The Yin-Yang Dao

Lingming Peak. A dozen or so ragged men were paired off in teams of two, each pair using bamboo poles to carry a red-furred, long-armed ape bound hand and foot. The apes were massive, each weighing well over two hundred jin. Carrying one between two men was grueling work, and those who could no longer manage set their burdens down to catch their breath. Whenever Fang Dashan saw someone resting, he marched over and lashed out viciously with his whip. Tall and burly, Fang Dashan was a ninth-rank martial artist whose whip carried tremendous force; a single lash tore open flesh and skin. Yet the two coolies dared not resist, nor even dodge. They could only hunch their backs and grit their teeth, enduring the agony. "Move your fucking asses! If you don't finish hauling them before dark, I'll skin you alive!" Fang Dashan was careful not to strike with full force either—if he actually beat them to death, there would be no one left to work. He brandished his leather whip at the two coolies, barking threats. Neither coolie dared utter a word, nodding repeatedly. They knew how cruel Fang Dashan was. While he might not actually flay them, hanging someone upside down to slowly die was routine for him. The blood of those hung upside down would pool into their faces, swelling their heads into a shiny, purplish bloat as blood seeped from their seven orifices—a truly gruesome death. Worse still were the dying screams, which went on through the entire night without end... Spurred by pain and terror, the two coolies dredged up what strength they had left and hurried down the trail with the long-armed ape. On a level clearing halfway down the mountain stood several thatched sheds. The red-furred, long-armed apes brought down were laid out in the open space before them. The most formidable among them, the seventh-rank ape king, had required six men working together to carry it down. The beast's arms were extraordinarily long, and its weight was close to five hundred jin; the men had to pool their strength to carry it horizontally. Fang Dashan brought up the rear. Seeing all six red-furred apes laid out neatly in the open area, he breathed a sigh of relief. To capture these long-armed apes that had transformed into demons, they had used up all the Thousand-Day Drunk bestowed by their superiors. Whether ordinary monkeys or ape demons, their intelligence was limited; when they saw wine, they simply could not resist drinking it. Fortunately, the scheme had succeeded in one stroke. Even if a few believers had died in the process, it was of no consequence. Li Sanjin, with his rat-like eyes and thievish brow, ambled over with a grin. "Brother Fang, now that we've captured the ape king, the Incense Master is bound to reward us handsomely." Fang Dashan glanced at Li Sanjin and snorted. "Don't worry. If there's something in it for me, there'll be a share for you!" Li Sanjin hurriedly cupped his fists and bowed. "To be able to work under Brother Fang is an honor you've bestowed on me. How could I dare ask for rewards?" Then he chuckled slyly. "If Brother Fang could just spare a bit of silver, that would be plenty." "All you think about when you get money is chasing women. Why bother? There are plenty of women among the believers. Take your pick and have your fun." Fang Dashan glanced toward the group resting in the thatched sheds, where two scrawny, dark-skinned women huddled. Li Sanjin shook his head repeatedly. What pleasure was there in women like that? They had to be fair-skinned and fragrant to be any fun. "You really have no ambition." Fang Dashan was in high spirits, so he could not resist boasting, "Once the Incense Master finishes refining the Thousand-Poison Ten-Thousand-Fiend Arrows, he will lead us in seizing Siming County. "When that time comes, you can take your pick of all the young mistresses and noble daughters from the prominent clans." Li Sanjin's eyes lit up, and he asked excitedly, "When will the Incense Master finish refining them?" "It's a troublesome affair. He needs to tame gold-ring poison bees and extract their venom... As for exactly when, who knows." Fang Dashan was merely a petty attendant in the Yin-Yang Dao. Though his older brother was an Incense Master, he rarely discussed serious matters with him. In truth, Fang Dashan had no idea of the details either, and was merely boasting on a whim—it was not as if Li Sanjin knew any better anyway. The two bragged back and forth for a while, and having nothing else to do for the night, had a bit to drink. Fang Dashan was unaffected, but Li Sanjin could no longer contain his urges. He strode over to a thatched shed and dragged out one of the dark, thin women—this one seemed to have a little more meat on her bones. The woman knew what Li Sanjin intended and clutched her tattered clothes in terror. Furious, Li Sanjin raised his hand and slapped her across the face. "I am an attendant of the Gods! Laying with you is a blessing for you!" A man nearby fell to his knees, kowtowing and pleading, "Lord Divine Envoy, spare her, please..." Having his mood ruined just as his lust was stoked, Li Sanjin flared with venomous rage. Drawing the long saber tucked at his back, he slashed down viciously. As a ninth-rank martial artist, Li Sanjin's bones and muscles were tempered and resilient, granting his arms four to five hundred jin of strength. With a single stroke, the kowtowing man's head flew off, spraying blood everywhere. Though those inside the shed could not see clearly, they still caught sight of the head rolling across the ground, and several let out stifled screams of horror. The woman was utterly petrified, unable to make any reaction. Fang Dashan, who had been dozing off in a stupor, hurried over at the commotion, only to find Li Sanjin wiping his blade. Fang Dashan cast a disgusted glance at the severed head on the ground. "Clean it up. Don't leave blood everywhere, or you'll draw some demon beasts over..." He cared nothing about Li Sanjin killing someone; these ignorant believers were worth nothing anyway. It was just that spraying blood everywhere in the dead of night could easily lure demons. While his rank was higher than Li Sanjin's, their martial prowess was comparable, so he could not easily turn around and dress him down. "Ugh... uuugh..." The terror-stricken woman finally came to her senses. Slumping to the ground, she cradled the severed head in her arms and began to wail. Li Sanjin grew even more irritated. "Shut your mouth!" The woman acted as if she had not heard, her weeping only turning more mournful and wretched. Any remaining mood Li Sanjin had was completely gone. With a cruel sneer on his face, he raised his saber high. The woman simply kept crying, as if oblivious to the blade about to come crashing down. Seeing no fear or panic from the woman made Li Sanjin feel ignored, stoking his rage further. A lowly village wench really had a death wish! He swung his blade downward at once, but a shrill whistle pierced the air, followed immediately by a sharp clang as an immense force struck his saber, deflecting it away. Li Sanjin was shocked. Hurriedly looking up, he caught sight of a faint silhouette standing ahead in the darkness. Before he could make out who it was, another sharp whistle drilled into his ears. Knowing something was wrong, Li Sanjin ducked his head, but a steel pellet had already driven deep into his nasal cavity, caving in and disfiguring half his face. With just this single strike, the ninth-rank martial artist who had mastered overt force was blown apart and killed on the spot. Watching Li Sanjin get killed by a hidden weapon right before his eyes, Fang Dashan was terrified out of his wits. Where had such a fearsome expert come from? They were separated by roughly twenty paces. He could only make out a vague silhouette, unable to discern any features or build, making the figure seem exceedingly mysterious and dangerous. He hurriedly shouted, "The Yin-Yang Dao is conducting business here! Whichever faction you hail from, friend, please show us some courtesy!" Zhou Wuji was somewhat surprised as well. They were actually people from the Yin-Yang Dao. The Yin-Yang Dao was adept at bewitching common folk. The harsher the times, the easier it was for their wicked doctrines to spread. Subjected to daily brainwashing, the cult's followers eventually became unreasonable and fanatical, like madmen. In remote villages especially, entire hamlets often worshipped the Yin-Yang Dao, which was thoroughly terrifying. The imperial court classified the Yin-Yang Dao as a demonic cult, yet local authorities rarely intervened in their affairs. On the contrary, officials and local gentry clans often colluded with them. Zhou Wuji had merely noticed the dense blood fiend qi permeating this area from afar. Upon drawing near, he had caught sight of a man preparing to butcher someone with a blade. In a situation like this, no questions were necessary; strength versus weakness, good versus evil were immediately obvious. He had simply killed the blade-wielding man directly. As for this square-faced man who claimed to be from the Yin-Yang Dao, his muscles were solid, but his breath was coarse without being profound—clearly, he had not tempered his internal organs, marking him as a ninth-rank martial artist. The Yin-Yang Dao had plenty of believers, but very few true experts. Tied around the square-faced man's waist was an alternating black-and-white cord fashioned into a lotus knot, denoting his status as an attendant. This indicated someone who served the Yang Father and Yin Mother, a minor leader responsible for managing believers in the Yin-Yang Dao. Zhou Wuji strode quickly before Fang Dashan. He glanced at the long-armed apes laid out in the clearing; they appeared to have been drugged, sleeping deeply. Realizing this, Zhou Wuji also heightened his vigilance so as not to capsize in a gutter through carelessness. In a deep voice, he demanded, "What is your name, and what are you doing here with these people?" Fang Dashan summoned his courage to steal a glance. The night was dark and the new moon had only just risen; six or seven paces separated them, so he could not see clearly, only discerning that the other party was very young, seemingly fair-featured, and tall and slender. Wearing a conical bamboo hat and a coir raincoat, the youth stood with an innate poise—calm, composed, and commanding enough to deter any insolence. Fang Dashan did not dare look any longer. Casting his eyes down, he replied, "I am Fang Dashan... We were ordered to hunt the red-furred monkeys." "Oh? And what are you capturing monkeys for?" Zhou Wuji was genuinely curious. The Yin-Yang Dao never acted out of chivalry or righteousness; they had to have an ulterior motive. Fang Dashan actually did know what the monkeys were for, but he naturally could not tell the truth. His mind raced, and he said, "These red-furred monkeys often come down the mountain to raid villages and have even snatched children to eat. To protect the believers, we risked our lives to wipe them out..." Hearing the man speak with such righteous conviction, Zhou Wuji could not help but sneer...