Chapter 102: Curse (II) |
“Bastard!”
Mu Jiaoman’s palm struck fiercely, shattering the skull of the man before him. He grabbed the tribesman from Mount Yue, his rage mounting.
“Trash! Where’s Li Xiangping?! This head that you presented belongs to a tribesman from Mount Yue!” he roared, his voice almost shaking with fury.
His eyes blazed with anger as he continued to pummel his subordinate, the tribesman now coughing up spurts of blood.
That day, their attempt to capture Li Tongya had failed. Upon his return, he discovered that the woman he captured had also escaped.
Mu Jiaoman cursed his oversight, now learning that she was likely associated with the Li Family.
“I should have used a spell to incapacitate her instead of letting her flee!”
As he sank back into his seat, Mu Jiaoman knew he had no time to waste dwelling on her. His mind churned with an even more troublesome task before him — dealing with the elusive and formidable Li Xiangping.
“This bastard seems to have eyes on the top of his head and on his buttocks. He’s like a starving wolf — or rather, a pest…”
Despite the presence of Qi Cultivators, Li Xiangping outwitted them time and again, slipping away before they could ever confront him directly.
Mu Jiaoman had lost several nights of sleep before Li Xiangping’s severed head was finally brought into his tent. He breathed a sigh of relief and declared Li Xiangping dead, only to be confounded when reports surfaced of Li Xiangping gathering the vagrants in the west and continuing his rampage southward.
Mu Jiaoman wasted no time in mobilizing his forces to crush him once more. Yet, despite their efforts, they found no trace of Li Xiangping or his forces. Instead, reports of his activities continued to spread, leaving Mu Jiaoman to question the extent of Li Xiangping’s true cultivation.
In the ensuing days, the situation deteriorated extremely rapidly. Each day, Mu Jiaoman’s tent received a head purported to be Li Xiangping’s, yet upon inspection, they were merely the heads of random people of Mount Yue.
The western defense line suffered twelve consecutive attacks, nearly allowing Li Xiangping to slip back to the east. Because of his many evasions, rumors of his omnipresence began circulating throughout the northern foothills of Mount Yue.
The latest news revealed that Li Xiangping had advanced to the Great Jueting, commanding nearly ten thousand vagrants. This forced Mu Jiaoman to return from his campaign to return to the aid of the Great Jueting.
“Only the Great King can truly vanquish this relentless scourge! General, he’s not just a cultivator of the Embryonic Breathing Realm. He’s a cunning predator… a devil who could make the vagrants follow him around like they are under a spell!”
The clan shaman under his command trembled as he spoke, plunging Mu Jiaoman into the depths of despair. Even Jianixi, fighting in the front lines at the Golden Tang Gate, had remained silent throughout the entirety of the conversation.
“I don’t care who or what he is! Either he dies or I do!” Mu Jiaoman hissed fiercely.
Desperate for assistance, Mu Jiaoman sought out the talisman shamans of Mount Wu, offering women and spirit items in exchange for their aid. To his relief, one finally agreed to come to his aid.
Mu Jiaoman’s letter was sent to the frontlines by an eagle and when it returned, Jianixi’s response to his plea was—Yes, either he dies or you die.
With trembling hands and feet, Mu Jiaoman hurriedly gathered the clan shamans, bringing them women and spirit items, including the children they captured from the Li Family as requested by the talisman shaman before setting out for Mount Wu.
Along the journey, his men continued trying to falsely claim credit by presenting severed heads of Mount Yue’s tribesmen, claiming they belonged to Li Xiangping.
Their actions infuriated Mu Jiaoman so much that he nearly beat them to death.
“Shit, what kind of a demon is he?” Mu Jiaoman sat in the carriage in a daze, before shouts from the outside broke him from his thoughts.
“General! We’ve arrived at Mount Wu!”
Mu Jiaoman stepped out of the carriage and was greeted by stairs made of fine white jade before him. He shakily removed his shoes before ascending the mountain barefoot.
The wind howled as he climbed through the darkness, with each owl’s cry echoing through the night. Mu Jiaoman dared not lift his gaze, instead silently counting each step.
After exactly 1,622 steps, he reached a large platform which was illuminated only by a faint glow that reflected off the jade.
With a thud, Mu Jiaoman fell to his knees, his eyes drawn over to a dozen figures seated on the jade platform. All of them wore lavish attires and looked more like cultivators instead.
“You must be the general. Tell us what’s happening,” a voice belonging to one of the figures on the platform commanded, cold and unwavering.
Mu Jiaoman hastily recited the speech he had carefully memorized, his words drowned out only by the shrill whispers emanating from the surrounding darkness.
“What’s going on? Must we intervene in mortal affairs too?”
“What do you know? If you disrupt the master’s plan, you’ll face dire consequences!”
“Hmph, what a useless bunch. They can’t even handle a single cultivator of the Embryonic Breathing Realm!”
Mu Jiaoman pressed his forehead firmly against the ground, not daring to even breathe. Finally, one of the men before him spoke up.
“Since none of you are willing to help, let’s just use a curse to settle the matter once and for all and save ourselves an extra trip.”
A voice from below immediately cut in.
“Master said we’re not allowed to interfere with matters of the mortal world with spells! Senior… please reconsider your plan!”
“It is no matter,” replied the figure reassuringly, shaking his head. “This individual is not from Mount Yue… and among all the spells, curses are the safest. Besides, the target is unlikely to possess knowledge of such techniques nor pose a threat to us.”
The questioner nodded in agreement and commanded, “Bring forth the sacrifices!”
Several sacrifices that were as big as boars were carried forward by demonic creatures, exuding an aura that indicated their strength to be at peak Qi Cultivation Realm.
Mu Jiaoman, peering and observing their reflections on the ground, noticed the calloused hands of the demonic creatures and their bodies that were marked with… slave marks?
Why are the demonic creatures marked…?
Before Mu Jiaoman could figure it out, the ground beneath him suddenly trembled. The jade on the platform shifted, revealing a large, round pit that was filled with boiling blood and scattered human bones.
“To make him senile, crippled, or kill him with the curse?”
“Let’s kill him with the curse to be safe.” replied the figure in the middle coldly, before anyone else had time to answer.
The man nodded before chanting a spell in a hoarse voice.
“Profound Light True Talisman, there are foreign troops and rebels, evil ghosts and demons, threatening the lives of my subjects... I respectfully request the True Talisman to destroy the flesh and blood of evildoers, let them be reduced to bones…”
Mu Jiaoman listened in silence, his emotions roiling with a mix of conflict and amazement. The use of curses had always been frowned upon in battles between Mount Yue’s armies, and he struggled to reconcile his actions with his conscience.
He’s not one of us from Mount Yue, he consoled himself in his heart quietly.
When the boy from the Li Family’s side family was decapitated, his blood flowed like a river, his headless body convulsing cruelly like a demonic pig in his own pool of blood.
Mu Jiaoman was overcome by the scent of blood — memories of the day he and Jianixi had slain their king to spark their rebellion flooding back to his mind.
The Great King they killed was also a paunchy man, and the Mount Yue people were cheering as they divided the spoils. Though Jianixi was laughing heartily, he was terrified to death. He couldn't help but question the reasoning behind Jianixi’s rebellion.
Jianixi merely sat on his horse and pointed his long whip at the people of Mount Yue who were celebrating.
“It’s for the people…”— that was his answer, at least that’s what he told himself.
Even now, with the northern foothills conquered, Jianixi continued fighting. There were ten thousand vagrants outside of Great Jueting, and Mu Jiaoman struggled to comprehend how Li Xiangping had managed to amass such a big army within enemy territory.
“Great King, does any of this still hold meaning…?” Mu Jiaoman pondered silently, closing his eyes to stop his tears from flowing down his face.
For the first time, he foresaw the truth of everything before his great king did.