Chapter 148: The Dragon King of the Jing River Must Be Executed!

Yue Shiru’s expression and bearing were exceedingly respectful and courteous.

The young Daoist considered for a moment, but did not bother to correct his form of address. He simply helped with the treatment of his injuries. Yue Shiru, however, sensed a surge of pure, untainted Innate Qi—something that by all rights should not have belonged to a Daoist of such apparent cultivation level. He thus assumed the youth before him was a True Person of astonishing cultivation who had reversed aging and was now roaming the mortal realm in amusement. His expression became all the more reverent.

Qi Wuhuo asked what had transpired.

Yue Shiru steadied his breath and recounted the events.

He explained that he had descended the mountain by order of his Grandmaster, seeking the [Dream-Appointed One] foretold by the sect’s founder, and was also entrusted with delivering a message to his senior sister.

Though his cultivation was lacking—incapable of riding the wind or treading the clouds—he could rely on talisman-horse incantations, allowing him to travel a thousand li in a day.

That very day, he had just arrived in the Central Province(Zhongzhou). While stopping to rest in a village, he noticed something amiss. While drinking tea, he found the water tainted with miasmic poison. The village was of considerable size, with over a hundred households, yet it was deathly still—no human voices, not even the barking of dogs or the clucking of chickens.

Come nightfall, not a single lamp was lit. The entire village lay in darkness, gaping like the maw of some beast, as if it would devour men whole.

Though Yue Shiru was not yet a Daoist Master or temple master like his teacher, he considered himself a man of the Dao and not without some means.

Thus, he erected a ritual altar, summoned yin soldiers and divine generals, drew forth talismans and burned them to ash, mixing the residue with water. Half of it he sprinkled upon his ritual sword, and the rest he poured into a gourd, which he fastened at his waist. Then, biting open his finger, he painted protective talismanic symbols in blood upon his garments. Once all was in readiness, he boldly charged into the village to investigate.

Even as he recounted this part, Yue Shiru’s face still showed faint traces of dread and lingering fear.

Qi Wuhuo asked: “What did you encounter?”

Drawn out of his recollections, Yue Shiru exhaled a breath of foul air and said: “May the True Person be informed—this disciple, in the course of his search, was soon beset by what seemed like common villagers. At first, I dared not strike, hesitant and constrained, fleeing left and right—truly in a most wretched state.”

“But I quickly discovered that these ‘villagers’ moved with uncanny speed and possessed inhuman strength, on par with seasoned martial artists of the jianghu. Yet their attacks were wild and without technique. When they struck me, the talismans on my robes flared with radiant light. I knew then something was gravely wrong. Gritting my teeth, I swung my sword and felled one of them—only to find his flesh already stiff with death, yet possessed of unnatural resilience.”

“One sword split open the flesh, and the blood that flowed out was black, with a texture like congealed paste.”

“It had already been tempered.”

Qi Wuhuo’s expression darkened slightly.

Now that Yue Shiru had finally relaxed from his taut vigilance, he began to recount everything in full.

That night had exhausted him completely.

Upon realizing the villagers had undergone some unnatural transformation, and knowing he was alone—not the kind of Daoist who could call down divine abilities with a mere wave of the hand—he felt the urge to retreat. After all, he was just a Daoist priest. To invoke the arcane arts required setting up a ritual altar, performing rites, and taking time to prepare. Only by preparing himself in advance could he bring his skills to bear. Sudden calamities such as this were not his forte. He should have fled.

However, as disciples of the Way, we are to protect the Dao with our very lives, and upon seeing evil, strike it down.

What’s more, he discovered there were still survivors. He had no choice but to persevere. Through a night of utter chaos, all his talismans were expended. With the aid of the remaining villagers, he laid traps and lured all the corrupted, tempered villagers to the center of the village. There, he drenched them in fire-oil and set them alight, forcibly establishing a demon-expelling altar in the flames.

“Half of them…”

A faint grief and bitter indignation surfaced on Yue Shiru’s face. His hands clenched unconsciously as he ground out through gritted teeth: “Fully half of them—fifty households, nearly three hundred people. Half of the village had already perished, and yet… not dead. Not alive. Their flesh had died, but their spirits were trapped, unable to leave their bodies. My skills were insufficient—I could only burn their bodies to free their souls.”

“But at that very moment, I was ambushed by this shanxiao.”

“Only then did I realize—it was the true culprit behind everything. A shanxiao is originally a mountain spirit, a kind of monster born of the wilderness, but this one had been corrupted by deep resentment, hatred, and demonic energy. It was no longer what it once was—it had turned into a full-blown yaomo, a demon-fiend. Yet it still retained the wariness of a true shanxiao. It ambushed me. I was caught off guard. Fearing it would further harm the villagers, I thrust my sword into its flank. But I never imagined its body was saturated with evil qi—even my ritual sword was shattered on impact.”

“I had no choice but to try to lure it away. I should not have survived. But it seemed to harbor a perverse amusement and chose to toy with me instead of killing me outright. It was only thanks to this that I managed to escape, fleeing over a hundred li before encountering the True Person—and preserving my life.”

When Yue Shiru finished speaking, he saw the young Daoist had remained silent for a long time.

The youth finally asked, “You said, half the village?”

“Yes…”

“It was a remote village.”

Qi Wuhuo exhaled slowly. The jade scroll gifted by Tao Taigong surfaced in midair, transforming into a topographic map of the Central Province(Zhongzhou). He asked, “Roughly where was this village?” This was Yue Shiru’s first time seeing such a treasured artifact. He paused in awe for a moment, but quickly composed himself. After examining the map, he pointed to a location not far from their current position and said:

“Roughly around here.”

“You intend to visit that village, True Person?”

“Mm.”

Yue Shiru let out a slight breath of relief and said: “This disciple was also concerned that some remnants of those fiends might yet linger. If the True Person is willing to go, then it could not be better…” Noticing that Qi Wuhuo was gazing at him, he added: “This disciple’s injuries are of no great concern. We are not far from Zhongzhou Prefecture’s main city now—its city walls are suffused with Human Dao Destiny, and ordinary fiends dare not approach. Once I enter the city, I’ll have a place to rest.”

His voice paused slightly, for he saw the young Daoist nod faintly—and then, in the next instant, vanish without a trace.

His heart was stirred with awe. After a long time, he sighed deeply and murmured, “…He truly possesses the means of a True Person.”

“My teacher has cultivated Innate Qi for thirty-six years, and even he cannot achieve such feats.”

Supporting himself against a nearby tree, Yue Shiru rose to his feet and leapt over to retrieve his sword. He could only regret that the shanxiao had been utterly annihilated by a single stroke of thunder magic. Otherwise, even if his sword was broken, he would have driven it into that demon’s body a few more times—only then could he have vented the hatred burning in his heart.

Gritting his teeth, he swung the sword violently once, then turned and departed.

“A’Qi, A’Qi, did that big creature really kill people?”

“Mm…”

The little peacock pondered for a moment and asked, “Three hundred people—is that a lot?”

The young Daoist paused briefly, then answered: “A great many.”

“And heavy.”

Wrapped in flowing radiance, he employed the Earth Spirit Deity’s earth escape technique and swiftly arrived near the village. The signs were already unmistakable: thick, charred-black smoke billowed into the sky. It had only been obscured earlier by the mountains, but now that he drew near, it was stark and clear. The air was thick with the stench of scorched flesh, and within that foul odor, there lingered an underlying trace of roasted meat, which made it all the more nauseating.

The village lay in ruins, blackened and broken.

Traces of battle and fire were everywhere.

The villagers moved with numb expressions, silently gathering broken remnants, patching up holes in their dwellings, putting scattered messes back into some semblance of order. That which could still be used, they kept. That which was too damaged to use—they still couldn’t bear to discard, and simply stacked it to one side. The whole village resembled an anthill scalded by boiling water.

Chaos. Death. Numbness. And the continuation of life, regardless.

The young Daoist stood quietly at that place. His eyes fell upon the Land Deity shrine to the side, where once should have sat a clay idol of an old man. But now, the statue was headless, claw marks raked across its body. In a village such as this, with no more than a hundred households and several hundred souls, the Land Deity was nothing more than a modest local guardian. He had likely been the first to fall, ambushed and slain outright by the shanxiao.

This desolation stirred something in Qi Wuhuo’s heart—memories from years past began to resurface.

A young woman caught sight of Qi Wuhuo, dressed in Daoist robes, and stepped forward to ask: “Daoist Master…”

She appeared to be around twenty years old, carrying a bamboo basket on her back. Inside the basket, a child lay fast asleep. She seemed unsure of how to begin, and after a pause, simply said: “Just now, there was another Daoist Master, he said he was a disciple of the Daoist Sect, and… he saved us.” Her words faltered for a moment, as though recalling that the one who had set the blaze was also that very same Daoist. But still, she asked:

“That priest… he lured a monster away. I don’t know if he…”

The young Daoist replied calmly, “He is still alive.”

The woman murmured, “That’s good… that’s good…”

“Ah, little Daoist Master, wait here for a moment.”

“Just a moment.”

She turned and ran into the house. When she came back out, she was holding two coarse cornbread buns.

She gently brushed the ashes off the tops and then carefully offered them to the young Daoist, saying: “Thank him for us. We don’t have anything else here—only these. If you don’t mind, please accept them.” But as she extended her hand and saw that the buns were already burnt and dusty, she flinched as if startled and began to pull them back.

The young Daoist received them, bowed slightly, and offered his thanks.

The woman returned to her house.

There was still much to be done—picking up the ruins, tending to the injured. Not far off, Qi Wuhuo saw the charred remains of the townsfolk gathered together. It was no longer possible to tell one from another. They would have to dig a single great pit, and bury them all together.

A child of about three or five years old suddenly began to cry out, “Big sister, big sister, where’s Mama? Where’s Papa?”

“Weren’t we playing hide-and-seek? Why haven’t they come out yet?”

“Huh? I smell something!”

“It smells like meat!”

“Are we having meat today, big sister?”

The same woman who had given the cornbread to Qi Wuhuo suddenly looked stricken with grief, but still tried to comfort the child, saying, “There isn’t any.”

“We’re eating cornbread today, all right?”

“Cornbread, okay?”

But the child wouldn’t give in and began wailing, “No, I don’t want that!”

“I smelled it—it smells so good!”

“I want to eat meat!”

“Meat! Meat!”

The woman’s face contorted with sorrow. She tried for a long time to soothe the child, but he only cried louder. At last, she seemed to lose control and slapped him across the face with a sharp crack. The child went still, stunned. But then, he saw his sister crying even harder than he was. He slowly reached out and laid his small hand on her. “Big sister, don’t cry.”

“I won’t eat meat anymore.”

“I won’t eat. When Papa and Mama come back, we’ll eat something tasty then.”

“When Father and Mother come back, then we’ll eat.”

The woman could no longer contain herself and broke down completely.

She began to sob aloud.

The young Daoist lowered his gaze. He broke apart the coarse cornbread and gently placed it before the shrine of the Land Deity, who had been slain for the sake of the village.

He walked through the village. It wasn’t large—just a single main road. Yet everywhere he looked, he saw men staring blankly, women weeping in anguish, and children running about in panic. He saw the sword scars and scorched ashes that stretched endlessly, saw white bones lying exposed with no one to gather them. 

He saw a child sitting alone amid the chaos, ignored by the people passing by.

He saw those crying and howling, searching for their loved ones.

He saw blackened bloodstains.

He saw the broken Daoist sword of Yue Shiruo.

He saw the severed head that the Daoist had cut down. He saw someone clutching that head, weeping uncontrollably, cursing and hating the Daoist.

It was that Daoist who had killed his mother. It was that Daoist who had saved his life. Was it kindness, or was it vengeance? No one could tell. Only loud, unending sobs remained.

The young Daoist wanted to help, but it seemed this village no longer welcomed someone like him. Yue Shiruo had saved them—but it was also Yue Shiruo who had “killed” their family members. The people could not distinguish between the two. Or perhaps even if they could, the pain was too great for them to accept such a truth.

Qi Wuhuo saw all the suffering and closed his eyes. He sensed the presence of lingering demonic energy. Thunder surged in his palm. With a sweep of his sleeve, the evil aura within the village dispersed. This was to prevent the dead corpses from rising and turning into undead.

Only thunder—righteous and awe-inspiring—could dispel all evil.

A heart as clear as sunlight, that alone could pierce through darkness.

“Miasma, evil qi, and the resentment of the dead, these demonic forces spread and cloud the minds of the living, turning them into monsters, who in turn slaughter all beings…”

The young Daoist spoke slowly, enunciating each word clearly.

And within each word was already a blade of killing intent.

“The Dragon King of the Jing River…”

Must be executed!

He calmed his emotions and left the village, heading to the mountain nearby. The spread of demonic energy was likely to cause the emergence of countless evils. Even if the Northern Pole Exorcism Institute intervened, they could not possibly suppress every demon all at once. Their focus would surely be the greater demons.

Thus, notifying the local Earth Deities and increasing their vigilance was one method.

The young Daoist cupped his hands toward the mountain and, with breath imbued with Primordial Qi, spoke slowly: “I, Qi Wuhuo, Mountain God of Helian Mountain in the Northern Prefecture of Central Province, have come to pay my respects to the mountain gods of this land.” As he spoke, he invoked and traced the Mountain God Talisman. His voice echoed, and a wave of energy rippled forth. Suddenly, a streak of divine light appeared. A divine general emerged, radiating solemnity, clad in armor, and bearing a great martial presence.

He looked Qi Wuhuo up and down, then gave a courteous bow and said:

“I am the local guardian general of this land.”

“I did not know a noble guest had come. May I ask what urgent matter brings you here?”

The young Daoist spoke plainly, not concealing the gravity of the situation:

“The evil energy is spreading. This matter is of utmost importance. I request to see the mountain god of this domain.”

The divine general asked: “Do you carry a formal petition?”

The young Daoist shook his head.

The divine general paused. It seemed he was waiting for Qi Wuhuo to say something further. But seeing that the young Daoist remained silent, he held his temper and asked: “You’ve come from afar, noble one. Did you bring any [item] I might deliver on your behalf?”

Qi Wuhuo knew this was a bribe attempt. His eyes lifted slightly as he took out a vial of elixir and handed it over.

The divine general took the elixir, weighing it with his fingers, then gave it a slight shake. A trace of disdain flashed across his expression as he said,

“Honored guest, please wait a moment.”

“I will report to the Mountain God.”

Without inviting the young Daoist into the official residence of the Earth Deity, he disappeared along the ley line and directly entered the Earth Deity’s mansion. Inside, the sound of silk and bamboo instruments filled the air, accompanied by beautiful women singing and dancing. A middle-aged man, holding a fox spirit beauty in his arms, was drinking with guests. Hearing that a Mountain God had arrived, he waved to halt the music and asked, “Is there a letter of introduction?”

Seeing the divine general shake his head, he asked again, “Did he bring gifts?”

The divine general replied, “Only a furnace of Qi-nourishing pills.”

The middle-aged Mountain God relaxed, holding his cup as he smiled to those around him,

“Hah, just a penniless Mountain Deity from the Northern Prefecture, coming here to seek my favor.”

“I do not know what matters bring him here. No letter, no fine gifts—if I had no leisure, why would I bother to see him? Do not mind this, everyone.”

“Besides, he speaks of demonic Qi? There have been rumors of fiends nearby, probably more trouble seeking me out.”

“Better to not see him at all.”

So the guests raised their cups, the beauties resumed their singing and dancing, wine filled the cups—was this not a peaceful, joyous age?

Qi Wuhuo closed his eyes and stood silently; his mind seemed to calm. After a while, the divine general returned, his expression tinged with regret, cupping his hands as he replied, “To inform Your Excellency, my Mountain God is currently in secluded cultivation, meditating upon profound and mysterious methods. Truly, he has no time to receive honored guests.”

“If there is any matter, it would be better to write a letter. Should my lord have leisure, he will visit.”

“Please, honored guest, leave now.”

“Secluded cultivation…”

Qi Wuhuo murmured to himself, smelling the scent of wine, then opened his eyes.

When Qi Wuhuo opened his eyes, the divine general saw that the young Daoist’s gaze was calm and peaceful.

A disciple of the Dao should always hold a tranquil gaze.

Yet for some reason, it was extraordinarily deep, like layers upon layers of clouds, lofty as the divine heavens.

The young Daoist said simply, “I understand.”

Then, without further formalities, he slowly stepped forward before the divine general. Innate Qi erupted fiercely around him. Boundless thunder roared violently, forming the [Five Thunder Judge Seal]. Though the [Five Thunder Judge Seal] held no divine power on its own, at this moment, Qi Wuhuo seemed to resonate with some essence of this seal. Suddenly, it blazed brightly, shaking the world.

Thunderstorm surged forth, and through the Earth Deity’s means, it entered directly into the ley line.

The young Daoist spoke, “Mountain God of Yujie Mountain…”

His voice was calm and even.

Then the thunder’s brilliance turned fierce and violent, illuminating heaven and earth, shaking the four wilds—

“Come out!!!”