Volume One: The Outcast Sets Forth—A Fiery Slash Against Demons Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Whole Story—Passing Through Wucheng

Yang Chengzi and his junior brothers sat down, and the others began inquiring solicitously after his well-being. After the exchange of pleasantries, Yang Chengzi asked, “How is Master Suichang doing?”

Second Brother Jiang Huai replied, “Don’t worry, Eldest Brother. Master Suichang isn’t in any serious danger. Though he sustained grave internal injuries, we brought Nine-Turn Revitalizing Pills down the mountain this time. After taking one, Master is out of immediate risk and only needs a few days of quiet rest. However, his leg was pierced by a sharp weapon. Though it didn’t sever muscles or tendons, he won’t be able to walk for some time.”

Yang Chengzi breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing that Master was safe.

“That fiend was beyond formidable. The three of us together couldn’t hope to slay it. Master risked his life to shield the village from the evil miasma, invoking a great Buddhist art. If Chen San hadn’t stabbed Master’s leg with his sword, forcibly disrupting the spell, the consequences would have been unimaginable. But now we’ll need some people to carry Master to Chen Family Town.”

Jiang Huai nodded. “Master’s compassion is boundless; he risked himself for the villagers. Eldest Brother, why don’t we carry Master along with you to Chen Family Town?”

Yang Chengzi shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. Let the porters handle it. Chen San has silver on him; he can hire men to carry Master. You should return to Mount Mao at once. There’s no cause for worry here. Master and I can handle Chen Family Town.”

Jiang Huai wanted to persuade him further, but Eldest Brother’s reasoning was sound. So many disciples had already gathered in this village, and many were still abroad subduing demons and monsters. Even the head priest wasn’t on Mount Mao. The mountain watched over the entire region; this village was but a tiny part. They truly couldn’t all go together, so Jiang Huai fell silent.

Suddenly, Jiang Huai’s gaze fell on the Shangqing Sword at Yang Chengzi’s side. He asked, “By the way, Eldest Brother, the Shangqing Sword was lost a few days ago. Apart from the damaged door to the storage room, there was no trace left. We suspected it was stolen by some thief. How is it now in your possession?”

A shadow of sorrow flickered in Yang Chengzi’s eyes as he replied, “It’s a long story.”

…

After hearing the whole tale, the junior brothers were left in stunned silence.

“I don’t think this matter is urgent,” Yang Chengzi continued. “Besides, we’re heading to Chen Family Town to meet Master anyway. I’ll report everything to him once we arrive.”

“Eldest Brother is right. Now that we know where the Shangqing Sword is, we’ll tell the others to stop searching for it when we return.”

Yang Chengzi nodded and continued, “By the way, what brought you all to Fu Family Village?”

“A disciple from the outer sect came up to Mount Mao seeking help.”

“An outer sect disciple?”

“Yes, Eldest Brother. His name is Qu Liang, a disciple under Fifth Brother, conducting rites around Fu Family Town. When he arrived, he asked to see Fifth Brother and spoke of two coffins in Fu Family Village. Fifth Brother intended to go with him to handle the matter, but by then it was too late in the day, so they planned to set out the next morning.”

“Then why did you end up going instead?”

“It was Elder Lin Jing. That night, Elder Lin Jing observed the heavens and saw the disaster star flickering in and out of view. He cast a divination using the secret celestial method, and the omen he drew was that of heavenly thunder striking tribulation. The signs pointed directly southwest. Fifth Brother, hearing this, told the elder about the matter in Fu Family Village. After conferring with the other elders, Lin Jing instructed a dozen of us brothers to prepare elixirs and sealing talismans, then descend the mountain at once.”

“So that’s how it was.”

“Yes. As soon as we neared the village, we noticed a sky-shrouding evil miasma and deafening thunderclaps. We followed the miasma to the fields and saw a fiend in the sky gathering evil energy, preparing to withstand the heavenly thunder. We used the Celestial Gang Demon-Subduing Formation to drag it back into the pit.”

“And after that? That fiend should have survived the thunder. How did you reduce it to utter oblivion? The formation alone would hardly suffice.”

“The elders, realizing a tribulation demon was at hand, dared not be careless. They sent us with the Mountain-Sealing Treasure, the Pan-Heaven Seal. Combining our strengths, we used the Pan-Heaven Seal to break its ghostly body and trapped it within the formation. Deprived of its corporeal form, it could no longer withstand the thunder, and after two more bolts it was destroyed completely.”

As Jiang Huai recounted the events, Yang Chengzi’s furrowed brow slowly relaxed.

“Thank goodness you arrived in time, or else the three of us—and perhaps the entire region for a hundred miles—would have been doomed. And fortunately, you brought the Pan-Heaven Seal.”

“Perhaps it was you and Master who gravely wounded the fiend first. We didn’t even have to exert our full strength.”

“We didn’t inflict that much damage,” Yang Chengzi said. “It was the fiend itself that endured forty-six strikes of heavenly thunder, exhausting its evil energy. Had it not been disturbed, it could have survived all forty-nine strikes, becoming what the classics call a Tribulation Demon. That was its fate.”

At this, everyone was dumbfounded. They had all heard of tribulation thunder, but never of how many bolts a tribulation entailed, nor was it recorded in any ancient text. That fiend had survived forty-six bolts—no wonder only millennia-old monsters could hope to endure such a trial.

The junior brothers whispered among themselves, grateful they had brought the Pan-Heaven Seal. Without it, even with the Celestial Gang Demon-Subduing Formation, they’d have stood little chance against such a fiend. The thought alone was enough to send chills down their spines.

Truly, as the saying goes, “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.” Had they known the fiend had survived forty-six bolts of heavenly thunder, they would have hesitated in fear and lost the initiative.

Yang Chengzi conversed with his junior brothers for a while longer, inquiring about the two coffins. Jiang Huai recounted the events of the previous day when they laid the coffins to rest.

Yang Chengzi only knew that the coffins could not be moved, but he hadn’t had a chance to learn the details before the encounter with the Tribulation Demon.

According to Jiang Huai, the reason the coffins could not be lifted was that the two inside had died with deep grievances.

Upon death, one’s spirit becomes aware of all things. Before the underworld envoys could fetch their souls, the deceased already knew that they had been slain by tribulation thunder meant for demons. For fiends, such thunder meant utter annihilation; for humans, however, it did not. Yet, being killed by such thunder meant they could never reincarnate as humans. Knowing this fate, the two souls could not rest, and their resentment and baleful energy quickly saturated their coffins, making them heavy as mountains.

Fortunately, Qu Liang, the disciple performing the rites, inscribed soul-calming talismans on the coffins and nailed them shut, preventing the baleful energy from leaking out.

Jiang Huai and several brothers pried open the coffins and found the souls of the two villagers still inside, their resentment too great for the envoys to guide them away. In just a few days, they were already turning into vengeful spirits. Normally, slaying them would resolve the issue, and with the resentment gone, the coffins could be buried. But for these two innocent villagers, that would be too cruel. Though they were dead, they could not simply be obliterated for convenience. Thus, the brothers had to contain them within a magical vessel.

After a day, the vessel purified the baleful energy from their souls. With further persuasion, the brothers summoned the underworld envoys to take the two to the netherworld. Though they could not be reborn as humans, the six cycles of existence each have their own fate—perhaps their next lives would be no worse than this one.

Having learned the full story, Yang Chengzi bid his junior brothers farewell. He told them to return to Mount Mao, for it was the common people there who truly needed their protection. Before leaving, they gave Yang Chengzi their remaining five elixirs.

These five pills were of immeasurable value: three Nine-Turn Revitalizing Pills, miraculous for healing internal injuries and nourishing the soul, crafted through an extremely complex process. Not only were the ingredients rare, but the pill furnace had to be specially forged from yellow brass, and the fire could not be allowed to die for forty-nine days and nights. The last two were Marrow-Washing Pills, which, though useless for Mount Mao disciples, could save the lives of ordinary people. Should someone be overtaken by mortal baleful energy and be doomed, a dose of Marrow-Washing Pill could restore them to life.

The disciples of Mount Mao, seasoned in cultivation and the arts of yin and yang, had already transformed their very blood into Taoist blood capable of subduing demons. Baleful energy could not enter their bodies.

After the disciples departed, Yang Chengzi went to check on Master Suichang’s wounds. The master had been gravely injured, but with the Nine-Turn Revitalizing Pill, his internal wounds would heal within half a month. The leg injury was not severe. The Shangqing Sword was razor-sharp and imbued with spells that seared the flesh as it pierced, so that as soon as it withdrew, the flesh was already cauterized, and not a drop of blood emerged. The pain, however, was excruciating—enough to snap Master back to consciousness in an instant. He would simply have trouble walking for a while.

Originally, Yang Chengzi intended to have the junior brothers fetch porters from the foot of Mount Mao to carry Master to Chen Family Town. But Chen San had a better idea: hire villagers from Fu Family Village as porters, paying them well. There were plenty of young, strong men in the village, and the payment far exceeded what they could earn in the fields. There was no need to fetch outsiders.

It would be tiring work, but if they agreed, they wouldn’t have to wait several days for porters to arrive. With this in mind, Chen San asked the village elder, who immediately set to organizing the task. As the elder put it, silver was hardly the point—after all the trouble that had been solved for the village, they would do anything asked of them. Soon, four young men arrived at the ancestral hall.

Chen San and Yang Chengzi told them about the journey ahead and handed over the silver. At first, the young men were reluctant to accept payment, but Yang Chengzi reminded them that their families depended on their labor in the fields. The journey would take more than ten days, time their crops couldn’t afford to lose. In the end, they accepted the silver, handed it to their families, and set off with Chen San’s party.

Fu Family Village had no porters, nor sedan chairs for carrying people. Fortunately, there was an old man skilled in making bamboo stools. Though he’d never made a proper sedan chair, with some guidance from Chen San and the others, and after breaking more than a dozen bamboo poles, he finally managed to put something together.

Yang Chengzi instructed the village elder to warn all the villagers never to dig up the tomb chamber for any reason. Instead, they should find a way to fill it in and plant crops over it again.

The old village elder nodded emphatically. Who would dare dig up such a place? They avoided it as best they could. That very day, he had nearly every villager fetch baskets and shovels, and they went to the nearby mountain to dig earth and fill the chamber.

Leaving the village that had nearly brought them all to ruin, Chen San and his companions set out once more for Chen Family Town.

Since Chen San had summoned the spirit of an ancient Taoist ancestor, Yang Chengzi’s understanding of Taoist arts and spells had shifted. Previously, his ingrained beliefs told him that the more powerful a spell, the greater the cost, and that only the strongest techniques could defeat the most formidable monsters.

The eight great true talismans and the Supreme Martial Mantra, the mightiest Taoist spells, all required the sacrifice of one’s life to perform, their power needing no further explanation.

Yang Chengzi had spent most of his life cultivating himself, striving to master ever more powerful Taoist techniques so that he could slay the greatest evils. Yet the spirit of this Taoist ancestor had led him onto a new path. When battling the heaven-defying fiend, this ancestor never used any awe-inspiring spells; he merely cast a simple Falling Fire Charm, combining it with the Shangqing Sword’s magic to suppress and break the fiend’s armor. Though tribulation thunder aided them, even at such cost, Yang Chengzi and Master Suichang had failed to gain the upper hand.

This ability to judge the moment and act accordingly seemed to Yang Chengzi like reading the very will of Heaven—knowing one thing but never the whole. The ancestor’s martial prowess was extraordinary, moving like an apparition. If faced with such a foe, Yang Chengzi felt, there’d be no chance to utter a single incantation before death.

While Chen San’s physical condition contributed to his speed, to reach such an almost supernatural level required a soul of tremendous strength, something Chen San himself could never hope to achieve in a hundred years of cultivation.

That even a shred of residual spirit could hold such power left Yang Chengzi in awe of the Taoist ancestors. But more than awe, he felt curiosity—what fate or fortune had made them so strong? And so, Yang Chengzi resolved no longer to pursue strength in spells, but to focus on cultivating his soul.

Spells were but a shortcut, not true strength. The soul’s power was the root of all things. Though he did not yet know how to proceed, this direction had firmly taken root in his heart.

The troubles in Fu Family Village were finally settled. There had been losses, but after a few days’ rest, Chen San and the others had recovered well. Without delay, they set off in haste for Wucheng.

Wucheng was the most prosperous place on the road home. Larger by far than any ordinary town, it was a hub of river transport. Grain and military supplies all passed through there. Though not the only port, its importance was undeniable.

Many soldiers were stationed in Wucheng, both to protect the river routes from bandits and to keep the peace for the townsfolk.

Chen San’s group of eight traveled in grand fashion, resembling a retinue of some high-ranking official.

At the front strode Yang Chengzi, blade at his side, looking every inch the armed escort. Behind him bustled Chen San, the attentive steward, and beside him the charming, clever maid, Chang Yu. Master Suichang sat in a makeshift sedan chair, carried by four young villagers.

The chair was crude, but if they’d had a proper palanquin, no one would have doubted their status. They joked and chatted as they went. Wucheng was not especially close, but under ordinary circumstances, four hours’ walk would suffice. Carrying Master Suichang, however, slowed their pace considerably. Though the young men were strong, they made slower progress than usual, taking nearly five hours just to catch sight of Wucheng in the distance.

Chen San was beside himself with excitement; never in his life had he entered a city. In fact, his trip to Chen Family Town was his first time even leaving his own village, except perhaps for the occasional ritual in a neighboring hamlet, where he would join the more gregarious townsfolk for a bit of fun. Anything farther was beyond his experience.

He’d always heard people say how much fun there was in the city, how delicious the food, how beautiful the clothes. But he’d never had the means to go.

Though he’d long wanted to see the city, when he finally stood before its gates, Chen San froze, rooted to the spot as if spellbound.

Seeing the anxious furrow of his brow, Chang Yu asked, “Why have you stopped? Let’s go inside! After a whole day’s journey, we’re nearly dead on our feet. At last, there’s a place to get a decent meal. I need a proper wash, too—I can hardly stand myself after these past few days.”

Yang Chengzi echoed her words, “She’s right. Why aren’t you moving? Master still has internal injuries and needs a place to rest. Come, let’s enter the city.”