Chapter 600: City of Nightmares

The Daoist robe billowed as fierce winds whipped across their faces.

The closer they drew to Chengdu Prefecture, the more stunned the Qingcheng Sect members became.

The entire prefecture was now shrouded in thick fog.

The dense fog obscured sky and sun; from the docks and the slums beyond the city walls, not a single sight within could be seen.

Boom!

From within the fog, occasional thunderclaps echoed.

The surrounding air grew cold; the fog's abundant moisture condensed into a blizzard of snowflakes, whipped by the gales.

"What has this demon done?"

Ming Shanzi's eyelids twitched as he gritted his teeth and muttered low.

"Master Ancestor, what should we do?"

Ling Yunzi bowed to Cheng Jianxin beside him and asked.

The old Daoist listened, then shook his head frankly: "I've never seen anything like this before, and with my mind now dull, you decide."

Seeing he refused to offer any opinion, Ling Yunzi sighed and, after consulting with Ming Shanzi, bowed again: "Master Ancestor, we believe that since this demon could draw the Dragon Palace's watery domain into Chengdu Prefecture, there must be some setup here."

"We've already checked—the divine senses cannot penetrate it; entering rashly risks falling into a trap. The Qingyang Palace lies outside Chengdu City, and they were involved in this. Perhaps they know something."

"Moreover, I've sent messengers back to the mountain to request reinforcements from the Sect Master and to contact other allies."

"Good. Do as you say."

The old Daoist nodded without hesitation.

Emboldened by Cheng Jianxian's approval, Ling Yunzi's confidence surged; he and Ming Shanzi swiftly organized their forces, acting with precision.

Cheng Jianxin, meanwhile, stood silently to the side.

"Master…"

Watching the old man's hunched form, Chang Gousheng suddenly felt a deep sorrow.

The first time he saw Cheng Jianxin, the man was already this frail and aged, yet from others' tales, he could imagine the former Sword Immortal's glory.

"Why the long face…"

Cheng Jianxin's expression remained calm; he unhooked his wine gourd, took a sip, and smiled: "The waves of the Yangtze push forward—the old era is gone. This world belongs to the young."

"One day, you too will watch your disciples stand alone—wouldn't that be a joy?"

"By the way, 'Gousheng' is too crude a name. As you walk the Jianghu under my banner, you can't let others laugh at you…"

Chang Gousheng faintly sensed what was coming; tears welled uncontrollably. He straightened, bowed solemnly: "Please, Master, grant me a name!"

Cheng Jianxin gazed at the heavens, his eyes clouded, murmuring: "That step was never my wish… I hope you may have the chance…"

"I give you a name… Chang Tianque!"

As they spoke, Ming Shanzi and Ling Yunzi had completed their arrangements: one man returned to Qingcheng on a Jia Ma to seek aid, while two others headed to Tiefo Temple and Emei.

By now, this was no longer Qingcheng's sole responsibility.

The rest detoured toward the southwest of the city.

They moved swiftly and soon reached the vicinity of Qingyang Palace—but the sight before them once again defied expectation.

The thick clouds blanketing Chengdu Prefecture had somehow spread to this place, yet did not expand further—like a tentacle extending to engulf Qingyang Palace as well.

Perhaps due to thinner fog here, faint yellow lights could be glimpsed in the distance, along with strange drumming and gong-beating.

Yet divine senses detected nothing.

"Go in and check—tie a rope…"

Ming Shanzi immediately ordered.

"Wait!"

Before the words were out, Ling Yunzi suddenly raised his hand.

The Daoist twitched his ears, flipped onto the ground, formed a hand seal, and pressed his ear close to listen.

"Large forces are approaching."

"Be careful—go and scout!"

At this unexpected turn, all halted their probing and circled wide to a hill near Qingyang Palace.

There, on the river far off, warships had appeared—dense ranks of troops were landing.

A rough count suggested at least tens of thousands.

Though distant, all were cultivators; some with keen eyesight formed hand seals and immediately identified them.

"It's the Chongqing Prefecture army."

"Quick—warn them not to approach!"

Ming Shanzi instantly ordered.

He recalled the letter Li Yan had sent via the Six Leisure Bamboo Grove: Magistrate Wang had dispatched elite experts from the Eight Trigrams Sect in the capital to Chongqing for aid.

Timing-wise, these must be them.

They were a powerful force, perfect for countering the Shu Prince's troops—but they must not be allowed to wander into the city.

But it was too late.

By the time they arrived, the army had already entered the fog, leaving fewer than a hundred men on the ships as backup.

Most soldiers were ordinary men; they mistook the fog for weather and made no preparations.

Ding-ding-ding!

Hearing Ming Shanzi's explanation, the Hundred-Commander on the ships panicked, ordering drums and gongs beaten to signal retreat.

The drumbeats roared across the land.

Yet within the fog, no reply came.

Like a monstrous beast, it had fully devoured the army.

"Rescue them!"

Ming Shanzi gave the order without hesitation.

Immediately, several elite disciples tied thick hemp ropes around their waists and cautiously entered the fog.

This was a prearranged plan.

Bells were attached to the ropes; advance and retreat had coded signals—if trouble arose, they'd ring the bells, and the team would swiftly pull them out.

If they linked up with the Chongqing Garrison troops, the ships' cables were long enough to assist.

Under everyone's watchful eyes, several Qingcheng disciples entered the fog—after walking less than ten steps, they vanished entirely.

At this point, no other option remained.

All held their breath, waiting in silence.

Ling-ling-ling!

After roughly half a stick of incense, the bells suddenly rang.

Ming Shanzi's face darkened: "Pull!"

At his command, several disciples surged forward, explosive force erupting beneath their feet as they sprinted toward the riverbank.

But after only a few steps, their hearts sank.

The bell sounds ceased; the rope in their hands suddenly went slack.

Indeed, when they hauled the rope out, its end had snapped clean.

The break was ragged and frayed, as if torn by teeth, and stained with blood.

"It was bitten by a person!"

One Daoist sniffed and spoke with certainty.

Hearing this, all faces grew grim.

The dense fog nearby rose like a mountain, blotting out sky and sun—like a primordial beast, crushing every heart with dread.

"No time left."

Ming Shanzi drew a deep breath and spoke low: "Night falls soon. Tomorrow is the thirteenth of the first month—the demon's plan may accelerate. We must enter—at least recover those troops."

"If we can contact Li Shaoxia and the others, we may gain strong reinforcements."

He turned: "Ling Yunzi, I'll lead a group inside. You and the rest hold position here as backup."

"If we don't return, do not approach. The Sect Master arrives in three days—tell him everything!"

Ling Yunzi clenched his teeth: "Brother, rest assured!"

"I'll go too."

At that moment, Cheng Jianxin suddenly spoke.

Seeing their worried gazes, he chuckled softly and shook his head: "Don't worry—I won't fight. You handle the action; I'll just watch."

Ming Shanzi hesitated, a flicker of sorrow in his eyes.

He could see: Cheng Jianxin was ancient, his qi and blood depleted, and still wounded from before—beyond saving.

He joined only to use his experience, helping them avoid some calamities.

After finalizing the plan, Ming Shanzi led dozens of Qingcheng experts, along with Cheng Jianxin and his disciple, cautiously into the fog.

Entering the fog, the scenery shifted again.

Compared to outside, visibility here was better—objects within thirty meters were clear, but beyond, everything blurred into hazy shadows. "Brother…"

The female Daoist glanced around, her eyes puzzled: "This place is strange—it feels like a dream."

"Yes."

"I feel the same."

The others nodded in agreement.

Ming Shanzi said gravely: "The Dragon Palace Water Mansion is a hidden realm of the grotto-heavens, existing between illusion and reality—only through dream-travel can one enter."

"That demon must have used some method, but pulling the Dragon Palace into Chengdu likely shares similar properties."

Saying this, he turned to the side. "Sister Lan Chen, here the divine powers are still suppressed—try it. How far can you hear?"

The female Daoist nodded and immediately formed a hand seal.

Hummm! Hummm! Hummm!

The thirty-six golden needles in her hairpin trembled in unison.

After listening intently for a long while, she shook her head. "I can only detect movements within three hundred steps. Beyond that, the suppression is just as strong."

!

"That's still acceptable."

Hearing this, Ming Shanzi felt slightly reassured.

Everyone else's divine powers were suppressed; though the Daoist's secret technique had its limits, at least they wouldn't be ambushed from the mist.

The group gathered their resolve and pressed forward.

They followed the footprints on the ground and soon found something.

"Look!"

Before them, the ground was littered with countless corpses, all in tattered clothes, many decapitated by blades.

Among them were several bodies of garrison soldiers.

Their armor and clothing were torn to shreds, their bodies covered in bite marks.

"They're civilians from the slums outside the city."

A Daoist's face darkened. "They dared attack the army—and bite people? Could they all be possessed?"

The only comfort was that none of the Qingcheng disciples were among them.

"Keep searching!"

Ming Shanzi's face was grim as he led the group forward.

But after walking about half a stick of incense, they sensed something was wrong.

By this distance, they should have reached the walls of Chengdu Prefecture—but now, all around them was wilderness.

Heavy mist blanketed the sky as snowflakes drifted endlessly.

The group turned back; their own footprints had been buried under snow, now blurred and indistinct.

It's still a phantom array!

With their experience, they immediately recognized it.

"Break the illusion!"

Ming Shanzi muttered a command and immediately pulled a yarrow stalk from his robe, forming a hand seal as he twisted it into knots between his fingers.

He was using the Northern Emperor's Ascending Mountain Technique.

This technique required little, excelled at breaking phantom arrays, was simple and convenient, and was recorded in the Baopuzi, widely known and passed down.

The others simultaneously activated the Ascending Mountain Technique.

As they advanced again, they no longer took the wrong path. After winding through twists and turns, they reached the Fu River dock.

Beside the dock, boats lay covered in dust, and many corpses lay scattered—among them, not only civilians, but also numerous garrison soldiers.

Amid the falling snow, corpses piled like mountains, blood staining the ground and freezing into crystals. The few Qingcheng disciples who had entered earlier were among them.

"Brother Baiyun!"

Several Daoists saw them and were overcome with grief and rage.

"Be careful!"

Ming Shanzi, though furious, held them back.

From beside the piled corpses, a figure slowly emerged, lifting a massive wine jar and drinking deeply.

He was tall, wiping wine stains from his thick beard.

"Qingcheng disciples?"

"Good. Come with me to rescue Li Yan."

This man revealed no aura whatsoever, yet Ming Shanzi felt an inexplicable tightening at his back and couldn't help asking: "Who are you?"

"Me?"

The man took another drink, turning his gaze toward Chengdu.

"I am Yang Jian!"

………

Unlike outside the city, inside Chengdu Prefecture, the scene was entirely different.

"It's dark! Time to see the lanterns!"

"What a heavy snow! Hahaha…"

The heavy mist instantly enveloped the city. The townsfolk, already in an unnatural state, grew even more frenzied, surging onto the streets.

The mist blocked their vision, and they mistook it for nightfall.

The strange snowfall they regarded as an omen of good fortune.

Today was market day; as the mist descended and darkness fell, colorful lanterns were lit one by one.

By order of the Prince of Shu, the entire city hung red lanterns, and even around every colored lantern, red silk curtains were draped.

Instantly, the thick mist turned blood-red.

The townsfolk, seemingly lost in a dream, remained oblivious to the bizarre scene—and grew even more deranged.

They carried their elders and children, milling through the streets as if admiring the lanterns, yet each had bloodshot eyes and long strands of drool trailing from their mouths.

"Damn it, what kind of demonic art is this?"

Sha Li Fei's scalp prickled; he cursed under his breath.

At this moment, they stood atop a tall building.

Having anticipated danger, they had not touched the "Joy God Coins," and their high cultivation kept them from succumbing to madness.

But precisely because of this, they stood out sharply among the crowd.

These deranged townsfolk seemed able to smell their presence; once spotted, they would swarm and attack in frenzy.

"Ooo~ Ooo~ Ooo~"

From afar, frenzied shouts rose.

It was the parade that had once honored the Horse-Head Maiden.

Now, the palanquin's divine statue had been overturned and discarded; a merchant, face twisted in terror, was bound tightly atop it.

He, too, had not touched the Joy God Coins and remained sober.

He became an outsider among the crowd, seized by the mad townsfolk, hoisted onto a wooden frame, and doused with oil.

Boom~

A massive flame erupted.

Li Yan and the others had no time to rescue him—the unfortunate merchant was thrown into the fire and instantly reduced to char.

The piercing screams seemed to drive the townsfolk even madder.

"There are demons in the city! Find them and burn them!"

"Burn them! The heavens will bless us!"

The townsfolk ran wild through the city, eyes red, hunting those untouched by the curse.

The scene before them was utterly horrifying.

Even the six elder masters of the Bamboo Grove were stunned into silence.

They had roamed the rivers and lakes for decades—never had they seen anything like this.

"This… this is a Divine Nightmare!"

Wang Daoxuan's eyes widened, his voice trembling.

"Divine Nightmare?"

Li Yan asked, puzzled: "What kind of technique is that?"

"It harnesses divine power to afflict all living beings."

Wang Daoxuan clenched his fists tightly. "I read about it in the scripture halls of Mount Wudang. I never thought it truly existed."

"Have you ever heard of 'Carrying the Empress of the West's Edict'?"

(End of Chapter)