A brief skirmish ended with the water demon wounded and fleeing beneath the surface. The black mist hung thick and sinister over the river, and those standing on the bank felt as though they had been transported to the shadowy realm of the underworld’s forgotten river — every face grave and solemn.
Those who had gathered from various paths of cultivation had struck together, yet the blow had missed. Though it was partly because everyone had been holding something in reserve, the water demon’s power was nothing to dismiss lightly. Using the river water as its magical instrument, when its spiritual power surged, it could churn the waters and flood the town — and the common folk living along the riverbanks would inevitably suffer the consequences.
Beyond that, it could also split off a doppelganger, which made clear that it had already grown into a formidable force. Lang Jiuchuan surmised that the ten-thousand-soul death art it was cultivating could not be far from completion. Thinking back on the bloodthirsty, excited gleam in its eyes as it fled, he worried — could it possibly be planning to use the people present here to fill the remaining quota?
Cultivators possessed innate spiritual wisdom, and their living souls carried varying degrees of Dao resonance, even merit. Once seized and devoured, they might prove to be a tremendous tonic — enough to send the demon’s power soaring to the heavens.
Lang Jiuchuan did not dare to be arrogant. She shared this conjecture with Gong Qi and the others: “We need to end this quickly. If we don’t, once it gathers enough living souls to complete the ten-thousand-soul death art, it will not only become far harder to deal with — more innocent townspeople will likely be sacrificed as well.”
Once the ten-thousand-soul death art reached completion, the more murderous souls it devoured, the stronger it would grow, and the greater its appetite would become.
The hearts of all those present sank. What they had just witnessed was not even the full extent of the water demon’s power — and that had been its strength outside the water. What would it be capable of in the depths of the river, within its own domain?
At that moment, Lang Jiuchuan added: “There should be an undercurrent beneath this stretch of river. Everyone must be extremely careful.”
What — an undercurrent? The kind that spawned whirlpools powerful enough to swallow a person whole?
They all remembered the enormous vortex that had appeared when the black mist first arose, the dark energy spiraling upward from within it. Surely that undercurrent below wasn’t where the water demon’s true lair was?
At the thought of this possibility, everyone’s expression darkened. Fighting in water was already difficult enough, and fighting underwater with an undercurrent was another matter entirely — one wrong move and they would be sucked in. None of them were so arrogant as to believe their spiritual power could carry them freely through a raging undercurrent.
“Fellow Daoist Gong,” someone said, turning to Gong Qi, “this evil creature has become a grave threat. I do not say this out of cowardice, but the gap in power is simply too great. I believe we ought to call upon more powerful elders to come and slay this demon.”
A Daoist’s life was still a life. If no help was available, one might have to grit one’s teeth and press forward — but help was available, so why not call for reinforcements?
Since there were Daoist masters of far greater skill, they ought to be summoned, lest those present here end up as nothing more than food filling the water demon’s belly, inadvertently helping it accomplish its great work and making it all the more difficult to defeat.
Gong Qi glanced toward Lang Jiuchuan. She gave a slight nod, and he spoke: “I will use the Thousand-Li Voice Transmission Talisman to pass word to the heads of each family. The Surveillance Division will also file a report. However, the demon is building its strength, and it has already been wounded by Fellow Daoist Lang’s blow just now — so we know its window of opportunity is narrowing. This creature has awakened its intellect; it is cunning in nature. And this place has already been opened into a ghost domain by it. I fear it may strike again before reinforcements arrive. Behind us stand the tens of thousands of common folk of Qongshui Town — life and death hang by a thread. I ask all fellow cultivators to unite your strength and protect the people.”
“Fellow Daoist Gong speaks truly.”
“We will give everything we have.”
Gong Qi stared at the river’s surface shrouded in the dark, sinister mist. “It is now lying low in the river depths. That does not mean it is merely recovering — it may be waiting for us to go down after it. We cannot sit here and wait for our fate. We must draw it out.”
“What do you have in mind, Fellow Daoist Gong?”
“Use a corpse as bait, and lure it into a trap.” Gong Qi’s voice was calm and measured. As the last syllable left his lips, Gong Sixteen — who had been carrying out tasks at his side — led a group of people forward, bearing the tidied body of the young boy.
Everyone’s expression shifted at the sight.
Using a corpse as bait was not out of the question, but this was a child. The person was already dead — to make use of his remains felt like an act that cut against heaven’s order.
Someone hesitated and spoke up: “Fellow Daoist Gong, using a child’s corpse could harm the harmony of heaven and may invite criticism from the townsfolk.”
Gong Qi shook his head. “In extraordinary times, extraordinary methods are required. I have already explained the situation to this child’s parents and they have agreed. Afterward, we will hold a seven-day Daoist rite for him and send him off to the Forgotten River so he may ascend to paradise. If the demon-slaying succeeds, he will be credited with a share of merit — in his future reincarnation, that merit will ensure he is reborn into a good life.”
In truth, the child’s parents had several other children at home, and Gong Qi had also promised a hundred taels in burial fees — upon which they had agreed.
Hearing this, the others said no more. Though the body had been given by one’s parents and was thus to be treated with reverence, since the parents themselves had agreed, and since a share of merit would be gained, it was not something that could not be done.
Lang Jiuchuan gazed fixedly at the child’s corpse. His complexion was ashen and pallid, making the dark line at the center of his brow appear even heavier than on the others, his lips tinged a dusky blue-purple. She produced a red cord and tied it around the boy’s wrist, then dipped her finger in cinnabar and drew a complex talisman seal at the center of his brow. Inwardly, she silently vowed: Once this matter is finished, I will personally guide you to the Yellow Springs and ensure you are reborn well.
When the talisman was complete, she took out an exquisitely crafted copper bell and hung it around his neck. Only then did she rise to her feet and say: “Reform the Eight Trigrams Formation.”
Everyone glanced at the child’s corpse, pressed their lips together, and moved to take their positions.
Gong Qi had already used the Thousand-Li Voice Transmission Talisman to send word in every direction, and was just about to return to Lang Jiuchuan’s side when he felt a sudden unease. He turned to look behind him.
The night had deepened, the darkness heavy and still. Yet a bone-deep chill crept over him, as though something was watching their every move, biding its time for a killing blow.
He looked again at the black mist spreading over the river. Could it be that the ghost domain opened beneath the water had made the yin energy so dense that he was simply letting his imagination run away with him?
Gong Qi didn’t dwell on it. He walked briskly to Lang Jiuchuan’s side, and there he saw her set the child’s corpse at the center of the Eight Trigrams Formation. Around it, seven concentric circles had been drawn in black dog’s blood, seven Star Formation lamps were burning, and she was drawing out three silver needles, shooting them one by one into the corpse’s acupoints — the Baihui at the crown of the skull, the Shanzhong at the chest, the Qihai at the lower abdomen.
She formed a hand seal, then pinched the handle of the Dizhong Bell between two fingers and gently shook it. When the bell tone rang out, the child’s corpse — lying flat upon the ground — sat upright, and the motion set the copper bell around his neck chiming with a bright, crisp sound.
Everyone could see it plainly: was this the corpse-driving technique of Xiangxi?
Just where had she studied, to have learned such an eclectic array of arts? Yice’s gaze grew sharp and intent, not letting a single one of her movements escape him.
Among any three people walking together, at least one is worthy of being my teacher.
He wasn’t going to steal the knowledge. He would learn openly, right before her eyes.
As the incantation on Lang Jiuchuan’s lips grew faster and faster, she produced an Eight Trigrams Mirror and aimed it directly at the heart of the river, where the dark mist lay heavy. Then, suddenly, the child’s corpse snapped its eyes open — and those eyes held no dark pupils, only a vast expanse of ghastly white.
Without warning, a fierce yin wind tore across the river’s surface, driving the dense black mist toward the assembled group, cold and bone-piercing.
“It’s here!” Lang Jiuchuan let out a sharp cry, and she struck the Eight Trigrams Mirror with her hand seal. The mirror shot forth a searing beam of golden light toward the heart of the river — and a massive black shadow appeared once more, roaring as it emerged.
It hovered above the river’s surface, but this time it did not lunge forward the way it had before. Instead, it fixed a wary gaze on Lang Jiuchuan, who sat behind the child’s corpse.
She had been right — it had awakened intelligence and awareness, capable of weighing advantage against danger. Naturally, it could see that Lang Jiuchuan was a grave threat, not easily dealt with, and so it did not act as rashly as before.
But the child’s corpse was like a great lure — sweet, rich, brimming with nourishment.
The water demon hesitated no longer. With a piercing shriek, it hurled itself toward the corpse.
“Soul Guiding Passage!” Lang Jiuchuan spat a mouthful of vital blood onto the Eight Trigrams Mirror. The mirror’s light blazed suddenly brilliant, drawing both her and the water demon inside it in an instant. Only the corpse remained, collapsing to the ground, the copper bell ringing faintly — while the black mist over the river surged and churned, sweeping everyone in that stretch of water into its current.