Chapter 789: Storm and Wind in Turmoil

“The earth dragon has turned over!”

Terrified shouts rose from the other side of Zhengyang Gate Street.

The blue stone pavement heaved violently, rising and collapsing like waves; the bamboo awnings of roadside teahouses snapped with a crack, bowls, plates, cups, and saucers shattered everywhere—luckily, it was night, and all stalls had already closed.

But at the other end, bricks and stones from the city wall tumbled down, kicking up clouds of dust.

“This is bad!”

Wang Daoxuan cried out: “Lei Yin has moved!”

This thought flashed through every mind at once.

Lei Yin, having seized the Yangzhou Ding, could directly shake the earth veins and threaten Jinling—that was why everyone feared to act lightly.

Otherwise, even a terrestrial immortal could be slain if several orthodox sects joined forces.

Could the enemy have gone mad and decided to strike directly?

Just as everyone believed a cataclysm of heaven collapsing and earth splitting was imminent, the thunderous rumbling from beneath the ground abruptly ceased, as if abruptly halted by an invisible force.

The earth fell silent, leaving only dust swirling in the air and panicked screams.

“...Stopped?”

Sha Lifei looked around, hardly believing it.

But after waiting a while, there were no aftershocks.

It wasn’t just them who were stunned.

In every corner of the city, the ghost opera troupe demons who had been exploiting the chaos, inciting panic with cries of “The Silkworm Goddess is enraged,” now wore expressions of bewildered confusion.

“Grab a live one and interrogate!”

Li Yan sensed something amiss and without hesitation leapt forward.

His speed was astonishing; before his voice had fully reached the others’ ears, his figure had already appeared atop the opposite rooftop, feet moving in rapid succession so fast only shadows remained, accompanied by thudding impacts.

Several muffled groans followed as masked black-clad figures tumbled down.

“Catch them! Quick!”

Seizing this moment, the local Daoist masters also moved instantly.

The Mao Shan old nun who had subdued the old female actor in the east city, the Mei Shan sect master battling the water and male actor demons, and the Mao Shan cultivator who had driven back the blue-robed female actor on Zhengyang Gate Street—all struck simultaneously.

They too had been terrified beyond measure and dared not hold back; fierce killing techniques and various spells erupted at once, instantly subduing the majority of the ghost opera troupe demons.

The ghost opera troupe had grown wildly in a short time, but its members were a mixed lot—some were demons from the Jiangnan roads, others mere criminal thugs, not true enemies of Jinling’s Daoist sects.

Two of the stronger ones quickly fell under the onslaught.

The situation was swiftly brought under partial control.

With no time to drag them back to jail, interrogation began on the spot.

A demon with a painted face, pinned down by Mao Shan talismans, was dragged before Li Yan and the others; beside him, an old master with white hair and beard barked sharply: “Speak! Why did the earth dragon strike early? And why did it stop so suddenly?!”

The demon’s face, smeared with greasepaint and sweat, sneered hoarsely: “Kill me if you will—why ask so many useless… ah!”

His defiant words were cut short by a piercing scream.

Li Yan had given a glance; Long Yan had immediately unleashed the Sesame Pest to interrogate.

“Stop! I’ll talk…”

The power of Long Yan’s Sesame Pest needed no explanation—even iron men couldn’t endure it; the demon soon begged and confessed: “It’s not my fault!”

“Above did order us to strike early! Said to use the Yangzhou Ding to stir the earth qi during the Dragon Offering, shake the earth veins, then surge the river waves to destroy the water fortresses, so that Grandma’s army could charge through.”

“But this shaking only lasted a few moments—and then it stopped?!”

“That’s not what we were promised…”

Fear mixed with confusion in his eyes.

At these words, everyone exchanged glances swiftly.

The demon’s shock and terror were unmistakably genuine.

“It seems something has changed…” Li Yan gazed thoughtfully into the distance.

The old Mao Shan nun beside him nodded: “They knew Lei Yin planned to strike early—but since only half the plan unfolded, something must have gone wrong.”

Unable to guess the reason, they could only lock the demons away for now.

Though Jinling had narrowly escaped disaster, the gloom hanging over the city had not lifted—it had grown heavier, like an invisible hand squeezing every throat, making it hard to breathe.

The Qinhuai River still flowed, but the sound of oars and the glow of lanterns had thinned considerably.

Most of the once-bustling riverside houses now had doors and windows tightly shut; only the bravest merchants dared peek out, their faces filled with wariness and fear.

The footsteps of patrolling soldiers were heavier than ever; the clank of armor echoed sharply through the silent alleys. The air reeked of damp earth after rain, mingled with a faint, unsettling sweetness of decay.

Like a parasite clinging to bone, it spread silently.

…

Under the moonlight, rooftops rolled in endless waves.

Deep in a narrow alley, a sheep-horn lantern swayed in the wind.

The dim yellow glow illuminated the weathered sign of “Zhou’s Weaving House.”

Muffled sobs seeped from the door crack; the old weaver Zhou Ada huddled beside his loom, his withered hand brushing over the gray-white silkworm silk tangled on the shuttle.

The thread trembled slightly, as if alive, slithering into his cracked fingers.

Farther away, twenty looms crowded into a damp, moldy hut; behind each sat a weaver with sunken eyes, the air thick with the sour stench of despairing sweat.

“The silk bureau’s dogs…”

“The new ‘fire tax’… my daughter’s medicine money…”

“Woooh~”

In the darkness, sobs and gnashing teeth echoed intermittently.

“Enough!”

“If I can’t live, neither will these dog officials!”

After the third watch drum beat, hunched figures slipped from doorways, ghostlike, converging on the public well in the street center, hurling silkworm silk into it…

…………

Inside the City God Temple, incense burned thin.

Zhang Jingqing, the old Daoist, gazed at the empty main hall and his few disciples with sallow faces and shallow cultivation, sighed deeply, his wrinkled face heavy with gloom.

The Longhu Mountain elite had been urgently recalled to Ganzhou to confront the aggressive Mei Shan sect; now, the entire Jinling City God Temple had become nothing but an empty shell.

Faced with the growing number of demonic influences and the cursed within the city, he bore the duty to oversee the spirit realm—but lacked the power to exorcise or quell the evil.

Not even the face of Longhu Mountain could save him from the people’s resentment.

“Master, three more households in Willow Village south of the city have reported symptoms identical to those in Locust Tree Village…” A young Daoist rushed in.

His voice trembled with uncontainable fear: “The village head says their resentment is overwhelming—they’re whispering that the Silkworm Goddess is punishing them, that the court’s injustice has driven the people to revolt…”

Zhang Jingqing closed his eyes and sighed helplessly.

How could he not know the root cause?

Exorbitant taxes pressed like mountains; the silk bureau’s corrupt officials had plundered without restraint, driving the people to despair—creating the perfect opening for the Silkworm Robe Cult to stir rebellion.

The government’s sluggish response had turned Jinling into a giant powder keg.

“Report—!”