Chapter Thirty-Three: Those Who Offend Us, No Matter How Far, Shall Be Punished!

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The city’s magistrate’s office.

In the rear courtyard, inside Magistrate He’s parlor, three men sat by candlelight deep into the night: Magistrate He himself, his adviser, and Constable Kong, who had just returned from visiting family in another province.

Magistrate He’s brow was furrowed, his tiny bean-like eyes narrowed to slits as he shook his head and sighed repeatedly.

The adviser crouched by the window, peering out, sometimes cocking his ear to listen. After a while, he shut the window and reported in a hushed tone, “My lord, I hear the howling from Wu Family Street has lessened considerably. Could it be that the fiend has already slaughtered everyone?”

At these words, Magistrate He shuddered and waved his hands in alarm. “So be it if they’re all dead. The Wu family was due for a calamity fifty years ago.”

Opposite him sat a young man with a slightly dusky complexion and a tall, slender frame. Though he possessed the handsome features of a scholar, the constable’s robe he wore proved he was nothing of the sort.

This was Constable Kong. His expression was grim as he spoke: “Magistrate, our office is responsible for the town’s safety. Now that a murderous demon is on the loose, shouldn’t we step in to stop him?”

The adviser hastily waved his hands. “Constable Kong, you don’t understand—the killer isn’t even human! That’s the vengeful ghost of Liu Chengyin, come to claim lives!”

“Be he man or ghost, if he disturbs the peace of this city, it is my duty as constable to act!” Constable Kong’s sense of righteousness was formidable. In his younger years, he had been a hero, punishing evil and defending the innocent. Only after offending several major sects and being hunted by the martial world did he adopt a new name and hide out in this borderland town.

The adviser wanted to object, but Magistrate He raised his hand to stop him. His small greenish eyes turned, and suddenly his face broke into a smile. “Constable Kong speaks rightly. I think so as well. How about you take it upon yourself to handle this matter?”

Constable Kong immediately stood. “Why not?”

Magistrate He’s smile grew wider. “This is a perilous task, and only you, with your formidable skills, can subdue the villain. As for the motley crew of bailiffs outside, they’d only be marching to their deaths. Constable Kong, do you think you can handle this alone?”

Constable Kong frowned slightly but replied, “I can. My lord, await my news in the office. I’ll bring the villain back myself!”

With that, he gripped the Tang sword at his waist and strode out in long, purposeful steps.

As soon as Constable Kong left, the adviser hurried to close the door and asked anxiously, “My lord, what do you mean by this? Constable Kong will never return from this mission!”

Others might not know who Liu Chengyin was, but the adviser did. He had lived over sixty years and witnessed the events of the past firsthand.

Magistrate He trimmed the candle wick, the flickering flame casting his face into an ominous mask. “He’s marching to his doom. He’s always been an unpredictable pawn. When I recruited him, it was precisely because I feared his skills might be turned against me one day. Now there’s a perfect opportunity to get rid of him while also demonstrating our office’s resolve. Even if questioned, we can hand over his body and muddle through.”

The adviser suddenly understood, raising a finger in admiration. “A masterful plan, my lord—killing two birds with one stone.”

The two old foxes in the magistrate’s office exchanged wicked smiles. Their sinister laughter was even more chilling than Liu Chengyin’s maniacal cackling.

…

Under a blood-red moon, the stench of carnage grew heavier in the town, calling to mind the chaos years ago when the border town was sacked and burned during the Chen rebellion.

Most households had extinguished their lamps, huddling around their tables in prayer and supplication.

Liu Chengyin’s laughter made the entire town tremble.

Within the Wu family compound, men, women, and children alike had been slaughtered by the corpse tide under Liu Chengyin’s control. This was only the upper Wu family residence—the tide was still spreading to the other courtyards, dragging the rest of the Wu clan into hell.

The corpse tide was highly infectious: as soon as a living person perished, their body would twitch and rise again, joining Liu Chengyin’s undead army.

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The corpse tide swarmed like a flood of ants, densely filling every corner of the Wu estate.

At the main gate, the ancestral plaque that had hung for a century crashed to the ground, shattering into pieces. In that moment, not a single living soul remained within.

Standing atop the debris, Liu Chengyin laughed maniacally, “Splendid! From this day forward, the Wu family estate is no more!”

In the distance, Yang Yanlang had arrived, halting his steed three yards from the corpse tide. The horse pawed anxiously at the ground while Yang, silver dragon spear in hand, fixed his gaze on the strangely-behaving Zhong Ming, eyes full of worry.

Sun Longhu rode up beside the general and murmured, “Sir, that demon seems to be slaughtering the entire clan. Should we do nothing?”

Yang Yanlang remained silent and shook his head.

He was well aware of Liu Chengyin’s massacre, but with Zhong Ming in the demon’s grasp, the lives of ordinary townsfolk seemed less important than his nephew’s.

Yang Yanlang was a good official, loving his people as his own children. Yet, torn between righteousness and family, he chose selfishness for the first time in his life—for the sake of his brother’s only son.

“Fin Scales Cavalry, hold your positions and await orders! No one acts without command!” Yang Yanlang barked, dismounted, and strode alone toward the corpse tide, spear in hand.

Sensing something, Zhong Ming turned sharply. Liu Chengyin called out, “Boy from the Yang family, take one more step and I won’t hold back!”

Yang Yanlang now stood at the edge of the undead horde. Corpses with twisted faces snarled at him, black smoke pouring from their mouths.

He drove the silver dragon spear into the ground, standing just a step from the tide. Calmly, he declared, “I have no wish to be your enemy. If you must kill, I can turn a blind eye. But harm my nephew and I, Yang Yanlang, will see you never return!”

Liu Chengyin sneered, “Bold words from a mere whelp.”

Receiving no real answer, Yang Yanlang gripped his spear, ready to charge in and snatch the youth back.

Sensing a fight about to break out, Zhong Ming hastened to plead with the old fiend, “Grandpa Liu, my uncle is a straightforward man. Just give him your word—there’s no need for us to turn on each other.”

At this, Liu Chengyin grunted, “Very well. It’s a deal.”

Hearing the exchange, Yang Yanlang relaxed a bit. It seemed his nephew was not being threatened, and Liu Chengyin had agreed to his demand.

While the martial world was home to bloodthirsty cultists, even demons like Liu Chengyin valued their word. Especially those who had surpassed ordinary masters—their reputation was everything, and losing face was unthinkable.

In the martial world, reputation meant status and pride.

Yang Yanlang stood a step from the corpse tide, spear planted, no longer intent on breaking through.

Meanwhile, the undead had swept through the entire Wu estate—upper, lower, east, south, and north branches. None survived.

From within the gates came a woman’s shriek, growing closer until two crawling corpses dragged her before Zhong Ming.

Her hair was wild, and her once-fine silks were now rags. She screamed in terror, utterly hysterical.

Zhong Ming, unsure of her fate, asked, “Grandpa Liu, what does this mean?”

Liu Chengyin’s lips curled into a sinister smile. With a wave, the black mist at his side formed a claw, lifting the woman’s face. Zhong Ming recognized the panicked features—it was Madam Wu, the woman who had caused such a stir in the court days ago.

Liu Chengyin said, “This woman embodies the Wu family’s cunning, arrogance, and cold-bloodedness. Earlier, when you were attacked at the temple, it was she who sent the guards to kill you!”

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“I leave her to you. Do with her as you see fit.”

Liu Chengyin’s voice was compelling, every word tempting the youth to kill Madam Wu.

The Blade of Yama was drawn forth by black mist and placed in Zhong Ming’s hand. In that instant, feeling returned to his body. He lifted the blade, tracing its inky edge, and gazed at the sobbing, pleading woman.

She wept bitterly, crying out, “Please, have mercy! Spare me, I know I was wrong!”

Blade in hand, Zhong Ming hesitated.

“Whether you kill or spare her is your choice. I will not interfere,” Liu Chengyin’s voice echoed in his ear, while the woman pleaded relentlessly.

The youth sighed softly, “They say an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. In my view…”

“Thank you, my lord! Thank you!” Hearing the hint of mercy in his words, Madam Wu wailed in gratitude.

But Zhong Ming’s face hardened. With a swift motion, the blade fell, and her tear-streaked head flew from her shoulders.

He flicked the blood from his blade and said coldly, “In my view, only by eradicating all threats can one be truly safe.”

He was no fool. He harbored kindness, yet spared none who repeatedly sought his life.

He would give up riches to save refugees, yet withstand immense pressure to kill the powerful—this was Zhong Ming’s true sense of good and evil.

If others do not harm me, I will not harm them. But those who do, no matter how far, must be destroyed!

“Good! Good! Good!” Liu Chengyin roared with laughter. “With a grandson like you, there’s hope yet for the Zhong family.”

Madam Wu’s corpse was devoured by the snarling dead. Zhong Ming’s body went numb once more as Liu Chengyin reclaimed control.

The fate of the Wu estate was sealed. Tonight, not a single living soul would remain—only hundreds more added to the corpse tide.

With control regained, Liu Chengyin turned Zhong Ming’s body toward the opposite side of the street.

On one side stood Yang Yanlang and his Fin Scales Cavalry; on the other, Tian Xingjian, gently stroking his horse, and the blue-robed boy with icy eyes, Li Que.

Facing Tian Xingjian and Li Que, Liu Chengyin’s voice rang out coldly, “You’ve watched long enough. Shouldn’t you act? I can sense it—you’re not ordinary martial artists, but of the same ilk as those Daoists from Dragon Gate Mountain.”

“Insolence! How dare you compare my White Jade Capital with common sects!” Li Que, standing atop his horse, rose gracefully. Blue ice crystals formed around him, a world of frost taking shape behind—just as they had in the court days before.

Seeing this, Zhong Ming suddenly understood: Li Que was the immortal of White Jade Capital who had been hiding behind Tian Xingjian all along.