Chapter 588: Sudden Killers' Ambush

The fringe sects of the Jianghu have their own methods.

Though inferior to the orthodox Daoist schools, they still have their roots.

For instance, the "Water Mist Ghost Wall" used by the Canal Guild elders—its name is crude, yet it hides a horrific tragedy.

Back then, when the Golden Tent Wolf Nation invaded southward, they shattered the Yellow River defenses; tens of thousands of canal workers rose in righteous rebellion, but were brutally suppressed, and three thousand corpses sank into the old Yellow River embankment.

Since then, boat fleets passing the Yellow River at night often encountered eerie mists, with helmsmen dreaming of floating corpses knocking on their hulls, begging for food; later, the Canal Guild's leader, "Iron Anchor Li," collected the bones and erected a "Wu Si Altar," quelling the resentment and giving birth to this technique.

In places thick with water vapor, thick fog can be summoned to obscure vision.

Li Yan's Northern Emperor's Dark Water Evasion excels in concealment, while the Canal Guild's technique, relying on ritual flags, is better suited for large-scale fog creation.

The Swallow Gate's Tang Jiu-niang's flying shuttle skill is likewise ancient, originating from the Colorful Costume Gate's "Shadowless Ladder."

In the final years of Daxing's distant reign, a flying-shuttle female bandit targeted corrupt officials, distributing stolen wealth to orphanages, and thus her sect became famed throughout the Jianghu.

The cooperation between these two is seamless.

Far away, the guards at the entrance of the Grand Commandery Prince's mansion looked up, their faces filled with confusion, asking their companion: "Strange—why's there fog on such a freezing day…?"

Before the words were out, they suddenly collapsed unconscious.

A silver needle, as thick as a little finger, was stuck in their neck.

Inside the Grand Commandery Prince's mansion, chaos erupted as well.

First came thick fog, blinding even at arm's length; then shadowy figures descended from the air, slaying those who resisted, while servants and maids without martial skill were knocked unconscious with a single palm strike.

Within the fog, blades flashed, and soon all sound vanished.

The initial attackers were all Jianghu elites; their leader, the Formless Prince, moved like a phantom.

The Grand Commandery Prince's guards offered not the slightest resistance.

"Wind of the Xun sweeps away dust and haze, Fire of the Li illuminates the dark netherworld—by decree, disperse!"

With a low chant from the Canal Guild elder, the surrounding fog dissipated visibly, in less than half a cup of tea's time.

At the mansion's entrance, two Chengdu underworld masters, already dressed as guards, watched the surroundings with cold eyes.

After all, this was the Grand Commandery Prince's mansion; even if nearby nobles lived, they were far away, and no one had noticed.

Inside the mansion, the same held true.

As the mansion was secured, the Formless Prince's two dozen men slipped over the walls from outside the inn, binding the maids and servants, then changing into their clothes.

This was the plan agreed upon earlier.

Rapidly seize the Grand Commandery Prince's mansion, then set traps to capture the target.

The great hall was likewise littered with fallen bodies.

These men and women, old and young, mostly dressed in lavish attire, were all relatives and descendants of the Grand Commandery Prince's line.

Unlike Xiao Jinghong, the Grand Commandery Prince became a grandfather at a young age.

Behind the front hall, the Formless Prince used the Sinew-Dislocating Bone-Throwing Technique to pin a man to the ground, his knee pressing down on the man's neck.

The man wore a python robe, his features sinister, his skin pale—this was the Grand Commandery Prince.

His eyes were bloodshot, teeth clenched, growling like a beast, yet utterly immobilized.

Li Yan also stepped quickly into the front hall.

His task was not to invade, but to use his formidable spiritual power to sense movements around, avoiding traps.

Though he did not strike, his role was more critical.

"Indeed, a curse has taken hold!"

Seeing the Grand Commandery Prince's condition, many sighed in relief.

It wasn't out of malice, but because this mission carried great risk.

After all, the Shu Prince being possessed by a demon, and the Commandery Prince cursed—such things were unheard of; one mistake would bring disaster.

Seeing their expressions, the Formless Prince paid no mind, turned, and bowed toward the rear: "Senior Jin, your assistance, please."

With the jingle of silver ornaments, an old woman in black stepped forward.

Her hair was white but her face youthful; she wore a dark blue hemp robe, a silver "Three-Eyed Crown" on her head, a vertical-eye-patterned silver plaque hanging from her brow, and nine copper bells stitched to her sleeves.

She looked clumsy, her legs unsteady; she hadn't come through tunnels, but was carried in a sedan chair from the street.

Yet no one dared underestimate her.

Even Li Yan bowed respectfully.

The Formless Prince had another strength: extensive connections.

This old woman was known as "Auntie Jin," the legitimate heir of the Sichuan Nu Dance Altars, the Nu Altar Lady of Ba-Shu.

She was among the pinnacle figures of the fringe sects.

The "Sichuan Nu Twelve Altars" formed the core system of Ba-Shu Nu opera, originating from ancient Shu shamanic rites and fused with Daoist secret arts.

The Nu Altar Lady belonged to one lineage, venerating the Queen Mother of the West, Magu, and Zigu as the Three Saints.

The Twelve Altars were divided into "Upper Four, Middle Four, Lower Four," corresponding to Heaven, Earth, and Humanity; each altar was a Nu opera.

For example, the Middle Four Altars governed the mortal realm: Ghost Soldiers Marching, Zhong Kui Marries His Sister, Erlang Searches the Mountains, the Judge Grants Wishes.

The "Mulian Rescues His Mother" performed earlier by Situ Qian's Shadow Theater belonged to the Lower Four Altars, which communicate with the netherworld.

Since learning Situ Qian had brought the Shadow Theater, the Formless Prince had been wary, and specifically summoned "Auntie Jin" from near Chengdu to counter the Yin Nu Opera.

He also needed her to break the curse.

The old woman, Auntie Jin, approached the Grand Commandery Prince, ignoring his roars, seized his pulse point, and performed a secret method to probe.

Her left eye quickly turned gray-white; she extended a withered hand, rubbing repeatedly over the Grand Commandery Prince's third eye.

"Ah! Ah!"

With a scream, the Grand Commandery Prince's forehead turned blood-red.

The old woman pondered, then removed his boots and socks, formed a hand seal, and pressed hard against Zusanli.

"Ah—!"

Another scream rang out; everyone stared in shock as black-purple vein patterns, like crawling centipedes, appeared along the tendons of his heel.

"Blood on the Yintang, Yin worms entwining the feet…"

Auntie Jin turned to the others and said gravely: "It is indeed the Yin Nu Opera's curse. I need certain items."

"Please name them, Senior."

The Formless Prince beamed and bowed quickly.

The key to this plan was breaking the curse; once undone, all would be resolved.

The old woman said calmly: "I need three-year-old glutinous rice, coarse salt from Bashan, wormwood ash, rootless water (rainwater), and a Bagua mirror."

"Go get them quickly!"

The Formless Prince turned and ordered.

After his men left, he turned back to Auntie Jin: "Senior, time is urgent—how long until you can break it?"

"Breaking the curse is fast—but it must be done at noon."

The old woman said gravely: "I use Yang Rice to Break Yin—need to expose the glutinous rice under the Bagua mirror at noon, sprinkle salt to shatter the curse. Any other time will only trigger backlash."

"Noon?"

The Formless Prince frowned heavily, turned to the others: "Gentlemen, we must delay slightly—do not reveal any weakness."

"Also, inform those brothers: hold off the Shu Prince's procession at all costs. No matter what happens, I will not neglect their families…"

Listening to his orders, Li Yan took out his pocket watch and checked.

It was just past Chen hour; the Happy God's Procession at the Wu Hou Temple would end no later than the end of Si hour.

Such a long time to delay—hard to manage…

…………

The snowstorm had cleared; sunlight pierced through the clouds.

Outside Chengdu, a massive Happy God procession crossed Wanli Bridge.

Due to the dense crowd and narrow bridge, progress was slow.

In the distance, the Bing River's ice lay blanketed in snow like a white ribbon; hanging eaves on both banks dripped with ice stalactites; red paper scraps fluttered in the wind.

The "Happy God's Procession" had another rule: someone must portray Liu, Guan, Zhang, and Wu Hou, leading the procession.

Even the Shu Prince's entourage had to follow behind.

At the intersection on the other side of Wanli Bridge, dozens of commoners knelt by the roadside, offering baskets of food and jugs of wine.

Inside the bamboo baskets were salt-army garrison round breads and a few bottles of Pita wine.

This was an ancient military send-off custom, and the most solemn ritual for welcoming the Happy God's Procession.

According to custom, those portraying Liu, Guan, and Zhang must bite into a round bread and drink a sip of wine.

But the four men ahead ignored them entirely.

One of the "commoners" gave a signal; the others immediately rushed forward with their baskets.

"Your Excellency, taste my handiwork." "Happy God's Procession—blessing and peace."

They spoke sweet words, yet their backs were taut with tension.

Clang!

Suddenly, the man portraying Guan Yu raised his Green Dragon Crescent Blade, stepped forward, and swung with both arms in a sweeping slash.

In an instant, blades flashed, blood sprayed, heads rolled.

"Attack!"

Seeing their cover blown, the "commoners" instantly drew short knives from their belts; some lifted the round breads to reveal hidden bamboo tubes packed with gunpowder.

"Hahaha!"

The actor playing Zhang Fei wielded a spear measuring eight feet, charged forward in a few strides, and unleashed the Rain of Pearls Spear Technique.

In an instant, he stabbed three or four more to death.

The "commoners" behind were about to ignite the gunpowder barrels, but "Liu Bei" had already leapt into the air, swinging his twin swords in rapid arcs, severing arm after arm.

!

These actors were all Hidden Force experts.

Soon, all the "commoners" were slaughtered.

The last man was pierced through the heart, fell to the ground, and stared fixedly at the stone bridge, his eyes filled with resentment and confusion…

"Murder!"

The crowd behind screamed and retreated in terror.

At that moment, Liu Eunuch, the Imperial Seal Keeper of the Shu Prince's mansion, gave a signal; immediately, palace guards unrolled their bundles and hurled a handful of scattered silver coins into the air.

"The demons are slain! By order of the Shu Prince, proceed without delay—the auspicious hour cannot be missed—!"

At once, the crowd behind halted.

They stared in shock, then their eyes filled with bloodshot frenzy as they surged forward.

The coins scattered earlier had been merely "Lucky God money"; now they were real silver.

Though cut into tiny pieces, no larger than a thumb, grabbing just one or two would suffice for a family's monthly expenses.

Who cared about the dead now?

Even if the sky fell, they had to rush up and grab it.

The crowd surged forward; with the Shu Prince's procession quickening its pace, the massive entourage soon passed the Wanli Bridge.

A few lagged behind and leapt over the stone bridge, running down the riverbank beneath it.

They spotted a dozen scattered silver coins lying beneath the bridge.

In the dead of winter, the river surface was frozen solid.

They stumbled and scrambled to the bridge's underside, but before they could even reach for the coins, they froze in terror and fell to the ground.

Beneath the bridge, several figures were clawing at the brick seams, clinging to the underside using the Wall-Crawling Gecko Technique, their waists tied with gunpowder barrels.

But these men were already dead.

Each had jet-black skin, muscles shriveled as if burned, yet their clothing remained intact…

The final leg of the journey proceeded smoothly.

The Shu Prince's procession arrived outside the Wu Hou Temple.

Along the way, they scattered silver several times, drawing crowds to follow; only a dozen or so, gripped by fear, left the procession early.

The Shu Prince followed the procession into the Wu Hou Temple.

Before the Three Righteousness Hall, three sacrificial offerings had already been laid out; the temple attendant, accompanied by several young Daoist acolytes, bowed respectfully to greet them.

"Your Highness."

The temple attendant stepped forward cautiously to offer his greetings.

He had naturally heard of the events in Chengdu; he had thought the Wu Hou Temple, outside the city, would spare him trouble—but he never imagined the Shu Prince had gone mad and insisted on holding the "Lucky God Procession."

Even two days prior, he had sent men to seize control of the temple.

The temple attendant was, in fact, a member of the Huangling Sect; recalling his fellow disciples imprisoned in the city, their fates unknown, his heart trembled.

Before entering the temple, the Shu Prince had already dismounted.

He ignored the attendant's pale expression, stepped forward to the altar, and lit the incense and candles himself.

Yet he hesitated, refusing to insert them into the incense burner.

The incense smoke curled and swayed in the wind.

Seeing the Shu Prince motionless, the attendant grew puzzled and hurried forward, bowing: "Your Highness, you…"

No sooner had he spoken than one of the Shu Prince's guards suddenly stepped forward, swept his hand, and knocked all three sacrificial heads off the altar.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

As the three heads hit the ground, they exploded.

Hum!

Three columns of black smoke rose—each teeming with countless venomous gu insects, swarming toward the procession.

The temple attendant stared, dumbfounded, his body turning icy.

Who was behind this?

Was this trying to kill him?!

Shhh! Shhh! Shhh!

From the rooftops on either side, white figures drew bows and loosed arrows—those were the "Yinshan Kites" archers from western Sichuan.

From the dark corners of the Three Righteousness Hall's roof, several figures leapt out, trying to flee—but were struck mid-air, falling to the ground.

The arrowheads were poisoned; they had no time to cry out before their faces turned ashen, foam bubbled from their mouths, and they died.

"A pity…"

The "Shu Prince" regarded the trembling temple attendant with calm expression and said: "I received word that the Qingcheng Mountain people have arrived. Did they not contact you?"

"Ah… n-no."

The temple attendant stared, his heart growing colder.

The "Lucky God Procession" was a trap.

Fortunately, his cultivation was low; he had only been sent here because he was good at managing affairs—he had not participated in this plot…

"Worthless!"

As the old Daoist secretly rejoiced, a cold voice rang out; before he could react, a blood-red hand slammed down, crushing his skull like a burst watermelon.

The attacker was none other than the actor playing Liu Bei.

He grabbed the bulge at his neck and yanked hard, discarding the human-skin mask to reveal a head of pure white hair.

It was Ba Daiza, the Blood Nuo Master and trusted confidant of the Shu Prince.

"Your Highness, it seems the old ghost didn't take the bait."

Ba Daiza's face darkened: "The ones who intervened earlier were those old devils from the Cheng family—unfortunately, they escaped."

The "Shu Prince" didn't care, shaking his head: "Cheng Jianxin has dominated Shu for decades; even if he slipped up, his Jianghu experience remains—he's not so easily fooled."

"What's the situation in the city?"

"Preparations are underway."

"A pity… we didn't achieve full success today…"

The "Shu Prince" remained calm, glanced back at the terrified crowd, and chuckled bitterly: "We didn't lure them out—but we still do what we must. This may be our last 'Lucky God Procession.'"

The actor playing "Guan Gong" strode forward, his wooden prosthetic leg striking the ground with a thud-thud-thud.

It was Situ Qian of the Ghost Opera Troupe.

He had botched his last mission; though the Shu Prince had not punished him, he was now more vigilant than ever—how could he dare slack off?

Arriving before the ruined altar, he shook his beard and sang in the high-pitched Sichuan opera style: "Snow drifts over Wolong Ridge, the Lucky God arrives—every evil dissipates!"

After singing, he himself found it absurd.

To others, they were demons and heretics—yet here they were, performing this farce in the sacred Wu Hou Temple…

"Let's go. Catch the rats in the city."

After completing this final act, the "Shu Prince" turned on his heel.

But at that moment, his heart froze—he quickly sidestepped.

Clang!

From afar, a blade's flash erupted; a brilliant white streak howled toward him, brimming with lethal intent.

"Audacious!"

Ba Daiza, the Blood Nuo Master, snorted coldly, drew a blood-red curved blade from his waist, and thrust it before the "Shu Prince."

He chanted a spell; black smoke billowed from the blade, colliding with the white streak, hissing fiercely.

Then came a clatter of metallic strikes—the white streak vanished, revealing a short sword no longer than a forearm.

As if drained of power, the sword fell to the ground, its metallic luster dimmed.

"Cheng family's flying sword?"

Ba Daiza sneered: "Only learned the surface tricks—how dare you show off?"

"Quick! Seven hundred meters southwest of the temple!"

(End of Chapter)