Chapter 38

Yu Yu's style is that when she passes through, the mind stays clear, but the body is out of control. Bai Lang just fell straight in, wearing only boxer shorts and holding two Purple Gold Halberds… Isn't this a test of his own flesh‑body defense? He didn't expect to actually get in. As his horse was about to topple, he let out a Ha ya— and rooted his horse stance, preventing himself from falling flat.

After rooting his horse stance, he looked and thought, "What the hell is this?" Before Bai Lang lay a horrific scene he had never witnessed in two lifetimes—the ruined village, corpses strewn about, and even a casual glance made clear these people had been brutally slaughtered. "Ancient?" Bai Lang frowned, his face full of compassion, "They have hair buns on their heads; it must be ancient—such a thing wouldn't happen in modern times." In fact, the broken houses alone indicated an ancient era.

The problem is which era this is, and the murdered villagers have no clothing, or what little they have is ragged beyond belief, so Bai Lang truly can't find anything to wear—though the Three Passes of Golden Bell Shield are broken, the slight cold or heat has little effect on him. He forces down his nausea, patrols the village, and as a good deed gathers the corpses. With his divine power he has already dug a large pit on one side; wood plus Internal Force suffices, and there is certainly no iron spade.

The villagers' corpses haven't decayed much, since the weather is still cold, and Bai Lang dumps them all into the large pit, "Even children are here, and this method of killing…" A blazing fire burns fiercely in his chest; men, women, old and young all perished, women and children were brutally slaughtered, and such a tragedy only ignites Bai Lang's rage like a tiger or leopard. Now his steps become even lighter; although his frame is tall and sturdy, his footfalls are silent, as if a several‑hundred‑kilogram beast were walking.

Bai Lang gathers the corpses one by one; as time passes his movements become ever more gentle and silent, the sensation of a large feline growing harder to erase. The final corpse is placed in the pit, then Bai Lang sweeps his twin halberds sideways, shoving all the surrounding earth into a mound like a dough bun. "I still don't know what this village is called, but I now know the era. It turns out to be the Ming Dynasty Chongzhen Era; this unburnt Yellow Calendar shows the fifteenth year of Chongzhen…"

Bai Lang gains nothing else here; aside from gathering the corpses, he only has this half of a Yellow Calendar. He glances at the sun to set his bearing, and Yu Yu has already been found and re‑hung around his neck, "This time it's another ten years, but who would actually believe it really takes ten years!" Yu Yu is certainly teasing him, because there's no need to search— it must be sparkling on the ground within three steps of him.

Knowing it is the Chongzhen Era, this horror finds an explanation—most likely the work of Roving Bandits or Mountain Bandits, perhaps with the Ming Imperial Army involved, and maybe even Tartar? The last is unlikely, because Tartars would raid people rather than slaughter all the youths as here. Bai Lang continues along the road, still in boxer shorts and holding his twin halberds; the fields on either side lie fallow, the burned ones charred.

Bai Lang activates Lightness Skill to glide over the earth; the ambient qi here is not very active, but it's much better than the last time Yu Yu traversed. Still, Bai Lang feels unsettled—cultivating the Three Passes of Golden Bell Shield may be difficult for now—but there is another method of training: combat. He hopes some Mountain Bandits or Roving Bandits will appear so he can vent his fury. Even though he has read about late‑dynasty horrors in books, nothing matches seeing it with his own eyes.

At this moment Bai Lang is a fine man; his handsome looks need no comment. His height, measured in modern times, seemed to have grown a few centimeters after returning, now standing a solid 1.8‑something meters—a stature that in the late Ming would be considered a hulking man. After cultivating the Three Passes of Golden Bell Shield his skin is tight and smooth, feeling like silk, but his clothing clashes with the weather; it appears to be deep autumn or early winter—cold enough, yet not yet frozen.

From here the distant view also shows mountains, even a river winding along one side, but no waterworks, and near the riverbank the ground is a white‑flowered saline‑alkali soil. This leads Bai Lang to think this place might be in the north; certainly not southern Jiangsu, so perhaps northern Jiangsu or northern Anhui, maybe even Shandong or Henan. Soon, however, the question may be answered, as Bai Lang hears human voices.

This is another ruined village, and within it Bai Lang hears voices, "Only five people? That doesn't look like a normal village." Using Internal Force to focus his ears, Bai Lang confirms there are no other people besides these five. "Scouts?" Whether they are scouts he'll see later; the positions of the five are clear to his ears, and without further comment he kicks open the shabby gate, revealing a desolate courtyard.

Three men are roasting food over a fire; hearing the loud crash, they all turn toward the source while swiftly readying for combat—some with knives, some with bows, some with fire weapons. Bai Lang scans them and sees immediately that they are no good people; their faces radiate ferocity, their eyes a cruel gleam, and their attire is clearly not that of the Imperial Army, being mismatched and lacking any armor.

The three men stare at the intruder, baffled; this big man is clad only in boxer shorts, yet his physique is impressive—hardly the look of a pauper who can only afford shorts, and he's clean, wielding twin halberds, with a dignified bearing. Even veteran bandits can't discern his identity. "Oh, are you Roving Bandits or Mountain Bandits? Ah, it's all the same." Bai Lang says little and strides forward.

The three exchange glances, "Where did this little donkey ball come from? Looking for death!" The moment the words leave his mouth, a bandit wielding a bow has his skull explode, his eyeballs flying onto a nearby man's body. Bai Lang casually tosses his left‑hand Purple Gold Halberd, which flies out and crushes that bandit's head. The other two bandits, also seasoned thieves, instantly draw knives and charge, while from behind an archer and a firearm‑wielder rush in.

Bai Lang wears no armor, and to them a single slash would be enough. Yet Bai Lang neither dodges nor evades; after casually taking a blow, his right‑hand Purple Gold Halberd smashes another old bandit into two halves that cling together. The slash on Bai Lang is merely a white mark, and before the foe can react, Bai Lang's tiger claw sweeps through, pulling the man's head out of his body…