A certain woman in Zhaocheng County, over seventy years old, had one son. One day, her son went into the mountains and was devoured by a tiger. The old woman was beside herself with grief and reported the matter to the magistrate’s office.

The county magistrate merely laughed, saying, "A tiger has harmed someone; which statute dictates how I should proceed? I truly do not know." Upon hearing this, the old woman burst into wrenching sobs, unable to control herself. The magistrate shouted at her sternly, but the woman showed no fear. Feeling pity for her age and solitude, the magistrate could not bring himself to apply corporal punishment, and so he placated her, "Very well, very well. This official shall immediately issue an order to apprehend the tiger and bring it to justice." The old woman prostrated herself on the ground, refusing to leave, and declared, "I beg Your Honor to issue the official writ instantly, to pursue the principal culprit."

The magistrate, feeling helpless, questioned the assembled officials in the hall, "Which of you has the skill to capture a tiger?"

A yamen runner named Li Neng, swaying slightly from drink, stepped forward and announced, "I can." The magistrate was overjoyed and immediately produced the official writ, empowering him to handle the entire case. Only then did the old woman agree to depart.

After sobering up, Li Neng felt considerable regret, pondering, "Did the magistrate, perhaps to placate the old woman, deliberately set this trap, forcing me to take the blame?" He didn't dwell on it long, merely made a cursory circuit around town, and returned to report. The magistrate roared in anger, "Audacious dog! You clearly boasted in court that you had the ability to seize the true culprit; you think you can renege on that vow now?" Scolded harshly by his superior, Li Neng felt both mortified and defiant, and suddenly demanded, "If you require me to catch the tiger, so be it. But I must be granted absolute authority over life and death, and all the hunters in the county must be placed under my command." The magistrate, without a second thought, smiled and replied, "Granted."

Li Neng thus gathered the local hunters and ventured into the mountains to search, setting up ambushes day and night in the valleys, thinking to himself, "If I just catch any tiger haphazardly, I can close the case. As for whether this beast is the true culprit, who has time to worry about such trifles?"

In the blink of an eye, a month passed, yet they found nothing. The magistrate was furious and immediately decreed, "This scoundrel Li Neng is clearly derelict in his duty; administer one hundred strokes of the military cudgel immediately!" Li Neng repeatedly protested his innocence and lamented his misfortune endlessly, taking one hundred solid blows on his posterior, feeling both frightened and desperate.

Having exhausted all other options, he went to the Temple of King Yue on the east side of the city to seek divine intervention, kneeling to pray and weeping uncontrollably. In a short while, a tiger walked in from outside. Li Neng was utterly astonished, terrified that the beast might suddenly attack. Fortunately, the tiger seemed uninterested in violence; it merely stood by the entrance, looking straight ahead, its intentions utterly inscrutable.

Li Neng asked in a trembling voice, "Oh, Brother Tiger, did you devour the old woman’s son? If it is true, I must arrest you and bring you to justice. Please be kind enough not to resist." As he spoke, he pulled out a rope and looped it around the tiger's neck. The tiger lowered its head submissively, allowing itself to be handled completely.

Li Neng brought the tiger to the court. The magistrate questioned it, "Did you truly swallow the old woman’s son?" Upon hearing this, the tiger nodded its assent. The magistrate stated, "Murder demands a life for a life; this is an eternal law. The old woman had but one son, and now he is killed by you, leaving her destitute in her twilight years—how is she to survive? If you are willing to serve as her son, I shall grant you amnesty." The tiger nodded again. The magistrate was delighted and immediately set the tiger free, ordering it to go on its way.

When the old woman heard of this, she couldn't help but grumble that the magistrate was foolish for not securing vengeance for her son. The next morning, when she opened her door, she found a dead deer lying on the ground outside, something that had appeared out of nowhere—naturally, it was a gift from the tiger. The old woman was simultaneously startled and overjoyed, so she sold the venison for money to sustain herself. From then on, the tiger frequently brought gifts—sometimes a dead pig or sheep, sometimes silver taels or bolts of cloth—it became commonplace. Over time, the old woman's family fortune gradually grew, and she lived without want, far better off than when her son was alive. She secretly felt profound gratitude for the tiger’s kindness.

Each time the tiger visited, it would settle down beneath the eaves of the house and stay there all day. Man and beast coexisted peacefully, their mutual trust deep, free of suspicion. Several years later, when the old woman passed away, the tiger came to the house to mourn, roaring loudly with an expression of profound sorrow.

The old woman had accumulated a decent savings, and her clansmen used this silver to arrange her funeral. On the day of the burial, as the coffin was lowered and the grave mound was just covered, the tiger suddenly bolted toward the scene, terrifying the guests who scattered in panic. The tiger walked straight to the grave, crying out sorrowfully, its sound like thunder, before finally departing after a long while.

Moved by the tiger’s loyalty and righteousness, the villagers erected a shrine in the eastern suburbs, calling it the "Shrine of the Righteous Tiger," and offered sacrifices there during festivals.

The shrine remains to this day.