met free Chapter 197 Public Witnessing Law
Chapter 197 Public Witnessing Law
Old Cao inserted the crowbar into the gap in the board, pressed it down, and the cover plate made a dull thud before prying up half an inch.
Hot steam billowed out, covering people's faces.
Old Shi stepped back, wiping his nose and cursing, "This smell is just like the one from the well house."
Before he could finish reciting, Wukong reached out and flipped the entire lid over, smashing it onto the broken jar. A square opening was revealed underneath, its edges lined with blue bricks. The inside was dark, and dampness seeped out in waves.
Chen Fan squatted down by the mouth, picked up a piece of broken tile, and threw it down.
Two breaths later, a soft sound was heard.
"It's not shallow." Si Mo leaned against the wooden pillar, glanced inside, and his face turned pale.
"It's not a well, it's a road." Chen Fan reached out and tested the moisture on the brick edge. "People walk on it often, so moss doesn't grow in the cracks between the bricks."
Wukong had already jumped down.
A voice immediately came from below: "Get down."
Old Cao, carrying a torch, went down first, followed by Chen Fan. The tunnel was wider than expected, wide enough for two people to walk side by side. Every few steps along the wall was an old lamp, still containing unburnt mortar. There were shallow tire tracks on the ground, stretching forward.
When Shi Laoliu saw the two marks, he clenched his teeth.
"Damn it, no wonder they could replenish the salt in the yard even though they were dumping it at the dock. Turns out someone was walking this way at night."
After walking about a hundred steps through the tunnel, a dark room opened up ahead. Three layers of wooden shelves lined the wall, but instead of gold and silver, they held stacks of inkpad boxes, blank wooden labels, and several unfinished seal blanks. In the corner stood an old table, on which lay a roll of damp paper.
Si Mo quickly went over and carefully unfolded it.
The paper wasn't a list, but a sample transfer order. The warehouse number, route, and pickup time were all clearly written. There was a blank space at the bottom specifically for the seal.
"They've really mastered the system." Si Mo's Adam's apple bobbed. "As long as you have the seal, anyone can withdraw goods from the warehouse."
Chen Fan took the roll of paper, glanced at it a few times, and then looked around.
"This place can't be run by just one mold maker. There are seal engravers, messengers, seal authenticators, and goods handlers all working here."
Old Shi cursed and swore, smashing the seal blanks on the wooden rack to the ground one by one. Splinters of wood rolled everywhere, the inkpad box overturned, and red ink smeared all over his shoes. But he didn't care; he turned and asked, "What are we going to do now? Smash them all?"
After these words were spoken, the cave fell silent for a moment.
Old regulations can detect counterfeits, but they can also allow people to exploit loopholes. Smashing them is easy, but the goods in the warehouses, at the ferry crossings, and on the mountain roads still need to be transported tomorrow. Right now, the Two Realms Market has just opened, and sea salt, grain sacks, and iron materials are all in circulation. If it stops for just two days, the order that has been painstakingly established will crumble.
Chen Fan rolled the paper back up, not in a hurry to reply.
When the group emerged from the secret passage, the sky was already beginning to set. The cracked vat in the courtyard was still emitting a little steam. Xuanzang stood by the door, his monk's robe stained with dust, as if he had just returned from the front street. The white dragon horse followed behind him, carrying two sacks of coarse salt on its back. The Bull Demon King was also there, carrying a bundle of newly forged iron bars on his shoulder; he shouted as he entered:
"There's a commotion at the ironworks. Someone's got an old permit and wants twenty plowshares."
He paused when he saw the cover plate on the ground after he finished speaking.
"Found your nest?"
"Found it." Wukong tossed him the old seal from his sleeve. "Look at this thing, it's worth a few bucks."
The Bull Demon King caught it, weighed it in his hand, and his face darkened.
"It's valuable. Extremely valuable. Those guys wielding hammers down there only recognize this."
After hearing what happened in the secret passage, Xuanzang didn't speak immediately. He glanced at the people in the courtyard, then at the stack of order slips that Si Mo was holding, and tapped the wooden door lightly with his fingertips.
"Single prints are no longer acceptable."
Old Shi was seething with anger. Hearing this, he nodded first, then worried, "But if we don't use the seal, who will the warehouse listen to? When a cart of salt arrives at the dock, someone has to give their approval."
Xuanzang turned to look at Si Mo.
Si Mo understood his meaning, spread the booklet on the door panel, dipped his brush in ink, and wrote four characters.
Cang, Du, Shan, Xue.
Old Shi leaned closer to take a look, then froze: "What is this?"
"As a witness," Xuanzang said, "In the past, we were judged by a single seal. If the seal was lost, forged, or stolen, everyone would be blind. From now on, we will change our method and only recognize the person, not the seal."
Si Mo continued, "Cang refers to those who work in warehouses. Du refers to those who work at docks and on boat routes. Shan refers to those who work on mountain roads and in caravans. Xue refers to those who can read and keep accounts. Only when all four sides nod in agreement will the goods move."
The Bull Demon King frowned: "Wouldn't that be even slower?"
"Slow down, I can see your hand." Chen Fan sat down on the threshold, raised his hand and pointed to the four characters. "With just one seal, anyone can hide behind it. If four people sign and affix their fingerprints together, to get a hand in, you'd have to bribe all four sides at the same time. Much more difficult."
The white dragon horse put down the salt bag and shook the sweat off its neck.
"There's another layer," he said. "If something goes wrong on the way, we can trace it back. We can easily see which side changed the numbers or which side delayed the shipment."
Upon hearing this, Shi Laoliu's eyes brightened, but he was still a little worried: "But some people can't write."
Si Mo had anticipated this, and turned around to take out a few small wooden plaques from his pocket.
"If you can't write, leave a mark. Use horizontal strokes for warehouses. Use dots for crossings. Use slanted strokes for mountains. Learn to write your name this way. Put all four tags on one delivery slip; don't ship if one is missing."
Xuanzang added, "Witnessed by all sides, signed in public. After signing, it is hung in the tent. Whoever receives it, whoever pledges it, everyone on the street can see."
The people in the courtyard fell silent.
This method sounds crude, unlike the neat and efficient use of a seal, but upon closer inspection, it's actually quite solid. A seal can be hidden in a sleeve, but a person cannot. An inkpad can be applied in one stroke, but witnesses from all sides must be gathered together to explain where the goods came from, where they were going, how many days they took on the journey, and who picked them up and who delivered them. To forge something, you first have to show your face.
Wukong sat by the well, poked at the broken pieces of the seal on the ground with a stick, and suddenly laughed.
"Okay. From now on, if anyone calls for the echo in the well to collect their goods, let it come and sign for them itself."
Shi Laoliu couldn't help but laugh out loud. After laughing, he wiped his face and said, "This idea works. Just make a mess for the first two days. I'll go to the warehouse and keep an eye on things."
Chen Fan shook his head: "It's not just you keeping an eye on it. We need to try two different approaches first."
He looked at the white dragon horse, then at the Bull Demon King.
"Haiyan ferry crossing is a long road with many people, making it an easy place to tamper with things. Go and try it."
The white dragon horse nodded: "It can be done tonight."
"The ironworks route goes along mountain roads, there are many workshops, and the orders are all over the place," Chen Fan added. "Old Niu, you're in charge of this line."
The Bull Demon King slammed the old stamp on the table: "Fine. Whoever brings the stamp, I'll throw them out the door first."
Xuanzang raised his hand to calm him down, signaling him not to rush.
"It's not a one-size-fits-all approach. Old issues will be put aside for now, and new goods from today onwards will be handled according to the new regulations. Before the morning market tomorrow, post the 'Four Directions Witnessing Law' out. Hang one copy at each of the warehouses, ferry crossings, blacksmith workshops, and school sheds."
Si Mo had already lowered his head and started writing.
The ink fell onto the paper quickly. The first line read: From this day forward, for all warehouses and routes transferring goods, single stamps will not be accepted; only four signatures will be required. Warehouse, ferry, mountain, and school—none can be missing.
He wrote a sentence and muttered it aloud, while Shi Laoliu listened nearby, casually correcting any awkward words to make them understandable to the neighbors. He changed "allocation" to "transfer of goods," and "verification" to "logarithm." Xuanzang stood by, listening, occasionally adding a sentence, the rules he wrote becoming shorter and clearer with each stroke.
The first edition was completed when the sun had set halfway down.
The white dragon horse took two pieces and turned to leave. But when it reached the door, it turned back, untied the old cloth strip from the salt bag, and placed it on the corner of the table.
"This is an old permit for salt collection at the dock today," he said. "I'll take it to the ferry terminal and invalidate it in public, so that no one will pretend to be confused tomorrow morning."
The Bull Demon King didn't delay, picked up the iron bar and walked out. After taking two steps, he turned back and said, "Si Mo, make me another copy. Those roughnecks in the iron workshop can't read. I'll hang it on the wall and then find someone to read it to me line by line."
Si Mo responded and continued working.
As Chen Fan watched him write, he suddenly remembered something: "The witnesses can't always be the same group."
Xuanzang nodded: "Every three days, one person will be replaced. One person will be replaced at the warehouse, one at the ferry, and one at the school. The names will be posted in advance. Anyone with relatives picking up goods should avoid doing so on that day."
As soon as the word "avoid" was uttered, Shi Laoliu clicked his tongue and said, "That's more like it. It saves people from always saying that the accountant and the dockworkers are in cahoots."
The courtyard was a flurry of activity. Old Cao carried out a wooden board to find a craftsman to carve grids. Wukong, carrying the bag of ink, casually poured it into the mud beside the cracked vat, creating patches of red and black that were slippery to walk on. Old Shi ordered two of his men to weigh down the entrance to the secret passage with a stone mill, and then assigned someone to keep watch at night.
As darkness fell completely, the first set of rules was already posted in front of the tent.
The four corners were nailed tightly together. The paper was still damp, and the edges were slightly curled. A lamp was lit under the shed, and the flickering flames illuminated the four characters "Only Four Signatures Recognized".
Several porters who had arrived late gathered around to look. Those who could read read it aloud, while those who couldn't listened. Upon hearing "not recognizing individual seals," one of them paused, then asked, "So, if I collect the salt tomorrow morning, will I have to go to three more places?"
The white dragon horse happened to be passing by, stopped, and tapped the rule with the tip of its whip.
"It's not about you running around more; it's about having the delivery person gather everyone together. You just need to keep an eye on things. Once all four markers are in place, then load the truck."
The porter pondered for a moment, then nodded: "Alright. Just don't make us wait in vain."
"We can't wait any longer." Old Shi put a newly made wooden lattice on the table. "Come on, look here. Whoever signs, when they sign, hang it up first. Nobody can call for loading until everyone has signed."
The wind blew in from the street corner, carrying the smell of salt and making the corner of the paper tremble slightly.
Si Mo, holding the pen, added four more characters to the top of the wooden lattice while the lamplight was still steady.
Public witnessing.
Chapter 696 Fake Grain Truck
The wind was strong at night, and the wooden lattice of "Public Witness" at the street corner rattled loudly in the wind.
After finishing the last stroke, Si Mo pressed down the corner of the paper with his sleeve, looked up at Chen Fan, and asked, "Releasing the news tomorrow morning?"
"Release it now." Chen Fan pushed the old seal fragments on the table forward. "Don't hide them. If you do, people will still test you. Just say openly that the winter grain has arrived and needs to be transferred from the Two Realms Market to the main granary. Thirty carts, divided into two groups. The first group will take the main road and enter the mountains tomorrow at Shenshi (3-5 PM)."
Upon hearing this, Shi Laoliu tilted his head: "Really transferring grain?"
"A fake car," Chen Fan said. "The car is filled with bags of stones, and covered with old burlap sacks. Then sprinkle a layer of fresh rice husks at the opening of the sacks, just enough for them to smell."
Wukong leaned against the door, and upon hearing this, the corner of his mouth twitched: "Quite an appetite."
"They've been watching for so long, they won't just touch the accounts without touching the carts." Chen Fan turned to look at Si Mo. "Don't release all the information at once. Let the porters know first, then let the salt merchants hear about it. Finally, send two loose-lipped brokers to the wine stall for a couple of drinks. Remember one sentence: 'The main granary witnesses, and the seals are opened only when all four are present.' This sentence must be spread."
Si Mo nodded and picked up his pen to write again.
Old Cao scratched the back of his neck: "What if those people don't follow the right path?"
Chen Fan looked into the darkness outside the door: "So we'll split up the lines tonight."
After he finished speaking, everyone in the courtyard fell silent.
Wukong pulled his foot back from the threshold and flicked his sleeves: "Speak."
Chen Fan raised his hand and drew three lines on the wooden table.
"Yang Jian guards the high line. From the market town to the foot of the mountain, there are three places where you can see the entire road. One is the old beacon tower on the north slope, one is Broken Willow Ridge, and one is the stone beam above the main granary. Only keep an eye on the person who can send a message. If you see a bird, smoke, or a mirror-like light, cut off the signal immediately."
"Alright." Yang Jian stood outside the lamp, his voice calm, as if he had been waiting for this. He leaned his three-pointed double-edged sword against the wall and added, "The high line is mine. If there are any footprints on the cliff face, I'll mark them down too."
"Wukong, stay on the right path," Chen Fan continued. "The convoy will proceed as usual. Don't get too close; keep them in check. Let them make the first move. Once they start fighting, then shut up."
Wukong raised an eyelid slightly: "How many should be left alive?"
"Anyone who can speak is considered alive."
Old Shi's teeth itched with rage, and he muttered under his breath, "This time we've finally caught the real culprit."
Chen Fan didn't stop: "Keep an eye on the secrets. Not the roads, but the communication. Remember who's secretly changing the time, who's using fake passwords to urge the vehicles, and who's imitating that shout 'collect the goods' from the well. Don't rush to arrest them; follow them to the meeting point first."
In the shadows of the corner, Liu Er dusted off the dust from his clothes and chuckled softly, "I know this one well. People can't keep secrets."
"And me?" Bai Ya came in from behind, his shoulder still covered in night dew. He had been checking the seals at the warehouse entrance for the past two days, and he looked somewhat tired.
Chen Fan glanced at him: "You'll guard the warehouse with me. Tomorrow you'll stand in the open, and I'll stand beside you. We'll only do one thing: bear witness. Ask what needs to be asked, and don't pursue what shouldn't be pursued. Let them feel that the warehouse is the most secure link."
Bai Ya understood and nodded.
Si Mo put down his pen, the ink still wet, and began assigning tasks. Two street vendors went to the market, three accountants went to the salt shop, and he singled out the broker who loved to drink the most, stuffed half a string of coins into his hand, and only instructed him: "Drink until you're half-drunk before you speak. Don't say everything, leave some unsaid."
The man chuckled and turned to leave.
As the night deepened, the news had spread like wildfire.
First, the porters carrying sacks at the market heard that Huaguo Mountain was replenishing its winter grain supplies, and they were taking the old route through the main granary. Then, the day laborers at the salt wharf heard that this time the guards were strict, and if the four stamps weren't complete, no one could touch the sacks. By late at night, even the stalls selling hot soup noodles were talking about it, saying that there had been a fake stamp incident in the mountains recently, and this trip might result in bloodshed.
When Shi Laoliu returned from his rounds, he rubbed his hands together, his eyes shining: "The news has spread. Faster than setting off firecrackers."
Chen Fan stood at the warehouse entrance and looked up at the mountain ridge. There was no moon in the sky, the clouds hung low, but the wind was lighter than the previous nights. He felt a little more at ease. With the wind weak, it was difficult to send out fire signals, so the sentries would have to find another way to relay messages.
At the first crow of the rooster, the fake grain carts set off from the two-world market.
Fifteen vehicles in total, the first batch.
The wheels had been deliberately fitted with old axles, making a creaking sound as they rolled. The burlap sacks were stacked high, their edges pressed tightly together. The top two sacks had small openings, revealing fluffy white rice grains. Upon closer inspection, it became clear that the bottom was filled with gravel and damp sand, and the rice at the sack openings had been scattered by Old Man Shi himself in the middle of the night.
"It really seems that way." Old Cao followed the cart for a couple of steps and couldn't help but pat the cart shaft.
"Don't take pictures." Bai Ya pushed his hand away. "It won't look good if you collapse it."
Around 3 PM, the convoy passed Duanliuling.
The mountain wind blew down from the ridge, making the hemp rope on the cart tremble. As Chen Fan had instructed, the porter leading the cart deliberately slowed down by half a beat and stopped a little longer at the top of the slope, saying that the front wheels were stuck in a crack in the rocks.
Sure enough, something came out when we stopped.
A flash of light appeared behind a gray rock high up.
It's very short, like fish scales shimmering.
The next moment, the light went out.
A moment later, a gray bird swooped down from the mountain. Before it had flown more than ten feet, it was as if an invisible thread pulled it in the air, causing the bird to tilt and fall straight into the bushes.
On the other side of Broken Willow Ridge, Yang Jian withdrew his gaze and lightly tapped his finger on the handle of his sword. He didn't go down, but instead kicked a piece of gravel at his feet towards the edge of the cliff. The gravel rolled down three times, just as the signal had been given earlier.
The convoy continued on its way.
Wukong trailed far behind, carrying a piece of dead wood he'd picked up from who-knows-where on his shoulder, looking like a casual passerby. He didn't look at the carriage the whole way, but stared at the clumps of weeds by the roadside. Two groups of people crouched in the weeds, their breathing low, but he couldn't miss them.
I managed to hold back during the first wave.
I held back during the second wave as well.
It wasn't until the convoy was almost at the old locust tree slope in front of the main warehouse that someone in the shadows couldn't hold back any longer.
First came a whistle.
It's very short, like urging livestock.
Immediately afterward, three men rushed out from the bottom of the slope, each holding an old wooden plaque belonging to a warehouse worker, shouting in the same formal language: "Stop the car and show your seal! There's a detour ahead; go through the side warehouse first!"
The porter leading the cart turned pale and relayed the words he had memorized the night before: "Inspect at the main warehouse entrance! Public witness, all four seals present!"
The three men paused, as if they hadn't expected even a porter to carry them so smoothly.
In that brief moment of hesitation, two dark figures darted out of the grass on the slope and pounced on the car behind. They weren't there to inspect the vehicle; they were rushing towards the bag, their short knives slicing along the rope to check if it was real or fake.
The blade had barely made a slit when Wukong swept the withered wood across the room.
With a muffled thud, the man carrying the bag, knife and all, tumbled half a meter away and crashed into the wheel. He was in so much pain that he couldn't even scream properly.
The other tried to run, but his feet felt like they were stuck in mud, impossible to pull out. Looking down, he realized that a thin vine had wrapped around his trouser leg three times. The vine had sprouted from a crack in the ground and was tightly bound.
Wukong chuckled: "Have you finished reading?"
Seeing that things were not going well, the three men holding the wooden signs in front turned and scattered. Two of them disappeared into the woods, while one rushed back down the slope, clearly with someone waiting for them.
Before the third step could echo through the woods, Six Ears had already slipped past on the other side. He didn't stop the person in front, only whispering the voice behind. Someone behind a tree whispered, "Side warehouse pickup, hurry up—"
Without pausing, Liu Er flicked his wrist, and a pebble struck the man's teeth. The words "Go quickly" instantly turned into bloody foam.
"You didn't imitate it well," said Liu Er.
At the cangkou, Chen Fan and Bai Ya remained motionless.
Only after the first car came to a steady stop outside the cordon did Bai Ya step forward and, as per protocol, announce: "Witnesses present. Report the number of vehicles, the seal, and the route of origin."
The driver's voice was still trembling, but he still managed to deliver the entire message word by word.
Chen Fan stood to the side, but his eyes weren't on the car. He was looking down the slope.
The one who ran down the slope didn't escape further; instead, he turned back halfway and disappeared into the drainage ditch behind the warehouse. The ditch entrance was narrow, and outsiders unfamiliar with the area would never suspect that someone could hide there.
"Old Cao," Chen Fan called out softly.
Old Cao had been holding back for a long time, and he grabbed his short stick and started to circle around.
Not long after, a splashing sound came from the ditch, along with a few barely suppressed curses. When they emerged, the man was covered in mud, still clutching an oilcloth bag tightly in his arms.
Shi Laoliu went up and kicked it away.
The oilcloth was spread out, and inside were not silver coins, but three other things.
A half-new warehouse card.
A thin copper whistle.
There was also a route slip folded several times. It clearly stated: "Fifteen cartloads of winter grain, crossing the mountain pass at Shen time (3-5 PM), arriving at the main granary at You time (5-7 PM)."
Bai Ya took the travel document, his face gradually darkening: "The time is exactly the same as what we released, not a single word is different."
Chen Fan reached out and took the travel document back, wiping the edge of the paper with his fingertip and touching a speck of black ash. It wasn't from the road; it was freshly applied ink that hadn't settled yet.
He looked up at the mud monkey: "Who gave it to you?"
The man kept his mouth closed, but muddy water was still dripping from the corner of his mouth.
Wukong walked down the slope, carrying the bag he had been carrying earlier. The man's arms hung limply at his sides, and when he saw the one in the ditch, his eyes immediately glazed over.
Chen Fan didn't urge or scold them; he simply handed the route slip to the two of them.
"These words were just written this morning," he said. "The people who received the message are near the main warehouse."
The mud monkey's throat moved slightly.
Liu Er returned at this time, squatted by the ditch, and slowly wiped the mud off his hands: "There's another messenger in the willow grove behind the granary. He's lost two teeth and can't go far. I heard him shout, 'The well house is done.' This isn't the first one."
Chen Fan tucked the road sheet into his sleeve and turned to Bai Ya, saying, "Inspect the cart according to the rules first. Open one of the bags in front of everyone so that everyone can see that it contains stones. Then hang these two men under the pillar at the warehouse entrance. Don't interrogate them yet; just leave them to air out for now."
Baiya responded and left.
A crowd quickly gathered outside the warehouse. Porters, day laborers, and accountants all craned their necks to watch. Old Shi personally cut open the top sack, and as soon as a layer of rice husks leaked out, pebbles tumbled and rolled all over the ground.
The crowd fell silent for a moment, then erupted in chaos.
"It's a set-top box!"
"No wonder they wanted to publicly witness it!"
"These bastards actually dared to hijack the main warehouse!"
Chen Fan ignored all of that. Standing in the shadows at the warehouse entrance, looking at the people hanging from the two pillars, he suddenly asked Si Mo, "When will the second batch of trucks depart?"
Si Mo was taken aback, then lowered his voice: "As originally planned, after 7 PM."
Chen Fan nodded: "Send it as is. Release the messages as usual."
"Still releasing it?" Old Shi turned to look at him.
"Let it go." Chen Fan looked at the pile of rubble on the ground. "The ones we caught today were the ones who stole the goods. The one who wrote the waybill and the one who relayed the message haven't shown up yet."
Just then, another small stone fell from the ridge beam, landing squarely on the stone steps of the warehouse gate.
Yang Jian's letter.
One short, two long.
There are still people up there.
Chapter 697 Empty Shell Escort
Just after 7 PM, the wind picked up at Yanping Wharf.
Night fell over the rooftops, and the lamplight swayed from side to side in the wind. The carts in front of the warehouse were still lined up as usual, their shafts covered with coarse cloth, and the openings were tightly tied. From the outside, it looked no different from daytime.
Old Shi squatted by the door, munching on a pancake. He had only eaten half of it when he muttered under his breath, "This guy really knows how to keep his composure."
Chen Fan stood behind the wooden pillar, holding the broken half of the mold in his hand, and did not reply.
Si Mo leaned against the table, where four publicly witnessed plaques hung. The signatories were living people, the bets were made on legitimate paths, and the rules were clearly laid out. They were just waiting for someone to come and sign them.
Wukong squatted on the beam, flicking a blade of grass with his fingers. A gust of wind blew, and the grass turned over between his fingers.
We waited another quarter of an hour.
A sound came from the dock first.
Not footsteps. Like a wooden wheel rolling over an old stone slab, a soft creak, slow, steady, without the slightest disorder.
Old Shi stuffed half a pancake into his mouth and stood up: "Here it comes."
A lamp first appeared in the darkness.
The lamp was the old official style, with a copper ring covered by yellow paper, the edges of which were pasted neatly. Three carts followed behind the lamp. Someone pulled the rope in front of the carts, someone supported the shafts behind, and then there was someone carrying a register.
There are seven in total.
He walked in a straight line.
It didn't seem like they were robbing grain at night; it was more like they were seizing government granaries in broad daylight.
As they got closer, none of the people in front of the warehouse made a sound.
The seven "people" all wore black cloth hats with the brims pulled low over their faces. A section of their necks was exposed, grayish-white. It wasn't flesh, but rather like pulp that had been soaked for too long. The backs of their hands were the same, cracked with fine cuts, but no blood was visible inside, only a layer of yellowish hemp fibers showing.
Si Mo's throat tightened, and the pen in his hand almost slipped.
Old Shi took a half step back, his voice low and menacing: "Is this made of paper?"
"Not entirely." Chen Fan stared at the one at the front that was being pulled by a rope. "There's an old skeleton inside."
The seven empty-shell escorts stopped three steps in front of the warehouse door.
The person carrying the booklet raised his hand, his movements as precise as if measured with a ruler. He first held a road ticket flat, then placed his other hand on his chest, as if waiting for someone to come back for verification.
It's just like the handover of the old government offices.
Si Mo composed himself, took a step forward according to the procedures he had practiced during the day, and slammed the wooden board down: "First, we need to see the public witnesses. Only when all four signatures are complete can we load the truck. Which company has the road permit, and who shipped the goods? Report it to us."
The book remains untouched.
It was still holding up the road sign.
A gust of wind blew, causing the yellow paper lantern to flicker and reveal three red stamps pressed beneath the road list. The stamps were old, their edges worn rounded. The top one had the exact same pattern as the one they had seen under the grain sacks.
Si Mo gritted his teeth and raised the witness slip higher: "Let's acknowledge this first."
As soon as he finished speaking, the empty shell at the very front suddenly moved.
It didn't look at Si Mo, nor at the wooden lattice, but took a step forward and stretched out its right hand to touch the seal on the warehouse door.
Old Cao had been holding back for a while, and he thrust a fork horizontally towards it, hitting it squarely in the chest.
"stop."
The empty shell paused.
It's not retreating. It's stuck.
Like a spring snapping shut halfway through, its shoulders and arms trembled slightly. Its head was bowed, and a faint cracking sound came from its neck, like wood scraping inside.
The next instant, it stepped back half an inch and reached up to touch its waist.
There was a wooden sign hanging there.
An old stamp was nailed to the wooden sign.
It touched the seal, and its movements immediately became smoother. Then it raised its hand again, this time to touch the seal.
"We only recognize the seal," Chen Fan said.
As soon as he finished speaking, Wukong flipped off the beam and grabbed the empty shell's wrist.
The wrist felt hard yet light, like grasping a piece of dried bamboo tube. Wukong tightened his grip, and with a snap, the outer layer of gray skin cracked open, revealing half a thin wooden stick and two blackened iron wires.
Old Shi Liu's scalp tingled: "It really is just a shell."
The six behind them all took a step forward at the same time.
Their steps were all the same size, landing first to the left then to the right, even the sound of their shoes hitting the stones was almost identical. The one carrying the lantern moved it forward, the one supporting the shaft raised his hand to protect the cart, and the one carrying the booklet still held the road chart aloft. It was as if someone had stuffed a set of old rules into their bellies, and they would simply follow them when things happened.
Just as Lao Cao was about to argue again, Chen Fan raised his hand to stop him.
"Don't confront them head-on. Observe their next move."
The people in front of the canyon all held back their strength, only guarding the gate and not rushing ahead.
The empty-shell security guards stopped abruptly when they saw someone blocking the entrance. The one carrying the roster pushed the waybill forward a little, paused for three breaths, then pulled it back half an inch. He then turned his head and looked at the broken mold hanging on the doorpost.
The broken half of the mold wobbled and hit the wooden pillar with a crack.
As if on command, all seven empty shells turned around.
The one carrying the lantern went first, raising the yellow paper lantern high. The one carrying the booklet followed, pressing the road sheet close to the mold, as if verifying a copy. The remaining few stood guard by the vehicle, their positions perfectly aligned.
Si Mo's eyelids twitched violently: "They're verifying the authenticity of old seals."
Chen Fan nodded: "This step is in the procedures."
Sure enough, when Lu Dan brought the broken mold to the front, the top one of the three old stamps suddenly developed a wet sheen at the edge, like steam seeping out of a well when it cooled.
The mold is broken, so the print doesn't match.
The creature holding the booklet paused, its neck slowly tilting to one side. It tilted to an angle no living person could make, then turned back. It put away the road list, its free left hand reaching for its waist token.
The next moment, the seven empty shells retreated simultaneously, forming a semi-circle to protect the three vehicles in the middle.
Shi Laoliu was stunned: "They can change formation?"
"No, it's not that." Chen Fan stared at their knees. "It's written in the old rules. If there's any doubt about the seal, protect the goods first, then return them for inspection."
Si Mo's face turned even paler.
Public witnessing works for the living. But for this kind of thing, it's no different than sticking a sticker on the wall. They don't recognize who's standing there, or who's in charge. They only recognize stamps and pre-determined steps.
Chen Fan suddenly took two steps forward.
He took the half-broken mold off the pillar, spread it in his palm, and waved it at the person holding the book: "If you want to examine it, examine this."
The brochure was empty and untouched.
It held the route sheet to its chest, as if comparing it to something, or as if waiting for the next instruction.
Chen Fan lowered his brows slightly.
It's not that I don't understand.
It's because it can't receive the change order.
From the moment this thing was released, it no longer followed the commands of those in front of it, but rather the old order of seals pressed down from the source. Someone at the other end of the well road sent out a whole set of old escort containers. They sent them not to seize grain, but to test the waters.
Let's see if they're stopping the hand or the seal.
Wukong threw the crushed piece of wrist to the ground and stomped on it. The wooden pole shattered, the wire sprang open, and a small lump of waxy clay fell out.
There are also stamp marks on the wax clay.
"You've hidden this too," Wukong said.
Chen Fan bent down and picked up the lump of waxy clay. He scraped it off with his fingernail, revealing a small, bluish-black stone bead inside. The bead was only the size of a soybean, and it felt slightly warm to the touch of his palm.
Si Mo took a breath: "The echo core of the Origin Well?"
Chen Fan hummed in agreement.
As Master Deng once said, there's more than one person who knows how to repair echo wells. The process—from rubbing the mold and stamping the seal to creating the path and the echo—is all part of the same chain. These empty shells before you are merely bells tied to the end of that chain. Touch them, and they'll still ring. Trying to reason with them is futile.
Old Shi finally realized what was happening and cursed, "Then what's the point of guarding the gate? We should shut off the well opening!"
Before he finished speaking, Ti Ce Kong Ke suddenly folded the road list, stuffed it into his pocket, and turned to leave.
He walked as steadily as ever.
The three vehicles then turned around. The remaining six guarded the sides, with the lights in front, the register in the middle, and the shafts supporting the rear. Even their retreat was orderly. This incident at Cangqian had been recorded by them as "the seals did not match, so we returned by the original route."
"Should we stop them or not?" Old Cao picked up a pitchfork.
"Stop the car." Chen Fan raised his hand. "Don't break the shell."
Wukong moved first, taking a step forward and kicking the central carriage shaft.
The cart shaft broke.
The cart tilted to one side, and the coarse cloth slipped, revealing not sacks of grain, but a row of empty wooden frames. Iron springs were nailed into the frames, and thin thread was wound around the springs, with the ends of the thread leading into a black can at the bottom of the cart.
When the black jar was smashed open, mud beads covered the ground.
Each mud bead has a red mark pressed on it.
Si Mo bent down and glanced at it, sweat pouring down his back: "If these get into Canglu, the entire dock will have to follow the old rules tomorrow."
Chen Fan didn't say anything, but simply stepped on the black jar and crushed it.
The six empty shells in front heard the noise and turned around in unison.
They still didn't pounce on anyone.
Let's read the chapter first.
They stared at the pile of ink beads on the ground, their feet visibly scrambling. It was as if a page was missing from an account book, the procedures were disjointed. The one carrying the lantern veered to the left, the one carrying the book took a half step forward, but the one supporting the shaft remained where he was. The three movements collided, instantly creating a chaotic mess.
Wukong laughed: "So you guys can be silly too."
Chen Fan didn't laugh.
He could see it more clearly now.
The fact that the empty shell can be chaotic doesn't mean they've won. It means a piece of the old order from the source has been broken. What's broken is the code inside the vehicle, not the shell itself. In other words, as long as the well is still there, as long as the old code is still there, even if seven break tonight, fourteen more can be delivered tomorrow night.
He turned to Simo and said, "Write this down. Public witnessing won't stop them."
Si Mo picked up his pen and started writing, the ink almost splattering onto his sleeve.
Chen Fan added, "Let me add one more thing. Witness signatures are invalid; they can only verify living people, not old shells."
Old Shi asked anxiously, "Then what should we do?"
Chen Fan handed him the dark blue stone bead in his palm.
"Take it to the well house. Have Yang Jian's men search along the hot path. Dig up whichever ditch is hot. Tonight, don't trace the shell, trace the source."
After speaking, he looked up at the few guards who were still stuck in place, his voice flat.
"Tie them all up in front of the shed."
"Chapter Excerpt".
"I'll wait for them to receive the order next time."
Chapter 698 One Stick to Dismantle the Shell
Three oil lamps were lit in front of the shed.
The lamplight flickered, casting an unsteady glow on the faces of the guards, sometimes bright, sometimes dim. By day they looked alive, but at night, once they were brought out, something was wrong. It wasn't the smell of sweat, nor the fishy odor often found on the salt road; it was a musty, old paper smell mixed with the dampness of well mud, like a pile of account books stuffed in a damp cellar for years.
Shi Laoliu, who was standing closer, wrinkled his nose first.
"Damn it, it wasn't this heavy a moment ago."
Si Mo tucked the pen behind his ear and whispered, "Zhang has a fever."
The group looked over together.
The old badges hanging on the chests of the guards were fading red at the edges, like embers burning beneath charcoal ash. They stood ramrod straight, eyes fixed, mouths agape. After a moment, one of them snapped his neck, first veering half an inch to the left, then slowly straightening back to center.
Old Cao's molars were grinding together, and he picked up the end of the rope, wanting to tie it even tighter.
Chen Fan raised his hand to stop him.
"Need not."
He looked at those things, his voice flat.
"The order has arrived."
As soon as he finished speaking, the first guard suddenly lifted his foot. Not in a step, but as if pulled forward by a string. His heel touched the ground, his knees unbending. The others behind him followed suit, their steps perfectly synchronized, heading towards the outside of the shed.
There was a wooden bar across the entrance to the shed; the birds didn't go around it or even look at it, they just crashed straight into it.
boom.
The wooden bar shook.
The second blow was even heavier.
Shi Laoliu felt a chill run down his spine: "They really know their way around."
Wukong, who had been squatting on the pillar, twirling his golden cudgel, only raised his eyelids slightly upon hearing this.
"You don't recognize the right path."
"It's an old warrant from inside the shell."
After he finished speaking, he swayed and landed in front of the door.
The guards were about to ram the bar for the third time. Wukong didn't waste words with them, simply held his staff horizontally with one hand and casually pointed it forward.
The first shell collapsed backward from the chest.
No blood was seen.
I didn't hear any screams.
A crisp, muffled cracking sound rang out, like a sun-dried clay figure being struck with a hammer. The entire humanoid shell shattered on the spot; instead of flesh and bone, the chest cavity contained a bundle of old twigs and a clump of blackened hemp fibers. The twigs were scattered all over the ground by the gust of wind from the stick.
Si Mo paused for a moment, then squatted down to pick it up.
The labels were all covered in old handwriting: "Receive Goods," "Inspect Seal," "Transfer," "Return to Well," and "Repeat." Each label was covered in grime, and some edges were worn and crumbled at the slightest touch.
"It's really a long-standing process," Si Mo said, his voice tightening. "And it's the old-fashioned one."
Wukong didn't stop.
With the second blow, the two shells beside it exploded. Wood chips, mud shards, and hemp rope cores flew everywhere, crackling loudly as they hit the shed pillars. As the shells shattered, even more things fell out: bundles of tweezers, coiled copper wire, and several small pieces of black stone the size of fingernails.
Shi Laoliu subconsciously took two steps back.
"I've seen living people encased in shells before, but this is the first time I've seen a shell filled with divination slips."
Chen Fan walked over and nudged a severed arm on the ground with the tip of his shoe. The outer shell was wrapped in old cloth, but the inner layer was made of tightly packed paper pulp and well mud. It felt hard and became heavy after getting damp, which explained why it was not obvious during the day.
"It's not for human use."
"It's for regulations."
Old Cao didn't understand: "What do you mean?"
Chen Fan picked up a slip of paper and pointed it out to him.
"They're not security guards. They're just an old, walking process. Whoever puts up the stamp or gives the order, they just run along according to the slips. Public witnesses verify people, but they're not people at all, so naturally they can't stop things."
Old Cao felt a chill run down his spine and couldn't help but glance at the last few shells.
Those bodies were still pushing forward. Even though the shells in front of them were broken, they didn't flinch, but continued to ram the door, stepping on the slips of paper scattered on the ground, as if they couldn't see where they were standing.
Wukong grinned.
"bother."
He slammed his golden cudgel into the ground.
The ground shook.
The remaining shells all rose half a foot into the air before crashing down. First, fine cracks appeared on the shells, then pieces fell off one by one. The head shell rolled to Si Mo's feet; it was empty except for a tiny, folded red tag. Si Mo opened it and saw only four characters on it.
Repeat the same song.
The shed fell silent for a moment.
A gust of wind blew in through the crack in the door, causing the slips of paper scattered on the floor to flutter. The soft, rustling sound of the paper blended together, like someone whispering rules in one's ear.
Suddenly, the Celestial Hound burst in.
It didn't pounce on the shell fragments; instead, it kept its nose close to the ground, circling the slips of paper, a low growl escaping its throat. Yang Jian then stepped inside, carrying a piece of wet hemp thread he had just pulled from the ditch, his boots smeared with black mud.
He glanced at the ground, and his brows immediately furrowed.
"It's not a problem with the echo well being the only one that comes out."
Chen Fan asked, "Did you find anything?"
Yang Jian didn't answer first, but squatted down to rummage through the pile of old slips. When he got to the third pile, his fingertips suddenly paused, and he pulled out a thin, shiny silver thread. The end of the thread was covered with well wall dust, and there were two grains of red sand mixed in with the dust.
"This didn't come from outside."
"This is what is 'spit out' from the well and then stuffed back into the shell."
Wukong slung his staff over his shoulder and asked, "Where's the well?"
"Don't rush." Yang Jian handed the silver thread to Xiaotianquan to smell, then looked up at the outside of the shed. "The hot road I was following ended halfway up the mountain. There was well mud and this kind of ash near the break. I originally thought someone had changed the route midway, but now it seems that it wasn't changed, but the source opened up again."
Chen Fan immediately understood.
"Returning to the source of the well wall."
Yang Jian nodded.
"Come with me."
The group left the shed, taking nothing more than a few lamps. Only Si Mo remained, carrying a large bundle of slips of paper, staggering along, reluctant to let go. Old Shi ran behind, cursing as he ran, "These bastards really know how to hide! They disguised themselves as people using the whole old process; who would have guessed?"
The mountain wind whipped at their faces, carrying the damp, cool air that often clung to the wellhead. The group turned into the ditch behind the well house; the ground was hotter than during the day, and their shoes felt stifling, as if a fire pit were buried beneath them. The celestial dog, howling all the way, charged to the back wall of the Guiyuan Well, then abruptly stopped, its front paws digging furiously into a dark blue-green well brick.
Yang Jian raised his hand, signaling everyone to be quiet.
The surroundings fell silent.
There was still a breeze outside the well house, making the wooden windows rattle slightly. Inside, however, it was strangely stuffy. After three breaths of silence, everyone could hear it.
It wasn't the sound of water.
It's an echo.
It was very faint, like someone talking through a thick wall. You couldn't hear the words clearly, only the repeated phrases, one after another, pressing in as soon as the previous one ended, making your ears feel blocked.
Shi Laoliu's face turned pale: "Damn it, it really is inside the wall."
Yang Jian took a half step closer, his fingertips tracing the well wall little by little. He stopped when he touched a spot slightly below a crack in the brickwork. The spot looked inconspicuous, just a hair-thick crack. Yet, very faint steam escaped from the crack, carrying the damp smell of old paper.
"Found it."
He stepped back two paces and turned his head slightly towards Wukong.
Wukong was already getting impatient waiting.
"this one?"
Yang Jian hummed in agreement.
Wukong didn't even swing the staff in a wide arc; he simply thrust one end of the golden cudgel forward, stabbing it directly into the thin crack.
First came a crisp sound.
Like a crack in a porcelain cup.
Then the entire well wall sank inwards, and a red line lit up in the cracks between the bricks. The red line quickly spread out, covering half the wall in the blink of an eye. The next moment, with a loud bang, a hole the size of a washbasin blasted out of the well wall.
A wave of heat hit us in the face.
Si Mo, clutching the receipt, nearly tripped. Chen Fan reached out and grabbed him, then peered inside.
There is no soil layer behind the hole.
It is an empty cavity.
The cavity walls were densely covered with wooden lattices, which were filled with rolled-up slips of paper, seals, copper bells, and thin tubes. Hanging in the very center was a black ceramic trumpet, its rim directly facing the crack. The echo from earlier had been projected from this very latticed area.
Shi Laoliu's scalp tingled from looking at it.
"They're using the well as their voice."
Wukong reached inside and ripped off the black pottery trumpet. Three thin tubes were attached to the back of the trumpet, leading deeper into the pottery. He casually squeezed it, and the black pottery shattered into pieces, from which the last roll of red slips fell out.
Chen Fan took it, unfolded it, and saw that the ink on it was still fresh.
Tonight at midnight, the old shell continues its journey.
He handed the red slip to Yang Jian.
"They haven't gone far."
Yang Jian stared at the three thin tubes, his Heavenly Eye slightly opened, and a cold light flashed in his pupils.
"They can't escape."
After he finished speaking, he raised his hand and pressed it against the edge of the hole in the well wall, turned his face to the side, and listened for another breath.
The echo still lingered in the crack.
This time, however, it wasn't a command that was given.
It sounded like someone suddenly gasped for breath from deep within.
Chapter 699 The Echoes of Returning to the Source Well
The breath inside the well wall is still there.
It's like someone panting against a rock, taking a deep breath every now and then, then stopping.
Wukong first placed the golden cudgel horizontally at the well opening, bracing it against the stone edges on both sides. Yang Jian leaned down and glanced down, his third eye scanning the crack below, his brows furrowed deeply.
"It's not a hole," he said. "There are outer walls. The cracks are hidden in the interlayers."
Chen Fan nodded and raised his hand to test the edge of the well.
The stone was warm, but not hot to the touch, like the residual heat left after a stove fire had been extinguished for half an hour.
"rope."
Old Shi quickly handed over the thick hemp rope and asked, "Should I take some men down?"
"You keep watch." Chen Fan tied the rope around his waist. "If there are any old criminals down there, they might not speak up when they see a stranger. But they'll be anxious when they see me."
Wukong turned his head to look at him: "I'll go first."
"Go down there, the well will collapse halfway." Chen Fan glanced at him. "Wait for me to call you."
Wukong clicked his tongue, but didn't argue. He simply lowered the staff a bit, giving him a place to use his strength.
Chen Fan slid down the well wall.
The wellhead wasn't deep; after about ten zhang (approximately 33 meters), the ground beneath our feet touched the first ring of stone platforms. The platforms were narrow, only wide enough for two people to walk side by side. The four sides weren't straight walls; there was an outer cavity, as if someone had deliberately built a fake well inside the well.
The dampness hit my face, carrying the smell of mud and a hint of old, rotten paper.
Yang Jian then landed, his toes touching the edge of the platform, his voice very soft.
"Did you hear me?"
Chen Fan didn't speak, but pressed his ear against the stone wall.
There is definitely sound coming from inside.
It wasn't a cry for justice, nor was it a wail.
It was a series of short sentences that crashed through the layers of stone, broken so badly that only a few words remained.
"...cover...right palm...press..."
"...The old chapter...continues..."
"...is issued immediately upon receipt of the seal..."
Chen Fan's face darkened after hearing just three sentences.
This is not a cry for help.
This is issuing a command.
He walked halfway around the stone platform and soon saw the first crack. The crack was only as thick as a chopstick, with blackened edges, as if smoke had been seeping out of it for years. Next to the crack was half a black pottery pipe, exactly the same as the one he had taken from the well house the night before.
Chen Fan touched the mouth of the ceramic tube with his finger, and his fingertip got covered with a layer of red clay.
"Sound doesn't travel from top to bottom," he said. "It travels from the inside out."
Yang Jian hummed in agreement and raised his hand to press against the edge of the crack. With the opening of his Heavenly Eye, the veins within the well wall immediately became visible. They were fine and dense, like the cracks in a dried-up riverbed. Each vein connected to a deeper depth.
"There's an empty stomach inside," Yang Jian said. "The old criminals are all there. They can't get out."
Chen Fan turned around: "Really can't get out?"
Yang Jian said, "This ring of walls beneath our feet isn't a seal, it's a partition. They can't reach the outer well; they can only make noise through the cracks. Whoever takes the old seal becomes their hand."
As soon as he said that, the gasping sound from the well wall suddenly became a little more urgent.
Immediately following, a more complete sentence came from another crack.
"The one holding the seal...step forward...and the new seal may be issued..."
Hearing this from the wellhead, Shi Laoliu's scalp tingled. He yelled down, "What the hell are you talking about! Should I seal the well?"
"Sealing it up won't help," Chen Fan replied, looking up. "If you block it today, it'll just crawl out from the crack in the ground tomorrow."
After he finished speaking, he raised his hand and took out the old seal from his sleeve, hanging it an inch in front of the crack.
The atmosphere inside the well wall suddenly became chaotic.
Several finer cracks rustled simultaneously, as if something was pressing against them all at once. The command came faster, the initials of the words bursting out in clusters.
"Step forward...press your seal...obey my command..."
Chen Fan flipped his wrist and took back the old seal.
The sound stopped abruptly.
The well was silent for a moment, with only the soft sound of water droplets falling into the lower stone trough.
"I understand," Chen Fan said. "They can't see outside; they only recognize the seal. Whoever brings the seal to the crack becomes the mouth. It's not about manipulating people, but about using people to amplify their voices."
Wukong squatted on the edge of the well, grinned, and said, "Then we'll stuff their mouths shut."
"That's not enough." Chen Fan looked up. "If you block one place, it will find another. The root cause is that these passwords can still be reused."
Yang Jian asked, "Should we find the main split first?"
"Loosen the sound first," Chen Fan said.
As soon as he finished speaking, a gray figure descended down the rope and landed without a sound; it was Liu Er.
His ears twitched, and he walked around the stone platform once before stopping at the third crack. That crack was the narrowest, too narrow for even a matchstick to fit through, yet it emitted a low, trembling sound, like a bee trapped in a jar.
Liu Er squatted down and tapped the well wall three times with his knuckles.
There were three immediate responses from inside.
Liu Er rolled his eyes and revealed a cold smile.
"It can mimic voices," he said. "No wonder those old shells outside can respond so accurately. It doesn't shout out words one by one; it mimics human voices. It remembers who comes to the well house and who speaks, and then lets them out through the crack. Those guards upstairs were probably trapped like that."
After hearing this, the loose threads in Chen Fan's heart suddenly connected.
The rules for public witnessing had barely been posted when the fake grain trucks immediately changed their tactics. It wasn't that someone outside reacted quickly; it was that someone inside the well had been eavesdropping using echoes.
"Can it be locked?" he asked.
Liu Er pressed his ear against the crack and reached down to pull out a copper ring from his lower back. The ring was small, with fine teeth engraved on the inner circle, like a buckle for an animal cage.
"Yes," said Liu Er. "It can learn, but I'll make sure it can't learn everything."
He placed the copper ring on the crack and flicked it with his index finger. The ring vibrated slightly, producing no crisp sound, but rather a muffled sound that absorbed the surrounding noise. Immediately afterward, the buzzing, trembling sound from within the crack abruptly dissipated, as if a piece of cloth had been torn in half.
A sharp, piercing scream immediately came from deeper within.
This time it wasn't a verbal command, it was a real voice.
"who--"
The latter half didn't come out; it had already been swallowed by the copper ring.
Liu Er stood up: "By fixing it piece by piece, we can prevent it from spreading. But if there are too many cracks, someone will have to mend them."
Yang Jian didn't say anything more, and raised his palm to press down on the first large crack.
The moment his palm touched the stone, the shimmering patterns on the well wall instantly disappeared. Fine sand pattered down from the cracks, the dark marks at the edges curled up, then cracked, and finally peeled off like dried mud. The chopstick-thick gash was pressed back into a pale white line.
Something immediately bumped into the wall of the circle on the lower level.
thump.
The force was considerable, and the entire well shook.
Wukong grabbed his golden cudgel and leaned half his body down: "Should I smash it open and pull that thing out?"
"Don't touch the inner lining." Chen Fan raised his hand to stop him. "They couldn't get out in the first place. If you break it open, you'll actually open the door for them."
Wukong snorted and still retracted his staff by half an inch.
These words reminded Shi Laoliu. He patted the well's edge from above and shouted to Simo, "Remember! Guiyuan Well is not a prison. Don't let outsiders spread rumors that we've captured demons and imprisoned here. Just say it's sealed off and the order is broken. Anyone who brings the old seal to the well again will be considered to have broken the law."
Si Mo lay on the wooden plank at the wellhead, quickly memorizing the words, his hand getting covered in dust.
Below, six ears were already fastened with four copper rings.
Yang Jian repaired the seven cracks.
With each patch added, the echo in the well diminished. At first, fragments of "continue the journey" or "grant the seal" would occasionally emerge, but later only indistinct grinding remained, and eventually, even the panting sound against the stone faded away.
Chen Fan continued to feel his way along the stone platform until he reached a corner where he saw an old stone tablet embedded in the wall. The surface of the tablet was badly worn, with only a few knife marks remaining. However, there were newly scratched characters at the very bottom, as if someone had been rubbing the same spot with a hard object over the years through the crack.
He looked closely for a long time before he could make out the words.
Holding onto old rules can serve as an excuse.
Chen Fan stared at those five words, without a trace of a smile.
"So the roots are here."
Xuanzang had reached the wellhead by then, but instead of going down, he asked from above, "Did you see clearly?"
"I see clearly." Chen Fan read the five words to him. "The old document isn't a key, it's a false confession. Whoever has it can speak for those inside. Over time, outsiders get used to it and don't even bother to distinguish between truth and falsehood."
Xuanzang remained silent for a moment, then sat down cross-legged at the wellhead and opened the "Records of the True Source".
The wind rustled the pages, and he pressed them down one by one before dipping his brush in ink.
"Then don't delete it," he said. "If you delete it, future generations will just repeat it. Just write it down exactly as it is and list it as a forbidden rule. Also, remember the original form, the location of the gaps, and the methods of borrowing sound from the original text."
Old Shi was taken aback: "The prohibitions are written in such detail?"
Xuanzang said, "Write in detail, and people will know where not to touch. If you only write 'Be careful using old seals,' someone will use it as an ancient method in a couple of years. Write it clearly, and it will no longer be able to borrow the skin."
Chen Fan listened and nodded.
This is the true meaning of sealing the root.
It's not about covering the well with a stone slab and pretending it's invisible. It's about laying out all the ways it harms people, one by one, and then blocking them all.
When the last two cracks at the bottom were repaired, the heat in the well dissipated.
Yang Jian withdrew his hand, his palm covered in stone dust, and looked up into the depths.
"There's still life inside," he said. "Very weak. They're still here."
"Let them be," Chen Fan said. "Without cracks, without passwords, without old rules, they can only hear their own echoes."
Liu Er raised his hand and fastened the last copper ring.
A soft sound.
It was as if someone had closed their mouth in the far distance.
Xuanzang added the final stroke, blew on the ink, and added a line of small characters before closing the book.
The old passwords are permanently prohibited from being reused.
Chen Fan climbed up the rope, his hands brushing against the cooled well wall; the rough hemp rope was covered in dust. Halfway up, he looked back.
The fake wells are still there.
It remained dark in the depths, uttering not a single word.
He emerged from the well and first handed the old seal to Xuanzang.
"Seal it in a sealed box."
Xuanzang took it and wrapped it in three layers of cloth.
Wukong squatted down beside the well and tapped the edge with the tip of his staff: "That's it?"
Yang Jian leaped out of the well, dusted off the stone dust from his palms as he landed, and said calmly, "If you're worried, stay here tonight."
Wukong chuckled and actually sat down by the well.
Old Shi had two new stone slabs brought over to weigh down the three dismantled ceramic pipes in the well house. Si Mo, carrying the wooden plank, copied the new regulations one by one, and hung them outside the door before the ink was even dry.
The door wobbled twice and then stopped.
Only the sound of dripping water remained in the well house, one drop at a time, falling steadily.
Chapter 700: Seal Melted into a Plow
Before dawn, the sound of hammering could be heard outside the well house.
It wasn't a fight.
It was Zhu Bajie (Pigsy) testing the furnace in the back.
Old Shi had kept watch until the wee hours of the morning, his eyes bloodshot, but he still got up when he heard a noise. He put on a short jacket and stood by the threshold, looking out. The first thing he saw was a small stove. The stove opening wasn't big, but the fire was blazing, and the charcoal was crackling as it burned. Pigsy, shirtless, was squatting by the bellows, blowing air in one stroke at a time, his nose covered in ash.
Wukong sat against the stone wall of the well house all night. Only now did he get up, stretch, and put his staff on his shoulder.
"Old Pig, what's gotten into you this early in the morning? Are you busy smelting iron in a pot?"
Zhu Ganglie raised his sleeve and wiped away his sweat.
"It's not your fault. Chen Fan said he's going to get rid of all that bad luck today."
Chen Fan came out of the house, carrying a wooden box in his hand.
Inside the box were fragments of the termination seal. There was also copper clay used for rubbings, which had been pulled from the bottom of the well yesterday. The clay had been wrapped in three layers of cloth last night, but now that it was unwrapped, its surface was bluish, and the edges bore fingerprints and grooves, as if someone had pressed many old seals out of the clay.
Xuanzang followed behind, carrying the forbidden box.
Si Mo also arrived, carrying the same wooden lattice board in his arms, its edges newly polished and the splinters smoothed out.
A breeze blew in from the other side of the warehouse, carrying a damp scent. Under the eaves of the new warehouse, the drying racks from last night hung, making a soft tapping sound.
Chen Fan placed the wooden box next to the anvil without speaking immediately.
Everyone was looking at him.
Quite a few people have been arrested these past few days. The old shell has been dismantled, the echo well sealed, and the secret passages dug. But the real problem has never been those few ceramic pipes at the bottom of the well. Those things are gone once they're removed. It's the old thoughts in people's minds that are the most troublesome.
Old Shi couldn't hold back any longer: "What's the point of keeping it? Just smash it and throw it into the sea."
Chen Fan squatted down, picked up a piece of the seal, and weighed it in his palm.
"Even if you throw it into the sea, it will still be an imprint."
"Whoever fishes it out someday will still dare to use it to scare people."
After he finished speaking, he handed the broken piece of seal to Zhu Ganglie.
"Open the furnace."
Zhu Ganglie responded, grabbed the metal tongs, and first threw in the broken seal, then the copper clay. The broken pieces fell into the fire, initially darkening, but after a moment, the edges began to glow red. The copper clay heated up quickly and softened even faster, like a lump of smoldering wax, slowly collapsing and gradually enveloping the corners of the seal.
Wukong squatted down to the side and used the tip of his stick to poke at the coal cinders on the ground.
"You said earlier that you needed to keep some evidence. Now you've burned it all. Aren't you afraid someone might overturn the case later?"
"The certificate is on the books, in people's eyes, not on this thing." Chen Fan looked at the furnace opening. "If it were still there, sooner or later someone would want to bring back the old rules."
Xuanzang lowered his head and touched the copper clasp on the forbidden box, without saying a word.
Si Mo moved the wooden board to one side, and a new line of words was added to it: "Witnesses from all sides. Shipper, escort, warehouse keeper, and passerby inspector." Four blank spaces were left for fingerprints, names, and times. Below that was another sentence he had added the night before, based on Chen Fan's instructions.
A single chapter is invalid.
After Shi Laoliu finished reading, he smacked his lips twice, as if he had tasted something different.
"So, in the future, even if someone has the official seal and approval, their word alone won't count?"
"Yes," Chen Fan said, "even if it's me."
After those words were spoken, a moment of silence fell around the fire.
Wukong raised an eyebrow at him, his eyes scrutinizing him. Zhu Ganglie paused for a moment, then continued pumping the bellows. With each pump, the fire in the furnace shot up, illuminating everyone's faces.
Shi Laoliu rubbed his hands together, as if afraid he had misheard.
"You don't admit it either?"
"I don't agree." Chen Fan stood up. "The reason we were able to keep things under control a while ago was because people's hearts hadn't fallen. But as long as we leave an opening, if I can control things today, someone else can do it tomorrow. What we fear in Cangkou isn't a lack of leadership, but rather one person who holds all the rules in their hands."
Si Mo paused, his pen tip seemingly frozen in shock.
He'd been running around these past few days, seeing far too many instances where a single stamp on an old document meant no one dared to question it. He'd originally thought that if something truly serious happened, Chen Fan would need something powerful to keep things under control. Now, hearing this, he felt a weight lifted from his chest, yet also a sense of emptiness.
"What if there's an emergency?" he asked. "If we can't get four people together, and the grain carts are waiting to leave, are we really not going to send them?"
Chen Fan looked at him: "If we really can't gather enough people, we'll wait. We'd rather be slower than give people an excuse."
What if the people in the granary who are short of food start cursing?
"First, scold the person who shipped the goods. Whoever failed to gather everyone should step forward and take the blame."
Shi Laoliu burst into laughter.
"That's true. In the past, we always blamed the porters and errand runners. Now we finally know who should be put on the spot."
Most of the metal in the furnace has melted.
Pigsy used his long hook to turn it over; inside was a bright red glow, with occasional wisps of blue flame. After the lump of copper clay melted, impurities floated to the surface, like scum. Pigsy gently skimmed it off with a spoon, spitting it onto the ground after each skim.
"Damn, that's filthy. No wonder it can print so many grotesque things."
Xuanzang suddenly spoke.
"Since it is an old authority, it is best to burn it into something else so that people can recognize it at a glance. Otherwise, after a few years, future generations will just think that it is a different vessel, and the essence is still the same."
Chen Fan nodded.
"Therefore, we don't make knives or locks."
Wukong grinned: "I won't use the stick, so that it's easier for me to hold it."
Pigsy asked, "Then what should we fight?"
Chen Fan looked at the newly turned wasteland at the end of the warehouse.
Last month, in order to expand the warehouse, a ditch was dug in the salt flats near the sea, and a lot of black soil that could still be used for farming was turned over. Shi Laoliu originally planned to wait until he finished this busy period before planting, but the land was still empty. Last night, after the rain, the soil became moist.
"Two plowshares," Chen Fan said, "and ring a string of barn bells."
Zhu Ganglie was taken aback.
"I understand plowshares. What does the canopy bell do?"
"Hang it on all four doors and next to the weighing platform," Chen Fan said. "From now on, when opening and sealing the warehouse, loading onto trucks, and inspecting vehicles, the bell must ring. If the bell doesn't ring, no one can say they've inspected it."
Shi Laoliu's eyes lit up.
"That's good. People can lie, but the bell can't. Hang one at the front door and one at the back door, one at the scale platform, and another at the storeroom. Everyone in the yard can hear who goes in and out."
Si Mo immediately wrote it down.
Xuanzang also raised his eyes. In this way, the rules are no longer just written on the board; those who do the work will encounter them every day and must follow them.
Pigsy grinned, his teeth covered in ash.
"Okay. I'm good at this."
He got up to move the molds. The molds had been made hastily the night before; the clay shells had just dried and were still warm. Two plow molds leaned against the corner of the wall, their grooves thickly cut. The bell molds were smaller, arranged in a row, round-bellied with narrow mouths, and had a tongue hole at the bottom.
The furnace fire burned brighter and brighter, and when the iron tongs were lifted, the molten liquid was drawn out in a line of red light.
Looking at the ray of light, Wukong suddenly asked, "Chen Fan, you really don't want to stay at all?"
Chen Fan knew that he wasn't asking about this batch of food.
He watched as the molten liquid was poured into the clay mold. The bright red water flowed into the trough with a hissing sound, and white smoke billowed out, filling his nostrils with the smell of hot earth.
"I've thought about it," he said.
These words were quite true, and even Shi Laoliu glanced at him sideways.
Chen Fan rolled up his sleeves and spoke in a low voice.
"Last night, while I was guarding the well, I was thinking that if we repaired the termination seal, added a few more orders, sealed off the secret passage, and closed the granary, things would be much faster. Anyone who dared to interfere could be suppressed directly. There would be no need for any struggle."
As he said this, he kicked a piece of broken wood from the ground into the ashes.
"But if I do that, I'll be no different from them. Today I say I'm acting for the public good, tomorrow others will say the same thing. In the end, the rules will all come down to who has the bigger fist and the louder voice. Then all that effort will be for nothing."
After listening, Wukong didn't reply.
He took the stick off his shoulder and sat down, placing it across his knees. His face showed neither smile nor resentment. After a while, he reached out, grabbed a handful of sand, and slowly sprinkled it onto the broken corner, burying it.
Zhu Ganglie has already finished the first round of drinking.
The second mold was a bell. The molten liquid poured down in one go, and several small molds simultaneously emitted a muffled sound, as if they were holding their breath.
After waiting for the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, the clay shell was cracked open.
Two plowshares were revealed first, thick-edged, straight-backed, and dark reddish in color. Zhu Bajie picked them up and rinsed them with water; with a hiss, white steam sprayed onto his face. He cursed, shook his hand, and then placed the plowshares back on the anvil to trim the edges.
With each hammer blow, sparks flew out.
The canglings had also opened. Five small bells were laid out on the ground, not particularly finely crafted, with slightly rough edges around the bell mouths, which suited the courtyard perfectly. Zhu Ganglie used a small file to trim them one by one, then threaded iron rings onto them, picked them up, and gave them a gentle shake.
Ding--
The sound isn't crisp; it should be deeper.
The people in the courtyard paused for a moment.
The sound wasn't loud, but it traveled far on the morning breeze. It was like a reminder that it was time to open the door today.
Shi Laoliu laughed first.
"This bell is good. It sounds reassuring."
Chen Fan walked over, took the string of bells, and shook it himself.
"It's hanging up this morning."
After saying that, he turned to look at Si Mo.
"Copy the new regulations, post them on all four doors, and then send another copy to the weighing platform."
"Let me add one more thing," Shi Laoliu quickly added, "Loading is only allowed after all four witnesses have signed in. If one is missing, the bell won't ring and the door won't open."
"Make a note of it," Chen Fan said.
Si Mo lowered his head, dipped his brush in ink, and wrote quickly, adding another line to the wooden board in no time.
The sun slowly climbed over the roof of the warehouse, shining on the anvil and the two newly made plowshares. The edges were still wet, shining brightly.
Pigsy hoisted the plowshare onto his shoulder.
"Where should I send it?"
Chen Fan raised his hand and pointed.
"That piece of land to the east. It was turned over today."
Old Shi was taken aback: "Today? There are so many things going on in the warehouse."
"There's always work to be done," Chen Fan said. "Let's clear the land first."
Wukong stood up, shouldered his golden cudgel, and snorted.
"Old Sun, go ahead and clear the way, so you slowpokes won't dawdle until noon."
He took two steps, then looked back at the string of bells.
"Hang one at the entrance of the well house first. Anyone who wants to imitate the echo from the old shell, they'll have to make this thing ring for me first."
Shi Laoliu laughed heartily, took the bell, and ran off.
Before long, a bell was indeed hanging on the door of the well house. A gust of wind blew, and the bell gently tapped against the door frame, making a tinkling sound.
Si Mo moved the wooden lattice board to the courtyard, hung it up straight, stepped back two paces, and examined it carefully. The four blank spaces were neatly aligned, and the ink below was still wet. A porter peeked in from outside the door, saw the board, first looked at the words, then at the new bell.
"Shall we start with this today?"
"Starting today," Old Shi replied from the doorway, "it's useless for anyone to have the official stamp. If everyone's here, the bell won't ring, and the cart won't move."
The porter scratched his head, as if he was a little uncomfortable, but also as if he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Okay. I'll go get someone."
He turned and ran away after he finished speaking.
In the courtyard, Zhu Bajie had already attached the first plowshare to its wooden frame and was dragging it eastward. The frame left a shallow mark on the ground. Chen Fan followed and picked up the other plowshare as well. The iron was still warm; he could feel the heat even through the cloth.
As I reached the warehouse door, the bell on the door rang softly once more.
Chen Fan raised his hand to steady the door frame, making the bell stand still.
Then he picked up the plow and stepped into the still damp ground.