Chapter 7: For the Greater Good, Disregard the Minor Details

“You graduated from the Royal Police Training Academy and only joined the Third Squad of the Southern District last year... You graduates from specialized academies have it good; you start out as officers. As for me... I spent seven years in the Security Bureau before I made it to officer rank...”

“All right, we’re here. Want me to go up with you?”

“By the way, your car’s been returned too, parked right over there. Here are the keys... You still remember how to drive?”

“Just hail a cab when you go out, don’t get yourself into any trouble.”

“Stay home and rest for a few days, then come back to the precinct... Actually, the captain wanted you to take a longer leave. But the doctor said, it’s best for your recovery to be around familiar things, it helps with your memory…”

The one who drove Gu Changqing home was called Zeng Shiqian, thirty years old, holding the same rank as Gu Changqing—both were officers.

Here, the lowest rank was Security Cadet, followed by Deputy Officer, Officer, Senior Officer, Sergeant, Senior Sergeant, and Inspector...

But Gu Changqing wasn’t much interested in all that.

All he wanted was to resolve his own identity issues, then use official resources to track down those ghostly entities.

He was, after all, a cultivator—did he plan to climb the ranks among mortals?

Besides, the world here didn’t seem to be in chaos because of those ghosts, so he guessed there must be a department responsible for such matters.

His goal was to use the Security Bureau as a stepping stone into those departments.

But for now, he was just starting out—first, he needed to track down a few ghosts, or buy some livestock to refine and absorb, improving his strength.

“Why do you talk so much?” Gu Changqing snatched the keys from Zeng Shiqian’s hand, gave him a light slap on the back of his head, and got out of the car.

Zeng Shiqian covered his head, then flew into a rage—how dare he hit him!

“I’ll let it slide this time since you’ve lost your memory! But don’t let it happen again!” Zeng Shiqian shouted at Gu Changqing through the passenger window.

Gu Changqing looked up at the building before him—a brick-red, multi-story apartment building.

He went up to 602 and opened the door to a rather neat and tidy space.

He had to admit, he kept things quite clean.

It was a one-bedroom, one-living room apartment, about 420 square feet—around 46 square meters—with a full bathroom and kitchen, light wood floors, white cabinets, and an orange two-seater sofa.

It looked quite comfortable.

Standing by the window, he could see the street outside and, not far away, the Clear River.

This was in the southeast corner of the Clear River District, right next to the Southern District.

But the apartment wasn’t his own—it was rented.

That didn’t bother Gu Changqing; it was good enough to have a place to stay.

The room was well equipped, with all the appliances, even a computer.

He sprawled on the sofa for a while, then went downstairs, drove to the riverside, and retrieved the things he’d hidden there.

Getting there was fine, but driving back, he got lost and had to ask for directions before finally making it back. He also went to the supermarket and bought a lot of supplies.

Mostly food and snacks.

He was preparing to make a trip back.

He figured he’d only be gone a day, but it was hard to say for sure, so he stocked up on food just in case.

After all, the memories he had of the last five days he spent there were painfully vivid.

...

A region surrounded by mountains, with only a single winding road leading out.

In the middle of this area lay vast farmlands and a small village.

Around the village stood a wooden fence over two meters high, patched and repaired in many places.

At this moment, all the villagers had been summoned to gather in the open, each with an anxious face, all dressed in coarse cloth, some with cloth bandages.

A man and a woman stood at the village entrance. The man wore a gentle smile, while the woman’s expression was cold and proud. Their expressions were different, but both looked down on the villagers with an aloof gaze—not as though regarding fellow humans, but as if looking at a swarm of ants.

“So, someone is missing?” The man spoke with a mild, friendly tone.

“The Li family’s boy must be around somewhere, maybe went out to gather firewood…” someone mumbled.

“If he’s nearby, go fetch him. A demon, gravely wounded, has escaped here—he likes to drink human blood…” The man’s eyes glinted as he sent all the villagers out to search.

He strongly suspected Kou Dahai was hiding nearby.

Soon, commotion arose outside the village.

Someone, frightened at the forest’s edge, stumbled and tumbled back in panic.

The two flashed into the woods in an instant, only to discover a shriveled corpse, little more than skin and bone, missing an arm and a leg, its head hacked clean off.

“It’s Kou Dahai…”

“He actually died here.” Both frowned.

Who would have thought that the demon they’d been chasing would be dead.

“He was drained of blood and vitality by a demonic art… The wounds are ragged, not cleanly severed…”

“There must be another demonic cultivator here… or…”

“Wasn’t there a villager missing? Maybe, knowing he was doomed, Kou Dahai passed his demonic art on before dying, using his own blood and essence to help the other begin cultivation…” the woman suddenly spoke.

“We underestimated him; he’d rather die than let a new demon rise!” She sneered coldly.

“Probably hoping to spite us as well!”

The man thought for a moment and found it entirely plausible.

Otherwise, even gravely wounded, Kou Dahai wouldn’t have died like this.

As for running into another blood-drinking demon in this remote place—the odds were minuscule. How could it be such a coincidence?

There were indeed a fair number of demonic cultivators, but their arts varied widely.

Most of these practices were ruthless and self-serving, progressing quickly but with severe side effects, so they were all called demonic cultivation.

The two searched the area, finally returning to the spot where Gu Changqing disappeared. There were no other traces of people except here.

They didn’t consider that someone might have vanished into thin air—they simply believed they lacked the skill to track someone in the mountains and had lost the trail.

The two exchanged a glance, the woman saying, “No matter what, the relic left by the Blood Sovereign must be recovered—it must not be allowed to spread!”

The demonic art Kou Dahai cultivated wasn’t anything special, but that was another matter.

But the relic left by the Blood Sovereign was different.

Five thousand years ago, the Blood Sovereign had rampaged unchecked, rising in power at an astonishing rate; no one could count the number who perished at his hands.

No one knew what Kou Dahai had obtained from the Blood Sovereign’s treasure.

If he’d inherited the Blood Sovereign’s legacy…

The thought made both their eyes flicker with uncertainty.

The man’s gaze grew ruthless. “That boy might still be nearby! He’s just a mountain villager, ignorant and lacking a demonic cultivator’s ruthlessness—perhaps we can draw him out!”

The woman nodded slightly; they both knew what the other was thinking.

To recover the Blood Sovereign’s relic, they couldn’t afford to be sentimental.

A moment later, they gathered all the villagers and set the entire village ablaze.

Cries of anguish echoed from the villagers.

This village was their whole world. With it burned, they wouldn’t survive the year and would have to move to the nearby Wang family village.

But their land was here; how could they survive elsewhere?

The man and woman roamed the surrounding woods. Half a day passed, the village burned to ashes, but they found no sign of anyone.

Meeting up again, they were puzzled.

“That boy really got away?”

“A normal person, even if he’d gained a little power from Kou Dahai’s blood, couldn’t have run far. He couldn’t have missed the blaze.”

“No wonder Kou Dahai passed on his legacy—truly a demonic heart, cold and ruthless!” the woman sneered, her killing intent only deepening.

Another half day passed with no sign of him. The two grew impatient.

“After we leave, that boy might return. These villagers will be his food!”

“If he committed crimes in the city, he’d be noticed at once. But a mountain village—no one comes for months or years. Even if he devoured them all, no one would know.”

“To exterminate the demon, for the greater good, we can’t worry about details! If he grows strong, who knows how many will die.”

Back and forth, both their eyes gleamed with cold resolve.

“These villagers are innocent…” the woman hesitated.

“There’s no need for Miss You to sully her hands!” The man vanished from the woods, reappearing near the villagers.

A folding fan appeared in his hand. With a wave, countless fan ribs shot out like crossbow bolts, flashing coldly in the air.

With soft thuds, the villagers suddenly fell silent, as if turned to clay or wood.

One by one, bloody holes appeared in their bodies.

Blood welled from the wounds.

With a series of heavy thuds, young and old alike collapsed to the ground.