Chapter 1: What? You Want Me to Fight a Tiger?

“Captain Su, hurry up and go. The magistrate is about to lose his temper again.”

Before him stood a man, his face full of anxiety. He wore a black official robe, a red scarf tied around his chest, a bamboo hat from Fanyang on his head, and a short waist knife hanging from his belt.

Su Wu was momentarily stunned. He glanced around and realized he was lying on a couch straight out of a period drama, inside a somewhat worn-out room furnished with a few ancient wooden pieces, nothing superfluous.

He looked down at himself and noticed his attire was very similar to the man before him. Turning his gaze to the side of the couch, he saw a waist knife resting there as well.

He was dead—no, more precisely, he had sacrificed himself. A sacrifice made in the battle against crime on the southwestern frontier, a death that was at least meaningful.

Had he traveled through time? That was uncertain, since such things belonged to stories.

Su Wu sat up, but a searing pain radiated from his rear end straight to the crown of his head, causing him to grit his teeth involuntarily. “Ah...”

The man hurried forward to support him. “Captain, take it easy. You were just beaten with the heavy baton yesterday. Though it was only ten strikes, the swelling has already begun. Fortunately, the brothers knew their limits. But if we fail to catch that big beast on Jingyang Ridge tonight, the magistrate won’t be so easy to appease tomorrow.”

Su Wu could only think, this pain in my backside is unbearable!

Oh, he remembered now.

He was the captain of Yanggu County’s constables. Recently, a fierce white-spotted tiger in its prime had appeared suddenly on Jingyang Ridge, having already devoured many merchants and travelers passing through Yanggu.

The matter had stirred widespread panic. Jingyang Ridge was a crucial thoroughfare connecting neighboring prefectures. The prefectural government had sent several urgent orders demanding Yanggu County dispatch someone to hunt down the beast. Naturally, Magistrate Meng Yi assigned this task to Captain Su Wu.

Su Wu had tried everything—leading a dozen loyal constables and recruiting forty or fifty hunters from ten or so nearby villages.

For a whole month, every night they had gone to Jingyang Ridge to hunt, yet the beast remained uncaught, and seven or eight hunters had been lost.

Failure to catch it only intensified the prefectural government’s stern mandates. The magistrate, powerless, pressed Su Wu even harder.

Now, with no success, Magistrate Meng Yi was being reprimanded by his superiors, and Su Wu himself had been punished with the heavy baton. The beating was not just his alone; some constables and hunters shared the punishment.

Others fared better, but Su Wu was personally targeted by Magistrate Meng Yi. Though the constables administering the beatings held back, Su Wu still suffered greatly.

Suddenly, these memories flashed through Su Wu’s mind, and his heart leapt—he really had traveled through time?

Why did this feel so familiar?

Wasn’t this the story of Wu Song and the tiger? The tale of “Three Bowls Passed the Ridge,” where a drunken Wu Song ascended Jingyang Ridge and, in a drunken frenzy, slew the fierce tiger that had terrorized the area...

And then... Wu Song became the captain of Yanggu County’s constables.

Realizing this, Su Wu was shocked. So he had transmigrated into the predecessor of Wu Song’s post?

It made sense. Someone else did the impossible task, so naturally they were promoted to captain. As for him—well, he could just stay out of trouble.

How unlucky!

Su Wu rubbed his burning backside, the pain so vivid, so excruciating.

This tiger was no easy foe, and he was sure to endure more beatings.

“Captain, captain...” The man before him, noticing Su Wu’s dazed expression, called out again.

“I’m alive,” Su Wu replied casually. Alive—that was a blessing.

The man was clearly one of Su Wu’s trusted constables named Dong Jian.

“Captain, don’t be too anxious. Tonight, we will surely come up with a solution,” Dong Jian comforted, thinking his captain was overwhelmed by stress.

Su Wu thought to himself: He knew how to shoot and fight, trained professionally, skilled with a blade. But facing a tiger—a mature beast that had already killed seven or eight expert hunters—he had no idea where to begin.

Could he really just slide in and tackle it?

Moreover, hunting a tiger was no simple matter. These mountain beasts were cunning. They hid when faced with large numbers and only appeared when prey was isolated. Even when many searched, the tiger moved like the wind through the forest, impossible to catch.

How was one supposed to capture such a creature?

Speaking of which, Su Wu’s sore backside was truly unfair.

“All right, let’s go. We shouldn’t keep the magistrate waiting,” Su Wu said, gingerly touching his aching rear as he stepped outside.

Looking at the bustling streets of Yanggu County, lined with two-story shops and rows of businesses, he suddenly felt a sense of dislocation, as if he had crossed into another world.

In his memory, Yanggu was a prosperous, wealthy place. A grand canal ran through the county, making it a hub for merchants and a critical point for government taxation along the waterways.

Which canal?

The renowned Jing-Hang Grand Canal, dug during the Sui dynasty, had long been the vital artery connecting the north and south economically. In the flourishing Song dynasty, the canal’s importance was immense.

Yet, the Song dynasty seemed on the brink of collapse. The northern Liao Kingdom was one threat, but beyond them, the Jurchens were rising.

Not wanting to dwell on these troubles, Su Wu followed his memories to the county office.

He didn’t head for the courtroom but went to the back office, where Magistrate Meng Yi, a man in his fifties already showing signs of age, awaited.

This man—if you called him good, he accepted bribes from the notorious West Gate official of Yanggu and fabricated the case accusing Pan Jinlian of killing Wu Dalang.

If you called him bad, after Wu Song avenged his brother by killing, the magistrate gave a lenient sentence, sparing Wu Song’s life.

Upon seeing Su Wu enter, Meng Yi first asked, “Ten hits with the heavy baton—is it not too bad?”

“Please have mercy, Your Honor; I’m fine,” Su Wu replied, knowing exactly what to say.

By the way, the honorific “Your Honor” originally referred to high court officials or even prime ministers. But for some reason, in this Song dynasty, officials of all ranks were addressed as such out of respect.

Meng Yi sighed. “Alas, it’s not that I want to make things difficult for you. It’s just that my superiors keep pressing me. If this beast isn’t caught soon, I’ll have no choice but to resign. I’m helpless.”

“You have your difficulties, Your Honor. We will do our best,” Su Wu responded, though his mind was elsewhere, wondering when that reckless Wu Song would arrive at Jingyang Ridge.

“Go then. By morning, I hope to hear good news from you. Whatever reward you want, I’ll grant it,” Meng Yi said, clearly under immense pressure. If not for the difference in status, his tone was almost pleading. After all, no one expected a man in his fifties to personally hunt a tiger.

“On my way!” Su Wu bowed and left.

Standing at the county gate, he saw a dozen or so constables, some brandishing knives, others holding forks, some carrying bows, others heavy crossbows.

Though clearly capable fighters, their faces were etched with worry as they looked to their captain.

“Captain, this beast is too cunning. When many people come, it hides; when few come, it attacks. Even if we encounter it during a hunt, it slips away like the wind. It’s active at night and hides in thick forest. We can’t hit it with arrows... What are we to do?”

“Yes, Captain, we are no cowards. We have tried our best. Many of our brothers are injured, and seven or eight hunters have died. If this continues, it’s no good...”