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Immortal Connections - Chapter 35 preview
🕑 Added 2025-02-11 14:00:07 +0000 UTCChapter 35 - Yang Mu
The screams of the injured still rung through the clearing, though much of it had faded to low whimpering. Yang Mu understood, especially as many of those crying were the lesser, mundane members of their caravan. Merchant and merchant guards, their families and colleagues. No travelers this time, as she had requested – and paid for – the caravan leader to turn down those applicants. After all, such an attack had been somewhat expected.
Even so, she found her chest clenching tight as she surveyed the damage, the broken caravans, the dead animals, the splotches of blood and entrails that stained the earth all along the dirt road and the shattered foliage all around. Caravan guards who were uninjured moved among the living animals, checking over for injuries and calming down the animals while the Red Spider Cult members inspected the corpses, dragging the bodies aside for burning.
None of the meat or even the blood would be left behind for creatures to consume. Already, the sickening smell of putrescence and poison was emerging from a number of the creatures, and if left untended, the bodies and blood would sicken and poison the local wildlife.
“They did not attempt to isolate us,” Ching Lang said, the old man resting heavily on his spear. Even now, the spear was still black as the darkest night, yet to fade back into its normal beige colours after drinking the blood of three Core Formation cultivators.
“Demon sect.” Patriarch Pu said, the only one who seemed unaffected by the battle. Then again, she had done the least in guarding her companion. The Guardian himself was seated, legs crossed, the mace still vibrating before him as he slowly cultivated and consumed the energy that it had stored. “Why should they care about the rules of the jianghu?”
“And these are the enemies your parents have garnered?” Ching Lang said. “My spear finds their blood quite zesty.”
“Yeye!” scandalized, the grand daughter let out a loud huff.
“Oh, come off it, my dear. You need to get used to the way Ye Bian Mao is.”
Yang Mu frowned, eyeing the spear with some consternation now. It was Patriarch Pu who asked the obvious question however. “Is your spear alive, then?”
“Of course not.” Ching Lang snorted. “If I had an immortal spear like that, what use would I have of this one?” A turn of the head towards Yang Mu indicated which one he spoke of. “It has but preferences for the kind of blood it consumes. You can tell by the way it hums, even now.” As the Daoist master arrived, he added. “Master Kim can back me up. That bell of yours is like mine, is it not?”
The Daoist master stared at Ching Lang disconcertingly long in silence, his entire body frozen in motion as he considered the question. “The Nine Gates and Thirty Six Psalm bell is an instrument of great variation and subtlety.”
“See! Exactly what I said,” Ching Lang replied. “Now, tell me. Did you get your man?”
“We were unable to send the beleaguered soul to his proper place.”
“Huh.” Ching Lang sniffed. “I took care of my three.”
“If you will excuse me, I should see to the funeral preparations and cleansing of the surroundings,” Master Kim said, ignoring the way Ching Lang had tried to challenge him. He turned away even before the others had acknowledged his request, moving to join the others in moving the bodies and casting out small yellow talismans into the air that dropped among the pools of blood, setting the alight in green and yellow flames.
“Strange fellow.” Even the Patriarch had to acknowledge the truth of Ching Lang’s words. “How did you recruit that one anyway? He doesn’t seem like the kind who cares about immortality or financial gain.”
“Possibly because he’s already following his dao,” his granddaughter muttered.
Before Ching Lang could get into an argument, Yang Mu spoke up. “Master Kim found me, actually. He had heard about my family’s troubles and was already on his way east.” At the look the spearmaster gave her, she clarified. “He felt my family’s troubles would give him more opportunity to deal with the unnatural members of the kingdom.”
“There have been an increasing number of such attacks and incidents,” Patriarch Pu said, consideringly. “It’s something we only noted in passing, but demonic sects have increased.” She sighed. “Along with the dark sects, of course.”
Not that they cared about the demonic, beyond the fact that they too were organisations that disturbed the peace of the jianghu. Still, they were – generally – smaller in number, as unlike the dark sects, were often unable to hide their presence as well.
Before she could follow up on the discussion, Yang Mu sensed another approaching presence. Turning, she noted the closed hand, wary look of the caravan master. She mentally sighed, and then chided herself for the reaction. It was not his fault that he looked like a hung dog, or that what he likely had to say to her was going to break his heart - and coin purse. To give them space, she stepped away so that they could have some privacy - in theory, if not fact. After all, with so many powerful cultivators around with their auras fully unfurled, nothing that was said would be hidden.
However, the appearance of privacy was what was required here, a chance for him to save some face.
"Cultivator Yang, I come with a report of the losses suffered," the caravan master began. The moment she indicated acknowledgment of the topic, he launched into a list of all those lost, ending with "- and three wagons are completely destroyed or unable to be moved. Two are shattered, the third we do not have the animals to pull and must abandon them." He grimaced. "With the wounded that we have, we must keep at least half our guards split to care for the wounded while they recover while we seek additional aid."
"Is not the next rest stop close?" Yang Mu asked curiously.
"A small village, barely more than a dozen homes. They will not sell their horses to us - if they have any. In this area, it's more likely they just hitch a pair of goats to their plows and have them drag it along the ground."
"Then, what is your plan, honored leader?"
"You flatter me, Cultivator Yang," the man said, ducking his head. "I, well. We will split our parties, send my son ahead on my horse to Hezhou. He will call for additional help and, if all goes well, they will be back in time to aid us and pick up the wounded. We will, perhaps, not lose all the cargo. That is, if..."
"If?" she prompted.
Rather than answer directly, the man dropped to his knees and kotowed to her. The movement was so quick that she had no chance to stop him, as he pressed his head to the ground and spoke around the dirt. "I beg your forbearance, Cultivator Yang. I must ask, no, beg, you to break the contract with my company. We are but mere mortals, unused to the dangers of the jianghu. These attacks-"
"Are not your fault. They are mine," Yang Mu said, admitting fault. Bending, she took hold of his arm and dragged him upright. He tried to resist but he might as well have spat into the wind, such was the difference in strength between Core Formation cultivator and mere mortal. "I should have expected such an attack and never involved you or your people. I did not, and the deaths of your people lie heavy with me."
"Not at all! We all understand that you act for the greater good of all," the man blubbered, eyes red rimmed, cheeks flushed. "The demons must be vanquished and eradicated from the Middle Kingdom. All upstanding citizens should aid you in such things."
Yang Mu felt it, the way that the Midnight Spear's granddaughter wanted to speak. Yang Mu pulsed her aura, slamming it into the woman as a warning to keep her mouth shut.
"You have suffered enough. We are given much, and in turn, we have great responsibilities. That is the deal, the obligation between those of us who walk the martial and cultivation path and yourselves," Yang Mu said. "Do not worry yourself, about the contract. Or our presence. We will take our leave of you now, so as not to draw further attacks." A flickering glance to where the Daoist master continued to work, before she added. "Once, of course, the necessary rituals are finished."
Of course, it was not so simple. There were still protestations of aid, still politics and minor matters of mercantile nature such as dealing with the goods - and carriages - that she had hired for her purchases. The splitting - and volunteering - of drivers to come with them, and more.
Yet, Yang Mu knew, the matter was settled. They would leave the caravan and move faster from now, cutting through towns and cities at a pace only cultivators could keep. Their enemies had found them, and so the time for preparation was over.
