Chapter Thirty-Four: Loyalty Often Dwells with the Humble and Rough

A crystal of ice formed in Li Que’s hand, and blue icicles appeared at his side.

Liu Chengyin sneered darkly, “I don’t care what kind of stinking priest you are. Of all people in this world, I despise your Daoist kind the most. Running into me today is just your misfortune—today, you will die!”

Behind him, a corpse lifted the youth’s body, carrying it back atop the surging tide of the dead.

Within the Wu family compound, not a single living soul remained. The corpse tide surged, scaling walls and roofs, crawling back beside the youth. In the blink of an eye, a mass of corpses had gathered before the Wu family's main gate—twice as many as before. Twisted bodies howled at Li Que, a green light emanated from the youth, and black smoke billowed and swirled at his feet.

A burning heat surged through Zhong Ming’s body. He understood: Liu Chengyin was also using his hand, seeking to put all his strength into killing the immortal of White Jade Palace.

After being suppressed by the Daoists of Longmen Mountain for over fifty years, Liu Chengyin naturally harbored great resentment. He longed to slaughter every Daoist under the heavens.

Yet Zhong Ming felt uneasy. The blue-robed boy Li Que was, after all, an immortal from the White Jade Palace. He did not know whether Liu Chengyin would be his match, nor did he wish to become collateral damage. Thus he spoke up to warn him, “Grandfather Liu, be careful. That man is no ordinary person. Do you remember three years ago, when the sky was torn for more than a month and the celestial palace descended?”

Liu Chengyin’s momentum faltered. He mused, “Though I could not leave then, I could still sense the outside world. Three years ago, I did feel a most unusual aura, true qi surging, and roaming ghosts wailing without end.”

“Grandfather Liu, be careful. This is no ordinary martial wanderer—his means are beyond the norm. They say immortals wield immortal arts, blades and swords cannot touch them. Just look at how he conjures ice from nothing; that alone is not the work of mortal men.”

Hearing this, the old villain Liu Chengyin lost his confidence. For all his fearsome methods, he was, in truth, sustained only by a grudge, and over fifty years had drained the ancient willow of its spiritual energy. In a true contest of immortal arts, he had never directly clashed with such a being, and now he felt his heart quiver.

Even now, he vividly recalled the might of the Daoist formations at Longmen Mountain fifty years ago. He had no confidence in defeating that group of old Daoists even today.

While Liu Chengyin hesitated, General Yang Yanliang at the rear could wait no longer. Raising his Silver Dragon Spear, he vaulted onto the high wall with the swiftness of a rabbit, landing before the corpse tide and aiming his spear at Li Que.

Whether Liu Chengyin fought Li Que was not his concern—but Liu Chengyin was using his nephew’s body. If anything happened, how could he face his elder brother?

The general’s brows were knit in anger as he bellowed, “Young Immortal, if you want to fight, you must get past me first!”

Li Que was instantly enraged and shot back, “Yang Yanliang, do not mistake kindness for weakness! Today, White Jade Court is here to slay demons. If you interfere, you stand against us!”

Yang Yanliang scoffed coldly, “And what of White Jade Court? Whoever you wish to kill, that’s none of my concern, but my nephew’s body you shall not touch!”

The Silver Dragon Spear in his hand sang, green light swirling, his brocade robe fluttering in the wind, the general’s aura awe-inspiring.

Behind the corpse tide, a hundred Fine Scaled Cavalry drew their Tang swords, raising them with a furious shout, “Kill!”

With a hundred Fine Scaled Cavalry supporting him, Yang Yanliang’s presence grew even more imposing. Silver dragons seemed to coil around his spear, baring their fangs, ready to devour.

Li Que’s face turned ugly in an instant. He was unsure if he could handle a hundred-year-old vengeful spirit—now, with a general added to the fray, if he fought with force, he would surely lose.

Liu Chengyin stood on the tide of corpses with his hands behind his back and laughed, “Zhong Ming, you have quite the uncle.”

At this moment, both sides were at a standoff, swords drawn and bows bent, but no one moved to strike.

All this while, Tian Xingjian, who had been observing from the side, stepped forward, stood before Li Que, and whispered, “We cannot fight today. Your vital energy is still unstable—do not act rashly.”

Hearing this, Li Que’s expression became even gloomier. After a long pause, he snorted coldly, swung his sleeve, and withdrew.

The ice crystal melted away. Li Que transformed into blue light, returning to stand atop his horse.

Tian Xingjian approached with a gentle smile, folding his peach blossom fan, and bowed with cupped hands, “This humble scholar Tian Xingjian greets Lord Yang and Elder Liu.”

Yang Yanliang, seeing Li Que had no intention of fighting, turned and retreated behind the Fine Scaled Cavalry, ignoring Tian Xingjian.

Tian Xingjian’s smile did not falter, even though Yang Yanliang was rude, he took no offense.

Instead, Liu Chengyin scrutinized Tian Xingjian and asked, “Are you a descendant of Tian Yizheng?”

“I am indeed; Elder Liu speaks of my grandfather.”

Hearing Tian Xingjian’s reply, Liu Chengyin nodded, “I was old friends with your grandfather. Since you are his descendant, I’ll let bygones be bygones. Let what happened just now be forgotten.”

Fifty years ago, Liu Chengyin was the most celebrated scholar of the border town. Of all the people there, he admired only one: the prodigy Tian Yizheng. In those days, the two had drunk wine, composed poetry, and talked late into the night—a friendship of kindred spirits.

Seeing his grandson today, even with some misunderstandings, the old villain Liu Chengyin did not wish to sully that cherished bond.

Tian Xingjian quickly bowed his head and said, “Thank you, Elder Liu. My senior brother was overly brash just now—thank you for your magnanimity.”

Tian Xingjian was always proud, rarely showing weakness before others. Now, seeing him bow and scrape in front of Zhong Ming, Zhong Ming was secretly delighted. Though the gesture was not made to him, he was happy to see Tian Xingjian humbled.

With the fight now avoided, Liu Chengyin waved his hand, “So be it. Today I’ve avenged my great grudge, I won’t quarrel with you all. The day is done, and it is time for me to leave.”

But no sooner had the old villain finished speaking when a furious shout erupted from the high wall by the street, “Where do you think you’re going, villain!”

A dark figure leapt from the wall—a tall, lean man wielding a long blade, who launched himself at Liu Chengyin standing atop the corpse tide.

It was none other than Chief Constable Kong, who had just arrived. Skilled and seasoned from years on the road, he excelled at holding his breath and, thanks to the earlier chaos, no one had noticed him hiding behind the wall.

When he arrived, Liu Chengyin was facing off with Li Que. Chief Kong had hoped to watch the tigers fight from the mountain, but to his disappointment, no battle broke out.

Seeing the murderous Liu Chengyin about to escape, how could Chief Kong let him go? The Wu family’s thousand lives had been butchered by Liu Chengyin—such a heinous criminal, as chief constable, he was duty-bound to capture him, no matter how daunting.

Though Chief Kong’s heart quailed at the sight of the corpse sea, he still leapt out with a shout. The chivalrous walk the world relying on the righteousness in their hearts.

The new Tang general would not act, nor would the immortal from White Jade Court, but Chief Kong, upright and resolute, would take action.

The murderer had violated the law of New Tang; the chief constable embodied the law’s justice in the world.

With a shout, Chief Kong raised his blade, using the Eagle Soars to the Sky technique as he struck at Liu Chengyin.

Zhong Ming frowned at the charging Chief Kong and called out loudly, “Chief Kong, don’t!”

But it was too late. In mid-air, Liu Chengyin snorted coldly, and Zhong Ming’s hand, beyond his control, rose up. Green light flashed and black energy surged, forming a giant claw that struck Chief Kong and sent him flying.

The old villain’s blow, heavy as a thousand weights, slammed Chief Kong to the ground. He spat blood with a wretched cry.

The force of that strike shook Chief Kong’s organs, leaving him gravely wounded.

Zhong Ming knew Chief Kong to be an upright man, a rare hero of the martial world. He pleaded, “Chief Kong, do not act rashly. I am not in control of myself—I might hurt you.”

Liu Chengyin seemed to realize Zhong Ming and Chief Kong were acquainted and said coldly, “I’ve killed enough today and don’t wish to kill again. For the Zhong family boy’s sake, I’ll spare you. Now get lost!”

But to his surprise, Chief Kong struggled to his feet, pointed his Tang blade at Zhong Ming, and said, “Don’t worry, Mr. Zhong, I won’t hurt you. Let me take this villain back to the yamen with you. I’ll find a way to separate you two!”

With a cough and more blood, Chief Kong forced himself to raise his blade, “As chief constable of the border town, you’ve killed countless today—your crimes are worthy of death. I must arrest you and bring you to justice!”

With those words, Chief Kong charged at the corpse tide.

Zhong Ming shut his eyes in despair. Chief Kong was the very picture of blind loyalty, of the martial hero’s foolish righteousness.

Knowing further words were useless, the youth could only close his eyes and look away.

Liu Chengyin smiled coldly, turned away with his hands behind his back, not sparing Chief Kong another glance as the corpse tide surged toward him with a roar.

Dozens of corpses hurled themselves at Chief Kong. He slashed with his blade, severing one hand that had gripped his shoulder, but another corpse grabbed his ankle. In moments, Chief Kong was overwhelmed and swallowed by the tide.

The corpses dragged Chief Kong’s body back into the mass, and all was settled.

Chief Kong’s justice was like a pebble tossed into the ocean—its tiny splash went unnoticed by all.

From start to finish, whether Yang Yanliang, the Fine Scaled Cavalry, Li Que, or Tian Xingjian, all simply watched coldly from the sidelines. No one spoke a word for him.

When silence returned, Tian Xingjian sneered, “Such a petty constable, overestimating himself!”

On the tide of corpses, Zhong Ming’s eyes flew open, all his anger vented on Tian Xingjian. He roared, “What do you know! And you call yourself a scholar—do you know nothing of righteousness, nothing of courage?”

With a sigh, Zhong Ming continued, “Knowing there are tigers in the mountain, yet still moving toward the tiger’s den—this is the spirit of the martial world!”

Tian Xingjian was left speechless, and the sneer at his lips seemed to mock himself.

Li Que turned away and said quietly, “Mount up. Let’s go.”

Yang Yanliang hung his head and sighed, then raised his Silver Dragon Spear and called out, “Sing the marching song—let us bid Chief Kong farewell! To have such an officer in New Tang is the fortune of our realm!”

Behind him, a hundred riders raised their Tang blades, striking them against their armor and singing out:

With hearts as one, we could shake Mount Tai!
Loyalty and righteousness, our spirits reach the heavens!
The general cherishes us, as dear as mother and father!
Disobey orders, and we lose our freedom!
With clear commands, rewards and punishments are just,
Through water and fire, who dares delay?

A hundred men sang the marching song of the New Tang cavalry. Their voices soared, majestic and bold, piercing the skies. The oppressive clouds above the border town thinned, and the bloody moon faded.

Atop the corpse tide, Liu Chengyin was silent for a long time before asking, “Was I wrong?”

Zhong Ming replied solemnly, “You were not wrong, nor was Chief Kong. Blame only the world’s fickleness. The justice in your hearts is not the same—right and wrong cannot be judged by a single word.”

With that, the youth atop the sea of corpses raised his head in a long, mournful sigh. Zhong Ming sighed, and so did Liu Chengyin.

That sigh lingered over the border town for a long while, joined by the unending song of the marching troops, making it all the more poignant and profound.