Chapter 425: The Women Ascend the Mountain to Offer Worship

The sky was dark, thunderclouds hanging low.

In the entire city of Dachang, every household had their doors tightly shut.

Dū—!

The deep blast of a horn echoed through the mountains and rivers.

Creak~

One household opened its door; a woman, wearing a straw hat and a rain cape, stepped out, her face filled with devotion, carrying offerings in her hands.

Then, one by one, doors opened.

Women dressed the same way emerged from their homes, each carrying various offerings, converging toward the dock.

All who came out were married women.

Unmarried women and men remained inside their homes.

At the same time, the Bai family mansion opened its doors.

The women of the Siming Sect all wore white robes, straw hats, and white veils covering their faces; they carried offerings, incense, candles, and several held gourds.

Li Yan and the others were dressed the same: white robes, straw hats, white veils concealing their faces.

The loose white robes concealed their figures well.

Only the towering Shali Fei and the wild man Wu Ba, even in identical attire, stood out too conspicuously.

All the women of the Siming Sect had gathered here.

They were all outer-disciples—homeless orphan girls taken in by the Bai family from across the land, numbering about thirty.

Though few in number, they were all sorcerers who practiced witchcraft and gu magic; compared to those tiny sects with only a handful of members, they were incomparably stronger.

Among them, only the old woman Bai Wan revealed her true face: dressed in a white robe, over which she wore a straw cloak, crowned with a feathered headdress, holding a staff, her face painted with pigments—a classic witch-priestess appearance.

At the dock, all the women of the city had gathered.

Seeing the Bai family arrive, they raised their offerings high, murmuring prayers for the goddess's protection.

The most striking offering among them was a single gourd.

Li Yan saw it and felt no surprise.

The Bai family's actions amounted to breaking away from the Siming Sect and establishing their own lineage; thus, they no longer honored certain sect taboos, even agreeing to Wang Daoxuan's request to open some of their scriptures.

Of course, only those concerning various mysterious sect histories.

The Siming Sect originated from Xingshan County, now under Yichang, and was a folk religious sect.

After the fall of Chu, the Qin and Han dynasties recruited Wu men from across the land into the capital; following the chaos of the Fangxian Dao, mysterious sects emerged, and Chu witchcraft declined.

The Siming Sect inherited the Chu witch lineage, but in truth, their origins were even older—rooted in primal mother-yin worship.

Mother-yin worship was a remnant of ancient times.

For example, the "touching melons to receive children" custom they witnessed in Longtan Village was one form of mother-yin worship.

And so too was the gourd before them.

Nüwa, Xiwangmu, Tushan—all were likely matriarchal clans, their chieftains and witch-priestesses all female; thus, the Siming Sect, too, consisted solely of women.

When Dayu once received aid from the goddess of Wushan to control the floods, and later married into the Tushan clan, there may well have been a connection.

The old woman Bai Wan, following custom, scooped water with a gourd and poured it over the heads of the surrounding women, chanting blessings.

Some women of the Siming Sect began playing flutes.

Incense curled upward; the flute's melody drifted gently.

After completing these rites, the old woman Bai Wan glanced at the women around her, tears suddenly welling in her eyes as she sang in a hoarse, clear voice:

"Three years cradled in mother's arms, now gray hairs thread my temples.

Green cloth for skirt, white for belt, bearing mountains and valleys, countless hollows.

Skirt grows shorter as years flow, mountains turn, yet ceaseless they roll.

Who knows my daughter's hunger and cold? My dowry's preparation has worn my heart to dust…"

This was the "Lament of the Bride," common in many regions—containing advice to daughters, laments for brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law, cries for parents, curses against matchmakers, with countless variations.

Many of these women had been raised under Bai Wan's watch; after this parting, they might never meet again.

Though the surrounding women did not understand what had happened, hearing this song stirred memories of Bai Wan's blessings at their own weddings; unable to hold back, they wept.

"Grandmother."

Wu Chaoyun and Wu Xingyu tugged at her robe.

Bai Wan cast one final glance, then led the group onward, her eyes now filled with resolve.

She would protect her two granddaughters at all costs!

At the dock, a large boat had long been moored, adorned with flowers and colorful ribbons, unmistakably conspicuous.

Beside it, Li Yan's pleasure barge sat idle, its interior empty—all luggage vanished.

"Fast Boat Zhang" and his disciples had, under the Siming Sect's arrangement, secretly sailed down the Yangtze to switch to another vessel.

They would later rendezvous and escort everyone away.

This pleasure barge would remain in Dachang, to serve as a decoy.

The Siming Sect had paid a large reward, and afterward, they would gift them a fine new boat.

Though risky, such an opportunity was one "Fast Boat Zhang" would never refuse.

Splash!

As the group boarded the flower boat, sails were raised at once; before the eyes of the women at the dock, it gradually vanished into the river.

With the Bai family gone, a vacancy opened immediately; Li Yan had secretly sent word, and the Enforcement Hall in Yichang would send men to build a City God Temple.

This location was vital, and since it did not directly enter Wushan, it was effectively a nail driven by the mysterious sect…

…………

The flower boat was strikingly conspicuous; as it passed through the Three Little Gorges, every other vessel on the river swiftly moved aside, and some even bowed and burned incense in reverence.

The Siming Sect was secretive, but the Bai family's reputation in Wushan County was well known; local folk recognized them and knew they were ascending Divine Woman Peak to offer tribute to the Wushan goddess.

This custom had remained unchanged for millennia.

As they passed through Wushan County, many women came to the dock; though not as devout as those in Dachang, they still carried offerings and scattered petals in blessing.

Legend held that the Wushan goddess protected these women, ensuring safe childbirth without mishap.

At the dock, many men also clasped their hands in prayer, beseeching the Wushan goddess for favorable winds and rains this year.

In a teahouse near the dock, all outsiders had been driven out; fierce-looking men guarded the entrance.

At a window-side table sat Lu Jiu of the Salt Guild, his face grim, eyes fixed on the flower boat on the river.

"Lord Lu, what do we do?"

A nearby man, anxious, bowed and said: "I've sent men to check—the 'Mist Guest' has vanished from the salt fields; this trail is likely broken."

"These women climbing the mountain must be under someone's protection; when the time comes, Master Wang may not wish to act…"

"Hmph!"

Lu Jiu let out a cold snort. "Once they're on that boat, how can they easily get off? This matter is not up to him!"

"Let's go up the mountain. If we succeed, wealth and glory lie before us!"

"Yes, Lord Lu!"

All bowed in unison.

Boom!

At that moment, lightning cracked across the sky, millions of silver threads connecting heaven and earth, striking the river and sending ripples across its surface.

Soon, rain grew heavier, cascading over mountains and rivers, lifting thick mists; the peaks wrapped in white veils, more enchanting and mysterious than ever…

After the flower boat left Wushan County, the Salt Guild immediately set out, sailing to the vicinity of Wenfeng, then ascending the mountain.

Above lay the ruined Lingyun Temple, now a heap of ruins.

They did not head for the summit but took a detour halfway up, traversing a secluded mountain path to reach a valley.

Outside the valley, dense bamboo groves stretched, mist and rain obscuring the entrance; outsiders could see nothing within.

Lu Jiu knew this place was guarded by Qimen Dunjia, filled with traps and mechanisms; anyone who entered would face certain death.

Standing before the bamboo grove, he bowed respectfully. "Salt Guild Lu Jiu seeks an audience with Master Wang."

Splash!

A fierce wind howled, the bamboo grove swayed, mist rose; the men instantly grew dizzy, feeling as if the entire grove was shifting.

Their heads spun; they quickly lowered their eyes. Soon, an elderly scholar emerged from the bamboo, dressed in Confucian robes, wearing a straw hat, his features slender, his gaze cold.

Seeing them, he frowned. "I've fulfilled what I promised you. Why have you come again?"

His voice was hoarse—the same man who had played the qin in the Salt Guild's cabin that day.

Lu Jiu immediately forced a flattering smile. "We wish to meet Master Wang. Please, sir, announce us."

The Confucian scholar snorted, but before he could speak, a hoarse, aged voice came from within the valley: "Yu Mo, let them in."

"Follow me."

The Confucian scholar gave Lu Jiu a cold glance and led the way.

Passing through the bamboo grove, the view suddenly opened up.

In the valley lay a small pond, surrounded by flowers and herbs; two thatched huts stood nearby, and on the cliffside wall, a cave entrance.

Above the cave entrance were carved three characters: "Jing Huang Cave."

!.

Inside the cave were several stone chambers, each lined with sandalwood bookshelves, filled with ancient texts—some on rice paper, others on bamboo slips.

In the stone chamber at the cave's entrance stood a desk with the Four Treasures of the Study; an elderly Confucian scholar sat cross-legged on a mat, reading a bamboo slip.

His face radiated authority, with white whiskers curling like dragons, his skin a strange purplish hue—the very elder who, days ago at Wushan, performed rituals that altered the heavens and triggered the dragon's premature ascent.

"We pay homage to Master Wang."

Lu Jiu, upon seeing him, immediately prostrated himself and banged his head on the ground.

Where was the man who had just threatened them?

Lu Jiu was far too astute to miss the signs—this man was no ordinary figure.

His name was Wang Mengsheng, a solitary cultivator of Wushan, of profound cultivation; once, merely by enlisting a monk's aid, he had stood firm against the Zhenwu Palace's ritual altar.

Though Yu Longzi had been disrupted and simultaneously attacked by Huang Liushi and Tian Sheng Gong, causing his defeat, this still demonstrated his formidable power.

"The matter is already settled. Why summon me again…?"

The purple-faced elder gazed at the scroll, not lifting his head as he spoke.

Lu Jiu smiled nervously. "Master Wang, we haven't accomplished it yet—the Woman of Siming has ascended the mountain. If we bow and beg for mercy, we'll never recover."

"That's your problem."

The elder remained unmoved. "My rule is simple: I act. Whether success follows is irrelevant."

Lu Jiu's eyes flickered; he clenched his teeth and bowed deeply. "Master, you know my Salt Guild has excellent intelligence—we've learned something."

"A few days ago, you secretly drew in rebel troops to destroy Yunling Temple. Though you aided the Wushan cultivators, you also killed several of Zhenwu Palace's Daoist priests…"

"That was one thing, but earlier, you were commissioned by the Ghost Sect to duel Zhenwu Palace—not only humiliating them, but nearly derailing imperial affairs…"

Before he finished, the elder cast him a cold glance.

The moment their eyes met, Lu Jiu felt as if struck by lightning—his skull thundered, his chest and abdomen twisted in agony.

He tried to struggle, but his entire body was frozen.

The others he brought suffered the same—some could not breathe, mouths gaping like dead fish, yet drawing no air.

Yu Mo, the elder who had brought them in, watched coldly.

This was "Yan Shu"—a form of soul-binding hypnosis. If not lifted in time, these Salt Guild men would suffocate to death.

Fortunately, the purple-faced elder did not kill them—he merely let out a cold snort. "Are you threatening me?"

That snort broke the spell.

Lu Jiu's face turned purplish-blue; he and the others collapsed, gasping for breath, eyes wide with terror.

This elder was the one their boss had ordered them to contact—none had imagined he was this terrifying.

"I dare not! I dare not!"

Lu Jiu scrambled to his knees, speaking urgently. "I only speak for your sake—we've heard rumors."

"Zhenwu Palace hasn't retaliated because they're busy suppressing rebellion, and because they're sending men to track the Ghost Sect's leader. But they've sent others."

"The duel at Dujiangyan has ended. Qingcheng Mountain now holds the upper hand. Yu Longzi is leaving Shu, and when he returns, he'll bring those two Wushan masters with him."

"Our boss told me to warn you: this place is no longer safe. Only one noble figure in the world can protect you now."

"Qingcheng won?"

The purple-faced elder seemed unsurprised. He shook his head. "Cheng Jianxin vanished. With Qingcheng's current strength, they cannot suppress the southern demons. They're merely retreating, waiting for the imperial forces to prevail."

He fell silent for a moment, glancing around the caverns. "This Jinghuang Cave once held books of Emperor Liang Wudi. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang sheltered here during the An Lushan Rebellion. It is a blessed place."

"Those old devils have coveted it for years. Once I leave, they'll seize it."

"Master!"

The old Confucian beside him grew frantic.

Before he could speak, the purple-faced elder raised a hand. "Don't say it. My divinations these past days have all shown great misfortune. The orthodox Daoist sects' fortune is rising. Wushan will fall to them soon."

"Master, your wisdom is unmatched!"

Lu Jiu quickly flattered him. "Please act—retrieve them. Once you're in Shu, you'll have a proper excuse."

The purple-faced elder gave him a cool glance. "You want me to die?"

Lu Jiu stared, stunned. "I… I wouldn't dare!"

"Fool!"

The old Confucian cursed. "The boy you provoked is a Living Yin Officer. Unless something extraordinary happens, he's already followed you up the mountain."

"Not even my master would dare touch him. Everyone else here would hide. This is your problem alone!"

Lu Jiu stared, incredulous. "A Living Yin Officer… that powerful?"

He was only a messenger, ignorant of Daoist secrets—precisely because of his ignorance, he had been fearless.

"Hmph!"

The old Confucian sneered. "It's not him that's powerful—it's what stands behind him. We won't touch him."

"Then… what should we do?"

Lu Jiu panicked.

The purple-faced elder's eyes glowed with faint light. "I have an idea… if you dare to do it…"

…………

Whoosh! Whoosh!

Rain poured endlessly; mist rose from the forest.

The Siming Association members moved through the woods. Though ancient mountain paths existed, they had long been washed away by floods and mud—progress was excruciating.

Li Yan stepped into a patch of sludge, then looked up toward the peak—clouds churned, obscuring the entire mountaintop. Moments later, the scene shifted again.

The clouds and rains of Wushan changed endlessly—truly magnificent.

But traveling under such conditions left anyone in low spirits.

Sha Lifei wore a white robe over his body, fearing his firearms would get wet, and beneath it, oilcloth—he was drenched in sweat. He muttered under his breath: "How much farther?"

"Hehehe…"

Before he finished speaking, children's laughter echoed from the dense forest ahead—as if children were chasing and playing.

Yet when they looked closely, they saw nothing.

"Don't panic!"

The old woman Bai Wan remained calm. "They're Shan Ying—children who drowned in the Wu Gorge. Don't interfere."

She shook the bell on her cane.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

The bell's clear chime rang through the mountains and woods.

Bai Wan bowed respectfully. "Are you Master Lian? We ascend to pay homage to the Goddess. Please grant us passage."

A faint shadow appeared in the mist—a nun. A distant, drifting voice replied: "Amitabha. All of you, turn back while there's still time."

At the same moment, the Gou Die in Li Yan's arms began to grow warm…

(End of Chapter)