Not only did monsters, demons, and all manner of spirits take turns across the pages, but between mortal kingdoms, Daoist orders, and mortal kingdoms and Daoist orders alike, schemes, conspiracies, unofficial histories, and hidden secrets surfaced without end.
The ruthlessness of immortals and demons, the filth of the human heart, the savagery of the world, and the entanglement of karma were laid entirely bare.
The book even touched upon gods, implying that while they never showed their faces, their influence over the mortal realm was monumental.
Zhong Shengguang, Hong Xiangqian, Nian Songyu, Sun Fuping... the life trajectories and trials of these men all seemed to bear out this very view.
The more He Lingchuan read, the more he felt that once stripped of their fantastical surface, these two volumes were rooted in a bleak, pitch-black backdrop—a realization chilling upon deeper reflection.
The book also raised an important proposition:
The resurgence of spiritual energy.
The author believed that the spiritual energy of heaven and earth ought to have gradually revived during the Middle Ancient Era, yet for certain reasons, it had been continually delayed.
As for those "certain reasons," even this outspoken author offered no explanation.
He Lingchuan located the authors' names:
Narrated by Ao Xun, recorded by Sun Yang.
So the work had been a collaborative effort between two men—one speaking, the other transcribing.
He Lingchuan had read so many books in Wenxuan Pavilion, yet now it seemed to him that all of them combined could not compare to these two volumes.
Sun Fuling's recommendation was reliable after all; this was the difference between someone who knew how to pick books and someone who did not.
As he read, evening arrived before he knew it, the sunset glowing brilliantly on the horizon.
From next door came the sounds of an adult and child arguing, followed by a flurry of crisp slaps—perhaps a bamboo rod giving skin a sound thrashing.
Yet Sun Fuling's home was dead quiet, without the slightest stir.
He Lingchuan knew she liked quiet and was often out, so he hadn't thought much of it before. But after today's battle, it felt increasingly abnormal.
She was already home, so why wasn't there even the sound of footsteps?
Their courtyards were separated by only a low wall. With his current hearing, he should have easily caught any movement in her inner rooms.
Could it be that she hadn't moved an inch since returning home?
Or did she, like him, possess cultivation?
In this dream world, He Lingchuan's identity was akin to both a player and a passerby. So far, he still didn't understand why he had come here, but Sun Fuling's appearance was certainly a deliberate arrangement of the dream.
Should he take advantage of her absence someday to slip in and search the place? The moment the thought surfaced, it refused to be suppressed.
Fortunately, someone began striking a gong outside right then, sounding two sharp clangs before shouting, "Orders from the city magistrate's office! Curfew begins tonight at the sixth quarter of the You hour! Citizens are strictly forbidden to go outside!"
It was the fourth quarter of the You hour, around six-thirty in the evening; barely half a shichen from now, everyone had to return home and shut their doors, showing just how suddenly this curfew had come.
Hearing the command, the people hurried back. Soon, He Lingchuan heard chaotic, hurried footsteps in the alley outside.
The neighbors were whispering among themselves as well. "What happened this time?"
"Ever since the Emperor's Flowing Dew descended, there's been nothing but trouble. Things had barely settled down for a few days, sigh!"
He Lingchuan had a faint inkling: could this sudden curfew be related to the monsters from this afternoon?
It showed that the high command of Panlong City took the matter very seriously.
Sure enough, the city's patrols were reinforced. Where previously only one squad of officers passed his door every quarter of an hour, there were now at least three.
The puppet beasts patrolling the streets were larger in size as well.
The city was concentrating its strength to seek out the monster's hiding place.
He Lingchuan was not optimistic about the search. The creature was too fast, and it could very well shrink its body and conceal itself silently inside someone's chicken coop.
As expected, the next two shichen remained calm and uneventful. He Lingchuan heard no whistles, nor did he see any signal flares or command arrows shooting into the sky.
The moon passed its zenith and began drifting westward.
He Lingchuan leaped onto the roof and found that most lanterns in the surrounding residences had been extinguished.
At midnight, not even the dogs barked; frost congealed on the tree branches.
By now, most people had drifted into sleep. Only the chill wind and the night watchmen carrying lanterns made their rounds through the streets and alleys.
From his vantage point, He Lingchuan glanced toward Sun Fuling's courtyard.
The doors were shut tight, but light filtered through the window paper.
She wasn't asleep yet?
The tree in the courtyard had fallen still at some point, its swaying branches resting quietly, and the ever-present wind seemed to have died down.
Without realizing it, Panlong City had sunk into a wordless solemnity.
He Lingchuan keenly sensed something unusual in the air, as if something was approaching.
He sat on the roof beneath the bright moon, surrounded by total silence.
Yet he felt as though he were being watched and scrutinized. Faint, fragmented whispers seemed to buzz by his ears, like nagging murmurs, like mocking sneers, stirring an uneasy restlessness in his chest. But when he focused his hearing, there was nothing.
This sensation felt oddly familiar.
After a moment's thought, He Lingchuan retrieved a pill from his robes and swallowed it.
Turning around abruptly, he saw vast, surging swarms of Three Corpse Worms!
It was indeed these things.
Ever since leaving the Panlong Desert, he had never seen such a magnificent army of Three Corpse Worms. Like schools of tropical fish weaving through a coral reef, they drifted around every building, gliding in and out of doors and windows.
Needless to say, they were inspecting every sentient living creature.
Needless to say, Zhong Shengguang had dispatched them through the Dafang Pot, allowing them to penetrate every nook and cranny.
Yet unlike what He Lingchuan had witnessed in the Panlong Desert, these ferocious little creatures did not harm a single citizen. They merely circled around them as if inspecting, then moved on to the next suspicious point.
Even when they swept past He Lingchuan, he only felt a slight touch of irritation in his heart, far from driven to madness.
The sleeping populace was even less aware.
One could see how strong the Dafang Pot's control over the Three Corpse Worms was, that it could compel them to defy their very nature.
Such a method was truly beyond what any mortal could achieve.
Of course, at this moment, what He Lingchuan cared about more was whether they could locate their target.
For Zhong Shengguang to mobilize the Three Corpse Worm army for a citywide dragnet showed just how much importance he placed on the beast.
After waiting another shichen or so, there was still no commotion outside.
He Lingchuan's head grew drowsy from reading, and the last thought in his mind seemed to be:
Right, his saber was broken; he had to replace it with a new weapon as soon as possible.
***
Bailu Town, Haotian Township, Xiazhou.
On a raised wooden platform at the eastern end of the town, three youths were bound—the youngest fourteen or fifteen, the oldest barely in his early twenties.
The executioner stood to one side cradling a blade, while the patrol officer read the list of charges aloud from the platform.
It turned out that when the grain transport troops passed through Bailu Town last time, these three had managed to steal two carts of grain. One cart was buried, while the other was secretly distributed in the dead of night to the equally starving townsfolk.
After several days of pursuit, the three were captured after all. Under the laws of Great Yuan, stealing or looting military rations during wartime carried the death penalty, to be executed on the spot without need to report to the royal court.
Having enumerated their crimes, the patrol officer asked them, "Do you have any last words?"
The oldest youth cursed loudly at the top of his lungs, "Last words? My last words are, I didn't lose out! At least I had a full meal last night!"
"You seized every last grain, you leeches sucking the blood out of the common folk! Bandits aren't half as cruel as you, yet you call yourselves parents of the people!"
"Why didn't the rebel army at Woling Pass march into the capital, rip out the guts of you crooked dogs, wrap them around your necks, and parade you through the streets?"
"I'll stick out my neck and let you kill me! Kill me and others will follow! One day, your heads will roll just like mine!"
His impassioned shouts rang out before a crowd gathered three layers deep. The villagers looked up in silence, some with their mouths hanging agape.
The patrol officer shot a glance at the executioner, who stepped forward and severed the youth's hands with a single blow.
Blood gushed from both wrists.
The youth cried out in agony, yet continued his furious cursing.
The executioner struck again, chopping off both his feet.
The youth passed out on the spot.
With a third stroke, his head fell to the ground.
For the ringleader of looting military rations, this was standard procedure.
Blood washed over the platform, and the head rolled right in front of the other two youths. Already kneeling paralyzed on the ground, they wet themselves in terror, screaming and weeping, "Spare us, my lord! He tricked us into stealing the grain!"
"We didn't know anything beforehand!"
The patrol officer sneered. "Did he also trick you into handing out the grain? You didn't know what you were doing then?"
The two pleaded desperately for mercy, but the executioner raised his blade and brought it down.
As accomplices, they were granted a swift death.
"I reiterate the order of the Xiazhou Prefecture: the war on the front lines is locked in stalemate, and military supplies are of paramount importance! Any thieves will be executed on the spot!" The patrol officer's voice boomed with authority. Having spoken, he stepped down, and men promptly brought water to wash away the blood while grieving relatives wept as they collected the corpses.
In the chaos, someone stealthily slipped the shoes off the corpse's feet.
With the spectacle over, the numb onlookers began to disperse.
A tall man turned with the crowd, tugging down the windproof cap on his head.
Rounding the pawnshop's privacy screen, he found quite a few people inside, even a line waiting. Those leaving the counter were either fuming with rage or utterly dejected.
Soon, it was his turn.
The young pawnshop clerk sitting high behind the counter asked, "What are you pawning?"
The tall man unbuttoned his padded coat, turned it inside out, and pushed it forward. "The lining is squirrel fur. It's waterproof and keeps out the cold."
The clerk took it and pinched the fabric. "Too old. The fur is practically worn off. Valued at two qian of silver."
The tall man said gloomily, "When I bought it back then..."
"That was back then." The clerk had no patience for reminiscing about the past. Among those who walked through these doors, who hadn't once been a figure of standing?
"Could you give just a little more?" He pleaded humbly; it was a degradation he had grown used to over these past few years.
"Take it or leave it." The clerk shoved the heavy coat back across the counter. "Far too many clothes have been pawned lately; we don't lack yours."
"I'll pawn it, I'll pawn it. Add this as well." The tall man took off the cap on his head. "This is ermine."
"It's been worn for so long that all fur is the same." With just a touch, the clerk said, "Seven fen."
The tall man choked, his voice rising, "Only two qian and seven fen in total?!"
Behind him, an older clerk poked his head out. "What's the matter? What's so expensive?"
"Nothing." The young clerk smiled toward the back. "A monster-rat fur coat."
As he counted out the money, he lowered his voice in an urgent whisper. "Mr. Hong, this is already generous. Take the money and leave quickly."
The tall Mr. Hong froze in surprise. Hearing footsteps approaching from behind the counter and seeing the young clerk give him a meaningful nod, he could only snatch up the two qian and seven fen, lower his head, and hurry away.
The wind blew hard today. Stripped of his padded coat, the spring streets chilled him straight to the bone.
Chapter 249