Chapter 273 - Relocation (2/2)
“I see, I have been a fool. My apologies, truly,” the priest said again. I gently held up a hand, indicating that everything was fine. But he reminded me of something. Something that I had to ask, “Ah, yes, Master Priest. That Talisman of the Celestial Master you used earlier. That’s not your own conjuration, wasn’t it?” The priest blushed and responded diffidently, “No, I’m afraid. The seal for the Talisman was written on talismanic strips by one of our earlier Celestial Masters. I had only three of them.” I nodded quietly, feeling slightly sorry for him. So he had had to use up two of his remaining three heirlooms and now he had but only one left, all because of Big Sister and me. The Celestial Master Zhang who had appeared just now must have sensed the commotion here the moment this Taoist priest had used his first Talisman. Otherwise, I could think of no other reason behind his timely advent. There was no way the immortal would make such a rare appearance only because I apologized to him for any rudeness to his student beforehand.
“It’s true,” the priest heaved a long breath, saying, “My school of magic originates from Mount Longhu, even though we have long left Jiangxi.” “I know,” I nodded and said, “Mount Longhu is only a tourist attraction now instead of the sacred sanctuary for Taoist magecraft it was once.” The priest gave a nod at that
The priest turned to leave. But before he did, he wished to confirm with me, saying, “So you’re sure you would handle things on this end with the developers?” “Leave it to me,” I said. He must be referring to the matter of the new house for the old man. The priest looked uncertain even when he was getting on his car. Nevertheless, he decided to trust us and he drove off with the old man.
After they had left, I turned to the crowd and yelled, “All right! Show’s over! Scram! Scram!”
The onlookers dispersed and Edelweiss asked, “So, what now?” I looked at her and smiled. I spun around and signaled to Chongxi and Lin Feng who gestured their understanding. The rest, including Big Sister, watched us with puzzled frowns, not knowing what mischief we were going to concoct this time.
We went to the builders of the demolition team and I asked, “Who’s in charge here?” A short, stocky man wearing a safety helmet emerged, stretching his sinewy neck churlishly and answered in a gruff voice, “I’m the foreman here. Who’s asking?” I stared at him and rolled my eyes. So this is the fool behind this fiasco. Yet here he is, acting like a big honcho, I mused and scoffed. “You can start demolishing this house and its compound now. But we’ll need you to build him a new house nearby so that he can come back to stay. Do we have a deal?” I asked the foreman.
The foreman gave me a look as if he was looking right into the face of a madman before he burst into fits of guffaws. “Who do you think you are?” He blurted and I replied placidly, “I’m asking if we have a deal and if you’re authorized to sanction it.” “Of course, I can,” he gasped between fits of titters, “But why should I? No, I will not!” I breathed an “Oh?” and swung my arm, smacking the foreman precisely on his cheek, and repeated my question again in the same still voice as he reeled with the shock and pain, “I repeat, do we have a deal and would you sanction it?”
The slap came as a shock, and the foreman rounded on me, his mouth opened, his nostrils flaring, and fire building in his belly. “GET THEM!” He roared and a bunch of burly men, each heavily-muscled and clad in safety helmets, surrounded us menacingly. Lin Feng looked around us and asked indifferently, “Ever seen a pileup in American football?”
Twenty minutes later, after a purgatory of cheap shots and quick punches and kicks into the groin, Lin Feng sat atop the pileup of badly-beaten and heavily-bruised men, casually lighting himself a cigarette as he stared down the now-frightened foreman. The chunky and corpulent man shuddered with fear and his lips quivered as he mumbled an unworldly litany of garbled sounds. What a far cry from the proud and aloof man he was a half-hour ago. “So, do we have a deal? Will you authorize it?” I asked again. The foreman fished out his cellphone and fumbled with it as he tapped on the screen, hissing sinisterly, “I’ll have your hide for this! I swear! Let’s see what the cops have to say about this!” Chongxi yawned lazily and quipped, “Go on ahead then. Save us the trouble. Remember to tell them we’re part of the Criminal Investigations Division.”
The foreman shivered again when he heard who we were. But that did not stop him from tapping on the “Call” button. A young, exuberant voice answered the call, saying loudly, “Hello, this is the Wu Zhong County Police Department.” The foreman was about to speak when I chipped in, “Tell’em I’m Murong Shiyan.” The foreman obediently nodded and spoke into the mouthpiece, “Hey, is this the police station? I’m calling from the demolition team outside the city. We’re being mobbed by a bunch of guys. Their leader’s name is Murong Shiyan!” A beat of silence came over the line before the officer on the line began saying something long and windy to the foreman. He froze and slowly handed his phone to me. “He, he, he wishes to speak to you.”
I took over the phone, trying to suppress my snigger when the young voice yelled my name. “Hello? Is that Shiyan?” I acknowledged with a curt “Hmmm” and the officer continued saying, “This is Wang, Shiyan. What’s happened there?”