Chapter Sixty-One: Annihilation

Shangguan Chuanyun unleashed his Golden Light Body-Protection Technique, encasing his companions and himself within a translucent bell of shimmering gold. Yet the bell was battered perilously by the shockwave and flying debris of the explosion, swaying as if about to topple.

Half the Mountain God's Hall's entrance was utterly obliterated, leaving a gaping pit where it had stood. Fortunately, the roof beams remained intact; otherwise, they would all have been buried alive.

Without waiting for the dust to settle, Shangguan Chuanyun withdrew his magic, drew his sword, and shouted to his companions:

“Kill them all—leave none alive!”

With that, he slashed his sword toward the heart of the swirling dust.

The group of adversaries had already been blasted into chaos—almost half were dead, the rest wounded, their wails echoing through the hall. Some hadn’t even registered what had happened before they were hewn in two by sword energy, their cries cut short.

Though the air was thick with dust, Shangguan Chuanyun’s eyes pierced through it all. He saw with perfect clarity, including the bisected Hu Jiuming, now revealed in his true form—a gray-furred fox.

Just as I suspected, he thought. No ordinary person would choose to come to this long-abandoned Mountain God’s Temple, especially with wolf demons occupying it.

Only someone like himself, who had just wiped out the wolf demons of Black Wolf Ridge, exhausted and wounded, would come here to recuperate—and to claim the spoils, which, even if unnecessary, ought not be wasted. Waste is a shame, after all. That was the only reason he had come to Black Wolf Ridge.

He hadn’t expected to encounter another who would try to reap the rewards of his labor—someone not even of his own faction. If it had been one of his own, he would have gladly let them have it.

He and his companions charged forward, hacking indiscriminately at any shape—human or fox—living or dead, all meeting the same fate beneath their blades.

A few of the foxes, quicker than the rest, reverted to their true forms and fled outside.

Shangguan Chuanyun called to his companions, “Finish off the rest here. I’ll hunt down those who escaped.”

With that, he rose three feet off the ground and shot after the fleeing foxes. He caught up swiftly, and with a single stroke of his sword, felled those who hadn’t gotten far—their bodies split in two by sword energy, reverting instantly to the form of gray-furred foxes.

He saw three others who had managed to put some distance between themselves and now ran in separate directions in their true forms. Shangguan Chuanyun sneered coldly. To escape his pursuit, especially after he had memorized their auras, was nigh impossible—unless their cultivation surpassed his own. His skills as a sword immortal might not guarantee overwhelming power, but in speed, he was unmatched.

Sword immortals were famed for their swiftness. He sat cross-legged, drew out his sword case, and communed with his spirit.

The three-inch flying sword quivered, transforming into a streak of purple-silver light that shot after the fleeing foxes.

One fox had reached halfway down the mountain, terrified beyond measure. They had originally come from a group some hundred miles from Black Wolf Ridge. Decades ago, they’d heard Hu Jiu’s Grandfather harbored designs on the Mountain God’s Seal. But at that time, the Mountain God still resided here—though lacking the current dynasty’s official investiture and with diminished power, he was still far beyond Hu Jiu’s Grandfather to handle.

There were two kinds of Mountain Gods: those born of the mountain’s own spirit, and those appointed by imperial decree. The previous Mountain God was the latter, lacking divine techniques, relying only on faith from local folk. Hu Jiu’s group had first driven out the villagers to sever the god’s source of faith.

Unexpectedly, a wolf pack on Black Wolf Ridge gained strength—and their wolfish powers were a bane to the foxes’ kind, whose spirits depended on possession.

Wolf fangs, forged of pure yang and poison, specifically countered all evil and demonic spirits. The foxes’ natural abilities required their souls to leave their bodies—yin in nature—making them extremely vulnerable. So they had waited for this day.

They had heard that after the wolves left the mountain, they never returned. So they followed Hu Jiu’s Grandfather here, seeking the Mountain God’s Seal. Things went smoothly at first—until a pill was thrown among them, exploding their companions to pieces.

This particular fox had been quick enough to escape. After running a good distance, he thought it unlikely anyone could catch up. He was just about to look back when a flicker of purple-silver light curled around his neck.

He saw his own body. He couldn’t move; even his spirit was stilled. The sword energy from that light had utterly obliterated both his body and soul. His thoughts ended in that instant—he saw only that flash of light, felt as if locked away in utter darkness, as though he had never existed.

The flying sword then sought another fox, piercing its head in a flash before arcing away. The gray fox’s limbs stiffened, life extinguished, but its momentum carried it forward several yards before it stilled.

The last fox, desperate, tried to hide and wait for a chance to escape. It found a burrow and slipped inside. Settling itself, it prepared to survey the outside—its spirit emerging from its body, floating to the mouth of the hole in search of an insect or small animal to possess. But a streak of purple-silver light flashed past, and all awareness ceased.

After eliminating the three escapees, the flying sword hovered briefly in the air. Shangguan Chuanyun guided it in a circuit around the vicinity before calling it back.

With a glint of purple-silver light, the three-inch sword returned to its case. Shangguan Chuanyun closed the case, slung it over his back, and made his way back up the mountain.

As he went, he discovered the corpses of several dogs in the forest. Examining them, he found each had their crown sealed and their spiritual seas destroyed—yet their bodies bore not a single mark.

He muttered to himself at the cruelty of such possession techniques—not only draining the victim’s life force but also robbing them of their own will. Anyone thus possessed would become nothing more than a puppet.

Shangguan Chuanyun gathered the dead dogs together and buried them in a deep pit. Their souls would surely be incomplete after such a death; who knew how long it would take for them to recover.

He sighed and returned to the Mountain God’s Temple.

Inside the temple, the scouts, guards, and Commander Wu had all regained consciousness. Commander Wu felt invigorated, brimming with energy. When Hu Jiuming was slain within his own spiritual sea, a surge of energy coursed through Wu’s body. He realized this was the residual power carried by the departing soul—a harvest of essence, energy, and spirit left behind by a slain demon.

As he helped clear the battlefield, Wu concentrated on the thread of sword energy Shangguan Chuanyun had granted him, attempting to subdue the wild energies left by Hu Jiuming’s death.

On their journey, his young master had shared a few cultivation tips. Cultivation, he’d explained, was a contest with Heaven for sovereignty over oneself. Man controlled his limbs, but to command the organs and blood required training—and deeper still, command of the mind and soul. The greater one’s self-mastery, the higher one’s cultivation.

Following his young master’s instruction in sword energy meditation, Wu slowly assimilated the essence lingering from Hu Jiuming’s demise.

Jia Cheng, meanwhile, was helping clear the hall when he heard two soft coos—the call of a pigeon. Startled, he recognized the Jia family’s courier pigeon. Sure enough, a pigeon stood at the edge of the newly blasted pit.

He beckoned, and the pigeon alighted on his hand. He removed the message tube from its leg and opened it, thinking, At last, reinforcements. No need to worry about being shorthanded. But the Marquis’s army has been blocked at Dongting Lake and can’t enter the southern province. This is trouble—I must report to the young master at once.

As Shangguan Chuanyun made his way back, he reflected that all was now settled. This journey had proven arduous indeed. If things continued like this, reaching the southern provinces would truly require the fabled eighty-one tribulations.

In Shengjing, the capital, none of this had been apparent. But after just three or four hundred miles, so many obstacles had arisen. At this rate, it would be impossible to reach the southern provinces in a few months—by then, the war would be over, and there would be no rice or flour left for him. And this was with the advantage of their foreign warhorses’ long strides. He would have to devise a new plan.

Deep in thought, he saw Jia Cheng running toward him, puzzled as to what new matter required his attention. Jia Cheng soon reached him and said,

“Young Master, a message has arrived from the Merchant Guild’s Flying Messenger.”

“Let me see,” Shangguan Chuanyun replied casually.

Jia Cheng handed him the slip. Shangguan Chuanyun examined it, noting the unfamiliar symbols. Previously, he’d been able to decipher the Jia family’s codes, thanks to the special privileges granted by his maternal grandfather, which had included access to their cipher book. But this time, he couldn’t make sense of a single symbol.

“Why has the code changed?” he asked.

Jia Cheng replied, “Every five years, the Guild changes its cipher. With things growing ever more perilous, business has suffered, and to prevent leaks, the family head decided on a new code. As I am now the chief steward, I was entrusted with the new cipher and instructed to prepare a copy for you as well.”

“I see,” said Shangguan Chuanyun.

The Jia family head—his maternal grandfather, Jia Wanjian—was renowned for his shrewdness and foresight. The family’s rise owed much to his leadership. Shangguan Chuanyun knew well the Guild’s practice of changing ciphers every five years, a strategy to prevent enemies from cracking their codes. Patterns could emerge if one intercepted enough messages and analyzed the actions that followed. Over time, one could deduce much about the cipher. With dedicated analysts, the Guild’s secrets would become transparent.

The Jia family, too, maintained a team devoted to information security. Shangguan Chuanyun continued, “So, tell me the gist of the message.”

“Yes, Young Master.” Jia Cheng accepted the slip, glanced at it, then reported, “The Guild has heard that you are short-handed. They have contacted several dozen stewards near Shengjing, two hundred apprentices, and a thousand strong men with basic martial skills—available at your command.”

He hesitated, then added, “The Marquis’s army is advancing by water and has nearly reached the southern provinces, but has been blocked at the mouth of Dongting Lake and cannot proceed.”

Shangguan Chuanyun was taken aback. Dongting Lake was the largest inland lake of the Great Liang Dynasty, standing between the central and southern provinces, yet belonging to the latter. Entry by water meant one had arrived; it was the necessary route for both land and water traffic.

The southern provinces, with their hills and lakes, favored water travel. For an army of ten thousand, the official road was the only option, but entry still required passage through Dongting Lake.

Puzzled, Shangguan Chuanyun asked, “Do you know the reason?”

Jia Cheng considered, then replied, “According to recent Guild reports, it seems to do with the Dragon King of Dongting Lake marrying off his daughter.”