Evelyn Smith made up his mind to save these children. He felt that Diana Young had indeed spoken some truths—the emperor would sooner or later become interested in immortality, and then would be obsessed with matters of spirits and gods. The phrase “born of fox, raised by ghosts” might just be these children’s talisman.

As for the charred Thomas Reed, Evelyn Smith believed that as long as he kept an eye on Diana Young and the others, he would see him again.

Chapter One: The Thirteenth Year of Chenghua

In the twelfth year of the Chenghua reign of the Ming Dynasty, two strange events occurred in the capital.

The first was on the seventh day of the seventh month: a demon fox appeared at night, killed one person, injured two others, and escaped over the city wall. From then on, every seven or eight days, the demon fox would reappear, sometimes killing, sometimes injuring, and the victims were always left with deep claw marks.

The second was that, in the winter of that year, a demon managed to sneak into the imperial palace—not just once or twice, but as casually as an ordinary person visiting a neighbor, coming and going at will. Although he never approached the inner palace, it was still shocking enough.

The demon was named Logan Thompson. After being captured, he admitted to having sent out the demon fox. Just as he said, without its master, the demon fox never appeared again, the attacks ceased, and the people’s hearts were finally at ease as they prepared for the New Year.

Some were punished because of this, some were promoted, but regarding these two incidents, there remained a very small number of people who still harbored doubts—one of them was the hundred-household commander Evelyn Smith.

Evelyn Smith’s status was rather special: he was a member of the Jinyiwei, serving at the Southern Town Patrol Division, specializing in apprehending demon criminals, especially those wicked people who impersonated immortals.

Over the years, Evelyn Smith had achieved outstanding military merit, capturing more than three hundred demon criminals, and saving several times that number of innocents. Because of this, he was handsomely rewarded, but also found it difficult to be promoted. There was no help for it—in the Southern Division, the greatest achievement was to find a real immortal, not to expose one fraud after another.

It was Evelyn Smith who led the team to capture Logan Thompson alive, proving that he was just another fraud, without a trace of magical power. Yet, after the Jinyiwei’s interrogation, the two incidents turned out to be connected.

A few years earlier, Evelyn Smith would have insisted that the so-called demon fox was all a hoax. Now, he simply let things be.

Confucius said, “At fifty, one knows the mandate of Heaven.” Evelyn Smith was already over fifty, and understood what “the mandate of Heaven” meant. Because of this, his temperament had changed greatly, and he often said to his subordinates, “On the surface, the Southern Division manages our garrison’s craftsmen, but in reality, this is the Demon-Hunting Division, the Immortal-Seeking Division, secretly searching for the secret of immortality. At its core—” Whenever he got to this point, Evelyn Smith would show a mischievous smile, as if he were still a rogue teenager, “we’re just catching criminals, collecting our salaries, and supporting our families. Of course, this job isn’t bad—look at my house, it’s been renovated twice, each time bigger than the last. I’m old now, not used to living in an even bigger house. You’re still young—work hard, and maybe you’ll be able to save up for an even grander mansion.”

At this, the officers would all laugh, modestly saying they didn’t have their foster father’s abilities.

Evelyn Smith had forty officers under his command, all of whom called him “foster father.” Evelyn Smith also treated these young men as his own sons—he could scold them, hit them, order them about, but would not allow anyone else to bully them.

In recent years, Evelyn Smith’s life had become increasingly simple. He would get up before dawn, be attended by maids as he dressed and washed, practice a set of boxing in the courtyard, then go to the front hall to sit down, have breakfast, and listen to his foster sons report in turn. By mid-morning, Evelyn Smith would leave the house, usually escorted by four foster sons, exit Guanyin Temple Alley, walk along East Chang’an Street, pass the Left and Right Gates, enter the West Gongsheng Gate, and arrive at the Jinyiwei headquarters—a short distance, easily walked.

Usually, by this time, the yamen had long since started official business. Evelyn Smith always arrived later than everyone else. Though he worked at the Southern Division, he rarely paid respects to his own superiors, instead going straight to the back hall to see his immediate superior, Benjamin Foster.

Benjamin Foster was not only Evelyn Smith’s superior, but also the protector of this stubborn hundred-household commander. In the eighth year of Chenghua, Benjamin Foster once complained, “Evelyn Smith, you’re too extreme. You make no distinction between demons and immortals—anyone who passes through your hands is a fraud, every case is a scam. Isn’t there a single case with hidden depths? Look at how others handle things—leave some room for doubt. If, by chance, a real immortal appears one day, you won’t be left in such an awkward position.”

Evelyn Smith knew all too well the tricks of his Southern Division colleagues. A minor case would be blown up into a matter of cosmic justice and karmic retribution, hinting at the involvement of spirits and gods behind the scenes.

He never did this. If someone died mysteriously, if there were inexplicable phenomena, it was never the work of spirits and gods hiding in the shadows—usually, it was just a greedy heart.

In the eighth year of Chenghua, Evelyn Smith had just turned fifty. His mind was clear as a mirror, but because of this, he lost interest in his work. He didn’t argue with his superior, but from then on became lazy, rarely going out, leaving all the cases to his foster sons, while he expanded his house and bought beautiful women, planning to enjoy his old age.

One day in late January of the thirteenth year of Chenghua, with winter not yet over and the roads half snow, half slush, Evelyn Smith set out as usual with four foster sons for the Jinyiwei headquarters, chatting along the way about whose turn it was to treat everyone to drinks at lunch and dinner.

Benjamin Foster was much older than Evelyn Smith, now a decrepit old man with wrinkled skin and white hair, often dozing off in his chair. Most subordinates didn’t dare wake him.

Evelyn Smith didn’t dare either. He would quietly fetch a stool, sit at his side, and wait in silence. Benjamin Foster never slept soundly and would soon wake up. As soon as the snoring stopped, Evelyn Smith would immediately say loudly, “That’s all, sir. Do you have any further instructions?”