10. Eradicate Evil to Its Very Roots

Sun Shen, who had intended to give chase, reconsidered and realized he must not fall for a diversion, so he stayed where he was and returned to the side of the elder with the purple beard.

Zhu Xianzhen was well-protected by three martial artists, forming a defensive triangle around him. Though not as skilled as Sun Shen, all three were seasoned experts who had cultivated true energy years ago. After the monster slaughtered the mountain bandits, the aftermath was a miserable scene: wounded officers sobbed quietly, soldiers with severed arms turned pale with pain and nearly fainted, and terrified scholars cowered together like quails, too afraid to move.

With a long sigh, Zhu Xianzhen began to draw a talisman with his left hand while forming a mystical gesture with his right. The talisman and gesture fused together, transforming into a billowing mist that floated up into the sky. A crimson glow blossomed around him, and behind him an indistinct, colossal shadow took form—unfurling its wings slowly and fanning them gently. At once, the clouds above swelled with the wind.

Drip.

A fine, misty rain began to fall from the sky. As soon as the first drops touched the earth, lacerated wounds started to heal, and severed limbs were restored. Only those who had been decapitated—dead beyond recall—remained unchanged; the rest, in a matter of moments, found their injuries healed, and even the frightened scholars were soothed and calmed.

“A Bodhisattva has revealed a miracle!” the crowd, overwhelmed by awe, fell to their knees in unison.

“Nonsense! Clearly, a great scholar has wielded his supreme power to heal you all!” the academy’s teacher rebuked sternly.

He folded his hands and bowed sincerely to Zhu Xianzhen. Every great scholar was a treasure of the world. Though he himself, a humble teacher, knew a little of the Confucian arts, he was nowhere near the level of the man before him.

Zhu Xianzhen sighed, “If only I had not been traveling incognito… then perhaps no lives would have been lost.”

Beneath his armor he wore an official’s robe. Stationed at the heart of the army, he alone could quell the chaos of the southeast. How could he fear a few petty bandits, especially with three tiger guards and Captain Sun at his side? Ordinary men could never approach him. But the great monster had struck too swiftly; the slaughter began and ended in the blink of an eye.

Curiously, the monster had deliberately avoided their group, targeting only the bandits.

Cheng Yan could only gape in astonishment at all that had just transpired. He had always believed that cultivating true energy would make him a great master, but today’s spectacle left him utterly dazed. Whether it was the immortals riding the clouds, the martial skills that sent rocks and sand swirling, the overwhelming might of the monster, or the miraculous rain that followed—it all left him stupefied.

So this is how wondrous the world beyond is!

He closed his eyes and silently envisioned the monster’s form. A chill ran up his spine, and his hair stood on end, but he felt no fear—for he had recognized the monster’s identity.

How would Uncle act in this situation?

A steely intent to kill flashed before his eyes. The malice and wrath in his heart he pressed deep within.

Sun Shen, sensing a subtle shift in the air, glanced at Cheng Yan, who sat cross-legged in meditation, and murmured quietly, “What a fine opportunity!”

He, too, belonged to the Three Judicial Offices, though not as a Demon Suppression Captain, but as a Martial Might Captain tasked with protecting court officials. Despite the strange magics and powerful arts these officials often possessed, many of them did not practice martial arts. They could strengthen the army’s morale and bless their soldiers for miles around, but if a fierce warrior got close, even the most learned official might fall in a blood-soaked instant.

...

Lu Xun moved through the forest as though it were his native element. His arms swung swiftly as he darted between ancient trees with remarkable agility and freedom.

Whether man or beast, all left traces and scents behind. Ordinary humans, for all their cleverness, might not discern these, but Lu Xun was not so easily fooled. The Lord of Five Passages could not match him in these woods, so he adopted the form of an old tomcat instead.

Before long, pale pink mist condensed into delicate strands before his eyes, drifting on the breeze. His journey, punctuated by brief pauses, cost him little time.

He climbed Yalong Mountain and reached the Hall of Oaths. The lamps burned bright.

The second-in-command was seated at the head, holding a cup of cloudy liquor that tasted of nothing. Even the platters of pork, beef, and lamb on the table failed to whet his appetite. Around him sat the other captains of the bandit stronghold.

This time, the chief had taken only the cannoneer, the quartermaster, and the strongest of the eight columns, leaving behind the storekeeper, the overseer, the sweet-talker, and the scribe. The second-in-command, the “standard-bearer,” should have gone too, but the chief insisted someone stay behind to guard the rear, and so took the elite to seize hostages instead.

A place at the academy cost a hundred taels of silver; to ransom a life, a family might pay ten times that—five hundred, even a thousand taels. How many thousands of taels would that be? The chief clearly didn’t trust him.

Huang Fuxian, the second-in-command, pulled a half-dressed woman into his arms and took a swig of the foul liquor. His eyes glinted; neither the wine nor the woman brought him pleasure. The best women on the mountain were in the chief’s quarters. Emboldened by drink, he considered his options—what if he simply closed the gates and made his move?

“Drink!” he shouted.

Thud, thud.

Heavy footsteps snapped Huang Fuxian halfway out of his stupor. The bandits all thought the chief had returned. But the figure entering the hall was no such man—it was a “person” clad in dark blue-black armor and a copper mask.

Some sharp-eyed among them noticed that the hairy creature wore the chief’s own armor at its waist.

The “hairy one” strode to the main table, seized a leg of lamb, and began gnawing. Azure fangs jutted from its thunderous mouth. It tore off huge chunks of meat, never sparing the bones, which it crunched and swallowed with relish, then grabbed the wine jug and drank deeply.

The overseer, closest to the creature, froze in terror; a warm stream trickled down his leg and pooled on the floor, the stench of urine and fear mingling beneath the bandits.

Annoyed at having his meal interrupted, the “demon” waved casually. The overseer’s head vanished, his body slumping to the side.

This was no hairy man—this was a monster!

Screams broke out. Those left behind were never the most formidable, and none dared resist. They scrambled for the exit. But the great monster stood in the doorway—no fly could escape, let alone a living soul.

In a flash, the hall was littered with corpses, sprawled in every direction. Blood soaked the floorboards, trickling through the cracks to the rooms below.

Huang Fuxian still sat at the head, not out of courage but from terror so deep he was paralyzed, his voice quavering like a plucked string as he stared at the monster’s armor. “Chief… what happened to you?”

The “monster” glanced at its tattered armor. At that look, Huang Fuxian understood completely. Humans were manageable; monsters were not. The chief must have encountered this being on his way down the mountain…

His thoughts went no further, for his head was gone as well.

The Five-Passages Lu Xun, unfazed, sat down to gorge himself. Remembering that Xiao Cheng and Graypaws were still hungry, he packed up the untouched chickens and ducks left by the second-in-command.

The women the bandits had abducted huddled together, trembling in fear and agitation, though terror clearly prevailed. Lu Xun paid them no mind; come morning, they could go wherever they wished.

He had slaughtered every bandit on Yalong Mountain and was now picking through the heads for anything useful. Unfortunately, those left behind were far weaker than the elite; few of their skulls were worth reducing to ashes.

These bandits had always squandered their loot; precious little gold, silver, or jewels remained, nor were there any rare items or martial arts manuals. Lu Xun cared nothing for trifles—he left them all for the rescued women, granting them a means to survive.

Without lingering, the Five-Passages Lu Xun melted into the night.