“Has that Hu family descendant gone mad?”
Now, after a storm of blood and horror had swept through, Hu Ma could also see how big a stir this trade had caused.
If it were some countryside spirit or demon, killing it would be killing it — perhaps fate would leave one to bear something for it, but living people don’t care about that.
Maybe it would end up in the Register of a Hundred Ghosts; even if it were only recorded with a few words, which one of them would be simple?
To be entered in the Register of a Hundred Ghosts at least proves that, in twenty years’ time and in a single prefecture, one has been outstanding enough to draw attention.
Take the current redoing of the Register — even if Little Hong Tang hadn’t yet become an established spirit, she would still be recorded there.
And for such a spirit to be killed, how could the people inside the trade not notice?
Clearly, in places like Mingzhou no one dared intervene to stop the Zhensui Mansion’s sweeping hunts as the heads rolled, but as more and more heads fell and news spread, outsiders began to grow unhappy and mutter among themselves.
“Bold, that young master Hu, what is he up to?”
“Showing strength?”