Chapter 471: Mountains, Waters, and Soaring Eagles

The night wind howled, autumn rain pattered softly.

The temple wall had collapsed, the wooden door shattered into pieces; inside, the altar exploded, as if from within, blasting the temple roof clean off.

Meng Shanhai, Wang Jinguì, Zhou Xiong…

One by one, the spirit tablets lay scattered, mixed with mud and water, cracked and rotten, as if centuries had passed.

The cliffside tombs on either side had also exploded.

Bricks and stones had shattered, all from within.

Zhao Xianda, a battalion commander of the Chongqing Prefecture Military Commission, held an umbrella and carefully examined the tombs, his brow furrowed in deep thought.

Around him, corpses lay thick and dense.

Most faces were blue-purple and twisted, as if terrified to death, blood streaming from all seven orifices, bodies bent into unnatural angles.

Others were torn apart, flesh and blood a bloody mess.

In the night, firelight flickered, autumn rain droned on, mud and blood soaked the earth, staining it red.

Soldiers of the Military Commission held torches, faces grim, meticulously inspecting corpses, recording details, collecting items—everything orderly.

Since the Chongqing affairs were settled, the Military Commission had begun to emerge, cooperating with Emei, swiftly seizing control of Chongqing Prefecture.

Unlike Liu Gan, Zhao Xianda, also a battalion commander, had been low-key until now, when the time was ripe he began to act.

After handling several cases, he had become a favorite of the Commission.

His superiors intended to burden him further, tasking him with overshadowing Wan Baoquan's title as the Southwest's Number One Divine Detective, so all major cases were handed to him.

Undoubtedly, this was a major case.

"My lord!"

A squad leader strode forward, bowing with clasped fists: "We've checked—no gunpowder was used. The traces point to two perpetrators: one of massive build, a master of internal force; the other, a sorcerer."

Zhao Xianda glanced at him coolly. "What of this village?"

The squad leader whispered: "We found items in the warehouse. We can confirm: this old Bear Village is the 'Ghost Fish Gang,' the Jiālóng River pirates."

"Busy as farmers, idle as bandits—occupying docks to trade and fence stolen goods. No wonder they vanished so easily; we never caught them."

"They were more than bandits."

Zhao Xianda looked at the ruined tombs. "They practiced illicit worship of dark spirits, sacrificed living people—those children were drained daily of their yang energy by ancient ghosts in the tombs."

"Driven by greed and lust, no wonder someone struck back so brutally."

"Hand this case over to the Enforcement Hall. None of our business."

"My lord, this…"

The squad leader stared, stunned.

Zhao Xianda shook his head slightly. "Merits are endless. Take what you should, leave what you shouldn't touch—greed invites public wrath."

He hesitated, then spoke: "But some things can't be ignored. What was his name?"

"The survivor said he called himself Mobile Corps Commander."

"Mobile Corps Commander?"

Zhao Xianda chuckled dryly. "Are there twelve Zodiac Spirits now?"

"Spread the word: 'Mobile Corps Commander' eradicated the heretical cult and demonic bandits. The court knows—but will not pursue this matter."

The squad leader frowned in confusion. "My lord, forgive my stupidity—if we're not arresting him, why praise him?"

"Simple."

Zhao Xianda tapped his oil-paper umbrella, watching raindrops fall. "The Military Commission is the Emperor's eyes over the Jianghu—not a yamen constabulary. Know what to do, know what not to do."

"Spreading the word tells the Jianghu we're not idle."

"Praising them tells the Jianghu we understand their ways—so when we invoke righteousness later, someone will step forward to help us."

"Yes, battalion commander."

Dozens of miles away, on the Jinyun Mountain trail.

Wang Daoxuan also held an umbrella, lantern in hand, moving through the rain; behind him, Wu Ba carried a pack, clad in an extra-large straw cape and hat, looking from afar like a wild bear.

"You ask when I'll return—I cannot say. The Ba Mountains' night rain swells the autumn pool. When shall we trim the western window's candle, and speak again of Ba Mountain's night rain?"

Wang Daoxuan walked through the night rain, his mood seemingly light; the cold mist seemed to wash the killing aura from his person.

He shook his head, murmuring: "'Ba Mountain Night Rain' is famed across the land, yet few know Li Yishang wrote of this very Jinyun Mountain."

"Mm-hmm."

Behind him, Wu Ba nodded vigorously, still chewing a large baked pancake.

Wang Daoxuan paid no mind, speaking to himself.

Then Wu Ba swallowed, suddenly speaking: "You… why… angry? Kill… never seen before."

Wang Daoxuan froze, turned to Wu Ba, saw his blank expression—first surprised, then silent for a moment, sighed: "I've never told anyone this."

"I was Wang Laoniān. Later, people called me Wang Shopkeeper. I chased money endlessly, unaware my family had believed demonic lies, summoned evil spirits—only I survived."

"I seek the Dao not for immortality, but so fewer 'Wang Laoniān' suffer in this world…"

As he spoke, the two figures faded into the misty rain…

………………

Three days later, between the mountain trails of Shu.

The trail was paved with stone slabs, wide enough for two packhorses to pass; steep sections carved stone steps into bedrock—evident of the immense labor invested.

Alas, after centuries, the foundation had crumbled, uneven and muddy, riddled with cart ruts; distant horse bells tinkled.

This was the ancient Chengdu-Chongqing Road, begun in the Han, perfected in the Tang and Song.

Stretching from Chongqing's Chaotian Post in the east to Chengdu's Jinguanyi Post in the west, it was the most vital land route between the two.

Though ancient, its facilities remained complete.

Along the way stood not only post stations and watchposts, but far more tea sheds and inns, offering travelers rest, horse changes, and lodging.

Now the autumn rain had ceased, the sky high and clear.

The thick fog clinging to the mountains had lifted; distant hills turned golden, pines and cypresses stayed green, rivers gleamed emerald—a brilliant autumn scene.

The ancient road teemed with travelers.

Caravans rolled with clattering wheels and neighing mules; nobles rode in sedan chairs; common folk mostly walked.

Even many pilgrims, wearing conical hats, marched in single file.

Beneath the trees by the road, a group of mysterious figures, wearing Nuo masks and wide robes, sat by a campfire, cooking and resting.

Passersby dared not disturb them.

Those who knew understood: this was a Wuyang Yangxi troupe—one capable of setting altars and exorcising demons, with shamans among them.

Those who didn't know still understood one rule:

On the road, avoid trouble.

These were, of course, Li Yan's group.

They had departed from Zouma Town, reached Zizhong two days ago, now passed Jianyang County; half a day ahead lay Longquanyi.

Beyond Longquanyi, they would enter Chengdu.

Two days of travel, though no danger arose, left them weary; they chose to rest by the roadside, replenishing their strength.

After all, Chengdu's situation would grow far more complex.

Above the tree canopy hung a strange flag, stitched from several colors—crude, yet unmistakable when viewed from above.

Li Yan sat by the campfire, meditating with closed eyes. Though the Bai women were all skilled, and Bai Wan stood as elder guardian, this was a protection mission—he could not afford to slack.

Only he dared not sleep too deeply at night.

In the distant sky, a dark speck pierced the clouds, wings beating as it soared—Eagle of the Winter Solstice.

Lü San's pet had gained spirit; though it knew no sorcery, its flight and intelligence far surpassed ordinary hawks.

Seeing the flag, it dove straight down.

Now split into three teams, with no telephones, Eagle of the Winter Solstice had become their primary means of communication.

Flapping wings, the fire flickered.

Li Yan first fed it a piece of rabbit meat he'd hunted, then unrolled the bamboo tube, studying its contents—his eyes widened slightly.

Wang Daoxuan, that kind old man… had struck so brutally…

Wiped out an entire village of demonic bandits.

And left the name "Mobile Corps Commander" behind.

!.

Li Yan didn't know why, but he was certain: Wang Daoxuan was no reckless man—he must have been provoked.

He wasn't worried. Even Wu Ba alone could slaughter every last bandit; let alone Wang Daoxuan.

The group had split into separate teams for five or six days.

In this short time, Wang Daoxuan had moved swiftly, investigating every suspected human sacrifice site near Chongqing listed in the intelligence.

One was fake—a traveling puppet troupe faking spirits to swindle money.

One was the old Bear Village, wiped out by Wang Daoxuan.

The third was a murder case: someone falsely claiming divine rites to seize family property; Wang Daoxuan had notified Wan Baoquan.

A big reputation has its perks.

The name "Mobile Corps Commander" was now whispered throughout the Shu Jianghu; Wang Daoxuan had encountered several Jianghu figures near Jinyun Mountain.

According to them, near Nanchong and Physician, underground sorcerers secretly preached: a Dragon God had descended; countless villagers had joined the sect, with signs of human sacrifice.

Wang Daoxuan had once told him that the Huo Jiao sect's homeland lay near there—so he had sailed north along the Jiālóng River to investigate.

After reading the intelligence, Li Yan's expression turned grim.

This mission is no match for the old Bear Village—if it truly involves the River God Lord, the danger level will rise.

Thinking of this, he immediately picked up his brush and wrote a letter, instructing Wang Daoxuan to gather intelligence covertly and wait until the team reunited before taking any action…

At that moment, Long Yan'er, pale-faced, walked over hesitantly and asked, "Old Sha… something happened?"

She had noticed Li Yan's unusual expression and hurriedly inquired.

"Yeah, something happened."

Li Yan replied without looking up.

"Ah?!"

Long Yan'er trembled, nearly losing her balance, and asked in a shaky voice, "What… what happened to him?"

Li Yan sighed. "The Qingniu Temple reported a celestial treasure—a nest of jade bees. We planned to find them and use Lu San's magic gourd to enhance it."

"That old glutton tasted some honey, got his yang energy disrupted, and got stung by the venomous bees—laying bedridden for three days…"

Long Yan'er: "…"

Seeing the girl's expression, Li Yan secretly chuckled, unable to help but marvel: if not for Lu San's reminder, he'd never realized the Cultivation Sect's Holy Maiden had taken a fancy to Old Sha.

Along the journey, though she tried hard to hide it, she couldn't help asking him about Sha Lifei's whereabouts.

Such is the strange magic of fate.

Thinking of this, Li Yan stopped teasing and spoke seriously: "Miss Long, focus on yourself first. Though we now have a method, reassembling your life-cultivation insect is no small matter."

"Old Sha is going all-in—you're in even greater danger. We don't understand insect arts and can't help at all…"

As an elder of the Si Ming Society, with ancient lineage, Bai Huan had searched through scriptures and finally found a method.

But this method is even more perilous—nearly a nine-in-ten chance of death—and outsiders can offer no aid whatsoever.

Hearing Li Yan's question, Long Yan'er fell silent for a moment, then smiled calmly. "If I succeed, I'll come find you. If I fail… consider me never to have existed."

With that, she turned and walked back to Bai Huan's side.

Seeing this, Li Yan couldn't help but sigh.

Children of the Jianghu often have no control over their fates; even when feelings arise, they rarely find a way to be together—perhaps they'll meet again someday across mountains and rivers.

Old Sha wandered half his life—this fate came too late, and too bitterly.

Both must face the trial of life and death.

Thinking of this, Li Yan picked up his brush again and wrote down Long Yan'er's situation, sealing it in a bamboo tube.

He knew Sha Lifei wouldn't ask—but he'd surely want to know…

Whoosh!

Ying Sun Lidong spread its wings and soared again.

Watching the black dot vanish into the clouds, Li Yan rose and said, "Alright, everyone, move out. We'll reach Longquanyi tonight."

"Find lodging and gather information…"

…………

Ying Sun Lidong flapped its wings, soaring over mountains, rivers, and streams.

After some time, it suddenly dipped low, burst through the clouds, and dove toward the towering mountains below.

The mountains were lush and layered, peaks strangely beautiful, with bizarre rocks jutting alone from the earth, wreathed in mist—where both temples and monasteries could be seen, as well as vast tea plantations on the slopes.

This place is Bayue Mountain, where thirty-five peaks rise, not a celestial paradise, yet rich with spiritual energy.

On the mountain stand Daoist temples and Buddhist monasteries—all worldly shrines—frequented by literati from Chongqing Prefecture seeking seclusion and scenic beauty.

But the most famous thing here is the tea plantations.

This region produces "Shuinan Tea," an imperial tribute tea; even the Shu Prince's Mansion has sent people to guard the harvest year-round.

Generally, tea is planted in spring and autumn, but the harvest season varies, each yielding distinct flavors.

Spring tea is most abundant, summer tea is bitter, and autumn tea is rich and mellow.

Now, on the mountain, tea-picking women labor in the cold wind, their fingers frozen red.

In tents far away, eunuchs from the Shu Prince's Mansion warm themselves by firepots, sipping tea and eating snacks, laughing and chatting.

No one noticed a falcon had flown overhead and landed in a dense forest at the mountain's rear.

Beneath the shade stood Lu San and Sha Lifei, along with the master and apprentice treasure-seekers introduced by the Jinzhou Merchants' Guild.

"Mmm~ Mmm~"

Sha Lifei's body was swollen, his eyes puffed like lanterns; he leaned against a tree, groaning.

Xiao Company Commander Chuqi stood beside him, its jet-black eyes fixed on him, lips curled as if mocking.

"Go… go…"

Sha Lifei waved his hand, muttering, "I went out of my way to find you honey, and now you laugh at me."

Lu San took the bamboo tube from the falcon's talons, examined it, then handed Li Yan's letter to Sha Lifei.

Sha Lifei stared at it and fell silent.

The elderly treasure-seeker beside him, applying medicine, comforted him: "No worry, my formula cures bee venom—swelling will fade in two or three days."

Sha Lifei forced a smile and changed the subject: "Master Yu, will the thing really appear tonight?"

(End of Chapter)