Chapter 67 Who Taught You to Worship Ancestors Like This?

Chapter 67: Who Taught You to Worship Ancestors Like This?

"Announcing—Song Xi to the Court!"

The grand eunuch's voice echoed beyond the hall as a tall young man in black battle armor strode in.

Song Xi, barely in his twenties, exuded an aura more formidable than most military officers in court. A faint stubble shadowed his chin, a testament to his hurried journey back to the capital from Xiling.

"This subject, Song Xi, pays homage to Your Majesty," Song Xi declared loudly, kneeling and kowtowing in the center of the hall.

Witnessing this, some court officials couldn't help but murmur to themselves—no wonder the legitimate and illegitimate sons had been swapped. If it truly was Song Chengliang's doing, he might have acted for the greater good of the Duke of Song's household.

Song Xi was clearly exceptional in both appearance and martial talent; his only flaw was his birth. Had this scandal not been exposed, the future of the Duke of Song's household would have been boundless.

"Song Xi, do you admit your guilt?" the Emperor's voice rang out.

"This subject is unaware. I beg Your Majesty to enlighten me."

"Have you heard the name Song Yu?"

Song Xi fell silent for a long moment before a hint of resignation crossed his face. "This subject... has heard of it."

"When did you learn you were not the legitimate son of the Duke of Song?"

"Only after investigating Song Yu's identity did I discover the truth."

"And then? What did you do?" the Emperor pressed.

"I... I had him covertly brought back to the capital."

"Then why did he die?"

Song Xi knelt in silence at the center of the hall.

"Song Xi, answer Our question."

Lowering his head, Song Xi finally spoke. "It was my lax oversight that led to his death."

He repeated, "I am the one who caused his death."

"Lax oversight? Who did you inform of this matter?"

Instead of answering, Song Xi said, "The person responsible has already been executed by me. Song Yu's death ultimately stemmed from my subordinate's actions to protect my position. I am willing to pay with my life. I beg Your Majesty to punish me."

Hearing this, even Qi Hai, who had relentlessly pressured the Emperor to recall Song Xi from Xiling, couldn't help but give him a second look.

With a son as sharp and talented as this, the Duke of Song's household had no worries for its future.

"We are asking you—who was that subordinate?" The Emperor's voice carried clear displeasure, yet Song Xi remained unmoved.

Finally, the Emperor gave a cold snort. "Song Xi, for deceiving the throne, you are stripped of your position as commander of the Xiling Army and your status as the Duke of Song's heir."

Song Xi showed no flicker of emotion, kowtowing once more. "This lowly subject, Song Xi, thanks Your Majesty for your mercy."

But the Emperor wasn't finished. "The Duke of Song, for shielding his son, is guilty of an unpardonable offense—"

"Your Majesty." Song Xi finally interrupted, his expression tense, shoulders sagging as he uttered a name: "It was Uncle Liang—Song Chengliang."

The moment the name left his lips, murmurs broke out among the court officials.

Song Xi's admission proved nothing—he could have been coached by the Duke of Song's household or coordinated their stories with Song Chengliang beforehand.

But the fact that he only yielded under the Emperor's relentless questioning made his account believable.

True or not, one thing was clear: Song Xi was much shrewder than the rest of his family.

The Emperor didn’t spare him another glance, turning instead to the Minister of Justice and the Head of the Supreme Court. "What have your investigations uncovered?"

The Minister of Justice stepped forward first. "Your Majesty, based on Song Chengliang's confession, we questioned the suspects involved in Song Yu's murder. It has been confirmed that the order to kill Song Yu came from Song Chengliang. After Song Yu's death, he also paid off Song Yu's kin to quickly inter him under the pretense of a sudden illness."

"Is that all?"

"This subject also questioned Song Xi's servants and guards. None could provide evidence that Song Xi ever ordered Song Yu's death."

The Emperor remained impassive before asking, "And the Chief Justice? What have you found?"

The Chief Justice stepped forward. "Your Majesty, I questioned the Duchess. She admitted that her son was taken away by Song Chengliang's men the day he was born. Soon after, she discovered her child had been replaced as the legitimate heir, but she concealed this and never spoke of it. The Duchess has now been detained by the Supreme Court for the crime of deceiving the throne."

"Your Majesty, this entire matter began because of me. The true crime of deceiving the throne lies with me. I beg Your Majesty to reconsider."

The Emperor gazed at the still-kowtowing Song Xi, his expression unreadable. "Was the Duke of Song also unaware of this?"

The Chief Justice hesitated before replying, "This subject questioned the family retainers. On the night the late duke passed, the Duke of Song left briefly, having heard his wife was suffering hemorrhage—but he never went to see her. I cannot confirm whether the Duke of Song knew of this."

After hearing both reports, the ministers realized: no matter how likely it was that Song Chengliang had acted under Song Xi's orders, with Song Chengliang confessing and no additional proof uncovered, Song Xi was innocent.

The only charge that could still condemn Song Xi was deceiving the throne—but whether that accusation would hold depended entirely on the Emperor's will.

"The Duke of Song, for his incompetence leading to the death of his legitimate son, is stripped of his official post and placed under house arrest for a year of reflection." The Emperor then turned to Song Xi. "Song Xi... shall reflect alongside his father."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

After the audience concluded, Song Xi walked out of the palace alone. Unlike when he had arrived, he now held no rank, no titles—nothing at all.

But perceptive observers noted that the Emperor had not stripped the Duke of Song's household of its nobility. Once this matter blew over, the heirship would ultimately revert to Song Xi.

The only setback was that his ascendancy would be delayed by a few years. But as a cultivator, his extended lifespan surpassed that of ordinary men—he could afford the wait.

Thus, seeing Song Xi alone, several aristocrats approached to clap his shoulder and offer words of comfort.

The scandal that had once rocked the capital now reached its conclusion under the Emperor's decree. All that remained was to conclude remaining matters and deliver justice to all involved.

This time, the Emperor issued no warnings to the court, so by that afternoon, news of the verdict had already spread through the streets.

A Chan sometimes wondered if the gossips hid under the officials' beds—how else could they know everything so quickly?

Had she not read *Revenge Chronicle*, she might have accepted the verdict without question. After all, the investigation had turned up no evidence.

But nearly every detail in Mr. Baomu's book had matched the facts—could the most crucial element, the actual killer, have been wrong?

If Mr. Baomu's account was the truth, then the legitimate son had died, while the true murderer merely lost a title that was never rightfully his. Such an ending felt profoundly unjust.

Many likely felt similarly to A Chan, but all they could do was voice their discontent among themselves and curse the Duke of Song's household. No one knew whether the dead legitimate son would have raged at this outcome.

The next day, A Chan and Hui Niang shuttered their shop.

Today, Hui Niang would pay respects at her ancestors' graves, so she escorted A Chan back to the residence in Chongming Lane beforehand. There, A Chan would conduct ancestor worship—the ample courtyard allowed her to perform them fully.

After helping A Chan deliver the sacrificial items and a floral offering at the gate, Hui Niang took her leave by coach.

A Chan carried the offerings to the garden in the backyard. She had never tended to this garden, and only Hui Niang had previously cut back some of the overgrown grass, so it looked more like a wild overgrowth.

She found a sickle in the firewood shed and cleared a small patch of ground. Then, she searched around the garden for a while and brought back three large stones.

She planted the stones upright in a row, then placed the flowers and offerings—prepared with pork, beef, and lamb respectively—on top.

According to the records in that book, the original sacrifices didn’t even consider pigs, cows, or sheep. The real offerings were high-ranking, rare spirit beasts or even actual yao spirits themselves.

But this condition was a bit too difficult for A Chan to fulfill. She couldn’t even order whole sacrificial animals for human sacrifices, so this humble offering would have to do. If her ancestors complained, she wouldn’t hear them anyway—she’d just assume they were satisfied.

After setting up the offerings, A Chan took out a slightly larger censer. From the wooden box beside her, she took three sticks of incense, lit them, then took three more.

She repeated this many times until the censer was packed with smoldering incense.

The offerings could be simplified, but the incense was non-negotiable.

Unfortunately, she had numerous ancestral lines, so she needed a lot of incense. Today, all the incense she had prepared would have to be consumed.

A Chan had done her best to recreate the traditional sacrificial incense, with the only drawback being that it gave off copious smoke.

Before even half the incense had burned, the entire garden was blanketed in smoke. However, she had adjusted the formula yesterday, so the smoke carried a lingering sweetness. Aside from possibly being permeated with the fragrance herself, there wasn’t much of a problem.

Then, a sudden breeze stirred through the garden, lifting the smoke skyward in ribbons and scattering the flowers from the basket all over the ground.

A Chan looked up at the sky. Though she couldn’t feel anything, her ancestors must surely be pleased with her sacrifice.

Just then, a head suddenly popped up over the wall beside her. "Miss Ji."

The voice was familiar. A Chan turned and saw—wasn't that Jiang Kai of all people?

"Lord Jiang, why are you on my wall?" A Chan blinked, her eyes full of surprise.

"His Lordship had been knocking on the door outside but received no answer, so he sent me to find you here," Jiang Kai explained.

"Lord Bai is here too? What’s the matter?" A Chan wondered—had he come to deliver the tiger pelt?

Jiang Kai gave a dry laugh and didn’t explain.

A Chan stood and walked toward the front courtyard. Before long, she heard the sound of the door knocker being rapped.

She went to open the door and saw Bai Xiuming standing outside in his vermilion court robes, hands folded formally behind him. Behind him stood a group of Bright Mirror Bureau guards.

The middle-aged man standing beside Bai Xiuming, who had been knocking, was a stranger to her—she didn’t recognize him.

Meanwhile, Jiang Kai had already circled back from the garden wall and quietly returned to Bai Xiuming’s side.

"Lord Bai, did you need something from me?" A Chan asked.

"What were you doing in the garden just now?"

"Performing ancestral rites," A Chan replied, puzzled. "Is there a problem?"

I thought this was proper human tradition?

"Take us to see," Bai Xiuming said, his tone not forceful but brooking no refusal.

"Fine." A Chan found their behavior strange but turned and led them into her residence, heading toward the garden.

The moment they stepped into the garden, everyone was assaulted by a wall of smoke.

"Lord Bai, you see? I told you—this is decidedly unnatural," the middle-aged man who had knocked earlier spoke up.

Bai Xiuming ignored him and continued forward, soon spotting the stones A Chan had set up, the simple offerings, and the censer stuffed to overflowing with burning incense.

"What are you sacrificing to?" Bai Xiuming asked again.

"My ancestors. Didn’t I just say that?"

"Where are the ancestral tablets?"

A Chan replied with perfect seriousness, "I don’t remember their names, so I used stones instead. My ancestors won’t mind."

"And this incense?" Bai Xiuming stared at the censer, which was still belching smoke, his expression unusually perplexed.

"That’s the incense offering for my ancestors."

Bai Xiuming silently studied A Chan for a moment before asking, "Who taught you to worship your ancestors like this?"

"I figured it out myself," A Chan said, enthusiastic to explain her methods. "The books say that the ancients used smoke to communicate with their ancestors. With this much smoke, my ancestors must be very happy—maybe they’ll even appear in my dreams this very night to praise me."

Everyone present except Bai Xiuming bore looks of bemusement.

Especially the middle-aged man—he was the one who had called the patrolling Bright Mirror Bureau guards over. Now that it turned out A Chan was in earnest observance of filial rites, the situation was exceedingly awkward.

Seeing his superior remain silent, Jiang Kai diplomatically suggested, "Miss Ji, this much smoke might… overwhelm your ancestors' spirits."

"Impossible. This incense was specially made for them—they’ll love it," A Chan averred with characteristic certainty.

Besides, she had used the same incense formula from past ancestral rites. How could there be any issues?

Jiang Kai retreated—this matter would have to be left to his superior.

Finally, Bai Xiuming spoke. "Whether your smoke can communicate with your ancestors is one thing, but your neighbors are nearly choking to death. They even suspected you were conducting a profane ceremony, trying to set the dwelling ablaze and offer them up in sacrifice."

Now it was A Chan’s turn to be speechless. Who in the neighborhood was so lacking in understanding?

The middle-aged man, hearing her words, appeared properly chastened and explained, "The smoke from your residence was positively suffocating. It was my misunderstanding."

To be fair, it wasn’t entirely his fault. In the past, the capital had seen no shortage of fanatics causing trouble during the Zhongyuan Festival.

Some secretly paid homage to forbidden entities, and on days like the Zhongyuan Festival, their willpower grew exceptionally weak, making them easy to manipulate.

What those things demanded wasn’t ordinary livestock offerings but blood offerings. Every year during the Zhongyuan Festival, the capital would arrest such people—there was always some incident.

If not for this, the Bright Mirror Bureau wouldn’t have mobilized its full complement to patrol the city on this day.

A Chan glanced at the middle-aged man, guessing he was likely the majordomo from the neighboring residence.

His conciliatory manner made A Chan feel a little guilty. She had been so focused on pleasing her ancestors that she’d forgotten about her neighbors.

She quickly said, "It was my fault for burning so much incense and disturbing your household."

Seeing that the misunderstanding had been cleared up and confirming that A Chan was simply observing proper ancestral worship, Bai Xiuming prepared to leave with his men.

As he turned to go, A Chan called after him, "Lord Bai."

"Something else?" Bai Xiuming slowed his steps.

Jiang Kai, seeing this, quickly ushered the retinue and the middle-aged man away at a brisk pace.

"That tiger pelt, did you forget about it?"

"I didn't. It's at my estate. If you're in a hurry, you can collect it."

A Chan sounded puzzled. "Why is it at your place?"

"Because the Commander also set his sights on that tiger skin, so I had to secure it first." Bai Xiuming's tone was indifferent, as if the Commander he mentioned wasn’t his superior.

The moment their eyes met, A Chan suddenly understood and lavished praise on him. "Lord Bai truly is a public servant who puts the people first!"

Bai Xiuming's expression remained unchanged, appearing unmoved.

A Chan scrambled for more flattering words but came up empty, then decisively gave up.

"How about I take you out to eat another day?" In human interactions, treating someone to a meal was the sincerest gesture—this was one of the first lessons A Chan had learned.

"...Very well. I'll expect it."

Seeing Bai Xiuming finally relent, A Chan pushed on. "You haven’t told me your address yet. When would be a good time to visit? Can I go today? Will you be home?"

Bai Xiuming gave his address and patiently answered her questions. "You can come anytime. I won’t be returning home today."

"Oh, then will the people at your residence recognize me?" A Chan asked again.

"They won’t, but they know money when they see it. Don’t forget the thousand taels," Bai Xiuming reminded her.

A Chan pursed her lips. "Fine."

Bai Xiuming seemed genuinely busy that day. After barely exchanging words with A Chan, he hurriedly left with his subordinates.

A Chan closed the door and returned to the courtyard, waiting for the incense sticks to finish. Not daring to fill it again, she lit only seven or eight sticks, letting them burn slowly. The smoke immediately lessened considerably.

By the time Chen Hui returned from the Chen family cemetery in the outskirts, A Chan’s incense still hadn’t burned out, but she had already saturated herself with the scent.

After lunch, A Chan continued squatting in the courtyard burning incense. She couldn’t help but think that honoring ancestors was such work. This year’s inexperience had taught her a lesson—next year, she’d make thicker incense sticks so she wouldn’t have to watch them burn so closely.

When the last stick of incense burned out, the sky was streaked with crimson, the sun nearly setting.

A Chan stood up, stretched, left the ritual offerings as they were in the courtyard, and returned to the front yard.

Chen Hui was reclining on a lounge chair, reading the third volume of *God of War Record*, which A Chan had strongly recommended. Seeing this, A Chan drew near and asked, "Hui Niang, what time is it now?"

Chen Hui set the book down and glanced at the sky. "Probably late afternoon. Are you hungry?"

"Not hungry." A Chan calculated the time. It shouldn’t take more than an hour to get from her home to Bai Xiuming’s residence—just enough time to retrieve the tiger skin today while she had the chance.

So she said, "Hui Niang, get a thousand taels in banknotes. We’re going to Lord Bai’s place to pick up the tiger skin."

Chen Hui had heard A Chan mention this before but hadn’t expected her to actually buy a tiger demon’s pelt for just a thousand taels. Lord Bai was quite generous toward A Chan.

"Alright." Chen Hui agreed and went to fetch the banknotes while A Chan returned to her room to change into a light green empire-waist gown embroidered with intertwined vines.

Once ready, Chen Hui drove the carriage according to the address A Chan provided, heading toward Bai Xiuming’s residence.

Bai Xiuming’s estate was located very close to the imperial palace. The mansions here were all bestowed by the emperor upon his most trusted officials, so commoners were rarely seen in the vicinity.

When the carriage stopped outside Bai Xiuming’s residence, A Chan stepped down and automatically looked up at the plaque above the gate.

It bore only the character "Bai," as if the owner of the house couldn't be bothered with it.

A Chan studied it a few more times before approaching the door with Chen Hui to knock.

The gatekeeper, upon learning she'd come to collect an item, asked no further questions and went to summon the steward.

Before long, the gatekeeper returned, followed by a middle-aged man dressed in eunuch robes.

The man had a smooth, beardless face and wore a smile, appearing to be of good temperament.

Upon seeing A Chan, Eunuch Ning stepped forward and bowed. "Miss Ji, this lowly one is surnamed Ning. You may call me Eunuch Ning."

"Greetings, Eunuch Ning." A Chan’s voice was honeyed and gentle.

Eunuch Ning beamed. "Greetings, Miss Ji."

He couldn’t help but study her a few more times, thinking to himself that this young lady looked willowy and delicate, yet undeniably beautiful. Her character must surely be commendable.

This was the first time his lord had taken such trouble for someone else, even sending word in advance to inform him of Miss Ji’s visit—likely fearing some servant might offend her.

And then there was that fine tiger demon pelt his lord had brought home a few days ago. His lord never touched creature-derived items, so Eunuch Ning had assumed it was meant for the prince. Who would’ve thought it was for this young lady?

Eunuch Ning escorted A Chan and Chen Hui inside to wait. They hadn’t been in the receiving hall long before four men carried out a tiger skin tightly rolled and wrapped in brocade.

The four men set it down, and Eunuch Ning stepped forward to unwrap the outer cloth, letting A Chan inspect it.

The tiger skin had been skinned intact, and after tanning, the fur remained jet-black and gleaming. A Chan reached out to touch it—the same luxurious feel was still there.

Once the inspection was complete, Chen Hui handed over the banknotes.

Eunuch Ning accepted them with a smile, then had the tiger skin rewrapped and loaded onto the carriage.

With the tiger skin secured, A Chan stood to take her leave. Eunuch Ning saw them all the way to the gates, still gazing after the carriage long after it had departed.

Due to the extra burden of the tiger skin, the carriage moved noticeably slower on the return journey.

After traveling a stretch of road, all A Chan could see was still an expanse of whitewashed walls. She remembered Bai Xiuming mentioning that his residence was next to the Duke of Song’s estate—so this must be the duke’s mansion?

A Chan couldn’t help but marvel. Truly befitting an imperial-bestowed property—even after traveling this far by carriage, they still hadn’t passed the extent of his estate.

Just then, a familiar figure appeared in A Chan’s field of vision. The man was leaning against the wall, stumbling forward as if unwell.

A Chan frowned slightly. She lifted the carriage curtain and pointed toward the man, saying to Chen Hui, who was driving, "Hui Niang, isn’t that Young Master Song?"