Chapter 87: Boat Journey Amidst Demons

“The world is vast, and nothing is impossible—the ancients truly did not deceive us,” said Third Senior Brother as he walked. “If one never steps out, who could imagine that under heaven, there exists a mountain where birds and rodents share the same den?”

Before them stretched a great river, the dock already visible.

Distant chanting drifted up from the river’s surface.

Lin Jue couldn’t help walking while glancing back—

It was said this was also the mandatory route to the capital.

What would the capital of this world be like?

If Master passed away in a hundred years, and I descended the mountain, I’d probably have to make the journey myself.

Turning back, they had reached the riverbank.

Many passenger boats were moored here, large and small alike—large ones traveled long distances, small ones went nearby, and even a pavilion-style vessel was present, testifying to the prosperity of water transport.

“Reverend Daoist, would you like to take a boat?”

“Reverend Daoist, where are you headed?”

“Reverend Daoist! My boat is fast and steady!”

Before the three had even drawn near, greetings reached their ears.

“To Yuanzhou, Weng County, Mingchou Mountain—we need a boat that can carry a donkey,” said Third Senior Brother, carrying a bundle of dry grass.

At this moment, Lin Jue still carried his book satchel, but Third Senior Brother and Younger Sister each bore a bundle of dry grass; even the fox’s back had been piled with a small handful—enough to encircle with two hands—tied with grass, merely the Daoist’s playful whim, symbolic more than practical.

The fox obediently bore it, standing beside Lin Jue’s feet.

“Yuanzhou…”

Many boatmen fell silent.

Small boats couldn’t travel so far, couldn’t carry a donkey, and some didn’t even go to Yuanzhou.

Only one larger thatched boat had a man standing atop it, adjusting the sail.

“Reverend Daoist, going to Weng County’s Mingchou Mountain?”

“Need to carry a donkey.”

“Of course we can carry a donkey, but it must stay at the rear, without disturbing other passengers,” said the old man. “And your donkey must not fear water—if it panics and falls in, we won’t compensate.”

“My donkey senior brother is clever.”

“Clever, then, that’s good.”

“How much?”

“Reverend Daoists also have a… this is a fox, right? Won’t it bite?”

“Absolutely not.”

“The water route to Mingchou Mountain is over a thousand li, taking about ten days. Originally, it was over three hundred coins per person. If you’re willing, let’s form a good connection—I’ll charge only three hundred coins. The donkey counts as one person.” The old man studied them as he spoke. “We cook breakfast and dinner on board; you bring your own grass for the donkey. The fox is free—just don’t mind the fishy smell; fish and shrimp are served in abundance.”

“Agreed.”

Third Senior Brother didn’t haggle—he accepted.

The three stepped forward and boarded the thatched boat.

The fox, carrying its grass, followed behind, leapt lightly aboard, landed steadily, though the grass on its back shook three times.

Unexpectedly, the donkey also stepped aboard calmly.

Wherever it was told to stand, it stood there.

The donkey was small, the thatched boat large—Senior Donkey could stand sideways across the rear, and standing upright was even more spacious. Besides the three, the boat held three others.

A young man dressed as a scholar.

Two martial men, swords and knives at their sides, faces scarred.

Seeing Lin Jue’s group board, the three aboard stared at them, sizing them up.

The scholar glanced at Lin Jue’s book satchel and Younger Sister’s youthful face, sensing a touch of scholarly air in these three Daoists; the martial men eyed their swords and Lin Jue’s staff, detecting a hint of martial spirit—indeed, beyond the Talisman, Spirit Method, and Alchemy sects, some Daoists used temples to evade taxes and officials, secretly training martial arts and mingling in the jianghu.

“Greetings.”

Third Senior Brother stepped forward with a bow and said, “We are Daoists from Fuxiu Pavilion on Yishan, always secluded in cultivation. We brought a donkey to carry our luggage, but our donkey senior brother is always obedient—never barks, never defecates randomly. We’re fortunate to share this boat with you three; please forgive us.”

“Where is Yishan?”

“Jianghu folk don’t care about such details! But how come you travel the world with a delicate young lad and a little girl?”

The two martial men asked, one after the other.

“Yishan? Tiandou and Lianhua?”

The scholar returned the bow and asked.

“Yixian’s Yishan—very remote,” Third Senior Brother answered each in turn, then turned to the scholar. “This gentleman truly has broad knowledge—it’s precisely that mountain with Tiandou Peak and Lianhua Peak.”

The two martial men lost interest, scoffed.

Originally, seeing their long swords and Third Senior Brother’s wine gourd, they’d assumed they were fellow jianghu folk—but no, these Daoists were overly refined, and they found them dull.

The scholar’s eyes brightened.

“I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard that though Yishan is remote and rugged, its scenery surpasses all famous mountains. There’s even a poem: ‘Let any traveler return from the Five Sacred Peaks, yet at the sight of Tiandou, he cries out in wonder.’”

“That’s true.”

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” one martial man shouted loudly. “Six people already, plus two beasts, all going far—how much money are you making? There won’t be room to sleep tonight!”

The little fox instantly tilted its head and stared at him.

Outside, the boatman quickly responded.

The thatched boat slowly pulled away from shore.

A breeze came just right—the sail was hoisted, and they sailed with the wind.

The cabin was simple: fixed wooden benches ran along both sides for sitting. A small stove, some rain capes, fishing nets, rods, pots, and bowls lay inside. Luggage was piled in the center; Lin Jue’s group sat on the left facing forward, the others on the right.

The two martial men conversed.

Third Senior Brother and the scholar also chatted.

Lin Jue surveyed the cabin; Younger Sister, solemn, copied him, turning her head everywhere.

The fox sat obediently at his feet.

Though the boat was sizable, it lacked sleeping quarters like a pavilion vessel. At night, unless they docked at an inn, they’d have to sleep in the cabin or on deck.

The fox sniffed.

Lin Jue silently inhaled.

The two martial men opposite hadn’t bathed in too long—their stench wasn’t merely sour, but thick and pungent. Worse, their manners and speech were crude.

Third Senior Brother had once carried a jianghu air himself, a carefree nature—but jianghu connections depended on compatibility. After a few exchanges, he found their speech vulgar, while the young scholar was polite. He ceased speaking to them, turning only to the scholar.

Yet, after all, where in this world isn’t jianghu? Who among those met in the wilds isn’t a jianghu person?

If you click, talk; if you enjoy, befriend.

As Lin Jue looked around, the two martial men also watched them—specifically, Younger Sister. Perhaps finding her attractive, they were bold and direct, their gaze unashamed.

Younger Sister’s face remained stern; she glanced at them too.

After a while, Lin Jue rose and stepped onto the deck.

As expected, the fox and Younger Sister rose almost simultaneously and followed him outside.

Space lay both fore and aft; the donkey stood behind, the front open. Stepping out, a cool, damp breeze from the water struck their faces—refreshing.

If the weather held, sleeping on deck at night, drifting on still waters beneath a spinning sky of stars, would surely be delightful.

The boatman was adjusting the sail.

With nothing else to do, Lin Jue stroked the fox, plucked a tuft of fur, and let it scatter in the wind, then casually asked the boatman: “Boatman, how rough are the waves on this river?”

“As long as there’s no flood or jiaolong water spirits, the waves are mild. The wind is only enough to push the boat,” the boatman smiled. “Reverend Daoist, rest easy—my boat is very steady.”

“Steady is good!”

“Ha! As long as your donkey doesn’t panic, it won’t fall in.”

“Don’t worry about my donkey senior brother.”

“Why do you call your donkey senior brother?”

“I just picked it up from my other senior brothers,” Lin Jue said. “Probably because it entered the pavilion before us—it naturally became senior brother.”

“You’re a true master…”

“No, no,” Lin Jue hurriedly said, then added, “Boatman, running this river is a good livelihood.”

“Good? What good? Wind, rain, sun, snow—it wears you down. Even if you don’t collapse from exhaustion, old age brings aches all over.” The boatman shook his head. “And now the world is unstable—fewer people take boats.”

“But there are plenty now.”

“You’re going to Mingchou Mountain for the Dao assembly, aren’t you?”

“Huh? How do you know?”

“How could anyone not know? So many good men and women rush there, even high officials. Only recently have so many come to Mingchou Mountain,” the boatman said. “Normally, there aren’t this many passengers—there are more boatmen than riders. And just days ago, someone was murdered on the water. The authorities investigated for ages, ruined the reputation, and now even fewer dare to ride.”

“Still, you earn some money,” Lin Jue said, thinking of his uncle and aunt. “Better than tilling the soil, face to earth, back to sky, earning barely a few copper coins a year.”

“All hard labor…”

As the two spoke, the two martial men behind them spoke loudly, their voices carrying.

They were discussing the mountain ahead where birds and rodents shared dens.

“People here are lucky—find a cave on the mountain, reach in, grab birds or eggs, eat birds every day—boil bird soup, roast bird meat. Where else can you get so much meat?”

“Don’t talk! I’ve grown fond of bird meat!”

“Won’t be easy to get anymore…”

The boatman, old and talkative, heard them and replied: “You jest. Though birds and rodents share dens here, birds aren’t easy to catch, and we don’t usually eat them—we have taboos.”

“Your taboos are yours,” said one martial man. “We’re not from here—why should we care?”

“It’s not superstition—it’s easy to get sick from eating them.”

“Get sick from what? Don’t curse me!”

The martial artist immediately raised an eyebrow.

“Hahahaha…”

The boatman laughed twice.

“Brother Wang, how can you say that? How could you ever stop eating them? Where aren’t there birds?” The two martial artists continued chatting, “Just hunt them!”

“Easy to say, but how do you actually catch them?”

“If you can’t catch wild birds, can’t you catch swallows?”

Hearing this, the boatman couldn’t help but speak up: “Swallows are household birds—who eats swallows?”

“You boatman! Just steer your boat properly, why do you keep butting in? The world’s vast—maybe you don’t have them here, but don’t they exist elsewhere?” one martial artist said.

“We’ll eat swallows!” the other martial artist said. “This morning we speared two swallows at the inn and ate them.”

“Yes, yes, yes…”

The boatman nodded and smiled at the first man’s words, but when he heard the second man’s, his hand jerked in shock.

“What did you say, sir?”

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you so jumpy? Just steer your boat!”

“You said you ate swallows this morning?”

“So what if we ate swallows? Does it bother you?”

“Really?”

“You boatman!”

“Oh no! No! Sir, don’t you know? You mustn’t eat swallows on water routes!” The boatman’s face turned pale; he quickly adjusted course, as if trying to turn the boat around right in the middle of the river.

“Why can’t you eat swallows on water? What harm could it do?”

The moment he finished speaking, he felt something was wrong.

The sky was clear, the clouds white, the water calm—yet the boat now rocked violently.

Thump-thump-thump—

The two martial artists leapt to their feet, drew their swords and spears, and rushed to the deck to look out.

Beneath the boat, the deep green waves suddenly churned into surges.

Ahead, waves piled into a thousand layers—starting small, each higher than the last, as if a water monster was swimming through, a great demon displacing the water, lifting and dropping the boat unpredictably.

Yet behind them, the water remained calm.

“Bang!”

A column of water erupted from the river, like a waterspout, aimed straight at the martial artists on deck.

These martial artists cultivated the Carving Dao; though their character was questionable, their skills were real. One leapt straight up, the other sidestepped—barely avoiding the strike.

But as they landed, the boat lurched again.

The two martial artists nearly lost their balance.

“Bang! Bang!”

Two more water columns, like waterspouts.

They barely steadied themselves—too stunned to dodge in time. These columns were as thick as washbasins, their force far beyond human strength to resist. Both were swept off the boat.

“Ugh… help…”

A flurry of splashing and muffled cries.

Lin Jue barely had time to shove his junior sister into the cabin; watching the two men fall into the water, thrashing desperately—as if they could swim but poorly—when he moved to grab his staff, he suddenly saw them yanked under by something, whoosh—vanishing entirely into the river.