Chapter 63: This Venerable One Sees…Whom?!

This version of Lin'an city was deeply embroiled in war.

Congealing blood covered the ground as far as the eye could see, and they

were surrounded by crumbled walls and ruined houses. The trees and

greenery had withered away, suffocated by the heavy miasma of malicious

ghosts.

Mo Ran hadn't yet collected himself before he heard some strange

sounds and looked up. Not far away, fresh entrails hung from the branch of an

old pagoda tree, and a dozen crows had set upon them to feast as blood and

flesh dripped from them nonstop.

Underneath the tree lay the corpse of a middle-aged man; blood and

organs spilled out from where his stomach had been torn open by claws. No

one would ever know if he had died with his eyes open or closed, as his

eyeballs had been pecked away.

Mo Ran was no stranger to such scenes. In his past life, he had once

crossed the breadth of the mortal realm to put all seventy-two cities of

Rufeng Sect to the sword. When he did, blood had flowed like rivers and

corpses had lain strewn over the fields, amounting to a sight much like this

one.

Yet for some reason he couldn't understand, even though he had

reveled in the blood he had split in that life, and even though it had made

every fiber of his being sing… Now, laying eyes on a similar scene of

devastation filled him instead with a biting sympathy. Had he been faking

docility for so long that his true nature had, without his knowledge, changed?

As he pondered, he heard the sound of hooves ahead, accompanied by

a cloud of dust. Anyone galloping around in such war-torn times was

probably bad news.

Mo Ran yanked Chu Wanning behind himself, but there was nowhere

to hide on this barren old road. A group of riders swiftly emerged from the

dust cloud, some dozen in all. When they got closer, it was apparent that their

horses were the opposite of sturdy—a few were so starved that their ribs

protruded.

The riders were dressed in a uniform style: white attire with bright red

patterns and helmets embellished with feathers in like colors, and each had

donned a circlet of entwined dragons. The clothes were stained yet tidy, and

the people were thin but spirited. Even more unusual was the fact that each of

them carried a bow and a full quiver of arrows on their backs. In times of

war, the two most valuable things were food and weapons. These were

plainly not ordinary people.

Mo Ran was still trying to decide if the new arrivals were good or

evil, friend or foe, when one among them—a youth of only fourteen or fifteen

—cried out in horror. "Dad! Dad!"

The youth stumbled off his horse and fell to the muddied ground

below, but he scrambled up and staggered toward the tree, where he threw

himself on the mangled body of the middle-aged man, crying miserably.

"Dad! Dad!"

The other riders wore expressions of pity, but they had all undoubtedly

seen too much death already, so much so that they had numbed to it. While the

youth held the corpse and cried in agony, no one deigned to get off their horse

to offer him comfort.

One of the riders noticed Mo Ran and Chu Wanning standing not far

away. He was startled for a moment before asking in a thick Lin'an accent,

"You two aren't from around here, are you?"

"Yeah…" Mo Ran answered. "We're from the Sichuan region."

"That far away?" The asker was shocked. "These days the world is

full of ghosts as soon as night falls. How have you two survived thus far?"

"I can fight a bit." Mo Ran knew it would be best to reveal as little as

possible, but since these people didn't seem to be malicious, he pulled Chu

Wanning out to change the subject. "This is my younger brother. We were

passing by and stopped to rest for a while."

Some of the riders seemed a touch taken aback by the sight of Chu

Wanning. A couple turned to whisper amongst themselves.

"Something wrong?" Mo Ran asked, alarmed.

"It's nothing," said the young man at the head of the group. "But on to

serious matters: you should go to the city if you want rest. There may not be

any monsters around right now, but once night falls, ghosts will be crawling

through the streets. Xiaoman's adoptive father came out looking for food

during the day yesterday, but there was a thunderstorm, and he couldn't make

it back before the sun set, so…" He sighed heavily and didn't finish.

Xiaoman was the name of the wailing youth, and the corpse under the

tree was his adoptive father. Such occurrences were commonplace in these

chaotic times; someone in a family would go out looking for food and be

perfectly fine as they left in the morning, only to never return come nightfall.

Even knowing that these events were already two hundred years past,

Mo Ran felt a tightness in his chest as he watched that youth cry so miserably

that it seemed he was about to weep blood.

This was followed by a sudden unease. Had he grown soft? He'd

hardly blinked when killing people in his last life.

Mo Ran grabbed Chu Wanning and bid the group farewell.

"When you get to Lin'an City, find somewhere to stay for a while," the

leader said. "We're planning to relocate everyone to Putuo soon, where an

abundance of spiritual energy has warded off the ghost invasion—at least for

the time being. You should come with us rather than traveling with just the

two of you."

"Relocate?"

"That's right." The leader's eyes sparked to life, and even his face

seemed to light up. "It's all thanks to Chu-gongzi's brilliant plan. Everyone in

the city, from the elderly to the infants, will get to keep their lives! But

enough chatter. We still have to patrol the border before it gets dark, see if

we can find any more survivors to bring back. Ai, Xiaoman, come on. We

should go."

Yet Xiaoman continued to cry, clutching his father's corpse without

turning around.

Mo Ran sighed and tugged at Chu Wanning's hand. "Let's go to the city

first," he said quietly.

Chu Wanning nodded, but suddenly asked, "Do you think they managed

it, in the end?"

The small hand in Mo Ran's felt a little cold. "Do you want the truth or

a lie?"

"The truth, of course."

"The lie would be better for a little kid."

So Chu Wanning answered his own question. "They didn't."

"That's right. See, you already knew the answer. But you still had to

ask, as if that would change the outcome."

Chu Wanning ignored that. "Do you know why they didn't make it

out?"

"It's not like I'm some two-hundred-year-old demon. How would I

know?"

Chu Wanning fell silent for a while. "Two hundred years ago," he said

gloomily, "practically everyone in Lin'an City died."

Mo Ran was silent.

"Only a few escaped."

"Wait, Shidi, you're so young—how do you know so much?"

Chu Wanning shot him a glare. "The Yuheng Elder reviewed this in

history lessons more than once. You decide to not pay attention in class, then

turn around and ask me how I know things? How despicable."

Mo Ran was speechless. Sure, I spaced out in class, but even my own

shizun didn't scold me. What're you lecturing me for? Then again, there

was no point arguing with a kid, so he let it slide.

The pair headed toward the city, chatting along the way, and before

long arrived at the city gates. The ancient city stood tall on the bank of the

Qiantang River and was heavily fortified against ghosts and demons, with

defensive structures lining the walls and the perimeter.

Countless corpses bearing curse marks lay piled outside the city. Such

remains, if not taken care of, would reanimate at night. Cultivators had

gathered outside to spread incense ash on the corpses while the sun was high

in the sky and the yang energy was strong. For the bodies afflicted with

especially strong curses, they performed exorcisms using talismans upon

which they drew with wine-dipped cinnabar.

A pair of guards stood before spiked defensive frames by the city

gates, dressed just like the riders they had met earlier, with white attire

trimmed in red and twin dragon circlets, as well as bows on their arms and a

full quiver of arrows on their backs.

"Halt! Identify yourselves."

Mo Ran repeated his story from earlier. The guards weren't there to

refuse anyone entry, only to register new arrivals, so they were let through

after putting their names down.

Before leaving, Mo Ran remembered that the riders had mentioned a

"Chu-gongzi." Since the relocation was this Chu-gongzi's idea, the fellow

had to be crucial to breaking the illusion.

"Sorry to bother, sir, but might I inquire about someone?" Mo Ran

asked.

The guard looked at him. "Aren't you from Sichuan? You know

someone here?"

Mo Ran smiled. "No, but we met some sentry gentlemen who

mentioned a gongzi by the name of Chu, the one who's going to take everyone

to Putuo in two days. I was wondering who this Chu-gongzi was. I know a bit

of magic and wanted to see if I could help in some way."

The guard looked Mo Ran up and down and seemed to decide that he

must have skill, to have been able to bring a little kid all the way here

without mishap. "Chu-gongzi is the eldest son of the lord governor. The lord

governor was killed a month ago when the ghost king descended, and the

gongzi has led us since."

"The governor's son?" Mo Ran and Chu Wanning exchanged a glance,

then Mo Ran turned to ask, "That's strange. How does the governor's son

know magic?"

"What's so strange about that?!" The guard glared at Mo Ran. "Since

when was there a rule that you have to be in a big sect to cultivate? That the

common people can't do it?"

Mo Ran fell silent.

Sure, there were independent cultivators, but they never amounted to

anything. It made Mo Ran wonder whether this amateur Chu-gongzi and his

half-baked plan was what had gotten everyone in Lin'an killed.

As they followed the guard's directions toward the governor's

residence, Mo Ran soon realized how wrong he was. This esteemed

personage who just so happened to share a name with his shizun was

inarguably no amateur.

He saw a Shangqing Barrier.

A Shangqing Barrier was a powerful variety of barrier formed of

purified energy that was capable of warding off all evil. As long as this

barrier stood, even thousand-year-old malicious spirits couldn't hope to pass

it, much less the average ghost.

This barrier required the caster to remain within its range in order to

ground the spell, and it protected a relatively small area. Even a mighty

zongshi like Chu Wanning could only cover about half of Sisheng Peak with

one.

Right here and now, this Chu-gongzi of two hundred years ago had

erected a Shangqing Barrier that covered a radius of ten miles around the

governor's residence. Although a far cry from Chu Wanning's capabilities, it

was certainly far from an ordinary achievement.

Mo Ran and Chu Wanning headed toward the gates of the residence.

Mo Ran intended to try his luck and have someone notify the governor gongzi

that a cultivator was offering help. He wanted to see if the man would be

willing to show them the courtesy of a personal meeting.

However, when they turned the corner, they were met with the

unexpected sight of three long lines of people queued in front of the gates. Six

female attendants, dressed like the guards, were bringing out large wooden

barrels, and hundreds of emaciated people—the elderly, the infirm, women,

and children—were waiting their turn to receive porridge.

Those who had received their porridge went to a haitang tree by the

residence. Beneath it stood a man dressed in white, his long inky hair loosely

tied back, passing out protection talismans and patiently repeating

instructions. His back was to Mo Ran, so he couldn't see the man's features,

but he heard the people who had received the talismans murmuring, "Many

thanks for Chu-gongzi's kindness, many thanks for Chu-gongzi's kindness…"

as they dispersed.

So this was the governor gongzi?

Curious, Mo Ran dragged his little shidi around to get a look at the

fellow's face. Just one look, and Mo Ran's eyes were bulging out of their

sockets. It was if he had been struck by lightning. W-wasn't that Chu

Wanning?!

It wasn't just Mo Ran; Chu Wanning was also gobsmacked. Even

though they strained to see him from their place at the end of the line, this

Governor Chu-gongzi had a lean face with sword-like brows and phoenix

eyes, but a gentle curve to the line of his nose—and he even wore all white,

just like he did himself!

Chu Wanning was struck dumb.

Mo Ran was also struck dumb.

After a long while of being frozen stiff, Mo Ran said shakily: "Shidi,

ah."

"Mn."

"Don't you feel like…this Chu-gongzi looks just like a certain

somebody?"

"Like the Yuheng Elder," Chu Wanning said dryly.

Mo Ran smacked his own leg. "Right?! What's with that? Who is this?

What's his relationship with Shizun?"

"Why are you asking me? How would I know?"

Mo Ran was frantic. "I thought you paid attention in class?"

"This obviously isn't the content of any class," said Chu Wanning,

irked.

Then they fell silent again, scooting forward slowly with the line, both

of them staring unblinkingly at the gongzi. Upon closer inspection, Chugongzi didn't look exactly like Chu Wanning. This gongzi's features were

more mild and scholarly, his eyes weren't quite as long and narrow, his

pupils were softer, and his gaze was much gentler.

Mo Ran stared and stared, then suddenly let out an, "eh?" and turned to

look down at his little shidi. "Let me look at you."

"What do you want?" Chu Wanning turned his face away, ruffled.

At this, Mo Ran only grew more persistent, reaching out to grab his

face and forcefully turn him back around. He stared for a while before finally

coming to a realization and muttering, "Aiyah."

Chu Wanning forced himself to remain calm. "Wh-what is it?"

Mo Ran narrowed his eyes. "No wonder those people outside the city

were muttering amongst themselves when they saw you. I just noticed, but

you look kinda like Shizun too."

After a long pause, Chu Wanning hurriedly wrenched himself out of

Mo Ran's grip, the tips of his ears turning red. "Nonsense."

"How come those guards noticed immediately, but it didn't occur to

me for ages?"

Chu Wanning did not dignify that with a response.

In the midst of this puzzlement, the voice of a young child called out,

"Papa."