Chapter 946: Opening the Fist Altar for Righteous Harmony

The group landed from the South Canal.

Yangliuqing Town, anciently known as Liukou, was a convergence point of the South Canal and one of the busiest places in Guxi, with many temples here.

A man beside the Crow, wrapped in a white cloth headband like a countryman, stared blankly at the scene before him: a courtyard enclosed by the Medicine King Temple, the Empress Temple, and the Zhenwu Temple—a vacant field for rural market fairs.

Over time, many people came here, gradually turning it into an open-air market.

“Senior Brother Jing, after all these years, can you still not forget?” The Crow’s voice was calm.

The white-turbaned Senior Brother Jing lowered his head slightly, his expression darkened: “The winds of the four seas ride the tides; power, doctrine, and tides clash. The west wind has not yet faded when the south wind rises; warfires link, wildfires burn. Who rules the provinces of the realm? The stars and demons fill the sky. Where do living souls ultimately belong? Only one path glows with a bright lamp!”

“For righteousness, we unite; we train martial arts, open altars, worship the gods, and call each other senior brothers.”

“Once, this was the premier altar of our martial folk—the Zhenwu Temple’s main altar was moved here by our Grand Senior Brother Zhang Decheng from Duliuzhen. Nearby stood the Kan Altar, the Qian Altar of Yangzhuang; with the main altar established, the eight trigram altars followed. We gathered the people, trained martial arts…”

“When the foreigners first invaded Zhigu, how many did their gun squads kill? Only when the great masters from across the north intervened did we annihilate three foreign gun squads at Dagukou.”

“At that time, we realized: whether it was the esoteric arts of heretical sects or the divine spells of orthodox schools, all were useless against the foreign guns’ power to dispel magic and break spells. Only the Zhenwu path excelled at killing.”

“They have rifles and cannons, priests and armies; we have divine body-protection and ancestral blessings.”

“The Three Teachings and Nine Streams flow into Zhenwu; a hundred martial styles open the Dao!”

“All the secret arts passed down in the north were absorbed into the Zhenwu path, transformed into martial forms to evade the secrecy of spellcraft and expose its fatal weaknesses. Countless cultivators followed this trend, establishing altars and teaching fists across the land—vast, sweeping, spreading martial arts to a million people, each one cultivating, each one transcending.”

“When our Great Jin has a million people who have mastered fist arts and cultivated supernatural abilities, we will counterattack the West… no rifle or cannon will stop us!”

“Too bad…”

Senior Brother Jing’s teeth ground together with a sharp crack, his gaze filled with resentment and defiance.

“The first to betray us was the imperial court! They only wanted to use us to scare the foreigners; once the foreigners yielded, they hired them to kill us! Those so-called orthodox sects, seeing the court’s shift in stance, all kicked us while we were down.”

“Now, besides the martial arts passed down from those days, which became the foundation of modern martial arts, who still remembers the hundred schools returning to Zhenwu, the martial folk’s ambition to conquer the West?”

The former Grand Senior Brother, Jing Chunshan, slowly scanned the bustling market before him, as if seeing the grand opening of this once-premier altar.

Thousands of farmers from surrounding villages, bare-chested, red sashes tied at their waists, wielding great swords and spears, followed their respective altar’s senior brothers in perfect unison, practicing fist forms.

He saw before the Zhenwu Temple, the bronze gong rang out, everyone chopping bamboo and felling trees for weapons, carrying swords and spears up the canal, altars converging along the way—over a hundred thousand men marching toward Zhigu, burning churches, killing foreigners, battling foreign priests and sorcerers, dragging men and women from their ships, chopping off heads with sharp, crisp strokes.

Yet now, this place was no longer a market fair!

It was a full-blown temple festival.

Everywhere were small opera stages—some draped with cloth, others enclosed with straw mats—where painted female actors sang in shrill, lilting tones.

The operas were not grand ones; mostly domestic tales or folk legends—solo performances like “Calculating Rations at the Palace,” “Killing the Dog to Persuade the Wife,” “Cui Ping Mountain,” and so on.

Further in, there were even lewd and sensual songs; performers wore headdresses, and within the small tents, they tugged and pulled—nothing respectable.

Then came vendors of scraps of cloth, claiming they were remnants from fabric shops, but in truth, they were whole bolts torn into shreds—short, uneven, sold by the inch or penny; country folk loved cheap deals but never truly understood the math.

This was clearly a temple fair; the grounds teemed with people, shoulder to shoulder—Jin, Pi, Cai, Gua, Ping, Tuan, Diao, Liu—all manner of street trades.

Monkey performers, horse shows, “stink tents,” beast shows, pawn ticket sellers, “turning branch” vendors (selling watches), “big piles” sellers (cheap fur coats and blankets), wandering prostitutes soliciting customers, gamblers squatting to bet, “meeting initiators,” “stink shirt” vendors, “water roller” vendors (selling soap).

More than ten years ago, even if a commoner who had converted to the foreign religion passed through here, the martial folk would cut off his head.

Now, foreign steamboats chugged to shore, and several fair-haired, blue-eyed men and women in Western attire stepped down—onlookers watched, and merchants greeted them.

Drummond stepped off the boat, hearing the cacophony of shouts, gongs, and drums—vibrant, smoky, alive—and he smiled.

Beside him, Carroll covered his nose, waving away the stench of livestock, muttering: “What a bunch of savages. I hear they want to discuss medicine with us? Western medicine, since the great advances in anatomy two centuries ago, has entered an entirely new world. I see no common ground between us and shamans who still brew potions from herbs and bark!”

“Don’t say that…”

A Western woman beside him took his arm and laughed: “My country estate in Camelot is just like this—I see nothing superior here.”

“In fact,” she glanced around and smiled, “this place has more vitality!”

Drummond replied calmly: “This was the headquarters of the martial folk. Archbishop Thomas was dragged from his church here and beheaded right on this spot…”

He pointed to the stone steps before the Zhenwu Temple: “At its peak, over ten thousand extraordinary practitioners and aspirants trained here and in the surrounding areas. They formed an extraordinary army—third-rank fist masters could catch bullets barehanded, possessing all manner of supernatural abilities!”

“Oh, Lord!” the woman covered her mouth in shock: “They look so simple now—completely Kanbuchu their former madness!”

“Indeed,” Drummond nodded. “Even their emperor thought they were mad!”

Drummond turned and met the Crow’s gaze across the shore, then noticed the man beside her with the headcloth—his eyes flickered with caution, yet he stepped forward with forced friendliness, removing his hat and bowing: “Madam, I hope we have not arrived too late!”

“Actually, you arrived too early—we’ve only just gotten here,” the Crow nodded.

Drummond, as a senior lawyer, smiled: “Madam, our exchange surely won’t be like your previous brawls with local ruffians? If it’s to be that wild, I’d rather concede. After all, we are merely gentlemen who have contributed greatly to medicine—not desecrators of the human body like sorcerers. Medicine and occultism are related, yet distinctly different…”

The Crow replied calmly: “Our Lord is deeply curious about your surgical and anatomical advancements.”

“I am honored to personally introduce our developments to your Lord—medicine has entered a new era…” Drummond bowed respectfully.

The Crow’s expression turned peculiar; she studied him from head to toe, her gaze revealing a pure, clinical appraisal of flesh: “Our Lord would likely agree—but his methods of research… you may find them difficult to accept.”

Hearing this, Drummond, under the Crow’s piercing stare, felt a sudden chill crawl up his spine.

At that moment, the Western woman stepped forward and extended her hand: “Hello, Madam! I’m Sheelin, Ph.D. in Medicine from Miskatonic University, specializing in anatomy and infectious diseases. In the East, I’ve rarely met a woman as outstanding as you.”

The Crow extended her hand and shook it: “Same in the West!”

“Yes,” Sheelin laughed. “By tradition, they refused to let me join the Miskatonic Spiritual Society, or the All-Knowing Tower, or the Hidden Library. Women belong in gardening clubs or kitchen hermitages! That’s what they say.”

“Gardening club?” The Crow felt she had heard of this group before.

The Lord of Miskatonic University had mentioned it several times—she recalled it now.

“The Secret of Flowers? The Pure Flower of Echadolin?”

She glanced at the white flower pinned to Sheelin’s small Western jacket pocket and asked.

Sheelin’s face showed surprise; she smiled, masking the doubt in her eyes: “I thought you’d never left the Eastern Continent! I didn’t expect you to know so much about our occult traditions.”

“Our Lord knows you well. It was his idea to invite you here for exchange,” the Crow replied honestly.

“When might we meet your Lord?” Drummond asked smoothly.

The Crow evaded: “There will be an opportunity.”

The group, escorted by Senior Brother Jing and several former martial folk, entered the Medicine King Temple.

The space had been cleared; a row of elderly men in long robes, beards thick, yet vigorous and alert, sat before the temple hall—the Sanhuang Society, originally a guild of physicians from Zhigu’s pharmacies.

They venerated the Three Sovereigns, taking the Yellow Emperor as their ancestral master, hence the name Sanhuang Society.

But recently, churches and Western hospitals had begun treating patients, pushing out many proper physicians; while pharmacies still thrived, the doctors’ influence had weakened. Forced to adapt, they now included specialists in dentistry and eye care, peddling obscure remedies.

When they heard the Xuanzhen Sect invited Western doctors for exchange, the Sanhuang Society wanted to drive them out.

If we weren’t afraid of you, I’d…

Foreigners are doctors, yes—but what is the Xuanzhen Sect?

What could we possibly exchange?

Incense burning and Buddha worship? Talisman water and shaman dances?

But the foreigners have their own argument!

The Xuanzhen Sect actually cuts open people! A true, elite occult sect.

Isn’t the essence of Chinese medicine occultism?

If not to exchange talisman water, bone-setting, acupuncture, anatomy, meridians, and meditation with the Xuanzhen Sect, what else would we discuss? Herbology?