Chapter 5: The Man-Eating Mansion (Part One)

The door opened, and an old gatekeeper poked half his body out, eyeing them suspiciously as he muttered to himself, “Here to drive out evil again?”

Before they could respond, he said, “Wait in the gatehouse.” With that, he shrugged his shoulders and lounged indifferently toward the screen wall inside.

Shortly after, a middle-aged man who looked like a steward came out. He wore a blue silk shirt and had a short, stocky build with a greasy, round face. When he smiled, two deep horizontal folds appeared on his cheeks, giving a forced grin that Haichao found quite unpleasant.

He glanced at the group, his gaze settling on Liang Ye with an appraising look. “I suppose you esteemed immortals and monks have come to perform rituals to ward off misfortune and pray for blessings for the lady of the house?”

Liang Ye replied, “We have come on orders from our master to capture demons.”

He was handsome and composed, his expression cold when not smiling. Now, he lifted his chin slightly, exuding the air of a transcendent sage.

Haichao thought to herself that he was pretty good at putting on a show.

The steward’s attitude became noticeably more respectful. “May I ask where your immortal sect is from?”

Liang Ye answered casually, “Qingyun Temple.”

Haichao knew he was just making it up. Qingyun Temple was the largest Taoist temple in Lianzhou City. She remembered going there with Liang Ye once when she delivered clothes to the academy, and they had admired the jade blossom tree together.

The steward responded as if the name rang a bell. “So you are Taoist priests from Qingyun Temple. My apologies for the earlier rudeness.”

He then looked toward the monk. “And this venerable monk…”

The monk gave a sly smile. “I am but a humble traveler, unknown to these immortal guests. We merely met by chance outside your esteemed residence.”

The steward called a servant. “Take this monk to the guest quarters to rest and dine.”

Then, bowing slightly with outstretched hands, he said to Liang Ye’s group, “Please, esteemed immortals, this way.”

As he led them, he introduced himself, “I am called Li, the chief steward of this mansion. If you require anything, do not hesitate to inform me.”

They passed the plain white screen wall and were greeted by a spacious courtyard, surrounded by tall trees and wide corridors.

The yard was filled with elms, locust trees, pines, and cypresses, some so large that two people could barely encircle their trunks. The dense foliage cast deep shadows, making the courtyard noticeably cooler than outside.

Even Haichao, strong and healthy, shivered involuntarily.

Cheng Hanlin rubbed his arms. “Judging by these towering ancient trees, this house must be quite old.”

“Indeed, it’s at least a hundred years old,” the steward said proudly. “One of the most notable residences in all of Wucheng.”

“Is the master of the house a high-ranking official?” Haichao asked curiously, looking around.

The courtyard was grander and more imposing than the county government offices.

The steward chuckled. “The lady speaks jokingly. The gentleman is a commoner who trades for a living.”

“Oh, then his business must be quite substantial,” Haichao remarked.

The steward smiled, tacitly agreeing.

By then, they had crossed the front courtyard and arrived at the main hall.

The main building had five beams and three rooms, with a white sand moon terrace before it and a dozen or so pines and cypresses standing tall upon it. The structure was not vast but was meticulously decorated with carved beams and painted pillars, exuding an orderly elegance.

The scent of fresh lacquer filled the air, evidence of recent renovation.

Dusk was falling as two servants in blue stood lazily beneath the corridor, lighting lamps.

The steward scolded them sharply, “Why are you so slow lighting the lamps? Haven’t you seen guests?”

Turning back, he apologized, “These servants are new to the mansion and inexperienced. Please forgive their rudeness, esteemed immortals.”

He led the group to the east wing, instructing the servants to light the lamps and prepare seats.

Once seated, a short while later, a servant brought tea and fruit.

The rising steam from the tea and the sweet fragrance of the fruit were tantalizing.

All of them had not eaten or drunk anything for over a day and night, and they were ravenous. Even Lu Niangzi’s cheeks flushed as she pressed her lips tightly.

However, they exchanged glances, hesitant to touch the food.

After all, this was the domain of demons—an utterly unfamiliar world. They could not be sure if these things were safe to eat.

Liang Ye, however, lifted the tea bowl and took a sip.

Haichao thought, if they were to remain in this secret realm for seven days and nights, they could not survive without food and drink. She followed suit, sipping the tea.

The tea was fragrant and far superior to the coarse brews she usually drank.

She drained her cup in a few sips, then bit into an unfamiliar pastry. It was sweet and delicate, almost melting on her tongue.

Being stranded here was not entirely unfortunate.

She casually raised her eyes and saw Liang Ye watching her with a faint, elusive smile.

Haichao wondered if she had some crumbs on her mouth and touched her chin and lips but found nothing.

Was he laughing at her for being so naïve, never having tasted anything good?

She glared at him, grabbed a piece of red bean sticky cake, stuffed it into her mouth, and puffed out her cheeks defiantly.

Liang Ye lowered his gaze, but Haichao had already lost her appetite; the cake tasted bland now.

She set down her bamboo chopsticks in frustration, and the others soon followed.

The steward had the servants clear the dishes but stood silently nearby, watching Liang Ye as if wanting to say something but hesitating.

Liang Ye remained calm and did not ask.

Finally, the steward could no longer contain himself. “May I inquire what kind of Taoist arts you practice, and what kinds of demons you have encountered?”

Cheng Hanlin replied, “Too many to count. It’s a long story. Just a few days ago, we were in the south and slew a giant rat demon with eyes as big as cartwheels…”

Liang Ye interrupted, “Let’s speak plainly. The demon energy here is dense. If we delay, disaster may strike.”

He took a sip of tea and said calmly, “The consequences would be unimaginable.”

The steward shuddered. “Have you discerned what creature is causing this mischief?”

Liang Ye answered, “You are hiding something. I have nothing to disclose.”

Swallowing nervously, the steward finally recounted the full story.

The master of the house was surnamed Su, a wealthy merchant from the Shu region. A year ago, he and his wife moved to Wucheng. Initially, they rented a residence in the east of the city, but half a year ago, they bought this old mansion, renovated it over three months, and moved in on an auspicious day.

At first, livestock thrived and the merchant’s business prospered, but within a month, strange incidents began.

First, chickens and ducks occasionally disappeared from the pens. Then, piles of clean bones appeared in various corners.

They initially suspected weasels or careless servants and increased their watch, but no thief was caught, and livestock continued to vanish every few days.

However, the Su family was large and influential, so they paid little heed.

Eventually, the losses escalated. Even pigs and cattle—large animals—began to vanish mysteriously during the night.

“Only bones remained?” Cheng Hanlin asked.

The steward nodded.

Haichao rested her chin on her hand, frowning thoughtfully. “Hmm…”

The steward asked, “Does the young immortal have any insights?”

Caught off guard, Haichao exclaimed and mimicked Liang Ye’s inscrutable expression. “My insight is that this demon loves to eat meat.”

Lu Wanying burst out laughing, then blushed deeply.

The steward looked embarrassed. “The young immortal jested.”

Liang Ye cleared his throat. “Has anyone been summoned—monks, Taoists, or exorcists?”

The steward’s face darkened. “When the family first moved here, unfamiliar with the place, the gentleman was cautious not to spread rumors that might harm his business. So he instructed discretion. Privately, he sent servants to inquire at a temple. The head Taoist said the time they moved in was inauspicious and caused a clash. He wrote a talisman for the house and had the servant bring it back to hang on the main beam of the hall.”

Needless to say, the talisman, if it had any effect, was minimal.

Otherwise, they would not be here now.

“Which temple was it?” Liang Ye asked.

The steward replied, “Dongxuan Temple.”

“In this city?”

“In Jianye,” the steward said.

Liang Ye nodded thoughtfully, signaling him to continue.

“After the talisman was hung, things quieted down for a while; no more livestock went missing,” the steward said.

Everyone sighed in relief.

But one day, the talisman suddenly fell from the beam. They reattached it, only for it to fall again moments later. They didn’t believe in such superstition and glued it firmly with deerskin glue. This time it didn’t fall, but the talisman suddenly caught fire and burned on its own.

The steward lowered his voice, as if afraid the demon might overhear. “Several servants present said they heard laughter coming from the beam as the talisman burned…”

Since then, the strange occurrences spiraled out of control, growing worse.

At midnight, servants passing by empty rooms heard footsteps and voices.

An old groom in his fifties, who had fallen asleep soundly in his room, woke up to find himself lying in the manure pit.

“That old groom was always a bit slow,” the steward said. “The servants teased him, saying he was drunk and went to sleep in the manure pit. He was angry and bet the others he would catch the demon. So he took his bedding and slept in the most haunted empty room…”

The steward swallowed hard, clearly still unsettled by the memory.

Haichao, deeply engrossed, raised an eyebrow at his hesitation. “And then? Did he die?”

“No, he’s still alive,” the steward replied, “but he’s gone mad.”

“What did he see?” Haichao asked.

The steward shook his head. “No one knows. After going mad, the old groom only says one word.”

“What word?”

“Face.”