Chapter 112: You Come, I Go

“Watch out!”

“Get out of the way!”

The constables were utterly panicked.

They never expected Li Yan would actually strike.

These men were merely riffraff from Fengyang County; even if they had trained in martial arts, years of wine and lust had drained their bodies.

The real tough ones under Qiao Sanhu had all been sent to Manchuan Pass, where the profits were rich and rival gangs from north and south gathered.

The gangs of Shaanzhou still gave him some face, but the southern gangs of Ezhou had no fear at all and had secretly struck him several times.

In Fengyang City, these men used their official robes to bully and dominate; they called themselves constables, but were worse than street thugs.

When confronted with true ruthless individuals, they were thrown into utter panic.

And Li Yan showed no mercy.

Talking nicely was impossible—being captured by these bastards meant certain death in prison. Outnumbered, there could be no hesitation.

Puff!

The Guanshan blade plunged straight into a man’s chest and abdomen.

He was a fat man, with double chins and triple layers of neck flesh; his constable cap had fallen off, revealing a scalp entirely shaved.

With his face full of coarse flesh, he was clearly a thug who made civilians detour when he walked the streets.

Yet now his face was filled with terror.

“Great hero, spare… spare…”

Gazing at Li Yan, drenched in blood, eyes like cold stars, fear and pain made his plea for mercy incomplete.

Li Yan didn’t bother to respond; with a roar, he twisted his waist and arms, driving the blade through the man and shoving him three meters away.

Just barely avoiding two swords swinging from behind.

Li Yan sidestepped and kicked, flipping the fat man over while yanking the Guanshan blade free, slashing blood-splattered air to block.

Clang!

Two long swords were instantly caught and held.

“Get lost!”

Zhao Kui was also enraged, raising his broadsword for a brutal downward slash.

The broadsword, also called Bo Dao, commonly known as the two-handed blade, first appeared in the Song Dynasty—a steel blade with a long handle, between the great sword and single sword.

Because it could be gripped with both hands and delivered swift, powerful strikes, it became widely popular.

Zhao Kui trained in Water and Land Broad Sword Art.

This art had two branches: one derived from Jiangsu and Zhejiang for shipboard combat, the other for land use.

Since Manchuan Pass was both a river and land port, the Caobang introduced this art, and it spread rapidly, surviving to this day.

Zhao Kui had grown up in Manchuan Pass, his swordplay decent and his hidden strength attained, but the place was full of snakes and dragons, with many masters—he never rose to prominence, so he gritted his teeth and joined Qiao Sanhu.

He never imagined that tonight, through one moment of carelessness, he’d already lost seven or eight men.

Thinking of Qiao Sanhu’s cruelty, anger burned in his chest, mixed with fear—he struck with all his strength.

This leap-and-slash technique was powerful and heavy; Li Yan was cornered, and if it landed, it would cleave him in two.

Yet Li Yan reacted faster.

He sank his Guanshan blade downward; the two constables felt their weapons go suddenly light, their steps stumbling.

Li Yan spun with the flow, his left hand seizing in a silk-winding grip, grabbing a constable’s shoulder and shoving him forward.

The motion was swift and brutal.

Puff!

Zhao Kui’s blade came down just then,

and the constable’s head was cleanly severed.

Li Yan had already pushed off his feet, executing two consecutive close-range Dragon Steps, finding the weaker constables again.

The constables were numerous, but their strength varied wildly; they were harassed by venomous snakes, torches flickered, and chaos reigned.

Li Yan, relying on his sense of smell, understood every detail around him, dodging and striking repeatedly, harvesting lives in the chaos.

“Kid, don’t run!”

Zhao Kui was furious, chasing after him with his sword.

But the chaos wasn’t caused by Li Yan alone.

The one controlling the venomous snakes was Lu San, who had come to reinforce.

He already bore a grudge against these men; seeing Li Yan strike, he showed no mercy, whistling to summon beasts while moving through darkness, his arms swinging constantly.

This kid was also a master of hidden weapons.

He used shuttle darts, enhanced with hidden strength—devastating force, piercing through chests or drilling into skulls.

With a flick of his wrist, a life vanished.

Sha Li Fei was also busy, guarding the entrance with the remaining bearers and old Meng the cart driver, wielding knives, spears, clubs, and staves.

They knew their limits—charging into the enemy ranks would only add to the chaos, so they coordinated, swinging blades and clubs to repeatedly repel the advancing constables.

Inside the ancestral hall, only Wang Daoxuan remained.

“Hahahaha…”

The possessed bearer let out a cold, mocking laugh: “The time is near. These are all my men—you’ll all die.”

He wasn’t wrong.

With this kind of spirit-possession technique, Li Yan and the others knew no way to break it, and with constables surrounding them, their defeat was only a matter of time.

Yet Wang Daoxuan paid no heed; he took a thick stack of spirit paper and placed it in the brazier, igniting a flame one foot high.

“Burning paper for yourself before you die?”

The possessed bearer sneered at the sight.

But Wang Daoxuan glanced at him, then directly removed the soul-binding scroll, held it in his left hand, and placed it over the brazier, speaking gravely: “If you use demonic possession again, I’ll burn this immediately.”

“To us, this thing isn’t important…”

The possessed bearer froze, stunned by Wang Daoxuan’s move—suddenly desperate: “Don’t! What do you want?”

Wang Daoxuan said gravely: “If you can capture us without using possession, I’ll accept defeat.”

He knew this man wouldn’t spare them—because Li Yan had received the post of Living Yin Officer, he must die for the other to have a chance.

And now, the constables wouldn’t let this go either.

The only condition worth negotiating was forcing the opponent to abandon possession.

“Hahahaha…”

The bearer gave a cold laugh: “Fine. Let you see—I can kill you all without possession.”

With that, the bearer closed his eyes and collapsed.

Wang Daoxuan sighed faintly, then turned his palm upward.

In his palm lay a yellow talisman.

Driving him off was only the first step—

this was his true goal!

Lacking the power to break the spell didn’t mean he couldn’t strike back.

Wang Daoxuan stepped before the ritual altar, pulled a straw doll from his robe, then formed the hand seals and placed the doll upon the altar.

There was one thing he hadn’t told anyone.

Perhaps because his path to the Dao was long, and he’d learned many miscellaneous arts and knowledge, the Seven Arrow Secret Incantation wasn’t difficult for him.

In fact, his first attempt at making a straw doll had succeeded perfectly.

Straw doll—the proper term is “Chu Ling”—ancient funeral effigies made of straw, representing horses and men. The Book of Rites records: “Clay carts and straw effigies have existed since ancient times—they are the way of burial offerings.”

The art of incantation requires a target first.

Like in the battle at Niubeiliang, when he sent Yin soldiers to scout and was caught by You Laosi through qi detection, he had similarly used talismanic spells to obtain the opponent’s qi when retrieving the soul-binding scroll.

Now, the conditions for the Seven Arrow Secret Incantation were fully met.

Wang Daoxuan frowned deeply, his expression solemn. He had read of this art’s horror—it seemed simple, yet its lethality was terrifying.

The first three incantations could be mastered by any ordinary sorcerer.

Even common folk cursing with nail dolls counted as the first incantation, though most were mere outbursts of rage and never succeeded.

After the fourth incantation, it grew increasingly difficult—only those with exceptional talent could possibly perform it.

The sorcerer possessing the bearer had harmed his own sect, his methods refined—casting this art upon him did not violate any vow.

Wang Daoxuan simply hadn’t expected to use it so soon.

But now, he had no time to hesitate.

Without a moment’s pause, Wang Daoxuan formed the hand seals, picked up several chopsticks from the side, bit his fingertip, and smeared blood upon them.

The arrows used in incantations were tied to power, but under urgency, he could only improvise this way.

Then, Wang Daoxuan drew a blood talisman on his third eye, stepped the Nine Stars, and wrapped the vermilion cord around the straw doll.

This was called the “Tight Binding Circle.”

!.

The incantation altar complete, a chilling aura rose from the ground.

Wang Daoxuan felt as if plunged into ice, yet he gritted his teeth and chanted: “Dark heavens, dim earth, sun and moon irrelevant—formless shadow veils, fix all evil paths. Heaven’s veil, earth’s veil, spirit’s veil, ghost’s veil—evil veiled, stunned, captured within my veil. Seven arrows to the crown, piercing the heart at this hour—hasten, as the law commands…”

As he chanted, the dark aura rose and clung to the chopsticks—but before it could stabilize, it vanished instantly.

Wang Daoxuan did not lose heart and recited another incantation, forming the hand seal again.

Meanwhile, the situation outside had changed.

“Fall back!”

Zhao Kui roared, swung his broadsword, and chopped a venomous snake in two, then charged forward and slashed at Li Yan.

The constables now snapped out of their shock, shouting as they swung their blades to drive away snakes and insects, while gathering together to reorganize their formation.

Only when they had formed their array did they realize that in just a short time, more than half of them were dead or wounded—some lay on the ground, poisoned by snake venom and unconscious, others completely lifeless.

Blood splattered across the open ground, severed limbs and broken bodies lay scattered, torches flared erratically, and the acrid stench of blood filled the air.

At this moment, Li Yan had driven Zhao Kui back.

Surrounded by so many attackers, even with his exceptional skill, he had taken several slashes, and with the blood splashed from his kills, he was now drenched head to toe in crimson.

Damn it, I’ve run into a demon…

The constables’ eyes filled with terror, and they cursed inwardly.

If they’d known tonight would turn out this way, they’d have found any excuse to avoid it—but now, whether they could even escape alive was uncertain.

Li Yan leveled his blade, the killing intent in his eyes deepening.

The true strength of the Great Luo Body was now fully revealed.

A normal person facing overwhelming odds—even a master of hidden force—would exhaust himself after a brief fight, let alone suffer wounds under a storm of blades.

If he didn’t flee, he’d be surrounded and slaughtered.

But he had the Great Luo Body; as long as he wasn’t killed instantly, he could fight for hours, and eventually slaughter them all!

Swish!

Lu San also leapt out from the perimeter and stood beside Li Yan.

His flying darts were spent; now he held a spear he’d taken from a fallen constable, having taken one slash himself, yet his long spear remained as steady as a mountain.

“Lu San—it really is you!”

Zhao Kui, upon seeing him, was not alarmed—he was delighted.

So many of his men had died tonight; Qiao Sanhu would surely rage—but if he could eliminate Lu San, he’d be rewarded, not punished.

Thinking this, Zhao Kui glanced around and sneered: “Fine. No matter which side you’re on, killing imperial officers is rebellion—you’ll never escape, no matter how far you run!”

As he spoke threats, he made several hand signals behind his back.

The constables immediately understood; a few slipped backward, sprinting into the tall grass, where they jointly dragged out a dark, bulky object.

Iron chains formed a net, embedded with hooked blades—it was the “Ghost’s Dread.”

They had experience using this device; no matter how skilled you were, once caught in it, death was certain.

Once, a wandering hidden-force blade master, driven by righteousness, had tried to rid Fengyang of Qiao Sanhu—but he too was surrounded and slain by this very “Ghost’s Dread.”

Of course, these subtle maneuvers escaped neither Li Yan nor Lu San, whose hearing was extraordinary.

A single glance between them was enough to devise a plan.

Though the “Ghost’s Dread” was deadly, it had one fatal flaw: if it failed to ensnare its target upon launch, retrieving it became extremely difficult.

Hoo~

Just as the two prepared to act, a chilling wind howled again around them, making the torches flicker wildly, as if about to be snuffed out.

Hooves clattered; a rider approached from afar.

Zhao Kui turned and his face lit up: “Master Lu!”

The newcomer was none other than the spirit-possessed sorcerer.

Wang Daoxuan had threatened to burn the spirit contract; he dared not gamble, so he’d left his coffin early and appeared in person.

Zhao Kui had barely called out when he realized something was wrong.

“Master Lu” was accompanied by several constables—the very men he’d left to guard him—but now they all stared blankly, their faces as pale as corpses, walking on tiptoes.

“Master, they…” Zhao Kui sensed danger.

But before he could finish, “Master Lu” dismounted and swung his mourning staff up and down.

Zhao Kui and the others couldn’t see it, but Li Yan and Lu San clearly sensed more yin spirits gathering around them.

Wherever “Master Lu” pointed his mourning staff, a constable stiffened, then his eyes changed, overtaken by a yin spirit.

Within moments, four or five had been possessed.

“Master Lu” had remained in Fengyang solely for the spirit contract; now that he had a lead, he had no time for Zhao Kui’s gang.

“Kill him!”

The constables also sensed something amiss and drew their blades to charge.

But what they feared happened.

The moment they moved, the possessed men lunged violently, tackling them to the ground.

These former comrades now possessed terrifying strength; no matter how hard they struggled, they couldn’t break free.

Those who fell were quickly possessed.

One infected two, two infected four.

In mere moments, every constable except Zhao Kui had been possessed—blank eyes, pale faces, walking on tiptoes, radiating chilling yin energy.

Damn it!

Zhao Kui gritted his teeth and turned to flee, vanishing into the darkness.

Li Yan said coldly: “Lu Brother, he cannot live today.”

Lu San immediately understood and gave chase.

He didn’t know how Li Yan would handle it, but he knew: if Zhao Kui wasn’t killed, the consequences would be endless.

Meanwhile, “Master Lu” no longer wasted words—he swung his mourning staff, and every possessed constable surged forward at once.

Their expressions were vacant, yet their movements were swift, like zombies, feet flying as they all lunged toward Li Yan.

Boom!

Li Yan showed no fear—he delivered a side kick, sending the nearest one flying, but then his expression changed, and he swiftly retreated.

These men weren’t just stronger—they were fearless. The one he’d kicked had his ribs shattered, yet he still spat blood and kept charging.

At that moment, Wang Daoxuan finally succeeded.

He gripped a chopstick and drove it hard into the straw effigy.

“Aaaah—!”

“Master Lu” screamed, collapsing to the ground…

(End of Chapter)