Chapter 26: The Dire Straits of the Southern Barbarians

In the Yunqie Valley, beyond the flickering oil lamps, lie deep, sunless ravines and abysses—this is the dungeon.

Within these depths, periodic cries of agony echo through the gloom. If one peers down the shadowed staircase, they would see iron chains snaking through the abyss, binding mountain ghouls, jackal-bears, snake-folk, and more. Virtually every exotic creature of the Southern Frontier can be found here. These beings are not merely shackled; a fire talisman is fused to their foreheads to control them.

This talisman is bizarre, glowing with a crimson, smoldering intensity, much like the glowing ember of a lit mosquito coil or a burning cigarette. Yet, these creatures, like humans, are composed mostly of water; how can they burn like incense? In this dungeon, every tortured captive is a wick. When the wick is prodded, it brightens; when blown upon, it flares with a brilliant light.

The disciples of the Lihuo Sect who guard this place are but young acolytes, yet even the most ferocious, fang-baring monsters of the Southern Frontier tremble before these wandering youths and the palm-leaf fans they carry. A gentle wave of a fan, and the dungeon’s lamps flare in unison. Once fanned, these "human lanterns" suffer agony in both body and soul, their eyes bulging—to describe it in modern terms, it is as if thermite had been dropped onto flesh, and there was no time to cut the burning skin away.

Above the Yunqie Valley, the atmosphere of the righteous immortal sects still lingers, but beneath those lofty pavilions and terraces lie vast deposits of charred bones.

***

Turning to the Wu Family Army...

From the secrets Wu Fei obtained from the Dayao Divine Capital, the reason why all records of the Lihuo Sect were sealed away four hundred years ago was due to a major case of "treason." As for the cause? His clansman had uncovered only one piece of intelligence: "The Elixir of Immortality."

Upon hearing this secret, Wu Fei’s only reaction was, "Oh?"

One must understand that the Lihuo Sect of that era was one of the top five great sects in the world, renowned for their alchemy. Could such a sect simply vanish because they touched upon matters concerning the Emperor of Dayao? Well, come to think of it, that is hardly surprising. Had the Qinghua Sect of the Southwest not been conscripted to provide alchemy masters to the imperial court simply because they failed to offer enough spiritual tea on time? Ah, the imperial household—serving the throne is like sleeping beside a tiger.

***

In the Yunqie Valley, the young third-generation disciple Jiamude walked up the steps clutching an alchemy furnace. Jiamude was refined, no different from a scholar of the Central Plains. As he entered the hall, inner-sect disciples looked upon him with awe; his gaze toward them was no different from a pig farmer looking at livestock.

These inner-sect disciples, dressed in purple-red robes, knelt before him, gazing hungrily at the furnace in his hands. Their faces were a sickly pale-green with unnatural rouge on their cheeks, and their fingertips were stained a dark, bruised red. Each carried a container—some gourds, others small tripods. Within these vessels were the "Immortality Elixirs" they had just harvested.

These elixirs grew in the outer mountains, planted in caverns filled with rotting flesh, where spirit mushrooms or snow lotuses were cultivated. Naturally, these flesh-nourished herbs shed their original names: the spirit mushroom became the "Ghost-Face Fungus," and the snow lotus, the "Blood Lotus." These harvested herbs were restless; every root fiber moved like a living thing, thirsting to burrow into human flesh. The disciples present had to suppress them desperately with talismans.

Jiamude stepped to the dais and poured the ashes from his furnace into the Yin-Yang disc on the floor. The kneeling disciples swarmed forward like starving ghosts, grabbing the "red-black, smoldering" ashes and stuffing them into their throats, choking as they forced them down.

A bright, fiery glow erupted from the disciples' bellies. As the flames appeared, they hurriedly opened their gourds or tripods, stuffing the bizarre herbs into their mouths. As the herbs’ tentacles tried to pierce their flesh, they were scorched and curled by the internal fire, like squid on a hot plate, before being chewed to pieces. *Crunch, crunch*—they devoured the elixirs like pigs wallowing in slop.

Once finished, with the internal fire and the evil aura of the herbs in balance, they ignored the blood on their lips, sat in perfect, orthodox meditative postures, and regulated the two opposing energies within them. To an observer, they appeared no different from disciples of a righteous sect refining their spiritual essence.

Why go to such lengths? Because these flesh-fed herbs grow one hundred times faster than those found in nature!

***

This was the method the Dayao royalty discovered for obtaining the elixir of longevity. Consuming it granted eternal life; even if one’s flesh withered to bone, it would regenerate. But the side effect was that one’s sanity would gradually erode, replaced by a bloodlust.

As the imperial family, they could be cruel, but they could not be insane. Thus, to avoid this catastrophe, the Lihuo Sect was driven out of the Central Plains.

Yet, the exiled Lihuo Sect did not abandon the elixir. Or perhaps, those who forced them to refine it never believed they were in the wrong. For a thousand years, the Lihuo Sect had been searching for ways to suppress the side effects of the "Longevity Elixir."

The method chosen was the refinement of "External Elixirs" for suppression: capturing the "Sacred Fire" in lanterns within the main altar, using living beings as fuel to create "Ash." When this Ash enters the body, it forms the corresponding "Yang Yao" within the cultivator, creating a balance. Because of the "Longevity Elixir," there is no threshold for the accumulation of blood-qi, making external suppression critical. The "Ash-Flow Elixir" consumed in the valley is the result, and the lighthouses surrounding the mountains are lit to harvest this "Ash," consuming the "vitality of the mountains" to do so.

However, the "Ash-Flow Elixir" is merely a stopgap. As long as the "Longevity Elixir" is consumed, it can only be suppressed. The higher the cultivation, the stronger the suppression required. Currently, the three most powerful elders hide in the Lihuo Cavern, relying on their proximity to the sacred relic to maintain control.

Jiamude knew secrets deeper than the inner-sect disciples. Before the Lihuo Sect fled, there were seventeen elders; now, only three remained. The third-generation disciples were replaced every ten years, the second-generation every hundred, but those three elders had remained unchanged for a millennium!

The deepest secret was that the three surviving elders were the very descendants of the Dayao royalty who had taken the elixir all those years ago. They had kept their jade tablets—they were the true bloodline. Yet, no history book in Dayao recorded this. In the first century after their exile, the Lihuo Sect had constantly plotted treason; any elder who opposed this plan simply disappeared. Jiamude was a personal disciple precisely because he, too, was of the direct lineage.

***

Beyond the Spirit River, Angri arrived at his tribe’s settlement riding a Great Moon Luan. The tribe was temporarily camped in the forest in the middle of the river. The Crow-folk used agate knives to fell trees, dried them, and drove the timber into the silt to build stilted houses.

Angri entered the largest treehouse. Inside, some sickly Crow-folk struggled to climb to their feet. Angri hesitated for a moment before handing them the black-and-red pills. The suffering, mutated Crow-folk knelt tremblingly and consumed them. As the pills were swallowed, the twisted, mutated spikes on their bodies melted and sloughed off as pus.

Seeing their bodies restored, the Crow-folk’s eyes filled with joy, unaware of the blood-red hue now seeping into their feathers. Angri nodded silently; the medicine worked, but the side effects remained. It seemed the Crow-folk were destined to remain vassals upon their return.

***

In October, after the rainy season, in the northern part of the Red Ridge Mountains—the first territory Wu Fei prepared to gnaw away at in his southern expansion—the "small-bird-style" bullying began. Wu Hanluan was the benevolent father, but Wu Fei was the "little father."

Hunters from Yongji Pass darted through the jungle. With "God-speed Talismans" on their backs and an innate talent for avoiding vegetation, the jungle branches swept rapidly behind them. These light-armored scouts whistled provocatively at their pursuers as they ran.

Soon, the chase reached the main road. On this path, frequently used by Southern Frontier merchants, a terrifying roar erupted from the jungle to the left. Yet, as the scouts sprinted out, the armored soldiers lying in ambush on the road felt no fear; they formed their ranks with methodical precision. Those responsible for the tripwires pulled them taut, while those assigned to throw lime bags pricked tiny holes in them to ensure they would burst upon impact.

The mountain ghouls, having chased these "monkeys" through the jungle, reached the open road. Seeing the monkeys scatter and a neat line of soldiers standing on the hillside beating their shields in a rhythmic challenge, the ghouls roared and charged.

Once the scouts rejoined their ranks, the engineers moved busily, soldiers using iron-soled boots to drive steel stakes deep into the earth. As they pulled, hidden tripwires, colored to match the dirt, snapped taut.

It is worth noting that the meticulous Wu Fei had determined through testing that using steel stakes and tripwires was far more recoverable than scattering caltrops, which were easily lost. Whenever possible, tripwires were used. These were set six *zhang* ahead of the long-spear infantry—just enough that when the monsters tripped, their heads would land perfectly within the reach of the spearmen.

And so, after charging up the hill, the ghouls were hooked by the waiting spearmen. As the ghouls tried to rise, seven or eight spears pinned them to the ground. The battle turned into a simple tug-of-war. Frustrated, the monsters could not rise, and their struggles were met with cold efficiency. Once netted and bound, they were shoved into cages.

Two days later, merchant caravans would arrive with physicians to feed the starved monsters anesthetic, crack open their skulls, apply "Taming Talismans," and send them to the mines.

The profit-driven nature of merchants had turned slavery into a refined process. The Wu Family Army was the Great White Shark, and the merchants were the pilot fish—the fish provided the route, the shark tore the prey apart, and the fish digested the spoils.

After the "bloody battle," the victorious soldiers sat down to eat, awaiting the settlement of their "field allowances." A murmur of protest rose: "Only twenty *wen* per person? What about the merit points?!" A military policeman barked back: "Merit? You call that clumsy spear-work merit?"

Merit was linked to the production value of the slaves—a form of blood-pay. In this small skirmish, only the ten scouts who had lured the monsters received 0.03 merit points. Some felt this was low, but the answer was firm: "It is correct." If the ghouls had been accompanied by high-speed targets like hunting wolves, the difficulty coefficient would have been higher. But against slow, bulky targets, the merit was lower.

As for why the mountain ghouls' hunting wolves hadn't charged? They had been poisoned by "dog food" days prior. It wasn't poison, but a parasitic insect Wu Hanluan provided; once eaten, the insect would trigger upon the sounding of a gong.

At Yongji Pass, Wu Fei looked at the specimen under his aunt’s scalpel: "Ew... why does this look so much like a maggot?"

Wu Fei calculated the merit for the poisoning and awarded it to the soldiers who suggested the tactic and the hunters who executed it. Unlike the past, where merit depended on a general’s whim, Wu Fei established detailed reward and punishment standards. If they were unhappy, they could appeal, but the rules were strict.

In the ranks, the soldiers, gnawing on grilled rice cakes, stopped complaining. The veterans, seeing the clear "pay stub" rules, resigned themselves to the outcome. This expedition had been relatively easy; after clearing the threats to the trade route, each had earned two or three *guan* of cash.

As the soldiers finished their meal, they waited for the caravans to collect the cargo, while the officers discussed where to raid the next nest.

***

Looking back at the ghouls in the cages, if they had the intelligence to train hunting dogs, they would be worth far more than common slaves and would not be sent to the mines.

Wu Fei’s foresight was simple: a leader-type creature in the mines would inevitably incite a riot. Better to—tame them as dogs!

Thus, intelligent ghouls were treated well, given special training, and fed. If they were sensible, they might even be released. It was like taming horses; tame the leader, and the herd would follow.

However, just as the grasslands could not be entirely fenced, the mountains of the Southern Frontier could not be entirely occupied. If possible, Wu Fei hoped to support "friendly tribes" that possessed intelligence and could be reasoned with.

In his strategy for the Southern Frontier, Wu Fei inherited his uncle Wu Hanluan’s core philosophy: tolerance for all tribes, but with a practical detail—those who draw near get meat to eat; those who stay far away get a beating.

In the camp, Wu Fei did not calculate the number of slaves or the GDP generated like his men. As the cages were packed full, Wu Fei simply looked out and wondered: Just how many ethnic groups were there in the Southern Frontier?