Chapter 442: The Salt Gang

"Little Brother Yan, what should we do?"

Sha Li Fei asked in a low voice, his eyes filled with dangerous light.

He had seen too much to vaguely understand what a shu shi truly was.

In simple terms, this world has two flows of gang and sha energy, countless varieties, from which ghosts and spirits are born, and shu shi harness them to perform their arts.

But all they can do is borrow this power.

Just like Li Yan—he can use thunder gang to stimulate fascia and enhance strength, or cast thunder arts to confront enemies.

Yet gang and sha energy cannot be absorbed by the human body.

Thus, martial artists grow weak with age, their blood and qi declining.

Cultivators seeking immortality must either ascend to godhood, or become earth immortals, demons, or reincarnate through methods like returning to life or spirit possession.

Except for ascending to godhood, all these methods carry hidden dangers.

In other words, anything is possible.

Ghosts inspire fear, yet even Song Dingbo sold a ghost…

Li Tieguai's Daoist arts were profound, yet after his body was destroyed, he could only submit, possessing the body of a hideous cripple…

The Dragon Girl of Longtan Village had an extraordinary origin, a type of earth deity, yet she was pinned down by a Daoist with a Dragon-Subduing Stake—still unable to escape…

And the Wushan hermits, a group of earth immortals, were openly mocked by Li Yan at the time—yet they all stayed silent, none daring to step forward…

This old man is formidable, but find his weakness, and he can still be killed.

For example, Wang Daoxuan's "Seven Arrow Secret Incantation"—once his soul is immobilized, a single spear strike shatters his body, and Li Yan can then scatter his soul and spirit!

And his new gunpowder is abundantly available.

"Not yet."

Li Yan gazed toward where the old Daoist had vanished, thoughtfully saying: "Angering this old Daoist plays right into the Salt Gang's scheme."

"The Salt Gang dragged Qingniu Temple into this—it's not that simple. They're likely also targets. Let's figure out what's going on first."

With that, he gave a signal and led everyone back to their inn room, whispering: "Brother Lu San, keep watch on our surroundings. Everyone else, stay in the inn. With Elder Bai Wan's help, anyone trying to break in won't get far."

"I'll use a teleportation art to leave soon—find out what trap the Salt Gang has set…"

……

Thus, the atmosphere in Fengdu City grew strange.

This small town was insignificant; after the unlucky ruffian spread the news, everyone knew a group of river dragons was staying at Wangxiang Tower Inn—no one dared provoke them anymore…

Li Yan and his group stayed inside the inn, appearing utterly harmless…

The Salt Gang, Qingniu Temple, the yamen, and the Commandant's Office—countless eyes watched them.

Yet the people of Fengdu City paid more attention to the docks.

By the riverbank, a towering ritual altar had been erected. Though guarded by yamen runners and off-limits to the public, laborers reported it stood one zhang high, with much timber cut from the mountains.

Many townsfolk burned incense at home, praying the demons had already been subdued and peace restored to Fengdu City.

Unconsciously, night fell.

Though the afternoon had briefly cleared, by nightfall a cold autumn rain began to patter, freezing people to the bone.

On the riverbank, several large firepots burned fiercely.

Chiiiiii!

Raindrops fell, only to be instantly vaporized by the scorching iron pots.

"Master, it's ready."

The Daoist Ling Fengzi checked the altar once more, then returned to report.

"Hmm."

The old Daoist Chongxu had already donned his ritual robes and nodded, but perhaps from sitting too long, he shuddered upon rising, unable to suppress two coughs.

"Master, perhaps I should take over…"

Ling Fengzi hesitated, speaking up.

Chongxu looked at his young disciple's face and seemed to recall when he himself had said those same words to his own master.

A sudden surge of unnamed anger rose—he coldly rebuked: "That's a yao sheng, not an ordinary spirit! You're young and inexperienced—what if it escapes?"

"Yes, Master."

The young Daoist shrank back, quickly stepping away.

Chongxu took several deep breaths, letting the cold wind quell his irritation, straightened his Daoist robe, and said firmly: "Begin!"

Several disciples below the altar held musical instruments.

Not just small gongs and drums, but bamboo tubes resembling fishing drums.

This instrument is called the Sichuan bamboo zither, also known as "da dao tong."

Don't underestimate these instruments—they too are ritual tools; every rite and ceremony traces back to ancient tribal times.

Back then, shamans would dance the nuo dance to please the gods, or use drum rhythms to communicate with spirits and perform divination.

At the old Daoist's command, music erupted.

He adjusted his robes, held his ceremonial tablet with both hands, silently recited the Celestial Invocation, stepped in the Four Directions, bent slightly forward as if attending court, awaiting the wooden ladder to the altar.

Behind him stood several other Daoists.

Though their movements were identical, their ritual robes differed in style.

The three-tiered altar: five beneath, representing the Five Directions and Five Elements; three in the middle, representing Sun, Moon, Stars, and the Three Talents of Heaven, Earth, and Man.

And Chongxu ascended to the highest level.

Amid fine, cold rain, he calmly lit incense and candles, arranged the offerings and ritual tools, then stepped the Nine Stars, as if mounting steps, spat a mist of water, raised his talisman, and struck the altar three times.

As he finished the incantation, he immediately formed the Summoning Seal and pointed forward.

"Chi!"

Shhh!

On the altar, five small flags rose in unison.

Simultaneously, a fierce wind howled from the east, churning the river's surface into violent waves.

The principle of summoning troops to capture evil is simple.

Like fierce ghosts and spirits, most are formless, born of yin sha energy, drifting and dispersing, hiding underground, in mountains, or in tombs.

Drawn by the yang energy of the living, they emerge to cause havoc.

Ordinary people cannot see them, nor reach their hiding places—thus, troops may be summoned to scour mountains and capture them.

Once caught, they may be sealed or slain, depending on the altar's Daoist's choice.

But this place, Mount Ming, is special: cultivators cannot dwell here long, nor raise troops—so Qingniu Temple uses the ancestral Five Camps.

Though sharing the "Five Flowers" lineage with Mount Qingcheng, their strength is far inferior—their troops are merely average compared to standard Daoist lineages.

What they're better known for, ironically, is their sword art.

Whoosh!

The Five Camps surged forward, wrapped in gang and sha energy; the river's waves grew fiercer, as if an invisible dragon rolled beneath.

Chongxu remained calm, eyes closed, listening to the wooden fish amid wind and rain.

Summoning troops to capture demons and spirits never happens quickly.

Dong dong dong!

The wooden fish's beat remained clear even through the river's roar and gale.

In the inn, Li Yan also formed the talisman.

"Nuo Gao! Heavenly Primordial Essence, essence of Ren and Gui, internal correspondence to the Kidney…"

As the Dark Water Escape art activated, his entire body was shrouded in mist and vanished instantly—the room stood empty.

Only the open window remained, swaying in wind and rain.

Arriving at the riverbank, Li Yan immediately saw the old Daoist performing the rite.

Meng Changgui, the Huangquan contact, guarded the perimeter with a group of yamen runners.

Li Yan deliberately drew near; Meng Changgui, also carrying the Gou Die, sensed it at once, clutching his stomach and grimacing: "Ow! Must've eaten something bad—keep watch, I'll be right back."

With that, he clutched his stomach and dashed into the nearby dense woods.

He sensed the Gou Die—though amazed by Li Yan's escape art, he kept his face calm, pretending to urinate while whispering: "That old Daoist's master broke a taboo; after descending the mountain, our brothers took the contract."

"He came begging for mercy, but we couldn't help—we'd fall into the Underworld if we failed, so a grudge formed."

"It seems like they're targeting you, but they're really forcing us to reveal ourselves—Elder Wei Wuchang is returning."

"Stay put. With him here, Qingniu Temple won't stir up trouble…"

With that, he turned and left the woods.

His caution had good reason.

Indeed, the moment he stepped out, a Daoist across the way withdrew his gaze.

Wei Wuchang?

Li Yan knew that name—the living yin officer who befriended the old woman Bai Wan.

From the Huangquan organization's demeanor, he was clearly a formidable expert.

So the old Daoist's anger came from here.

His master had been punished and sealed—likely he'd borne the humiliation.

Now he too broke the agreement; naturally, the other side would seek revenge.

Truly a misfortune without cause…

After learning the reason, Li Yan was speechless.

Of course, leaving was impossible.

The Commandant's Office had already set an ambush along the waterway to Chongqing Prefecture and prepared firearms.

If they did not resist, they would be shot dead by a hail of bullets.

!.

If they fought back, they would be forced to flee endlessly from then on.

The Great Ming Dynasty was at the height of its power, its laws strict and unyielding; whether Daoist sects or the martial world, all were under its control, and leaders of every orthodox school would make time to travel to the capital to pay homage.

In Shanzhou and Ezhou, he had used the imperial government's strength to combat the Ghost Sect.

But when this power was turned against him and pressed down upon his head, it was just as unbearable.

To break the deadlock, he must expose the Salt Guild.

Thinking of this, Li Yan turned his body and headed toward Fengdou County.

Inside the warehouse, there were still two Salt Guild spies.

He had little time; these two decoys could only be used prematurely…

……

Huh~

On the second floor of the warehouse, a sudden cold wind stirred.

"Who?!"

The two men who had been sleeping immediately rolled out of bed, weapons in hand, scanning their surroundings.

The warehouse was pitch black, with only the windows wide open, cold wind and light rain howling inside.

"Damn it, why isn't the window closed?!"

The short, stout man cursed, then lay back down.

Judging by his demeanor, he clearly had no intention of acting.

The other spy, thin and gaunt, sighed helplessly and went to close the window.

Thud!

Halfway there, he collapsed instantly.

Li Yan also materialized from the mist.

All stealth techniques have a weakness: they require constant hand seals and mental focus to maintain the spell; once an attack is launched, the user is exposed.

Skilled practitioners can conceal this weakness as much as possible.

Just like in Chang'an, the assassin Li Yan had summoned through Luo Mingzi—his shadow-stepping technique left no opening during the strike.

But clearly, achieving such mastery came at great cost; he had already suffered internal injury at the time, and later vanished entirely, never seen again.

But Duifu these two, no such effort was needed.

"Watch the escort!"

The short, stout man reacted swiftly—he flipped up from the bed like a leaping carp, flicked his wrist, and hurled the pillow toward Li Yan.

The man looked simple-minded, but was in fact cunning.

Inside the pillow was a cloth bundle filled with lime and poison powder.

The cry "Watch the escort!" was meant to make Li Yan underestimate him.

Once shattered, the pillow would release lime and poison, engulfing his target.

Only seasoned martial artists knew such tricks.

Every time they settled in a new place, they laid multiple traps.

Indeed, as he threw the pillow, the man leapt from the bed, unleashed hidden force from his feet, and shot forward, his large, basket-like hand snapping toward Li Yan's throat.

Li Yan's face remained expressionless—he sidestepped the pillow, raised his palm in a Pigua strike, deflected the man's claw, then followed with a Red Fist, twisting Chansi hand to lock the man's wrist.

The man's response was equally swift.

Seeing his wrist seized, he did not pull away—he used the grip to spin his body, driving his elbow upward and launching a low kick to the groin.

The sequence of moves was fierce and brutal.

Yet, the gap in cultivation could not be bridged.

Li Yan had long entered Hua Jing; the man had barely reached An Jing—they were not even on the same level.

Thud!

Li Yan altered his force with a light twist—the man screamed and collapsed to his knees.

"Po Pan Men?"

Li Yan instantly recognized his origin.

No other reason—the fist style was unmistakable.

Po Pan Men was one of Shu's great martial sects, skilled in assessing timing and seizing opportunities, striking first when the chance arose, and following up after; they claimed, "Better to lose before than after."

"Hmph!"

The short, stout man knew he was outmatched, yet remained defiant—he sneered, "Damn it, kill me if you will, why waste words?!"

"Fine!"

Li Yan raised his palm as if to strike.

"No no no!"

The man panicked, "You're really going to kill me? Don't you want to ask anything?!"

Li Yan replied calmly, "Ask what?"

The man fell silent. "At least… ask about our background…"

Li Yan sneered, "You're just low-level thugs—you probably know nothing important. I won't waste time."

"And you, down there—if you move again, I'll kill you first!"

The thin man pretending to be dead, hearing this, pulled his hand back from the flying dagger at his waist and stood up awkwardly: "Young Master, let's talk reasonably—we're in the martial world for money, not to die for others."

"Yes yes yes!" The short, stout man nodded quickly, "It's just a little pay—dying would be a huge loss."

"Good."

Li Yan wasted no words—he shoved the short, stout man aside and asked sternly, "What positions do you hold in the Salt Guild? What is Lu Jiu planning?"

"We are not members of the Salt Guild."

The thin man bowed apologetically, "I am 'Guo Qianshan,' and this one is 'Iron Hand Chen'—we're just martial artists trying to make a living in Shu."

"The Salt Guild offered payment and hired many; we were recommended by Fifth Manager Wang Lao Yi. We're here only to assist Lu Jiu—we don't know him well."

"We've only done minor tasks—please forgive us."

"Hmm."

Li Yan was not surprised upon hearing this.

These were true martial world figures—drawn by profit, quick to retreat when danger arose; they merely sought to survive, not to die.

"What is Lu Jiu plotting against me?"

Li Yan sat down with a commanding posture and asked sternly.

"I… I don't know."

The thin man smiled nervously, then quickly added as Li Yan's expression darkened, "Don't rush—I did see something."

"Lu Jiu was following orders. When I met him, I saw through the ship's window an old man with a purple face—his appearance was strange…"

"Also, they were hiding nearby and ordered us to spy. Originally, we were to report immediately once you clashed with Qingniu Temple—but then demons suddenly appeared…"

"Purple-faced old man."

Li Yan's expression changed slightly. "Where are they hiding?"

The thin man hurriedly replied, "They're hiding beneath Qingniu Temple."

"Also, they told us to watch for a child carrying a fan, a gourd, and a sack near Fengdou County."

Li Yan had paid no attention until he heard this—then his face darkened.

That description was "Ma Santong," one of the Seventy-Two Demon Lords…

(End of Chapter)