhanced by the aura of officialdom, making each no weaker than a fierce spirit, they remained grievance ghosts.

According to the court’s regulations, all ghost soldiers employed by officialdom must be fierce spirits.

This was a significant shortfall.

Zhu He claimed the fierce spirits were all imprisoned in the City God’s Ghost Prison, yet Wang Zhenling recalled that, under Lord Hu, every ghost soldier was of fierce spirit rank, their ghostly aura formidable. Though not under direct official command but led by a local tutelary deity, and thus lacking the official aura to transform into armor and weapons, their inherent quality surpassed that of the government’s ghost soldiers.

“All government-maintained ghost soldiers are allotted a fixed amount of spiritual offerings. Clearly, they are embezzling the ‘spiritual rations’!” Wang Hu sneered.

He himself had once served as a government scribe, but after being dismissed for misconduct and returning home, he became intimately familiar with the corruption rampant throughout officialdom.

Grievance ghosts consumed less spiritual food than fierce spirits. Many officials preferred to keep grievance ghosts, embezzling the surplus rations to feed their own ancestors.

The Son of Heaven was entitled to seven ancestral temples, feudal lords to five, grandees to three, scholars to one, and commoners could only honor their ancestors at home.

Only scholars and above could establish ancestral halls, allowing their ancestral spirits to receive offerings in the underworld. Ordinary folk could merely set up tablets at home and make offerings as best they could.

Yet such meager incense rarely sufficed to sustain many ancestral spirits.

Hence, lower-ranking officials often embezzled and divided the spiritual rations.

But such matters could not be brought to light, for they were widespread, deemed human nature, and intertwined with filial piety. Even when superiors were aware, they often turned a blind eye.

Therefore, Zhu He was emboldened, unafraid that Wang Zhenling would expose the issue. In fact, if Wang Zhenling were foolish enough to do so, he would court universal enmity and soon find himself unable to take a single step.

“No matter how honest the magistrate, the clerks are slipperier than oil.”

A faint smile played at Wang Zhenling’s lips. The day to deal with that petty man would come soon enough.

Zhu He, naturally, noticed Wang Hu and Wang Zhenling whispering and felt no concern. As a veteran of the bureaucracy, he had countless ways to make things difficult for Wang Zhenling. Why should he fear a mere strategist like Wang Hu?

With scorn in his heart, Zhu He said, “Sir Wang, aside from the pavilion’s ghost soldiers, each local society also has its own, ranging from several in small societies to dozens in larger ones. If necessary, the Night Patrol Officer can command the tutelary deities of each society to dispatch their ghost soldiers for battle.”

“Oh?” Wang Zhenling recalled the time he had rescued Zhen Yunzi, when he was hunted across the land, and could not help but grow interested. He seemed not to notice that Zhu He was once more laying a trap for him.

“Indeed, would you care to meet the shamans of each society?”

“Of course!” Wang Zhenling replied without hesitation.

Humans and gods did not communicate directly; the intermediaries were known as shamans.

These shamans served the tutelary deities, presiding over their temples. Generally, even government officials had to go through the shamans to communicate with the society gods.

What Wang Zhenling valued most in the Night Patrol Officer’s position was this very power—more alluring to him than the chief Rural Bailiff’s authority.

Zhu He lowered his gaze, an odd expression flickering across his face.

This was the second snare he had set for Wang Zhenling.

The ghost soldiers of the pavilion were one thing—directly under its authority, though divided among the Rural Bailiff, the Three Elders, and the Night Patrol Officer.

But those belonging to the societies were another matter entirely.

Though the Night Patrol Officer could, in theory, command the society gods to dispatch their ghost soldiers, there was no direct chain of command. The society gods belonged to the underworld’s system, under the City God’s jurisdiction, while the Night Patrol Officer was part of the human government—a separate hierarchy altogether. Whether they obeyed or cooperated enthusiastically depended entirely on the Night Patrol Officer’s prestige and abilities.

If he had high reputation, great capability, and a good relationship with the society gods, they would give him face.