Chapter 189: An Auspicious Body, a Karma of Slaughter

Dong! Dong!

The drumbeats rolled across the entire city. Within the desolate inner wards, Zuo Zhengyang glanced back and faintly caught the urgent thunder of hoofbeats.

…If they were allowed to follow, they would only be throwing their lives away.

He tugged hard on the reins and veered toward the bustling streets of the outer city, using the dense crowds to create distance between himself and the pursuing imperial guards. Only then did he turn and charge toward the Eastern City Gate.

At this moment, the massive gates were being slowly pushed shut by the defending soldiers. After a moment, someone shouted from atop the gate tower:

“Close the gates—quickly!”

From afar, a lone rider came charging in, arriving in the blink of an eye. He swung the long whip coiled at his saddle, his voice booming like thunder.

“Do not close the gates!”

Pa!

The instant the whip cracked, it coiled around the arms of two soldiers. Zuo Zhengyang twisted his arm outward and exerted force; the pair slammed together and were sent flying into the passageway wall.

The closing gates halted.

The charging rider reeled in his whip and clamped his legs to the horse’s flanks. Several long spears stabbed in from both sides.

Hiii—!

The horse let out a long neigh. As though endowed with spirit, it leapt into the air, vaulting over the forest of spearpoints. The moment its hooves struck the ground again, it squeezed through the narrow gap and burst out beyond the city walls.

“Hyah!”

Zuo Zhengyang lashed his whip and accelerated, racing beyond the gate’s perimeter. The soldiers atop the tower still tried to loose arrows, but in the blink of an eye, he had already ridden beyond their range. They could only watch as he vanished into the distance.

Daylight climbed to its zenith, then gradually slanted westward.

Da-da-da…

Hoofbeats thundered along the imperial road before turning onto a forest path. The treetops swayed gently, with scarcely any cicadas sounding. As Zuo Zhengyang pressed onward, even the faintest noise seemed to fade away.

The galloping horse slowly eased its pace.

“Whoa!”

With a sharp pull on the reins, Zuo Zhengyang brought the horse to a halt and dismounted. He lifted his gaze toward the circular structure ahead. His eyes lingered especially on the four great characters carved at the center of the white stone steps—Pu Du Ci Hang (Universal Salvation and Merciful Deliverance)—their presence solemn and imposing.

His teeth were clenched tight, his cheeks faintly swollen, and within that expression lay an indescribable complexity. He had seen that Venerable Master from afar before—his body carried an aura of harmony and serenity. By all rights, he should have been a realized master of the Dao. Yet now, his methods were so vicious.

“You should go. Find yourself a good household.”

Zuo Zhengyang withdrew his gaze and looked instead at the mount that had followed him from Fushui County all the way to the capital. More than four years had passed—by now, it was nearly an old horse.

He stroked its mane. Watching the horse walk away, turning its head back again and again in reluctant glances, Zuo Zhengyang drew a deep breath. He tightened his grip on the saber hilt, dragged his tattered cloak behind him, and strode toward the ritual altar.

“Zuo Zhengyang of the Imperial Apprehension Office requests an audience with the Protector of the Nation, Venerable Master!”

His voice rang out, upright and authoritative. The tightly shut doors of the altar gave no response. He immediately climbed the stone steps and called out once more.

A gentle breeze drifted past. As his ragged cloak fluttered, the vermilion gates ahead suddenly cracked open with a loud bang, revealing a narrow gap.

Outside the door, Zuo Zhengyang narrowed his eyes. His left hand slowly rose to press against the saber at his waist, while his other hand gently pushed the gate open. He stepped across the threshold with caution.

Passing through the short corridor, the circular ceremonial platform unfolded before his eyes. Then, layer upon layer of viewing terraces came into sight, and behind the densely packed eternal lamps was a scene that made his scalp prickle.

In that very instant, a chill crawled up from his spine.

The lingering glow of the setting sun washed over the distant foothills and forested wilds, dyeing everything in a deep crimson.

Along the capital’s south–north official road, a cavalry party of some twenty riders came charging forward, kicking up a long plume of dust. At their head was Sun Yingxian, who had rushed over from He Valley Prefecture, along with Min Changwen and his daughter, accompanied by guards and mounted officers of the Imperial Apprehension Office.

To avoid being ambushed midway by the Venerable Master’s demons, they had detoured east before entering the capital’s territory.

“From here, it’s actually not far from that Venerable Master’s altar. I’ve been there once before.”

As they neared the capital, the Daoist began conserving his spiritual power and shared a horse with one of the guards. He couldn’t ride anyway, so he simply took the rear seat, conveniently leaving him free to talk.

“I just don’t know whether our Master Lu has arrived. Otherwise, with only me, I won’t be able to handle it.”

“Then why did you come along at all?!”

Min Changwen turned his head on horseback and shot a glare at his daughter. “Yuerou!” He was just about to speak when a household guard riding ahead suddenly called out:

“My lord, there’s an ownerless horse up ahead.”

The road was not an official highway and was rather narrow. If the group continued charging forward, they would surely collide with the horse. They slowed and approached cautiously. The old man’s eyes suddenly widened.

“This is Zuo Qianwei’s horse. Back in Fushui County, it was already following him.”

At this point, his tone abruptly rose.

“This is bad! Zuo Zhengyang must have run into danger! He’s probably gone to find that Venerable Master. Young Daoist, please take us there!”

The mounted officers of the Imperial Apprehension Office—who had once served under Zuo Zhengyang—immediately echoed him, urging the Daoist to lead them and save their commander.

“Hey, hey, I haven’t even had a chance to rest…”

Seeing how agitated everyone was, the Daoist swallowed the rest of his complaints and changed his tune. “Fine. But Old Man Min, you’d best not go. You don’t even have the strength to truss a chicken—I’m afraid I won’t be able to look after you!”

“Very well. This old man will return to the capital at once, first to plead guilt before His Majesty, then to request troops…”

Min Changwen naturally understood the balance of strengths. On horseback, he cupped his hands beneath his grizzled beard and swept his gaze over the group.

“—and together with you all, we shall punish the demonic fiends!”

With that, he took two guards and galloped toward the silhouette of the city, while the remaining eighteen riders turned their mounts and followed the Daoist into the forest.

On the circular viewing terraces of the ritual altar, lamps of eternal flame swayed in the wind. By their light were revealed densely packed, cross-legged figures. The official robes and court caps they wore belonged precisely to the assembled civil and military officials who had fled the main hall.

“So this is where all of you ended up.”

Zuo Zhengyang’s martial cultivation was formidable; sensing auras came naturally to him. Let alone with so many “people” seated before him—yet at this moment, neither human qi nor demonic qi could be perceived at all.

He leapt straight onto the terrace, seized one of the seated figures, and tore open the back of its official robe. The flesh split and peeled outward—inside was hollow, utterly empty. Nothing remained.

“Pu Du Ci Hang!!!”

Releasing the shell in his grip, Zuo Zhengyang’s eyes flooded with bloodshot rage. He charged down from the terrace and stood at the center, sweeping his gaze across the surroundings.

Clutching his blade, he roared:

“You demons and monsters from who-knows-where—corrupting the court, bewitching His Majesty—where have you taken the organs of these civil and military officials?!”

His voice echoed through the space. All around him, the empty husks sat cross-legged with closed eyes. There was no other movement.

“Come out! You fiendish abominations!!”

He bellowed again. In the very next instant, the gently swaying flames of the eternal lamps suddenly pitched violently to one side. With several thunderous booms, the sandy ground beneath Zuo Zhengyang’s feet exploded apart, and more than a dozen streams of visible demonic qi erupted upward like subterranean springs.

Bang!

Metal rang against metal, sparks scattering. As a martial expert, Zuo Zhengyang reacted with lightning speed. The saber in his hand swept out to meet the strike head-on. His other hand drew a long blade from his back; in the blink of an eye, he wielded both weapons at once. Amid the countless eternal lamp flames, blade light, blood light, metallic clangor, and the sounds of tearing flesh cascaded continuously over unseen forms.

Cling, cling, cling—

Pff, pff, pff, pff…

“Hahahaha—”

The unseen form was cleaved cleanly in two by the severing long blade, its halves flying off to either side. Even the centipede within was split into two, its body finally revealed. With a quick turn of his short saber to block, Zuo Zhengyang laughed loudly as his long blade followed through in a furious horizontal slash. The transparent air let out a soft puff as though being torn apart, and dark crimson foul blood splashed across the ground.

Kicking away half of a hollow corpse-shell, Zuo Zhengyang’s laughter rang out, his hair knot whipped loose and scattered by the force of his movements. He shouted hoarsely: “You demons and monsters—come at me together!”

In less than a few short moments, seven or eight purple-black robed bodies already lay split upon the ground, severed in two and piled thickly across the muddy center of the altar.

Blood beaded along the edges of the twin blades in his hands, slowly sliding down to drip onto the earth and soak into the soil.

“Good… good indeed.”

Suddenly, a cold, clear female voice sounded from behind. Zuo Zhengyang slightly turned his face. In the shadows of the viewing platform stood a gaunt old monk, hands raised in a Dharma seal, staring at him without expression.

“…Zuo Qianwei, as one who serves within the imperial city and safeguards His Majesty, how can you harbor such baleful qi? Allow this Venerable Master to deliver you instead.”

“Radiant with auspicious light—yet filthy and vile!”

His furious roar exploded outward. Zuo Zhengyang twisted his footing, his figure turning into a streaking afterimage as he closed the distance in an instant. Blade light reflected off the flames of the eternal lamps as he swung and cleaved.

“The world takes delight in sinking within the sea of suffering. When will it finally understand that only by transcending tribulation and reaching the farther shore does one attain the Pure Land?”

Pudu Cihang made no attempt to evade. As the words left his mouth, the figure charging in with blade raised was struck as if by thunder. Zuo Zhengyang’s steps abruptly halted, and instead, he staggered backward several paces. He lifted a hand to wipe the corner of his mouth—only to find blood had unknowingly overflowed.

“Zuo Qianwei, lay down your butcher’s blade.”

With a casual flick of his fingers, something unseen seemed to flow through the air. Zuo Zhengyang had no time to react. His clenched lips suddenly flew open with a piercing scream—

“Ah—!”

An arm holding the short saber shot straight into the sky.

His other hand wavered with the long blade, which fell from his weakening grip and stabbed into the ground with a dull bang. Zuo Zhengyang stared at his now-empty left shoulder as blood soaked through his robes.

“Demonic… fiend…”

His bloodstained teeth opened and closed as he forced himself to take a step forward, then another, moving toward the old monk opposite him at a painfully slow pace.

“My blade exists for one purpose alone, to cut down evildoing demons such as you.”

Pudu Cihang glanced at him and gently pushed his palm forward—

“We’re here!”

“That’s the ritual altar up ahead!”

“Look—the gates are open!”

The mounted party of over a dozen riders had already reached the stone steps outside the altar. The Daoist flipped out his demon-subduing bronze mirror and swept it across the surroundings, his nostrils flaring.

“Such heavy demonic qi…”

Seeing Min Yuerou leading the guards and Arrest Bureau riders in a charge forward, he hurriedly shouted: “Don’t go up!”

Boom—

A tremendous explosion abruptly drowned out his warning. Everyone looked up to see the wall above the altar burst apart, shattered bricks spraying outward. Mixed among the debris was a figure flying backward through the air, three long blades strapped to his back.

“Zuo Qianwei!”

Min Yuerou cried out. With a stomp on the saddle, the Daoist launched himself into the air, catching the falling figure in his arms. They collided midair and slammed into the ground together, rolling several times before coming to a stop.

“By imperial command! Wind, fire, thunder, lightning—heed the decree!”

Two talisman papers rose into the sky. Amid crimson radiance, blue-white lightning flashed forth. Accompanied by a thunderous roar, two bolts descended like serpents of electricity.

Bricks and stones were scattered. Dust and smoke billowed.

The gaunt old monk emerged slowly from within, hands raised in a Dharma seal, entirely unaffected by the lightning techniques.

“By your damn ancestors, does he really have to be this strong?”

Cradling the unconscious Zuo Zhengyang, the Daoist stared at Pudu Cihang on the stone steps, his eyelids twitching wildly.

“We’re doomed now. Old Lu, you bastard, hurry up and get here, or you’ll only be collecting our corpses.”

As the radiant glow gradually faded, out on the open plains, a scholar in white robes and a teal gown seemed to sense something. He lifted his face and looked toward a distant direction.

Then he lowered his head. From within his wide sleeves, more than ten copper coins spread across his palm. With a flick of his sleeve, they scattered into the air with a clatter.

“You go on ahead.”

Beside him, the old donkey followed the copper coins, cutting through the fading sunset glow, wagging its tongue in excitement as it broke into a wild sprint, lightning flaring beneath its hooves.

“And then,”

Lu Liangsheng unfastened the magical treasure at his waist, along with the Veiled Moon Sword. “It will be our turn.”