Chapter 72: Embarrassing Circumstances (Thanks to the Ally Donation from

Since the Basha Great God has always dwelled in the Hualong River, its appearance at Feixian Ferry is no surprise at all.

After all, during the Eight Immortals’ shooting of the suns, floods surged wildly, pouring into the Honglong River from Feixian Ferry, with water volume like a waterfall cascading from the highest heavens.

The river surface visibly rose by a hundred meters or more.

Such massive upheaval must have stirred the Basha lurking beneath the river.

Yet the Basha was ultimately just a minor diversion.

After it departed, the soldiers and civilians of Hualong Pass resumed laying temporary wooden planks across the bridge.

The Qin Juhan Army also lent a hand.

The Feixian Ferry suspension bridge had two main iron cables, each as thick as a bowl’s mouth, both pulled out by Song Zhong and used as weapons.

One main cable was severed by Xiao Yu using the power of the military formation; half of it was swept away by the flood into the Hualong River below, while the remaining half was thrown by Song Zhong onto the hillside.

Fifty Qin Juhan soldiers chanted in unison and forcibly dragged the intact cable back to shore, then re-embedded the iron stakes into the cliff face.

Yet they lacked the divine strength of “Bloodhand Arhat” Song Zhong and could not directly hurl the other end of the cable across the river; instead, they tied thinner chains to the iron stakes on the far side, first dragging the thin chains over, then pulling from the opposite bank.

Xiao Yu and Guan Zhong did not stand by waiting for them to finish the bridge repair.

Once a narrow wooden path was preliminarily laid across the thin iron cable, they mounted Chiyan and entered Hualong Pass.

“Should we greet Lord Rongyang?” Xiao Yu asked Guan Zhong.

Guan Zhong hesitated.

According to proper etiquette, they should certainly report to Lord Rongyang.

But first, Lord Rongyang had killed Xiang Huchen, and the reason was still unknown—he remained tense about it.

Second, he had heard from Xiao Yu that Lord Rongyang clearly desired Chiyan.

Lastly, neither he nor Xiao Yu were part of the Fire Crow Army—what status did they have to meet Lord Rongyang?

In the end, Guan Zhong decided: “We should greet him, but no need to personally pay homage to Lord Rongyang.”

A greeting is etiquette, but also a statement of attitude.

—If you remain silent and leave outright, does that imply dissatisfaction with the Marquis? Deep resentment?

Resentment certainly exists, but it must not be visibly shown.

“Song Deputy Commander, you are the Marquis’s deputy. The task of reporting to the Marquis falls to you.”

Guan Zhong passed the duty to Song Changqing.

Song Changqing did not seek out Lord Rongyang; he merely spoke two words to Cai Sima, then returned to tell Guan Zhong and Xiao Yu: “Cai Sima says you may do as you please.”

Guan Zhong said nothing, pulled Xiao Yu aside, and bowed respectfully in the direction of Cai Sima and Lord Rongyang from afar, then led Chiyan away from Hualong Pass.

In fact, Lord Rongyang had already taken up residence in Hualong Pass’s “Guest Quarters.”

They could not see him at all—only bowed from a distance.

Cai Sima, however, gave a slight nod, acknowledging their gesture.

“Huuu~~~” After leaving Hualong Pass, Guan Zhong exhaled a long breath.

“Miss, let us part ways with the Master here. Releasing Chiyan early is best for the Master and for us.”

Xiao Yu did not object, but asked: “Chiyan is a divine steed, extremely steady even at full gallop, yet the journey is far too long.

What if the Master’s remains are jolted loose, or bandits ambush us en route?

Chiyan will grow hungry—who will feed it?”

“Miss Xiao Yu considers this very thoughtfully,” Guan Zhong praised first, then shook his head: “We need not concern ourselves with these matters. Our ancestral mandate is singular: bind the Master’s remains to the saddle, then deliver Chiyan into the pass.”

He paused, his tone laden with meaning: “Our ancestor’s arrangements are flawless. We have our duty; other tasks are handled by others.

As long as we avoid the ambush, even a mortal-immortal cannot catch Chiyan.

With divine aid, no one can lie in wait for Chiyan ahead of time.”

Xiao Yu had held back for a long time; now she could no longer contain herself: “I know our ancestor is Huang of Fucheng, but I’ve heard from Qingsong Ancestor that there are a million vassal states across the land, each with countless commanderies and prefectures?

Don’t each prefecture have a City God?

Are all these Fucheng Huangs as powerful and influential as our ancestor?”

—If true, how corrupt and decayed must the Underworld system be? Would the Dao Ancestor and the Heavenly Emperor permit it?

Xiao Yu understood: any perfect system, once manned by humans, inevitably breeds corruption.

After all, systems are impartial, but human hearts are selfish.

From the Yanwang to the Judges, down to the lowly ghosts, all were once human.

Becoming ghost-gods, they shed only the shackles of flesh—not their desires or emotions.

Some ghost-gods’ desires may now be stronger, more numerous than when they were human, for they wield greater power and broader knowledge.

A little corruption, a little abuse of power in the Netherworld? Understandable.

But our Guan Ancestor is merely a Fucheng Huang—and what he seeks to do is especially grave: defy Heaven, alter fate, and revive a dead man.

Is this truly without risk?

Guan Zhong glanced around, lowering his voice, his plump face glowing with pride and arrogance: “Miss Xiao Yu’s doubt stems from not knowing the status of Yingxiang Prefecture in Shu and the Western Realm.

Frankly, I don’t understand much about Underworld affairs either—I’ve only heard the Master mention it a few times.

City Gods hold equal rank, yet their authority and influence vary drastically.

Just as a Prefect would prefer to serve in a wealthy region,

a magistrate in a remote area like near Hengsha Pass is less powerful than a county magistrate near Luodu!”

Xiao Yu asked curiously: “What makes Yingxiang Prefecture different?”

“Yingxiang Prefecture has Tianmen Town!” Guan Zhong declared proudly.

Xiao Yu had heard of “Tianmen Town” before today.

At the Sand Dunes, she had heard from Sha Long and Sha Gui that Lord Rongyang led the Qin Iron Cavalry and annihilated a million allied troops from thirty-six nations beyond Tianmen Town; the King of Sand Dunes and his five thousand Sand Dune braves perished entirely on the Lianghe Beach battlefield beyond Tianmen Town.

Lord Rongyang’s destination was also Tianmen Town—to welcome the newly appointed Qin Imperial Envoy.

“What’s so special about Tianmen Town?”

“Tianmen Town is the crossroads of ten thousand nations! All nobles traveling from east to west must land first at Tianmen Town after crossing Liusha River.

Those traveling west to east must also pass through Tianmen Town.

Even merchants coming from south or north still go to Tianmen Town.

When the thirty-six nations invaded Shu, they ignored Luodu entirely and focused solely on attacking Tianmen Town.

If they captured Tianmen Town, even if the Central Kingdom wished to aid our Western Shu, they could not reach us easily.”

“Hee-yo, hee-yo~~~” Chiyan impatiently pawed the ground, exhaling twin streams of flame that nearly scorched Xiao Yu and Guan Zhong’s hair.

Xiao Yu even saw impatience and disdain in its eyes.

“Uh, let’s send the Master on his way first.”

“Yes, yes, let’s send the Master on his way first—Tianmen Town lies within Yingxiang Prefecture; you’ll see it with your own eyes soon enough.”

Together, they quickly and firmly tied Xiang Huchen’s remains to the saddle, then cut Chiyan’s bridle and headstall, setting it free.

“Divine steed, divine steed—the time for your speed has come! Carry the Master swiftly to Yingxiang Prefecture!”

“Swoosh~~~”

Before Guan Zhong finished speaking, Chiyan shot off like a bolt.

In a few blinks, the hoofbeats vanished; only a “fireball” remained, streaking a long fiery trail across the dark sky.

“No wonder even seasoned generals of the Central Kingdom were tempted by Chiyan—it truly is a divine steed!”

Watching the fiery trail fade into the horizon, Xiao Yu murmured.

Guan Zhong’s expression darkened slightly: “Miss, our next destination is Yingxiang Prefecture, but the journey ahead may be perilous.”

Earlier, while waiting at Feixian Ferry for Hualong Pass’s troops to repair the bridge, Xiao Yu had already recounted the tale of the “Eight Immortals Shooting the Sun.”

Leaving other matters aside, the fact that Xiao Yu had slain Kong Zan shocked and deeply troubled him.

He knew Xiao Yu well.

When they first arrived at Hengsha Pass, her martial skill was still at the level of tiger-leaping, somersaults, four-post stance, fist-pulling, foot-kicking, and loud shouts.

In barely half a month, she had slain a mortal-immortal.

Even if Kong Zan had been careless and mistook her for an ordinary girl, a mortal-immortal was still a mortal-immortal.

—The Master’s insight was truly sharp: Xiao Yu was born with innate wisdom and extraordinary talent, possessing the potential to become the “First Female Swordsman of Western Shu.” Her future achievements in sword Dao would surpass “Five Supreme Sword Maidens” Li Manman—and that future is very near.

While marveling at Xiao Yu’s talent, Guan Zhong harbored deep dread: retaliation from the Eight Immortals of the West and their remnants!

“We still don’t know the outcome of Lord Rongyang’s pursuit of the surviving Eight Immortals—perhaps Chiyan was fast enough, and Lord Rongyang killed them all; perhaps one or two escaped—”

Xiao Yu cut him off: “I can be certain at least one escaped: Sword Immortal Zhou Lang.

The others among the Eight Immortals either died in battle or, upon seeing Sun Jinbiao’s death, fell into utter despair and scattered.

Only Zhou Lang—he suffered grievous wounds, lost his five spirit swords, and fled early.”

Zhou Lang fled before Sun Jinbiao even made his appearance.

Not to mention the time Lord Rongyang spent chatting with Sun Jinbiao, then deliberately waited for the floodwaters to recede, for Sun Jinbiao to descend the mountain and form his battle array... altogether, he delayed over half an hour.

Zhou Lang had fled half an hour ahead—there’s no way Lord Rongyang could have caught him... unless Zhou Lang foolishly joined the later “secondary ambush” against Lord Rongyang.

Given his cowardly nature, he almost certainly lacked the courage.

“So, Miss Xiao Yu, you must at least face retaliation from one Sword Immortal.”

Guan Zhong’s eyes flickered—he longed to say outright: Miss Xiao Yu, let’s split up. This old servant’s legs are slow—I’ll go ahead first. You take your time... or take the long route. Yes, leave the short path to me.

To die protecting Xiang Huchen? He would gladly do so.

But to die alongside Miss Xiao Yu... he must remain loyal to the Master—he cannot die!

Xiao Yu spoke calmly: “First, I believe the Eight Immortals of the West have no reason to retaliate against me.”

“I killed Kong Zan to protect my adoptive father and in self-defense—what did I do wrong?”

“Damn it, Old Zhong, first think about your own name! And besides, I only clashed with Kong Zan because of Xiang Huchen—dare you turn this into some personal grudge between me and the Western Eight Immortals?”

Xiao Yu added: “Second, I’m not afraid of the Western Eight Immortals. Marquis Lieyang is going to Tianmen Town to meet the ‘Great Qin Imperial Envoy,’ right? He’s traveling with us!”

“With Marquis Lieyang beside us, what’s to fear? Once we enter Yingxiang Prefecture, under our Ancestor’s protection, which petty villain dares to act up?”

“You should’ve just said the part after that—don’t start with ‘first.’ The Western Eight Immortals suffered heavy losses; they’re coming after you because you’re the softest target. You try reasoning with them? They’ll try reasoning with Marquis Lieyang too!”

Guan Zhong muttered inwardly, but his expression softened slightly, a flicker of temptation stirring in his heart.

Abandoning Miss Yu, hiding his identity, and sneaking back to Yingxiang Prefecture might not be safer than traveling with Marquis Lieyang.

Even Marquis Lieyang’s methods were ambushed by the Western Eight Immortals.

If the remaining Eight Immortals’ followers fixate on him, no amount of hiding will save him.

Miss Yu is the scapegoat, the soft persimmon—but so is old Zhong!

Though he didn’t kill Kong Zan, he’s allied with Miss Yu. She’s been hiding near Marquis Lieyang’s camp; the Eight Immortals’ remnants gnash their teeth in rage but can’t strike—so they might just take out their fury on Guan the Chief Steward.

Hmm, if Miss Yu and he split up, he’d be perfectly safe; but if Miss Yu became utterly secure, he’d become dangerously exposed.

“Miss, it’s getting late—let’s return. We must set out with Marquis Lieyang at first light tomorrow!” Guan Zhong’s expression was perfectly natural, as if he’d never entertained the thought of fleeing alone.

“Alright, Uncle Zhong, let’s go!”

Xiao Yu’s expression was equally natural.

She needed Guan Zhong to pay for meals and lodging along the way, and to help her procure several medicinal herbs for her cultivation once they reached the Guan family’s pharmacy.

Without Guan Zhong, the Guan family’s resources and network within Shu would never recognize her as “Miss Yu.”

More importantly: though she was now officially recognized as Xiang Huchen’s adopted daughter, she was still the tightly monitored “Shaman Yu.”

She and Guan Zhong knew Xiang Huchen still had a chance of recovery—but no one else did.

The moment Xiang Huchen died, the Guan family’s old servant would abandon her—who would take responsibility for overseeing “Shaman Yu”?

Marquis Lieyang?

Or some other Shu noble, some Great Qin dignitary?

She was never truly a free citizen.

At least until the Upper Realm folk leave the West, she needed to be bound to the Guan family.

The Guan family didn’t just offer resources—“Guan Family Adopted Daughter” was a genuine shield for her.

But the Emperor who cherished the late Lady Li was dead; the “Little Lady Li Plan” had collapsed entirely.

Even if Xiang Huchen somehow recovered, her situation would remain awkward.