Qingzhou. Linjiang Prefecture.
The main street was busy with merchants and traders, seemingly no different from any other day.
In the teahouse, the storyteller was going hoarse trying to squeeze more coins from the unusually large crowd — but more listeners meant fewer willing to pay.
Common people couldn’t read the shape of things clearly. They caught only fragments from embellished rumors — a few words here and there about high-level battles between Qingzhou’s practitioners and demons.
But the instinct for danger — that was what they lived by.
When the constables patrolling the street let out a sigh between themselves, or when a few unfamiliar jianghu faces appeared in the city with expressions too serious for travelers — the coarse grain in the pot got replaced by rougher chaff, the oil-dregs in the bowl became plain salted vegetables, and the saved copper coins became stored grain hidden somewhere inconspicuous in the house.
A carriage moved slowly along the main street and stopped outside the Demon Suppression General’s compound — the building looked like it hadn’t been refurbished in years.
At the gate stood an old man whose hands were slightly unsteady, carefully sweeping up fallen leaves with a broom.
His hearing seemed to have gone somewhat. Not until the coachman pulled in the reins and shouted three times in succession did the old man finally look up, blinking.
“Who are you looking for?”
The figure that stepped down from the carriage made the old man drop the broom on instinct. He worked his bent frame upright and called out in a strained voice.
“Huang Jian greets the personal attendant Deputy Commander!”
The young man wore the openwork gold-black hair crown, the wolf-devouring-the-moon cloak, the yin-yang fish emblem at the collar, jade at the belt, and the three-foot dark blade at the hip.
Everything about it said this was the man who held the position that guarded Linjiang Prefecture.
The young, pale face, however, left Huang Jian digging through his memory with visible frustration. He simply couldn’t produce the name. Age was terrible for this.
The young man gave a small nod and said with an easy manner: “Shen Yi has a matter to report to General Chen Qiankun. If you could announce me.”
“Right, right, I’ll go, I’ll go—” Huang Jian looked somewhat flustered, turned, and then slapped himself on the forehead.
He turned back. “Commander — the old General isn’t in the compound.”
The commotion of Huang Jian’s shout had apparently reached inside. Several young Commanders came running out, took in Shen Yi’s appearance, paused for a moment, and then one of them seemed to remember something.
“You’re from Qingfeng Mountain — Commander Shen, please come in!”
The young Commander caught himself quickly. The flood dragon-killing was classified. He’d only heard half a sentence in passing between two Deputy Commanders, and the Deputy Commander had flogged him three times afterward and thrown him out of the tent.
“Honestly didn’t think the old General had even called you back.”
They brought him inside with expressions of warm welcome. “Commander Shen, you’ll be heading to Shuiyun Township then?”
“What’s happened?” He stopped walking.
The Commanders looked at each other and exhaled.
“The Yangchun River water clan has done something unexpected. Three of the flood dragon prince-lords left the river suddenly and started attacking people. Most of the demon-hunters in the area have come to help track them down. General Chen is keeping watch on the old flood dragon—”
“The Yangchun River stretches over four thousand li end to end, and both ends reach outside Qingzhou. There’s no clean way to guard all of it.”
“You should go quickly.”
They couldn’t say it directly — the Yangchun River flood dragon clan was clearly trying to wear the old General down. The old flood dragon itself wasn’t going to surface until General Chen had been ground to exhaustion.
The other personal attendants were moving along the riverbank, working with the demon-hunters’ tracking skills to locate and capture the three flood dragon prince-lords as quickly as possible.
“I’ll wait.” Shen Yi shook his head.
The journey here had been unhurried enough. Both the cyan-crimson light and the Solar-Splitting Bow had recovered.
But the Heavenly Demon external pill was still running near empty. The White Deer’s core hadn’t been touched yet — the fifth transformation had cost nearly three thousand five hundred years, and the demon lifespan was still somewhat short.
“Then what are you—” The Commanders were slightly confused.
“Going to earn some side income.” Shen Yi took out the silver bell and passed a message through.
Nearby demon-hunters gave him a rough direction quickly.
Under the watching eyes of the assembled Commanders, a pair of eyes lit with sharp, eagle-like clarity — and the young man launched upward and dissolved into the wind across the sky.
The Commanders had never seen a personal attendant Deputy Commander demonstrate anything like this. They stood exactly where they were.
Linjiang Prefecture. Qiping County.
In this period of gathering unease, a wealthy local family had funded the construction of a new temple.
The Yangchun River deity, supposedly, could bring good harvests, help with marriage and children, and drive away malevolent things.
Whether any of that was true was uncertain.
But Qiping County was a substantial county, not a backwater like Shuiyun Township. Building a riverside shrine in the countryside versus building one in a proper county town were completely different propositions. Strangely, the Division had said nothing — sent two Commanders to look once, and then nobody had brought it up again.
Probably because they’d noticed how anxious the ordinary people were and decided against taking away their only source of comfort.
As a result, this newly-built temple was doing extraordinary business, with incense-bearing visitors forming a long line outside.
Inside the temple hall, a god-figure sat with solemn dignity — both palms flat on its knees, fine flowing-cloud robe draped down from the shoulders, a straight ceremonial blade at the waist. The sculpture was done entirely in dark shades, an expression of severity that carried a faint killing edge.
The worshippers came forward one after another, kneeling on the mats. As word of deaths had been spreading, the prayers had shifted — from please give me a fat healthy son to please keep my family safe.
In the middle of all of this, two things were conspicuously out of place.
First: among the long line stretching down the mountainside, dozens of jianghu practitioners in various clothing had dispersed themselves through the crowd, each occasionally touching the bell tucked into their sash.
Second: the tall figure inside the temple who wasn’t burning incense or praying.
“The Yangchun River deity?”
The middle-aged man stood with his hands behind his back, studying the statue that stared back at him with blank imperviousness. The smile on his face grew gradually wider.
The corner of the mouth pulled further and further.
Until it broke into a laugh.
“Ha — hah!“
“In front of me — you call yourself the god of the Yangchun River?!”
The fifth flood dragon prince-lord laughed without any effort to conceal it. The discomfort of the surrounding worshippers was immediate. Frowns. Eyes turning toward him.
He turned and looked straight back.
Those bloodshot, predatory eyes hit the crowd like a physical force. Every worshipper in range felt their mind lurch. The timid ones had lost control of themselves where they knelt.
“What? This prince isn’t entitled to comment on your little river idol?”
“Tell you what—” he seemed to be enjoying the particular pleasure of toying with prey before the meal. The viciousness retreated behind a pleasant smile. “This prince is going to eat all of you. I’ll count to three and we’ll see whether your river god—”
He hadn’t quite gotten around to raising a finger when he noticed every worshipper around him staring with wide eyes.
Then a sound at his throat. Quiet and wet.
He looked down to find a clean pale hand protruding from his own throat, faint threads of blood across the fingers.
As the hand withdrew, he turned on trembling legs.
A slightly-moving dark cloak.
The young man stood sideways, one hand resting on the scabbard. Looking at him with complete calm.
(End of Chapter)