“This Butcher Johnson is not a good person. The meat he sold me was rotten. I’m going to confront him about it right now. If he refuses to admit it, I’ll drag him to see the magistrate!”

……

As he walked along, James Smith didn’t know how many people he stopped to talk to.

Everyone would open their mouths to speak, but just like that person whose “wife was sick,” every single person only had one sentence to say. Each sentence was different, but it was always just one. No matter what James Smith asked or said, they would always repeat that one sentence, and even their facial expressions would repeat along with their words.

The strangeness gradually turned into something sinister, seeping from James Smith’s eyes and ears into his heart, then spreading out, slowly merging into his blood, carried to every limb and bone. Unconsciously, the boy’s hands and feet began to feel cold. Just at that moment, a little boy of eight or nine in a red robe suddenly ran out from an alley, and collided head-on with James Smith, knocking him back a couple of steps. The little child fell to the ground with a wail.

The other party had been running fast, and James Smith was knocked back two steps by the impact.

Six Pence, ever protective of his master, hurriedly steadied his young lord, then stepped forward, looking as if he wanted to scold the child. But when Six Pence got a good look at the little boy’s face, the scolding that was about to burst out of his mouth suddenly turned into a cry of surprise: “Li… li-little ancestor?!”

It was “little ancestor,” not “young master.”

At this moment, James Smith also saw clearly. Though the child sitting on the ground was just a little boy, with no wrinkles or beard, his features looked exactly like his benefactor in the black robe—except the child was dressed in a bright red robe.

It was unmistakably his benefactor as a child.

The red-robed boy ignored Six Pence, patted the dust off his bottom, stood up, and bowed respectfully to James Smith: “It was my carelessness that bumped into you, sir. I’m very sorry.”

James Smith wasn’t sure if this “little ancestor” would also only say one sentence, so he didn’t try to change the subject. He just shook his head politely and said, “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. Did you hurt yourself when you fell?”

“I’m fine, it didn’t hurt at all.” The red-robed boy smiled, but immediately took a step forward, blocking James Smith’s path, as if afraid he would run away, and continued, “I’ve already apologized to you, now it’s your turn to apologize to me.”

Since entering this city, aside from Six Pence, this was the only person who had said a second sentence to him—the “little black-robed ancestor” in red.

Chapter Five: Justice is the Way of Heaven

Walking on the street, when two people bump into each other without paying attention, usually no one blames the other. Saying “sorry” is being polite, but not apologizing isn’t really hateful either. However, “I apologized, so now you have to apologize too”—people like that are rare.

James Smith didn’t rush to apologize, but instead asked, “If you just got up and left after we bumped into each other, I wouldn’t blame you for anything. So why do you have to apologize to me first, and then I have to apologize to you? Don’t you find it a bit tedious?”

The red-robed boy shook his head solemnly. “That won’t do. I didn’t see you, so that was my fault; you didn’t notice me, so that was your mistake. That’s why we bumped into each other. Because I was at fault, I have to apologize—that’s justice. But you were also at fault, so you have to apologize to me too—that’s still justice. If you refuse to apologize to me, then you owe me justice.”

The little boy really didn’t mind being tedious, and explained it all in detail. Hearing such a little thing talk so much about “justice,” even in this strange city, James Smith couldn’t help but smile. “Why are you so particular about ‘justice’? Is it really that important to you?”

This time, the boy’s expression became even more serious. “It’s very important. My ambition is to become an immortal, and to seek immortality, I must comprehend the Way of Heaven. The Way of Heaven is justice, so I must always uphold justice. Even though I don’t have much ability now, it’s never wrong to start understanding and thinking about it early.”

The “little ancestor’s” earnestness left the “young master” speechless. He could only nod. “We bumped into each other just now—sorry about that.”

As soon as he said this, the boy broke into a bright smile, didn’t linger, and ran off. The child moved so quickly that James Smith didn’t even have time to ask anything else.

James Smith and Six Pence looked at each other. The demon hesitated, “He… he just left?”

James Smith said, “Let’s follow him.” The master and servant hurried after the boy, but James Smith had another idea. Instead of catching up directly, he sped up and took a small detour along a side road, cutting the boy off and deliberately bumping into him again.

In just a short moment, the red-robed little ancestor didn’t recognize them anymore, and everything started all over again. The boy jumped up, first apologized to James Smith, then asked James Smith to apologize to him…

The “little ancestor” was just like everyone else in this city. The only difference was that he was a bit “smarter,” able to judge the situation and always bring the conversation back to the big topic of “justice.” If James Smith asked him anything else, the boy would still explain “justice” to him, over and over again.

……

James Smith was trapped. No one could help him. No matter how he walked or what he asked, he couldn’t find his benefactor or the answer he sought. They had entered the city around noon, searched for three hours with no results, and only when night fell did a shadow flash before the master and servant, and the stern-faced old man in black robes finally appeared.

Overjoyed but still a little suspicious, James Smith cautiously asked a foolish question: “Are you real?”