Chapter 450

"Nothing is more elusive than truth..."

Sha Li Fei frowned, "What does that mean?"

Wang Daoxuan stroked his beard and shook his head, "The elder's meaning is probably that we should not take things too seriously. Shu is full of hidden dragons and tigers, and we've already offended the Wang Mansion—better to keep a low profile."

Li Yan watched the departing figure, lost in thought.

In his mind, he unexpectedly recalled that wealthy merchant from Chengdu.

Was he a cultivator who served Er Lang Zhen Jun… or…

Just then, a voice beside him broke his thoughts.

"Li Shaoxia."

"Fast Boat Zhang" bowed, "Since you all intend to travel overland to Chongqing Prefecture, we'll take our leave here."

Li Yan solemnly returned the bow, "Brother Zhang, you've worked hard on this journey."

He took a wooden box from Sha Li Fei and handed it to "Fast Boat Zhang," whispering, "There are some things inside. Take it with you on the road—don't open it until we're gone."

"Hey, it's nothing."

"Fast Boat Zhang" took the box casually and sighed, "Li Shaoxia, you're loyal, heartfelt, a good man—but your nature is still too rigid."

"There's a saying on the Shu rivers and lakes: no fame lasts a thousand miles, but friendship does."

"The Shu path is hard—make more friends, and the road will be easier."

"Hmm, I'll remember that."

Li Yan could tell "Fast Boat Zhang" spoke these words because he truly regarded them as friends.

"Farewell, all of you!"

"Farewell!"

After exchanging parting words, "Fast Boat Zhang" led his apprentices eastward, heading toward Fengdu.

The Wang Mansion knew Li Yan and his group were headed for Chengdu, so patrols along the Fengdu waters were lax.

With "Fast Boat Zhang's" underworld experience, he could slip away easily.

"Let's go too."

Li Yan turned to look at the mountain path, "First head to Chongqing, gather some intelligence, restock supplies, then proceed overland to Chengdu!"

Elsewhere, not long after leaving, "Fast Boat Zhang" opened the wooden box and glanced inside casually.

His heart immediately began pounding.

Inside the box were two items.

A silver note for five thousand taels.

That was understandable—one, payment for the boat fare; two, the boat promised to them had been seized by the Wang Mansion, so silver was offered as compensation.

The other was a book.

On its cover, clearly written: The Essential Principles of the Profound Dao.

This book was famous; "Fast Boat Zhang" had heard of it—it was the introductory text for disciples of the Profound Sect, explaining its various doctrines.

With this book, he wouldn't be completely lost when encountering unfamiliar matters—he could no longer rely solely on old-timers' anecdotes to avoid trouble.

If any of his descendants ever awakened a divine ability, they wouldn't miss their chance.

"Master, where are we going?"

One of his apprentices suddenly asked.

"To Xiangyang!"

"Fast Boat Zhang" said gravely, "A wandering life on the rivers and lakes is no life for an old man like me—I need to settle down."

"The title 'Fast Boat'—whoever wants it can have it..."

As he spoke, he glanced back at the mountains behind him.

A sudden sadness welled in his heart.

The rivers and lakes age quickly—promises of "farewell until we meet again" often mean never seeing each other again… especially with Li Yan and his group.

………………

In the wild mountains and fields, autumn was at its peak.

It was nearly dusk; the setting sun slanted across the hills, maple leaves blazing red, parasol leaves golden, colors splashed everywhere.

A light autumn breeze stirred, leaves fluttering down, carpeting the path in gold.

Among the hills, an ancient road wound through forest and ridge, weathered stone steps marked by time.

The sound of hooves echoed through the quiet valleys.

A caravan trudged along the ancient path.

Their faces weary, the mules and horses laden with goods, braying incessantly, wheels groaning, steps heavy. Occasionally they paused by streams to water the animals, cup water to wash their faces, rinsing away the dust of the journey.

The caravan leader was a middle-aged man; though a merchant, he could not hide the scholarly air about him.

He leaned on his staff, gazing into the distance, then pointed ahead, delighted: "Fu, look—over there is the Lychee Ancient Road."

His personal servant peered out, seeing a faint trail winding along the mountain slope. He wiped sweat and asked, "Master, why's it called that? Is lychee grown nearby?"

"Something like that—it's both grown and transported."

The middle-aged man leaned on his staff, looking around. "During the Tianbao era, Consort Yang loved lychees, so Emperor Xuanzong built a special relay road to deliver them."

"Lychees were mainly produced in Lingnan, Bashu, and Minzhou. This route started at Fuling, passed through Ziwu Road, and reached Chang'an."

"Lychees change color within a day after being picked, lose fragrance by the second day, and alter flavor by the third."

"Though Consort Yang grew up in Shu and lychees eased her homesickness, 'a single rider stirs dust as the concubine smiles'—with the Lychee Road built, the Tang Dynasty began its decline."

"Master, you're so learned."

The servant flattered him, then complained, "But this road is too hard—wastes time and costs more. Waterways would be far better."

"Do you think I don't want that?" the middle-aged man sighed. "The Sichuan salt guilds and merchant associations are locked in fierce conflict. Near Chongqing, the Pai Sect and the Cao Guild sabotage each other. Merchants suffer endlessly—no one dares offend either."

"These Sichuan brocades are my Lu family's chance to rise again. Since opening the sea trade, demand far outstrips supply. If we deliver them to Tianjin, everything will be solved."

The servant muttered, "But we're the only ones on this desolate path. What if we meet bandits? What then?"

The middle-aged man blinked, stroked his beard, and smiled, "Precisely because no one travels here, bandits are rare. On waterways, not only do officials extort you, but water pirates abound."

"Don't worry—once you reach the Lychee Road from Fuling, there'll be many caravans. You won't need to fear anymore..."

"Relax, once you reach Fuling and take the Lychee Road, there are plenty of merchant caravans—no need to worry anymore…"

Before he finished, the driver ahead suddenly burst into laughter, threw the reins, drew a chopping knife from his waist, and grinned, "Master Lu, you've got a sharp mind—but do you really think we're just sitting around eating rice?"

He glanced around and chuckled, "You know why no one comes here? The authorities ignore it—and anyone who dares take this road never survives!"

The middle-aged man's heart sank.

He'd heard rumors of the underworld—he suspected that when he'd sought help in Chongqing Prefecture, he'd already revealed his hand and been marked.

"He's just one man—what's to fear?"

"Yeah, kill this bastard!"

The rest of the caravan pulled out weapons.

They'd spent years hauling goods—they weren't afraid of bloodshed.

The man quickly stepped forward, climbed the slope, shoved his hand into his mouth, and blew hard.

A piercing whistle shattered the mountains.

Dammit—he's just a scout…

The others instantly grew wary.

But the surrounding woods remained silent.

"What the hell…" the man muttered, blew two more sharp whistles.

Still, no response came from the forest.

The caravan men exchanged uneasy glances.

"Grab him!"

A shout rang out; they surged forward, lashing with whips, beating with clubs, pounding the man until he howled like a wounded beast, then bound him tightly.

Just then, a sound came from around the bend.

Everyone looked up—and saw a towering, hulking giant emerge, one hand gripping an axe, the other holding a dripping, bloody head.

Everyone looked up to see a towering giant emerge, his body thickly covered in hair, one hand gripping an axe, the other dangling a bloody severed head.

The caravan members froze, hearts icy.

In Bashu, witchcraft and ghostly tales have always thrived—folklore abounds: Bear Auntie, Hanging Face, Mountain Child… countless horrors.

This thing before them looked nothing like a human.

This thing before them looked nothing like a human.

Could this mountain path now host a flesh-eating mountain king?

"Where are you all headed?"

As they prepared to flee, another figure stepped from behind the giant—a bald head, thick beard, face full of menace, clearly no good man.

Just as they prepared to flee, another figure stepped out from behind the giant—a bald head, thick beard, face full of menace, clearly no good person.

It was Sha Li Fei and Wu Ba.

Seeing their expressions, Sha Li Fei muttered a curse, rubbed his bald head, and forced a friendly smile. "Don't be afraid—the bandits ahead have been dealt with. Go on your way."

"We're just asking for directions—how do we get to Chongqing Prefecture?"

The caravan leader finally exhaled, bowed respectfully, "Esteemed hero, the path ahead is ancient, and after the earth tremors a few years ago, it's vanished."

The caravan leader finally sighed in relief and, without daring to be negligent, bowed respectfully and said, "This hero, the mountain path ahead has long since vanished, worn away by time and buried after the earth dragon turned a few years ago."

"Follow this path, cross that mountain, and you'll find a Luo Luo village—this is the ancient Yi name. From there, a narrow trail leads on, connecting directly to Chongqing Prefecture."

"Good, thank you!"

Sha Lifei bowed his fist and prepared to leave.

Seeing this, the middle-aged man's expression shifted; he bowed again and said, "Sir, wait a moment—listen to me. If you see anything, say nothing out of turn, especially don't offend the Xi Po or the Great and Little Ghosts."

Sha Lifei narrowed his eyes. "Is that village unclean?"

"Not at all."

The middle-aged man hurried to explain: "The Luo Luo people revere the Ghost Lord—both a ritual master and tribal chief. Later, the court instituted the Tusi system, appointing Great and Little Ghost Lords as Tusi and Tuguan. Xi Po is the ritualist, also called Bi Mo."

"Now, with the court's policy of replacing Tusi with imperial officials, the Luo Luo have revived the old title of Ghost Lord. Though they trade with Han people, they dislike being disturbed—and they resent the court sending officials."

"I understand!"

Sha Lifei instantly grasped it, gave a slight bow, then leapt onto the slope with Wu Ba, heading into the dense mountain forest.

"Hurry!"

Watching the two vanish, the middle-aged man quickly whispered a signal.

The caravan quickened its pace; soon they rounded the mountainside and saw the scene ahead—eyes widening in shock.

There, across the mountainside, lay a vast sprawl of severed limbs and broken bodies, weapons—bows, broadswords—scattered everywhere.

"Brother! Brother!"

Seeing a severed head rolling on the ground, the captured man burst into tears, thrashing wildly.

Thud!

One of the caravan men struck him with a club, knocking him unconscious, then turned to the middle-aged man: "Mr. Lu, we've run into a martial artist—don't get involved. Get out of Fuling fast, take the Ziwu Road."

"Yes, yes!"

The middle-aged man turned pale and hurried the caravan away.

Behind them, the scattered limbs slowly drew beasts to feed...

………………

In the dense forest, Li Yan's group rested.

"We didn't take the wrong path."

Sha Lifei recounted what he'd learned, pointing to the distant peak: "Cross that mountain, pass through a Luo Luo village, and the trail picks up again..."

After leaving Fuling, they headed toward Chongqing Prefecture.

The mountain paths were treacherous, and worse—forks abounded. Some were ancient postal roads, long abandoned; others were crude trails built by locals, shrouded in mist and cloud, and soon they lost their way.

Fortunately, Lu San's hawk, Lidong, kept their general direction correct.

As for the bandits, they'd planned to ambush the caravan. But seeing Li Yan's group had many women—even masked in white robes, their figures were graceful—and they grew lustful, intending to rob both wealth and virtue.

The outcome, needless to say: Sha Lifei held the rear, and Wu Ba alone slaughtered them all.

Li Yan had the Ear Divine Power—he'd heard every word from the caravan. He frowned and shook his head: "Chongqing Prefecture seems unstable. Several factions are clashing fiercely. To avoid getting caught in the crossfire, we should disguise ourselves as soon as possible."

"Li Shaoxia is right."

The old woman Bai Wan smiled: "Yang Opera troupes are common throughout the southwest. In Ba and Shu, villages differ in customs. If we travel by land, we'll inevitably pass through them."

"Disguised as a Yang Opera troupe, you're respected everywhere."

"Perfect!"

Sha Lifei grinned: "Thankfully, I was quick-witted—I had Changgui the elder get us costumes back in Fengdu. Now we've got them, and we've freed up some baggage space."

Saying this, he led others forward, unloading several wooden chests from the mules. Inside: opera costumes, props, cloaks, and Nu masks.

The old woman Bai Wan spoke: "Yang Opera troupes all wear Nu masks. Those who travel widely and possess real skill always keep their cloaks on and masks on, day and night."

"First, it's mysterious—it declares their identity. Second, it's cultivation. Perfect for concealing our identities. Wherever we go, we'll be respected."

"Yang Opera evolved from Nu Opera, mostly performed to welcome deities, repay them, and send them off—to pray for blessings and ward off disaster. It includes Blessing Operas, Birthday Operas, Official Promotion Operas, Wedding Operas, Child-Bearing Operas, and Comedy Operas."

"The opera is divided into Inner Altar and Outer Altar—twenty-four operas total, meaning twenty-four ritual rites. The Outer Altar performances fall to me; the Inner Altar rites are led by Master Wang."

"Even if someone is sharp-eyed, they won't spot the difference..."

After this explanation, everyone donned their cloaks and slipped on Nu masks. Night fell, and they looked like a band of demons in the woods.

"This is perfect!"

Sha Lifei glanced around, grinning: "If we meet anyone halfway, they'll be so terrified they won't dare approach."

"Let's go."

Li Yan put on his Nu mask, gazing ahead: "Reach the village before dark. If they won't let us stay, we leave under cover of night."

At once, the group set out.

Because of the Salt Gang's interference, they'd already lost much time. It was now October, and Chengdu remained far away.

"Cough! Cough!"

Soon, a coughing sound came from ahead.

A woman wearing a Nu mask was immediately helped onto a mule by others, then sank into deep sleep.

Li Yan frowned and walked to Bai Wan's side: "Elder, can't she be saved?"

The coughing woman was Long Yan.

She had abandoned her Golden Silkworm Gu to buy time for the group, killing the corrupted abbot of Qingniu Temple. But since then, her condition had worsened daily.

The old woman Bai Wan sighed: "When your life-giving Gu is damaged, this is the result. Unless a miracle arises, she'll never recover in this life."

"Ah~ Such a pitiful child. Some things, I'll explain to you later, Shaoxia..."

As they spoke, they reached the mountain ridge.

"Huh? Why is it burning?"

Wang Daoxuan looked up, startled.

Across the mountainside, flames roared skyward, blazing bright against the night sky...

(End of chapter)