Chapter 599: The Siege of Chengdu

"This… can the Dragon Palace move?"

Lingyunzi gazed into the distance, his eyes filled with confusion.

They already knew what the Dragon Palace Water Mansion likely was, for the Qingcheng lineage was ancient, and its texts contained relevant records.

This thing is called a Cave Heaven Secret Realm.

Unlike the Cave Heavens and Blessed Lands, it is a mysterious existence, suspended between illusion and reality, accessible only through dreams.

In many strange tales, ordinary mortals often stumble into immortal mansions.

That's exactly what this is.

But no one ever imagined such a thing could move.

Meanwhile, the battle on the river had ended; severed limbs, broken ship timbers, and burning lanterns drifted up and down with the current.

All of the Wang Fu's emissaries, except the fugitive Zhao Jie, had been slaughtered; Qingcheng disciples had suffered thirty percent casualties.

Cheng Jianxin also stared into the distance, silent.

"Grandmaster…"

Watching the old man's haggard back, Mingshanzi's eyes brimmed with worry, but he opened his mouth and found no words.

Cheng Jianxin's attempt to ascend to the Divine Realm had failed, causing severe backlash: his cultivation had regressed, one eye was blinded, and he had aged rapidly in a short time.

He told no one, left the Cheng family, and wandered alone among the streets of Shu, often drunkenly sleeping on the roadside.

No one knew he was Cheng Jianxian, the sword immortal whose name struck fear across the land.

He lived recklessly, unnoticed, and his life was strangely free.

Until he encountered the astonishingly gifted Chang Gousheng, when he finally conceived the idea of leaving the Cheng family a final trump card to face future upheavals.

That was the full story.

When he found Cheng Jianxin, Mingshanzi could hardly believe this was the once-majestic, awe-inspiring Cheng family sword immortal.

What troubled him more was that Cheng Jianxin's injuries were not merely physical—his soul was also aging, growing as frail as an ordinary mortal's.

First hunted by the Blood Nuo Masters, then commanding this battle with unremarkable strategy, he had not once displayed the combat prowess of a Qingcheng disciple.

In the past, this would have been unthinkable.

"Let's go."

Cheng Jianxin stared into the distance, his expression still calm, "Chengdu Fu may be on the brink of disaster—we cannot shirk our duty."

"Yes, Grandmaster."

All Qingcheng disciples bowed in unison.

They too had noticed Cheng Jianxin's aging.

But so what?

Following behind him,

was itself an honor!

Soon, the severely wounded were carried ashore for care; the remaining Qingcheng disciples prepared several intact small boats and sailed downstream straight toward Chengdu…

Not long after they departed, several figures emerged from the opposite forest, each draped in black robes, their faces tattooed with dragon patterns, expressions grim.

Their leader was a young foreign monk.

If Li Yan were here, he would recognize this man as identical to the old monk from the Shituo Forest illusion—only much younger.

He was none other than the Lord of the Worship Dragon Sect, "Lang Wu."

Since being hunted by the orthodox sects of Shu, he had rarely appeared; even Wang Fu's people did not know this old devil had been secretly trailing them all along.

Gazing at the wreckage below on the river, "Lang Wu" let out a hollow laugh. "Good—it saves us the trouble. The Master will be pleased."

With that, he waved his fingers.

A black-robed figure behind him immediately stepped forward, carrying a brocade box.

"Lang Wu" took the box and opened it.

Inside lay a bronze mask, its eye sockets bulging forward—the ancient Shu ritual artifact recovered from the Ghost Qiang ruins.

He carefully removed the bronze mask, bit his fingertip, smeared his blood across the protruding eyes, then raised it high.

Hoo~

Soon, fierce winds howled through the mountains.

Streams of crimson mist converged from all directions—the red demonic essences, once suppressed by the Dragon Palace Water Mansion, scattered after being shattered by the Earth Sword.

These crimson aberrant energies were drawn to the bronze mask, howling toward it and vanishing entirely within.

The mask's protruding eyes gradually glowed with crimson light.

In the darkness, it was strikingly clear…

………………

"What, scattered?"

In the Bai family's ancestral home, eastern Chengdu.

Li Yan shot to his feet.

Before him stood the Six Idle Bamboo Elders.

These veteran masters, long renowned, were now dusty and wounded, each bearing injuries.

"The Qingyang Palace struck."

Liang Yu spoke coldly: "They used Paper Crane Tracking to locate Qingcheng's hiding place, then brought over a thousand soldiers to besiege them."

"We warned Qingcheng, then went to great lengths to divert the pursuers, wandering through the mountains for days before returning."

"My apologies for troubling you all."

Li Yan bowed quickly, his face filled with remorse.

Qingyang Palace and Qingcheng Sect both resided in Shu and knew each other well; finding their hiding place was no surprise.

For the Six Idle Bamboo Elders to lure away so many pursuers was no small feat.

"Don't worry."

Situ Bo, still recovering from old wounds and having fought continuously these past days, looked pale and urged: "The Qingcheng contingent are elite experts; their Sword Altar is famed across the land—this isn't idle talk. They'll succeed."

"Hmm."

Li Yan nodded, yet unease lingered in his heart.

It was already the twelfth day of the first month.

These past days, they had lain low in Chengdu Fu, either creating chaos or gathering intelligence, maneuvering against Wang Fu to draw attention.

Logically, Lu Sheng should have sent elite hunters after them—he had even pre-placed gunpowder traps hoping to kill one or two.

Yet none of Wang Fu's elite had appeared.

Either they were too cautious.

Or something more important was happening.

At Dujiangyan, though Zhao Jie was a Gangjing expert, he would hardly fare well against a Qingcheng assault.

What exactly is Lu Sheng planning…

Thinking of this, Li Yan grew even more puzzled.

Knock knock knock!

At that moment, rhythmic knocking sounded at the door.

Immediately, three figures leapt over the wall—Sha Lifei and Wang Daoxuan, flanking a captive.

The man's attire suggested an ordinary civilian; his new Year's clothes were torn and disheveled, bound with rope, and his mouth stuffed with rags.

"Oo~ oo~"

His eyes were bloodshot, writhing in agony.

"Master, what is the meaning of this?"

Li Yan studied him, frowning.

"The evil curse has erupted."

Wang Daoxuan's face darkened; he yanked the rag from the man's mouth.

"Roar—!"

The moment freed, the man let out a low, bestial roar, eyes wild with madness, writhing to bite nearby Sha Lifei.

"Hold still!"

Sha Lifei kicked him away, cursing: "On our way back, we found this man going berserk in the streets, smashing things and biting people."

"We'd have ignored him, but Master said his curse had erupted, so we knocked him out and brought him back."

"By the way, right after we left, a squad of garrison soldiers came running to arrest him—we barely escaped."

As he spoke, others gathered around.

Wen Song of the Six Idle Bamboo Elders stepped forward, flicked his Yin-Yang Brush, and with a sharp hiss, slashed open the man's upper garments.

Everyone's expressions turned grim.

The man's chest bore the "God of Joy Coin"—now rusted, its former luster gone.

Beneath the skin where the coin hung, a massive scar had formed, black-blue in hue, identical in pattern to the God of Joy Coin. Around the scar, veins bulged black and swollen, like vertical forked black lines spreading across his entire body.

"Aaah—!"

The man suddenly roared, his muscles swelling violently, snapping the ropes binding him as he lunged at Li Yan.

Paa paa paa!

Before he took two steps, Wen Song swung his Yin-Yang Brush, striking pressure points with precision, hitting him multiple times.

The frenzied civilian instantly froze, unable to move.

The Judge's Pen excels at striking acupoints, but requires varied techniques and force, synchronized with the twelve-hour flow of qi and blood—hard to learn, harder to master.

Such effortless mastery clearly marked him as a true expert.

"Senior, your skill is remarkable."

Li Yan complimented him, then stepped forward to examine.

As he drew closer, the sensation became clearer.

He could smell a cold incense-like aura flowing through the man's veins, converging at the scar.

!

Liang Yu also stepped forward, grasped the man's wrist to feel his pulse, and mused, "Pulse is chaotic and weak, unresponsive under pressure—false yang flares outward while the spirit and blood are severely depleted."

He glanced at the strange scar. "This thing is devouring his qi and blood, absorbing his soul. His spirit is already fragmented—that's why he went mad."

The others exchanged uneasy glances.

Liang Yu was a master of medicine; his diagnosis was certainly correct.

"What a vile sorcerer!"

Sha Lifei drew a sharp breath. "Is this madman truly planning to sacrifice the entire city's blood?"

Li Yan immediately turned to Wang Daoxuan. "What about the other civilians?"

He had been active in recent days, even attacking openly in the streets, assassinating over a dozen Black Feather Guards. His portrait had spread throughout every alley, and his aura had been exposed.

The Shu Prince's Black Feather Guards patrolled daily, leading mountain-guarding hounds, even offering hefty bounties, stirring up many martial artists and urban scoundrels.

To avoid danger, they had no choice but to stay temporarily in the old mansion.

For these past days, only Wang Daoxuan and Sha Lifei had ventured out to investigate.

Wang Daoxuan replied grimly, "Though there aren't many madmen, the other civilians are also acting strangely—you'll see for yourself."

Without hesitation, the group immediately disguised themselves and went out.

It was the twelfth day of the first lunar month—the opening day of the Lantern Festival.

Chengdu's lantern festival was famed throughout the land, and this year was no exception; bamboo and wooden lantern pavilions lined both sides of the streets, filled with colorful lanterns, palace lanterns, and moving horse lanterns—endless, dazzling, stretching as far as the eye could see.

The main streets were thronged with people.

It seemed as if every citizen in the city had poured onto the streets.

On the twelfth day of the first lunar month in Chengdu, there were two customs.

One was "Parading the Silkworm Deity."

Since ancient times, Chengdu's silk industry had flourished; Shu brocade was renowned across the land, and the twelfth day marked the birthday of the Horse-Head Maiden (Silkworm Deity).

The other was worshipping the "Pox Lady."

To protect children from smallpox, every household in Chengdu had Daoists mark their children's foreheads with cinnabar and burn "Pox Boats" in the river while reciting the "Sutra for Sending Away the Pox."

In essence, tonight was the first day of the lantern festival.

The days-long revelry had now begun.

Yet the group soon sensed something was wrong.

The crowds parading through the city, gazing at the lanterns, pointing and whispering—all had flushed faces, wearing unnatural, frenzied smiles…

Every lantern pavilion was draped in crimson curtains.

By custom, they should have been multicolored, yet every merchant had, without exception, hung red fabric.

Silkworm farmers carried the Horse-Head Maiden on bamboo palanquins, while crowds surged around them, even fighting each other for better positions.

"Kill him! Kill him!"

No one tried to stop them; instead, everyone screamed in frenzy.

Even the children laughed shrilly, setting off firecrackers in the throng.

The entire city of Chengdu was steeped in a feverish atmosphere.

"Master, why are you hanging red curtains this year?"

Li Yan casually asked a tavern owner.

"Guest, it's the Prince's order."

The owner's face was equally flushed, beads of sweat on his forehead as he grinned excitedly, "They say it's to honor fallen soldiers—what a brilliant idea! Red cloth looks festive, lively, and the people love it."

As he spoke, he unhealthily licked his lips.

"Hmm, Master, don't you feel something's off?"

Seeing his crimson face, Sha Lifei couldn't help asking.

"What's off?"

The owner glared, then laughed heartily, "I only feel exhilarated—I've never been this happy in my life."

"Heavenly Coin grants blessing!"

Suddenly, a drunkard staggered into the tavern holding a "Joyful God Coin," shouting, "Give me wine! Give me wine!"

The tavern patrons, upon seeing it, rushed forward.

After a scuffle, someone snatched the "Joyful God Coin" and fled.

Others chased after him—even the owner cursed, grabbed his wide robe, and ran out after them.

As if the "Joyful God Coin" held immense allure.

"They're all mad! All of them!"

Sha Lifei, witnessing this, swallowed hard.

"What a terrifying cursed artifact!"

Judge's Pen Wen Song's eyes were filled with horror as he murmured, "The whole city is under the curse—impossible. Zhao Jie has no such power…"

Li Yan took a "Joyful God Coin" from his sleeve.

It had been found on the earlier mad civilian.

Rust-covered, its spiritual aura entirely gone.

The curse sealed within had already infiltrated the civilians' bodies.

Li Yan rubbed the rusted copper coin, lost in thought, gazing toward the direction of the Shu Prince's mansion. "This is merely a medium."

"The true source must be inside the mansion."

He turned and asked, "How's San'er doing?"

Sha Lifei whispered back, "We've nearly mapped it out—the secret tunnel to the mansion was deliberately concealed. That bastard, Master Wuxiang, must have done it."

"Hmm."

Li Yan spoke low and grimly, "No time left. Before the fifteenth, we move. Transport all the gunpowder packs to the Shu Prince's mansion."

"There must be a central array inside. We blow it up directly—it should break the curse."

Huh~

At that moment, a cold wind swept through.

The previously clear sky rapidly darkened.

Sha Lifei shivered, raised his palm, stared at the sky thick with clouds as snowflakes began falling, muttering, "This weather's cursed—why's it snowing again?"

In the blink of an eye, the sky was choked with dark clouds.

BOOM!

Amid thunderous roars, countless goose-feather snowflakes fell, whipped by gales, swirling and blanketing all of Chengdu.

"Be careful—something's wrong…"

Li Yan felt his heart pounding.

He looked up immediately, sensing an inexplicable oppression.

The snow fell heavier and heavier.

In less than the time to smoke a pipe, Chengdu was already white.

Outside, several miles away, Qingcheng Sect members looked up.

"Damn—we're too late…"

Ming Shanzi stared at the distant city, his face grim.

Li Yan and the others, within the city, felt only the sudden snowfall.

But to their eyes, the entire city of Chengdu was now wrapped in thick, white mist.

Slowly writhing, as if ready to swallow the whole metropolis…

(End of Chapter)