Chapter 103

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Tap, tap…

Tap, tap, tap…

Robes billowed as Lu Liangsheng strode up the stone steps, one after another. Atop the Rain-Praying Platform, an offering table stood.

The scholar took out an inkstone, crushed it, and slapped the fragments onto the table. Pouring a little clear water, he pressed his thumb against the ink and ground it into a paste. He glanced back.

Below, the old donkey huffed and galloped, seemingly dragging something. Zhu Ziyi, who was in pursuit, was nearing the base of the Rain-Praying Platform. Further away, chaos reigned at the city gate—desperate cries intermingled. In a bid to quell the riot, the prefect had nearly slain his own wife to share her flesh with the starving masses…

“As long as the rain falls, whether or not it can quell the Earthly Fiend Yin Fire… I do not know…”

Lu Liangsheng paused, his ink-stained thumb hovering. He picked up a brush and dipped it lightly.

“…At the very least, if rain falls, they will see hope… And with hope, there will be no riot…”

A sudden tremor shook the stone wall beneath the platform—Bang! Zhu Ziyi kicked off from it and vaulted onto the high platform, sword in hand. In the midst of his murmuring, the scholar abruptly turned, his wide sleeves sweeping through the air.

“Get down!!”

Lu Liangsheng’s thunderous bellow rang out. His brush tip flicked, flinging a streak of ink through the air. The black arc solidified in an instant, barring Zhu Ziyi’s advance. As Zhu Ziyi instinctively dodged, the sheer force of the scholar’s voice seemed to momentarily stall his movement.

“Ru—”

In the next instant—

The ink line struck his robe, turning supple like a rope, wrapping him tightly and dragging him down from the high platform.

Boom.

He crashed heavily to the ground.

Not far away, the old donkey halted at the stone steps, shaking its mane, snorting hoarsely. The Toad Daoist clambered up and viciously kicked the donkey’s hoof before turning to look at the bound cultivator. Only then did he let out a long breath and crack his toad-like mouth into a gloating grin.

“Doesn’t feel too good to be tied up, does it? Hahahaha…”

Flipping over the gourd on his back, his webbed feet smacked against the ground as he scampered forward, his long tongue trailing excitedly. With a leap, he landed squarely on Zhu Ziyi’s chest and aimed the gourd’s mouth at him.

“The old man calls out to you—do you dare answer?!”

“Toad demon?”

Zhu Ziyi quickly shut his mouth and turned his head away. His Dao sword had fallen nearby, but it was out of reach. No matter how much he twisted and struggled, he refused to speak.

“Damn your mother!”

The Toad Daoist flipped his purple-gold gourd upside down, his cheeks puffing into two swollen sacs.

“A brat like you dares call me ‘toad demon’?!”

“Toad, what are you trying to—”

Zhu Ziyi hastily spoke, but before he could finish, the gourd’s round bottom slammed against his face.

Bang!

Bang!

“I told you to open your mouth, croak!”

The gourd was lifted and smashed down again, blood splattering in the night.

The commotion below did not disturb the scholar atop the high platform. The scroll unfurled from his hands with a crisp swish, spreading out over the offering table.

A single drop of dark green ink touched the white paper, and as spiritual energy poured in, the ink bled outward, forming mountains and wilderness. Grass and trees sprang up, growing from the paper itself.

“I summon the fierce winds from the north, to shake the hearts of men.”

“…And I command the rolling clouds to carry the waters forth.”

As his voice murmured softly, his brush traced strokes of sweeping gales and gathering clouds.

At the distant city walls, the chaos surged from the rear, pushing into the quieter crowd ahead. A mother, clutching her child, was shoved to the ground. The boy stared in horror at his bloodied mother, his wails piercing the air. The press of bodies grew suffocating—then, suddenly, a gust of wind swept through. Dust spiraled into the sky, shrouding the night.

People raised their arms to shield their faces, their voices rising in alarm.

“Such strong winds…!” “What’s happening?!” “Stop pushing! Someone’s getting trampled!”

“Don’t believe those damn officials on the city wall…”

The shouts and cries tangled together. Then, a deafening explosion shattered the night sky. The clamor ceased instantly.

“Heavens! Open your eyes and see the people below…!”

On the city wall, the prefect, gripping half a broken sword, sobbed as he howled toward the skies. His official robe flapped wildly in the wind, his beard trembling. He lifted his round face, gazing at the pitch-black sky—where a streak of pale-blue lightning flashed across his eyes.

“This… this is…”

Boom!

Another peal of thunder rumbled through the heavens. A bolt of lightning split through the clouds, illuminating the land below—revealing countless faces, frozen in shock. “Thunder…”

“It’s thundering.”

Then, a heart-wrenching wail erupted from the crowd.

“It’s thundering! Heaven has finally opened its eyes—!”

On the Rain-Praying Platform, the scholar’s brush was still in motion, the desperate cries of the people ringing in his ears. With each stroke he placed, the night sky churned, the clouds rolling and spreading. Thunder roared as lightning struck down.

In the pale-blue radiance, his robe billowed wildly, his sleeves flaring. A trickle of crimson slid from the corner of his mouth and nose, dripping onto the scroll before him.

Next…

Lu Liangsheng took a deep breath, his hands suddenly gripping the brush tightly, as if some invisible force was stopping him from writing.

“…I do not yearn to become an immortal…”

“Nor do I seek to be an official…I live in the mortal world, only seeking… only seeking…”

The brush tip finally descended.

Dark rain clouds surged, lightning crackled, and rain began to fall, streaking from the heavens to nourish the parched land.

Lu Liangsheng continued pressing his brush onto the scroll, his strokes relentless. Blood seeped from the corners of his eyes and ears, tracing thin lines down his face.

Then, at a certain moment—

The scroll in his hands suddenly unfurled toward the sky.

“I only wish for fewer to die in this land…”

Below the high platform, the Toad Daoist, still sitting on Zhu Ziyi’s face, paused with his gourd. Something had fallen from the sky, landing on the ground with a soft hiss, sending up a wisp of white steam.

“It’s raining?”

The Toad Daoist suddenly recalled his disciple’s words from before. Only now did he realize something—thinking of this, he hurriedly leapt off and dashed toward the Rain-Praying Platform.

“You foolishly kind person… Do you know you’re going to be struck by lightning?!” The toad shouted, looking up at the scholar on the high platform.

Plop…

Plop… Plop…Plop…

Raindrops, sparse at first, began to fall from the heavens. Sun Yinxian and Fajing instinctively raised their heads, staring at the sky. Even Zhu Ziyi’s subordinates halted, their hands stilling.

Someone reached up to touch the dampness on their face and murmured, “It’s over…”

In their sight, the long-dried earth hissed as white steam rose—a sign that the Yin Fire had been disturbed. Before long, the raindrops wove together with the heavens and earth, and a torrential downpour descended.

Whooosh—!

Countless disaster victims beneath the city walls reached out, cupping the falling rain in their hands. They looked up toward the high platform, where, illuminated by lightning, a lone figure stood, holding an unfurled scroll against the storm, and burst into tears.

One by one, the dark masses of people fell to their knees.

On the city wall—

With a resounding clang, the prefect let his broken sword fall to the ground. He raised both hands and bowed deeply toward the high platform.

“As the Prefect of Liyang, on behalf of the people of Liangzhou, I thank the great one for granting us life!”

Across the land, mist rose from the rain-soaked earth. The Toad Daoist leaped onto the stone steps, bounding forward as he shouted. Overhead, the swirling storm clouds spun into a vortex. Blue-white lightning turned golden as it flickered ominously within the storm.

“Liangsheng!!”

The toad bellowed. He was only a few steps away when he suddenly jumped toward the platform. The scholar turned back unsteadily, his face streaked with blood from his eyes, nose, and mouth—yet he was smiling.

“Master… I did it.”

At that moment, the heavens roared. A blinding bolt of golden lightning shattered through the vortex and streaked toward the earth.

In midair, the Toad Daoist hurled something forward—the violet-gold gourd with black patterns.

The instant the divine lightning struck the gourd—

It was as if everything between heaven and earth froze for a single breath. Then, an explosion of dazzling light burst forth from the Rain-Praying Platform, expanding like a tidal wave in all directions. Even the falling raindrops seemed to warp and stall in the air.

The entire platform shattered—brick and stone blasted apart, fragments scattering into the storm.

Amid the searing light, the scholar’s body was sent hurtling through the air, crashing into the ground at the front of the crowd. He skidded forward, carving a deep trench into the mud. His robes were scorched black, and he lay there, utterly motionless.

Not far away, among the rubble, the Toad Daoist pushed himself free from the wreckage. His lips trembled as he stared at his disciple lying still before the gathered masses.

“Liangsheng…”

“Young Master!!”

“Old Lu—!!”

Nie Honglian and Sun Yinxian screamed as they sprinted toward him.

Meanwhile, the restraints binding Zhu Ziyi had disappeared with the platform’s destruction. Blood covered his face, leaving no trace of his former scholarly appearance. He picked up his fallen sword, then suddenly burst into mad laughter.

“Defying the heavens… A mere Foundation Establishment cultivator dares to go against the will of heaven—hahahaha—!”

His subordinates rushed up to support him.

Zhu Ziyi shoved them aside, lifted his sword, and snarled with a twisted expression: “Kill that scholar!”

The cultivators exchanged glances before charging down the slope toward the lifeless figure in the mud. Just as they neared him, a small girl suddenly dashed forward, throwing herself in their path. She spread her thin arms wide, her little frame trembling, yet she stood firm, her timid eyes filled with defiance. With a quivering voice, she spoke:

“You can’t hurt Big Brother!”

“Move aside!”

“Toss her away!”

The cultivators reached out to grab her, but their hands halted midway. Within their sight, an old man, a young man, and a woman cautiously stepped forward, positioning themselves in front of the little girl. Then, more and more people emerged, standing between them, forming a solid wall of human bodies.

“Ignore them! Kill the scholar!”

Zhu Ziyi was still shouting.

Whoosh!

An arrow shot forth, but it landed weakly several zhang away.

“I’d like to see who dares to make a move—!”

Atop the city wall, the fat prefect had somehow found a sword and now held it in his hand.

“You so-called cultivators care nothing for the common folk’s safety, yet you dare commit such atrocities?”

With a sweep of his longsword, he pointed toward the ground below.

“Soldiers, leave the city! Welcome the gentleman!”