Chapter Forty-One: The Village of Corpses

The Daoist, seeing his "treasure" fall to the ground, let out a long sigh of relief and began to plead with Zhou Qian, "Brother Daoist, this is a misunderstanding, a misunderstanding! It was not my intention."

Zhou Qian's face darkened. "You tried to stab me with that thing—how can you call it a misunderstanding? And if it wasn't your intention, was it its intention?"

The Daoist nodded eagerly. "It was indeed its intention!" He quickly explained. This young Daoist was surnamed Tong, given name Yuan, a failed scholar from Tiandu Prefecture, obscure for over twenty years. By chance, he came across a Daoist text describing a sword-refining method and several spell annotations. Skeptical, he practiced them and, unexpectedly, succeeded. However, both the sword technique and spell explanations were incomplete. After three years of cultivation, Tong Yuan’s skill was only half-baked. He could unexpectedly kill ordinary martial artists with a single blow and made a living pretending to cast spells. Eventually, he opened a Daoist temple in Tiandu Prefecture and became its master, living on incense offerings while quietly studying Daoist texts—

"This treasure was forged from refined iron essence, which cost me most of my savings and was extracted from tens of thousands of catties of ore. It must be fed daily with my own blood, which is painstaking. The most troublesome part is that, after I inscribed the spell from the text onto it, the treasure gradually developed a spirit of its own. Whenever it encounters something unclean, it acts on its own. Young hero, are you perhaps carrying something sinister?" Tong Yuan asked hesitantly.

Zhou Qian paused, thought for a moment, then took from his bosom a palm-sized scale, green tinged with black, and asked, "Could it be this?"

Without needing Tong Yuan to answer, the flying sword began to tremble and hum again. Tong Yuan hurriedly recited several spells to calm it down.

"How did you come by this item, young hero?" Tong Yuan, seeing Zhou Qian’s dignified bearing, sword-like brows and starry eyes, and his luxurious brocade robe, realized he was no common thief. Emboldened by this, he asked out of curiosity.

"This was given to me by a foreigner. He said it was a scale from a man-faced flood dragon revered by his tribe," Zhou Qian hesitated, then added, "It does seem to carry some ominous presence, perhaps of a ghostly nature."

"I see!" Tong Yuan exclaimed in realization. Though he was a fake Daoist, he had studied many Daoist texts and knew something of tales of gods and demons. He explained, "This scale is shed by a flood dragon or giant python after it has become a spirit. It attracts ghosts and demons. No wonder your scale, imbued with demonic aura, could draw my flying sword, which was refined using an immortal method."

With the misunderstanding resolved, Zhou Qian promptly released Tong Yuan and apologized. Tong Yuan waved it off, unconcerned, but staggered when he tried to walk, nearly falling. Zhou Qian quickly supported him, puzzled. "Brother Tong, you seem rather weak. Does the immortal method you practice not strengthen the body?"

Tong Yuan smiled bitterly. "I learned after much effort that what I practice is mere sorcery, not true Daoist cultivation. Dao techniques are the foundation; spells are but branches. My flying sword must be washed daily with my own blood, and my body simply can’t bear the strain!"

"Ah, that explains it," Zhou Qian replied, understanding. He helped Tong Yuan to a chair, and the latter called for an apprentice to bring two cups of ginseng tea. After drinking, Tong Yuan’s pallor faded, replaced by a healthy flush.

"My visit today is mainly to ask for your help, Brother Tong," Zhou Qian explained his purpose. Tong Yuan looked troubled. "It's not that I don't want to help, but my Blood Tracking Spell requires me to draw the charm with my own blood. My health is declining, and I must also feed my sword. I simply can't endure the depletion—"

Zhou Qian knew he spoke the truth, so he offered, "I don’t mean to trouble you. As a man of the martial world, I know a secret method called the Green Reed Vitality Technique. If you follow my prescription, your vitality will be replenished quickly. What do you think?" This method, written in Lu Xu’s Medical Canon, was extremely precious and was a fortunate gain for Zhou Qian.

Tong Yuan was overjoyed. "I've long known that martial artists have unique ways of nourishing the body, but never found a proper method. If you can give me this technique, I’ll gladly take on the task of seeking the remains."

After a pause, Tong Yuan added, "If Brother Zhou is interested, I can also lend you the immortal methods I chanced upon."

Zhou Qian was startled. "Such immortal techniques are priceless—letting me see them is too generous!"

Tong Yuan replied awkwardly, "Not really. These immortal methods require one to possess an immortal root to cultivate. Ordinary people can’t master them. I’ve tried many times, but aside from myself, no one else has succeeded."

Zhou Qian understood. So, these "immortal methods" were like a chicken’s rib—of little use. As a martial artist, he valued robust vitality and bodily refinement, so he wasn't interested in the self-depleting sword refining technique. The other spells, however, intrigued him.

He accepted the yellowed booklet from Tong Yuan and flipped through it. Inside were four immortal spells: Blood Tracking, Wall Passing, Evil Warding Talisman, and Object Summoning—each extraordinary to mortals. Yet, all began with the requirement to visualize a wisp of spiritual energy within one's body. For those with an immortal root, this was no obstacle, but for ordinary people, it was as unattainable as cakes painted on a wall.

At this point, Tong Yuan produced a stack of yellow paper and a wolf-hair brush. "Brother Zhou, please wait while I draw the talisman."

Zhou Qian nodded, and Tong Yuan began to meditate before the statue of Ge Hong. After about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, as the booklet instructed, he visualized the talisman in his mind, then used spiritual energy as ink, blood as medium, and yellow paper as the vessel to draw the charm.

Afterward, Tong Yuan spread out the yellow paper, bit open his finger, dipped the brush in his blood, and began to draw. Each stroke was heavy as if weighing a thousand pounds. At last, with the final stroke, he finished, covered in sweat but breathing a sigh of relief. "Normally, I succeed only once in three or four tries. Today, with Brother Zhou's good fortune, I made it in one."

"Brother Zhou, do you have any blood from a close relative?" Zhou Qian nodded and presented a small vial. This was an essential item from the "False Song Ci’s" case-solving manual, perfect for the task. Tong Yuan dripped the blood onto the yellow paper. Instantly, a flash of red light shot through. Tong Yuan nodded, wrapped the paper around the small sword, and placed it flat on his palm. "This method can only detect within a ten-li radius. Beyond that, I am powerless. Since you say the remains are near Tiandu Prefecture, we must search the area."

Conveniently, the temple had two fine horses, said to be rewards from a local squire after seeking a child. How the squire’s wife’s pregnancy was related to Ge Hong, the Daoist patriarch, was anyone’s guess, but after Tong Yuan’s spell, the squire was convinced. Coincidentally, the very next day, the squire’s wife conceived, and so the name "Tong the Half-Immortal" spread far and wide.

Together, they searched around Tiandu Prefecture, visiting four or five villages and seven or eight hamlets. At last, outside a village called Yang Family Village, they sensed a change.

Both were delighted. Tong Yuan explained, "Yang Family Village is well known hereabouts for its martial spirit and expertise with spears. Legend says it was founded by the descendants of the Generals of the Yang Family, though who knows if that’s true."

The village was encircled by a long palisade, and outside it were dense horse traps, with stakes at the corners, resembling a simple fortress.

Both were startled by the formidable defenses. As they approached the gate, two robust, bare-chested men holding long spears stopped them. One said, "Yang Family Village now allows entry but no exit. Do you still wish to enter?"

Tong Yuan asked in confusion, "Has something serious happened in the village?"

The man shook his head and said gravely, "If you want to enter, enter. Don’t ask questions."

"Are you Tong the Half-Immortal?" the other asked suddenly.

"I am indeed the Daoist Master Tong, known as 'Floating Cloud,'" Tong Yuan replied, performing a Daoist salute with great seriousness.

The two men immediately showed respect. One said excitedly, "Quick, tell the village elder that Yang Family Village is saved!"

The two were even more baffled. Soon, a large group from the village arrived. The leading elder bowed deeply to Tong Yuan, startling him so much he sidestepped. The elder said respectfully, "Please, Half-Immortal, come inside to discuss matters." The two were escorted to the ancestral hall, where, as soon as they entered, the elder led the villagers in kneeling. The elder, choked with emotion, said, "Before you learn the truth, please swear a deadly oath not to reveal this to anyone!"

Tong Yuan swept his sleeves in irritation. "What is this—first gathering a crowd, then demanding oaths? If you think to threaten me, you’re mistaken!" The elder quickly protested, knocking his head on the stone floor until it rang. Tong Yuan, not one to be stubborn, relented with a sigh. "As long as this is not a crime against heaven or reason, I will keep your secret. If I, Tong Yuan, break this oath, may heaven and earth destroy me!"

The elder then fixed his gaze on Zhou Qian. Zhou Qian smiled wryly. "If I, Zhou Qian, break this oath, may heaven and earth destroy me!"

Only then did the elder recount the events. Near Yang Family Village were three mass burial mounds formed over time by unburied corpses after wars. The village had an ancestral hall dedicated to the ancestors of the Yang clan. Just over ten days ago, something terrifying occurred: one night, while a village youth stood watch, he saw a Yang ancestor’s corpse climb out of its coffin in the ancestral hall and shamble toward the burial mound. At first, no one believed it, but soon similar incidents multiplied, and several villagers were injured. Rumors grew wilder—some said Yang Family Village was descended from demons or ghosts, others that some monstrous being had emerged from the burial mounds, or that a Yang ancestor had become a great fiend...

If word of this spread, the village's century-old reputation would be ruined. Worse, the villagers themselves began to doubt their own Yang heritage, fearing they were cursed. Morale was collapsing.

The village elders acted decisively, sealing off Yang Family Village and seeking anyone who could exorcise demons. It was at this moment that Tong Yuan arrived...