Wandering Gods of Day and Night
Chapter 448 - 236: Kill the Donkey When the Grinding Is Done

Chapter 448: Chapter 236: Kill the Donkey When the Grinding Is Done

Mingjiang Prefecture Office, Prefecture Chief’s Office,

Chief Zheng Lin and Deputy Chief Xu Zhigong were reviewing a draft for the construction of the dock.

"Chief, for the location of the new dock, we’ll stick with the old plan. As for its name, let’s call it ’Dock Twenty-One.’"

"Alright, follow the usual conventions. A simple name is easier to accept among the common folks. It’ll spread quickly among cart drivers and tram operators—easy to remember.

By the way, during the last meeting, the Transportation Bureau mentioned that the dock construction needs to follow the old rituals and employ living human piles. Has this been arranged?" Zheng Lin asked.

"I spoke with the City God Temple’s representative. He said they’ll handle the living pile ritual, but we need to provide the materials."

"Materials? Just pick ten death-row prisoners, that’ll do. Mingjiang Prison is full of them these days," Zheng Lin replied nonchalantly.

A living human pile meant using live humans as stakes driven into the ground.

One person became one stake.

Only through burying human stakes could constructions proceed on locations marred by turbulent water energy.

The Mingjiang Bridge had once required hundreds of living human piles. The materials for the stakes were almost entirely sourced from Mingjiang Prison’s death-row inmates.

"Sometimes, death-row prisoners are more useful than law-abiding commoners," remarked Xu Zhigong.

"Well, they brought it upon themselves by committing capital crimes," Zheng Lin said as he lit a cigarette, his tone relaxed.

The Bone Elder’s research into the mysteries of blood and flesh required death-row prisoners.

The Sighing Mother Wall demanded its monthly feed, which also required death-row prisoners.

To cut paths through mountains or build bridges over turbulent waters in harsh environments, death-row prisoners were indispensable sacrifices.

In the past, some former prefecture chiefs had to force lesser criminals into death sentences to meet the massive demand for death-row prisoners.

However, Zheng Lin, the current prefecture chief, had chosen a different path.

"Let’s loosen the law enforcement in Mingjiang. Naturally, there’ll be more criminals sentenced to death.

We don’t even have to secretly tweak sentencing—doing so would be a crime,

and maintaining balance in law and order is crucial."

"Wise as always, Chief," Xu Zhigong flattered.

"Being in charge at Mingjiang isn’t easy," Zheng Lin sighed just as the phone on his desk rang.

He reached over to pick it up,

and when Deputy Chief Xu Zhigong saw this, he was ready to leave the office. However, upon noticing Zheng Lin’s increasingly grim expression during the call, Zheng motioned for him to stay.

Reluctantly, Xu Zhigong returned to his seat.

"Yes, understood, understood. Someone in Mingjiang is slandering the Young Master."

"Got it, got it, fully understood."

Hearing Zheng Lin mention the Young Master during the call, Xu Zhigong felt an ominous chill creeping into his heart.

The Bone Elder Association had never explicitly instructed the Prefecture Office regarding the Young Master’s importance,

but the prefecture’s intelligence network was reliable enough to learn that the Young Master had become a favored guest of the Bone Elder Association. Consequently, the prefecture placed great importance on him,

even relocating schools, hospitals, and parks originally planned for other locations to East Market Street, just to curry favor with the Young Master.

Now, the person on the other end of the call—who could make Zheng Lin break out in a cold sweat—was either a City God or a high-ranking member of the Bone Elder Association, no doubt from one of its branch halls.

A direct call from such a high-ranking figure to inquire about the Young Master was a sign of trouble.

"Clack!"

Zheng Lin finally hung up the phone, his forehead drenched in sweat. Pointing firmly toward Xu Zhigong, he declared, "The newspaper in Mingjiang has been slandering the Young Master. Lord Qing Feng personally called me.

Go, investigate thoroughly. Arrest whoever’s responsible."

"Yes, Chief."

Xu Zhigong didn’t dare delay and immediately rushed to contact the arrest bureau.

"Old Xu, remember this well—Lord Qing Feng made it abundantly clear in the call: if we can investigate it thoroughly, all will be fine. But if we fail, we’re both finished."

In Jing Country, divine power reigned supreme. While the prefecture managed the daily lives of commoners, true control rested in the hands of the Bone Elders, City Gods, and Witches.

As the current Hall Master of the City God Temple, Qing Feng could replace a Prefecture Chief without even consulting the Bone Elder Association.

Nodding repeatedly, Xu Zhigong finally left the office.

Zheng Lin leaned back on a couch in the corner of the room and sighed, "If my incense fire were strong enough, I wouldn’t have to work as a Prefecture Chief. I’d rather serve as the City God Hall Master."

Sighing was all he could do, though. He knew that with his pitiful aptitude for cultivation, never mind becoming the City God Hall Master—he’d be lucky to climb the ranks enough to qualify as an incense master within thirty years.

In the Prefecture Office, most officials had meager levels of incense fire, often one or two sticks at most.

Zheng Lin’s incense fire was stronger, at four sticks, bestowed by the City God Temple.

"That Young Master... who knows how much incense fire he possesses? To command such favor from the Bone Elders and City Gods, it must be six or seven sticks, at least," Zheng Lin mused to himself.

...

When Qing Feng saw the newspaper report, his chest tightened with rage. Only after berating Zheng Lin over the phone did he feel somewhat relieved.

"To slander the Young Master—just wait until I find out who’s behind it. I’ll flay them alive."

As Qing Feng was muttering darkly to himself, supervisor Li Zheng entered the room and said, "Second Master, Lord Hua is waiting for you at the stone house."

"What is he doing at the stone house?"

"Lord Hua has now grasped the Space Law. There’s nowhere he can’t go, so his being at the stone house isn’t surprising," Li Zheng said with a wry smile.

"Let’s go meet Lord Hua."

Throwing on his coat, Qing Feng hurried down from the second floor.

Outside the stone house, inscriptions stained with fresh blood ensured no eavesdropping was possible.

Upon entering, Qing Feng saw not only the painter sitting inside but also an unfamiliar face.

However, supervisor Li Zheng, who had a penchant for frequenting storytelling performances, recognized the stranger at a glance: it was none other than Feng Moyan, Mingjiang’s most renowned storyteller.