Chapter 6: This Is the World

The words of the shadow enraged the young officer, who shook his sword and sent waves of metallic ringing through the air. His speed was equally swift; with a light touch of his toe, he surged toward the gate like a gust of wind.

At this moment, Lu Xin and Lu Tingfang stood at the left corner of the gate. Before the officer could reach them, a wave of heat rushed at their faces. The season had just passed Qingming, and the weather was cool; even though the City God Temple was thick with incense, it shouldn’t have felt oppressively hot.

"I remember my grandfather once said that during the Republic, martial arts masters could harm people from afar. Their fists and kicks carried the wind, capable of melting ice and snow. I never believed it before, but now it seems even my grandfather underestimated the heights of Chinese martial arts!"

Lu Tingfang feared death, yet what he had witnessed today tormented him more than any killing could. Before this, as a modern man who had crossed into the Tang dynasty, he possessed supreme pride and boundless ambition. He had planned everything—carve out a domain, even overthrow the Tang and ascend to the throne. But now, everything before his eyes made him feel but an ant, crushed underfoot.

The young officer reached the gate swiftly; as his sword descended, all candle flames nearby were snuffed out in an instant. Just as he was about to pierce the shadow’s throat, the opponent moved at the last moment.

The shadow let out a chilling laugh and, with a speed barely visible to the naked eye, produced two yellow talismans. One blocked the sword’s tip, and with a resonant clang, it was as hard as iron. The other stuck to the officer’s shoulder; the shadow muttered an incantation, and the talisman transformed into black smoke, rushing into the officer’s mouth and nose, dropping him to the ground instantly.

"Darksteel, forged by Daoist true fire—a fine sword!"

The shadow took the sword in hand, admiring it, clearly fond of it. The young officer struggled to rise but was powerless, unable to move.

"Fiend, what evil sorcery is this? If you dare, face me in honorable combat!"

"Heh, honorable? What a shame—such skill, yet you know nothing of the unity of all arts. Enough; you are struck with my Bone-Melting Talisman. Within three hours, your flesh will dissolve into pus and blood. As for everyone here, all will be infected, dying in agony!"

The shadow spoke calmly, as if discussing a meal, though he spoke of murder. Panic swept the crowd. To common folk, the word plague was as the King of Hell—certain death.

"What plague? Are you truly going to kill us all?"

"Monster, he’s a monster! Don’t be afraid, everyone—let’s join forces and kill him, hang him on the city wall!"

"Yes, kill him..."

At last, a bold voice cried out, igniting the courage of the incense worshippers in the temple. No matter how weak, the will to survive is powerful. A few robust young men rolled up their sleeves and rushed at the shadow together. But their speed was too slow; before they’d crossed a few meters, hidden weapons flicked from the shadow’s hand struck their foreheads, killing them instantly.

With life taken at a flick of the wrist, this power was simply beyond mortal ken. Despair appeared on every face. The young officer, too, was afraid, but he managed to stand with his last strength, stopping the crowd from further attacking the shadow.

"Everyone, don’t move—don’t throw your lives away!"

The young officer knew well: even he couldn’t withstand a single move from the foe, let alone the unarmed civilians behind him.

"Do you realize—if the plague spreads, the dead won’t just be from Xiao Creek Town. Then, not only the court, but every righteous sect, every yin-yang master will hunt down your Nine Venom Sect!"

"Ha! The court established the Divine Temple to suppress the yin-yang masters—so now you want their help? You Tang dogs are truly naïve. But you are right on one point: I chose to act here so the entire Yue Prefecture will be infected. Unless you all choose to die here and never leave! But I believe few can do that. The fear of death, the desire to live—you will return home, seek any cure. Though you know it will spread the plague, you will not stop. Because—that is the world! Ha ha ha ha..."

The shadow laughed madly, and as his laughter faded, he beckoned to the corner. Lu Tingfang was lifted into the air, falling into his grasp. The sight left Lu Xin pale with fright; she could not help but cry out.

"Brother, let go of my Tingfang brother!"

Lu Xin tried to chase after him, but an invisible force pressed her against the wall, not even her fingers could move. Lu Tingfang’s neck was gripped tight by the shadow, his face flushed, unable to speak, struggling even to breathe. Ignoring the brothers’ struggles, the shadow turned to the young officer, producing a small, dark green bottle from his belt.

He opened the cap; instantly, a pungent stench filled the temple, detectable by all. Lu Tingfang stared in terror—a small, purplish-blue worm crawled out of the bottle, its body smooth, shrouded in dark aura, like armor.

"This is the Ironbone Corpse Rot Worm—just one can drain ten people dry. It has another name: the Undying Plague God."

The shadow spoke, performed a spell, then pointed toward the censer beneath the skylight. The worm let out a sharp screech; its back sprouted wings, flickering as it darted into a corpse with lightning speed. As everyone watched helplessly, the corpse shriveled rapidly, within seconds reduced to skin and bones.

The townsfolk had never witnessed such horror, crying out in terror; many women and elderly collapsed, vomiting on the spot. Even Lu Xin, though distant, saw clearly—her head spun, her stomach churned, and she felt intense nausea.

"You, child, have remarkable bones and robust blood. If properly trained, you might achieve greatness. Alas, your fate is poor. Since the Ironbone Corpse Rot Worm has chosen you, you can only become its vessel."

Finally, the shadow turned to Lu Tingfang in his grasp, speaking with a hint of regret. Meanwhile, the worm returned, landing directly on Lu Tingfang’s neck. The youth grew ever more fearful, as the worm exhaled icy cold, like a beast staring down its prey, ready to strike.

"What do you want? He’s just a boy—let him go! Come at me instead!"

The young officer, barely able to stand, still could not bear to see a youth suffer such a fate. Yet the shadow paid him no heed; his gaze, dark and cold, locked onto the person in his grasp.

"Everyone has their fate. Some things cannot be escaped, nor can others bear it for you. This, too, is the world."

The shadow’s voice faded, smoky and quiet, as if unwilling to speak further. He slowly raised his hand; a flame ignited in his palm, as if burning something. The Ironbone Corpse Rot Worm screeched again, about to burrow into Lu Tingfang’s body. Just then, a golden light appeared above the skylight in the City God Temple. It struck like lightning, hitting the worm squarely and instantly reducing it to ash.

"Who dares ruin my plans!"

This sudden event left the shadow shaken. That worm had been cultivated for over ten years, precious as a son and his greatest weapon. Now, gone in a flash. More terrifying, the worm was called Ironbone because it was impervious to blade and fire—few forces in this world could kill it so swiftly. Clearly, the opponent possessed extraordinary cultivation.

Looking up, a figure appeared on the eaves above the skylight. A man of thirty or forty, clad in white, straw sandals on his feet, hair loose, expressionless. The only remarkable thing was the bamboo staff in his hand.

This man’s arrival was strange, without warning. The shadow stared at him, silent as death. Always the master of life and death, he seemed, in this moment, afraid.

"Sir, you possess the seventh tier of the Void-Gazing realm, far from returning to the source or perceiving the cosmic cycle. How dare you call yourself master? Besides, the world is at peace; the chaos of the Southern and Northern Dynasties has finally ended. Why stir trouble and seek bitterness?"

Seeing the shadow silent, the newcomer spoke first. His voice was slow and deep, yet resounded like morning bells. All eyes turned to him; some elders knelt reverently toward the skylight, as if worshipping a god.

"Daoist friend, my Nine Venom Sect has no enmity with you. Why meddle in this affair? The court is corrupt; the Li father and son usurped the fate of the Sui, now slaughtering each other—beasts one and all. Shouldn’t such a court, such a world, be overthrown? Moreover, the court created the Yin-Yang Office and Divine Temple to suppress us yin-yang masters. You and I are both involved; shouldn’t we unite and fight together?"

"Heh, the world? Is the world you speak of the Nine Venom Pit of Bazhong, Yuzhou, or the world of all its people? Just now you said, everyone has their fate. True, some things can’t be avoided, but there are some people you cannot kill."

With a laugh, the newcomer floated down into the temple, white robes billowing like the wind. He ignored everyone, ceasing all speech, leaning on his bamboo staff, walking step by step toward the shadow. Ordinary people might not sense it, but in the shadow’s eyes, this man possessed an aura as deep as the ocean, unfathomable even to his own cultivation.