Chapter 417: Mountain Village Ritual

"Salt pits of the Ba people?"

Li Yan frowned slightly upon hearing this.

"That's right."

"Fast Boat Zhang" nodded and said: "There are many such places along the Yangtze River in Badong and Wushan, especially near Wuxi—you can even see the ancient Ba people's cliff coffins."

"There's nothing special inside—occasionally you find broken pottery or ironware, all worthless, so no one bothers with them."

"This isn't strange."

Wang Daoxuan looked around and stroked his beard: "This land was once the ancient Ba Kingdom; near Wuxi, it's likely the legendary Witch Kingdom mentioned in the Classic of Mountains and Seas."

"The Ba people obtained salt, didn't spin or weave, yet had clothing; didn't farm or harvest, yet had food. They relied on salt trading to live comfortably—hence the name 'Yanba' for salt, and eventually, this very wealth led to their downfall."

"The 'Fog Walker's' lair is in these salt pits—its origins are almost certainly tied to the ancient Ba Kingdom…"

He glanced at Li Yan.

Without needing words, Li Yan understood his meaning.

The most terrifying thing in this world is time—if one does not ascend to godhood, all is ultimately illusion, even for those specters and demons.

From the age of savagery until now, it has still survived…

It's certainly no ordinary ghost!

"This matter cannot be taken lightly."

After a moment's thought, Li Yan spoke: "First, help the Zhang family through this crisis. Once we uncover the true nature of that thing, we'll decide our next move."

Zhang Sibei was slightly disappointed; in his view, if they were truly experts, they should immediately destroy the evil spirit—why be so cautious?

But seeing "Fast Boat Zhang" obey Li Yan without question, he said nothing more and had the grave refilled before returning.

As for the serpent spirit, it seemed terrified, refusing to enter the village even at the cost of death—it vanished in a flash into the grass.

They returned to Jinyangping by afternoon.

Seeing the sword mountain already erected outside the gate, Li Yan paused, then stepped forward and bowed to Xie Chengzu: "Elder, we've discovered something…"

Xie Chengzu was a local sorcerer who had chosen to stay—not just out of stubbornness, but out of goodwill.

To prevent mishaps, Li Yan did not conceal anything.

"Old salt pits?"

Upon hearing this, Xie Chengzu's frown deepened: "I don't know what the 'Fog Walker' is. All I can do is communicate with it tonight and try to uncover its origins."

"If something happens again tonight, you should persuade the Zhang family to leave early—whether to Qingcheng or Wudang, as long as they settle below the mountains, that thing won't dare trouble them."

"You're right, Elder."

Li Yan smiled slightly and asked tentatively: "Elder, I noticed your Divine Veil Cloth is excellent—would you consider parting with it?"

Xie Chengzu raised an eyebrow, his eyes filled with suspicion: "That thing—I found it by chance, and I use it quite comfortably."

"If you truly want it, then… give me two thousand taels!"

Trading talismans wasn't unusual—he named a high price, expecting haggling.

To his surprise, Li Yan extended his hand: "Done!"

"Lao Sha, pay him!"

"Huh?"

Xie Chengzu was stunned, hesitated, then nodded: "Fine, it's yours. And that 'Soul-Alive Coffin'—it's no good thing. Once removed, it loses all power; destroy it as soon as possible."

Li Yan's generosity made him feel cheated.

But he didn't understand the object's use, and it served little purpose in his hands—better to trade it for silver and repair the ancestral altar…

Back at the Zhang residence, everyone immediately began preparing.

Wang Daoxuan held the Luo Pan, pacing around the house, occasionally planting red stakes, wrapping them in red cords, and tying on yingsheng coins.

Lu San dragged out the increasingly fat Rat One and Rat Two, gave a command, and all the household rats in Jinyangping began to stir, scattering in all directions to spy.

Sha Lifei and Wu Ba each prepared their weapons.

As for Li Yan, he went to the box holding the "Soul-Alive Coffin," said nothing, and grabbed the filthy red cloth.

Instantly, a surge of power flowed into the Great Luo Dharma Body.

Li Yan closed his eyes slightly, turning inward to observe.

The patterns on the Great Luo Dharma Body changed once more.

Originally, this treasure was broken blue stone; after repairs and enhancement, it had become ceramic-like.

Now, faint golden lines appeared, tracing outlines upon the lotus platform below.

Unfortunately, the Divine Veil Cloth contained too little fortune—it could only sketch two lotus petals before losing its effect.

Still strengthening!

Li Yan felt an inexplicable sense of disappointment.

Not because it was bad—but because there was no new change.

The Great Luo Dharma Body now had three transformations.

First, repair; second, enhancement; third, absorbing divine Gang to increase the power and length of the Soul-Grabbing Thunder Chain.

Perhaps, only by further elevating the Great Luo Dharma Body could new changes emerge…

With the Divine Veil Cloth spent, the "Soul-Alive" aura reappeared—this time clearer: though it smelled medicinal, it carried a chilling, unpleasant coldness.

Li Yan pondered, then placed his hand on it again.

This treasure herb, too, belonged to the category of celestial and terrestrial treasures.

But treasure herbs are best used for healing and pill-making—like the longevity herb they found, which Wang Jing refined into a pill that instantly stops bleeding and heals wounds upon ingestion.

At critical moments, it could save lives.

He had the Great Luo Dharma Body, but his companions could use it.

Destroying this one outright felt wasteful.

This was Li Yan's first time absorbing a treasure herb; according to his theory, such potent life-force entities were typically used to repair the Dharma Body.

Indeed, a surge of fortune flowed in—but the Great Luo Dharma Body, already flawless, showed no change.

Li Yan frowned, immediately stopped, and drew a Soul-Cutting Flying Knife, slicing open the coffin-shaped Soul-Alive.

Amidst a cold, foul stench, black fluid gushed out.

Emerging with the black fluid was a strange insect—resembling a cicada but with a centipede's body, rigid and long dead.

Others gathered to watch.

All shook their heads—none recognized the creature.

But Li Yan, staring at the insect, suddenly recalled Liu Gang and his wife's prepared Immortal Body for him.

This thing was a flesh vessel prepared by a ghost or deity.

Could it be the same method…?

Though dead, the strange insect emitted a foul stench and an unsettling aura—clearly no good thing.

"Wait."

As Li Yan prepared to destroy it with thunder magic, Wang Daoxuan suddenly spoke, shaking his head: "I've recently gained some insight—I can use the Seven Arrow Secret Incantation to turn this creature into a trap. Even if it doesn't kill the evil, it can reveal its location."

Sha Lifei chuckled: "Master, you've such talent for incantations—why hide it? Just switch careers…"

Wang Daoxuan smiled wryly, unsure what to say.

Jokes aside, the Daoist moved swiftly—found a straw figure, chanted the incantation and inscribed talismans, then stuffed the insect inside, binding it with red thread.

Wang Daoxuan set up his altar in the back courtyard; the front courtyard hosted the opera. Li Yan stepped outside and planted all five Fang Luo Feng Flags, completing all preparations.

He glanced toward the distance, a hint of killing intent flashing in his eyes.

With so much preparation, even if the opponent were a mountain spirit, it would lose a layer of skin upon arrival.

Their strength was no longer what it once was…

…………

DONG! DONG! DONG!

Night fell, the gongs and drums sounded.

The entire Zhang residence was brightly lit; other villagers in Jinyangping had shut their doors and windows, hanging peach branches and charcoal outside to ward off evil.

The village was remote; in normal times, even the worst opera troupes drew crowds.

Now, no one dared approach.

Having lived among mountains for years, they were far more superstitious.

The Zhangs were wealthy and wouldn't skimp on a funeral—but many servants had fled, even the hired cooks had left early.

!.

Thus, the food was truly poor.

Meatballs, tofu, winter melon, cabbage, cured meat—all boiled haphazardly into one pot, served with hard steamed bread—enough to fill the stomach.

Li Yan, Sha Lifei, and Wu Ba each held a large bowl, squatting on the front courtyard steps, eating while watching the opera.

The "Yellow Boy" came to fetch souls mostly at Zi Shi.

The time was still early; they were prepared, so they had leisure to watch.

The opera troupe was professional—even with only a few spectators, they performed with full formality.

DONG DONG DONG!

A rapid gong-and-drum sequence marked the opening.

Then a girl dressed as a young female role stepped forward, stepping lightly, holding four scrolls, singing as she hung them toward the four directions.

Each scroll bore one character: Fortune, Prosperity, Longevity, Joy.

Then, a clown emerged, clacking wooden boards, shaking his head and rolling his eyes as he sang: "In the first month comes the New Year, firecrackers boom as the old year passes. In the second month, spring wind cuts like shears, trimming willow leaves, fine and delicate..."

This is the folk chant "Twelve Months," common across the land, and when combined with the earlier character-distribution ritual, some opera troupes call it "dingtai."

After "dingtai," the main opera begins.

They sang in the local dialect, their melodies resembling folk songs, rich with mountain village flavor—entirely different from Qin opera or Chu drama.

To be honest, it was unfit for refined halls, yet oddly entertaining.

Li Yan and the others understood little, but could plainly see they were performing "Zou Ma Jian Ge," peppered with rustic slang. The civil and military officials glared and flared their mustaches, making several laugh.

Xie Chengzu sat in another room, holding a wooden board made of buffalo horn, burning incense in prayer, shaking it with a rattling sound.

Since nightfall, he had been performing divination every half-hour, and his face had grown increasingly grim.

Finally, after the apprentices finished a performance, Xie Chengzu stepped out and barked: "Stop singing! Set up the altar—begin at once!"

"Women, the elderly, the sick—leave the Zhang household immediately. No matter what you see, do not come near."

"You few, come with me and prepare!"

Zhang Sibei, fearing unforeseen dangers, had invited him to assist.

As for Li Yan and the others, they politely refused—they came to lend strength; accepting payment would lower their standing.

Two factions acting simultaneously was taboo, but given the complexity of the situation, both sides resorted to their own methods to help the Zhang family weather the calamity.

Soon, an altar was set up outside.

The altar resembled those of Daoist Xuanmen, but the deity enshrined was a fearsome white tiger.

The Tujia people believed all things possessed spirits.

Some worshipped ancestral deities, such as the ancient Tǔwáng or the Eight Great Gods; others revered Meishan God.

They worshipped the white tiger because they claimed descent from it.

Xie Chengzu had also prepared: he wore a red ritual robe, his head wrapped in black cloth, and a grotesque nuo mask on his face.

Incense curled above the altar, amid the clanging gongs, drums, and suona horns. Xie Chengzu, wearing the nuo mask, danced and chanted, holding incense sticks and offering them to all directions—to heaven, earth, and the myriad gods.

Though different from Daoist Xuanmen, Li Yan still sensed a vast, ancient force gathering from the mountains and forests.

This was the mountain's gangsha, carrying a trace of fierce solemnity.

The White Tiger God...

Li Yan vaguely guessed its identity.

Folk deities depend entirely on incense worship.

The White Tiger God's origin was the ancient Linjun, founder of the Ba Kingdom, venerated for millennia by the Tujia people—naturally, a powerful folk deity.

This land was once the heart of the ancient Ba Kingdom; its power was even stronger.

Xie Chengzu now entered a strange state: he held salt, scattering it in all directions, gripped the buffalo horn, chanted incantations, and kicked off his shoes.

Beside the altar stood three young men, bare-chested, heads wrapped in black cloth, barefoot, bowing to the altar.

Huh~

A gust of wind swept across, lifting the scattered salt, gathering beneath the feet of the central youth, piling higher and higher.

The youth instantly rolled his eyes back, his whole body trembling violently, rising in a grotesque posture.

Xie Chengzu rushed forward, hoisted the youth onto his back, swung the buffalo horn, and marched step by step toward the knife mountain.

The knife mountain had two parts: one laid flat on the ground, the other formed a ladder, suspended high.

Seeing the crowd's rapt attention, "Fast Boat Zhang" whispered: "I've heard of this—seventy-two knives on the ground are called 'Stepping Earth Knives'; thirty-six on the ladder are called 'Stepping Heaven Knives.'"

Wang Daoxuan mused: "Some resemblance to ji-tong rituals, some trace of Tian Gang Di Sha methods—apparently, Tujia and Han practices are merging, and their arts are evolving..."

"Roar!"

Before the earth knives, the trembling disciple suddenly transformed—he snapped his head up and let out a tiger's roar, leaping forward and stepping directly onto the blades.

"Sssss—!"

Sha Lifi saw it and sucked in a sharp breath.

Not from fear, but from an instinctive chill down his spine.

The blades were razor-sharp, gleaming coldly in the torchlight; yet the disciple landed heavily and remained unharmed.

He walked while dancing wildly.

Xie Chengzu stood beside him, swinging the buffalo horn, chanting, dancing the nuo dance—as if urging him on.

Huh~

After just twelve steps, a sudden cold wind surged.

"Here it comes!"

Li Yan frowned, gazing into the distance.

The night was bright with moonlight; all could see clearly: from the dark forest far away, white mist surged like a tide, swiftly engulfing the entire village.

"Something's wrong!"

Li Yan suddenly felt a chill along his spine; a nauseating odor filled his nostrils, faintly familiar.

Guanzhong, caves, Japanese monks...

Beside him, Wang Daoxuan's brow twitched, his face grim: "'Mist Guest'? It's sheng shen—the demonic qi of heaven and earth. No wonder Lingyun Temple could only suppress it."

"Quick! Stop the ritual!"

(End of Chapter)