Chapter 22 p1
“But I’ve never been out to see… I don’t know what the outside world is like…”
Her drunken words from yesterday faintly surfaced in her mind. Xie Qingzheng looked at the white-robed figure before her, a sense of joy rising in her heart, accompanied by a subtle feeling.
Yesterday, she was still lamenting that she hadn’t seen the outside world. Today, she had the opportunity to travel.
Was it a coincidence? Or was it intentional?
She wasn’t quite sure.
For the past three years, she had been alone on Ethereal Peak, quietly listening to life and death, prosperity and decay, enlightening her Dao and tempering her mind. Her personality had become much more reserved. She was no longer childish, no longer casually saying things like “I like you” or “You like me.”
But, she hadn’t restrained herself that much. She still felt that if there were any sincere words, it was best to say them.
When she heard sincere words from others, she would feel happy. Putting herself in others’ shoes, her master should also be happy to hear those words…
Thus, she smiled and said to Mo Jiangxue, “Master, thank you.”
Mo Jiangxue lowered the white gauze of her veiled hat, completely concealing her face, and asked coolly, “What is there to thank me for?”
Xie Qingzheng said softly, “Of course it’s for taking my words to heart.”
Mo Jiangxue’s tone was cold. “It was on the way.”
This morning, a female soldier with a red scarf tied around her arm had collapsed weakly in front of the Xuanji Sect’s mountain gate, repeatedly muttering, “There’s a plague and poison corpses in Qingjia Town. I beg the immortals to save us…”
After discussing it, the Sect Master and the elders suspected it might be related to the demonic cult and decided to send an elder with some disciples to Qingjia Town to investigate.
Mo Jiangxue had volunteered for the task.
Before Wen Family Village was destroyed, there had also been a plague in the village, and poison corpses had appeared in the surrounding area.
Four years ago, when she went to Wen Family Village to retrieve the Tianxuan Sword, at the critical moment of breaking the barrier with a spell, she had been careless and had been scratched on the shoulder by a poison corpse.
She wanted to see what the plague and poison corpses in Qingjia Town were like this time, and whether there were any similarities to Wen Family Village.
And, on the way, take Xie Qingzheng out for some training.
Xie Qingzheng: “Even if it was just on the way, I’m very happy. It means that I am in your heart, Master.”
How could she not be happy to be cared for by the person she admired?
Mo Jiangxue said no more, summoned her flying sword, and departed.
Xie Qingzheng followed closely behind.
Exorcising evil and bringing peace to the people was the duty of the immortal sects.
Before, when she was cultivating on Weiming Peak, the senior sisters had repeatedly told her that with great power comes great responsibility. Cultivators of the righteous sects should take it as their duty to slay demons, eliminate evil, and protect all living things.
In these chaotic times, with lives devastated, there were especially many resentful spirits and ghosts wandering the mortal world. Batches of cultivators from the Xuanji Sect were sent out, and when they returned, they were more or less injured.
Before, in the outer sect, whenever she saw the senior sisters injured, she would feel terrible and always wanted to grow up quickly to fight alongside them.
Now, she had finally gotten her wish.
She followed behind Mo Jiangxue, flying on her sword to the mountain gate.
Min He was already waiting at the front of the mountain steps, with ten medical cultivators and ten music cultivators behind her.
Medical cultivators all had a gourd hanging from their waists, symbolizing “hanging a gourd to help the world,” which made them easy to identify.
When the group saw Mo Jiangxue arrive, they bowed in salute.
Xie Qingzheng also saluted the senior sisters.
Mo Jiangxue gave a slight nod, her calm gaze sweeping over the crowd, and said, “Let’s go.”
The group set off on their swords in a grand procession.
It was her first time going out for training with so many senior sisters, and with Mo Jiangxue by her side. Xie Qingzheng stood on her sword, not only in the clouds, but her heart also soared into the clouds. Her joy was unconcealable.
But after arriving in Qingjia Town and walking through the streets littered with severed limbs, her mood plummeted to the depths.
A line from a song went: “Misty willows, painted bridges, wind-blown curtains of green screens, a hundred thousand scattered homes.” It described the prosperous and picturesque scenery of the southeast.
Qingjia Town was a hundred li away from the Xuanji Sect. It was originally a necessary stop on the way to the imperial capital, Jiangning, bustling with people coming and going.
After the war, nine out of ten households in the town were empty. The trees were burned, the bridges were broken. The elegant, tall buildings were either shattered or demolished. One could only vaguely glimpse its former prosperity from the ruined walls.
Now, a plague had broken out, and the bodies of common people could be seen everywhere along the way.
The group from the Xuanji Sect walked through the deathly still streets, their hearts heavy. No one spoke.
Mo Jiangxue walked alone at the very front, followed by two rows of cultivators.
Xie Qingzheng walked at the very back, her gaze lingering on the ruined walls in the streets and alleys.
Having grown accustomed to the vast sea of mist and the ethereal air of the immortal sect, the sudden sight of these tragic scenes of the mortal world filled her heart with sorrow.
No matter how many descriptions of “chaotic times” and “devastated lives” she had heard or read, none were as shocking as seeing it with her own eyes.
Being here, seeing how fragile human life was, how there was hardship and suffering everywhere, she suddenly felt that the hardships she had suffered were nothing at all.
To have the fate to seek immortality and the Dao, compared to the people of the mortal world, was already a great fortune.
She would never again feel sorry for herself, complaining about her difficult background and ill-fated destiny…
Her peripheral vision caught sight of two corpses by the side of the street, and Xie Qingzheng couldn’t help but stop.
It was a mother and daughter who had died in a tight embrace. The mother held the young child in her arms, her body curled up, maintaining a protective posture even in death.
Some blurry images flashed through her mind. She seemed to remember her own mother, but she couldn’t see her mother’s face clearly…
A dull ache throbbed between her brows. The more she thought, the more her spirits sank. A cool and severe voice suddenly came to her ear:
“Focus. Keep up.”
It was as if someone had whispered the words in her ear. The clear voice disrupted the memories in her mind.
Xie Qingzheng was startled and pulled herself out of her sorrow.
Looking up, she saw Mo Jiangxue walking ahead, not having turned to look at her—
It was sound transmission.
Master didn’t look back at her, but she noticed her abnormality…
Xie Qingzheng steadied herself and trotted to catch up with the group.
As they were walking, a sixteen-year-old female soldier turned the corner.
The female soldier held a bamboo broom in both hands, a red scarf tied around her arm. Her eyes were vacant. When she saw them, she was stunned for a moment, dropped the broom, and hurried over, shouting, “Are you the immortals from the Xuanji Sect?”
Xie Qingzheng’s brows relaxed.
Finally, a living person. And a very enthusiastic one at that.
Mo Jiangxue stopped.
Min He quickly stepped forward and cupped her hands in reply. “Indeed, we are. May I ask—”
The female soldier’s eyes lit up. She stumbled back a step, then turned and ran, shouting, “General! General! The immortals are here! We’re saved!”
Before long, the sound of horse hooves came from ahead. Dozens of female soldiers galloped over. The leading female general had long eyebrows that slanted up into her temples, giving her an indescribably heroic and valiant air. She dismounted, ran over, and gave a deep bow to the group. “Jing Zhao, commander of the Red Sleeve Army, pays her respects to the esteemed immortals.”
Mo Jiangxue returned the salute.
She wore a white veiled hat that covered her face, a white robe, and a long qin. She was untouched by dust, like an immortal consort in the clouds and mist.
Even though the people couldn’t see her face clearly, they were still attracted by her otherworldly temperament, and their gazes towards her were especially respectful and reverent.
The group followed the Red Sleeve Army towards the government office, inquiring about the poison corpse incident along the way.
The Red Sleeve Army was the rebel army stationed in the town, and also a troop of female soldiers.
The army’s commander, Jing Zhao, was seventeen years old. She was originally the second young lady of the Duke of Taiyuan’s residence. After Duke Jing rebelled, she took off her red dress, recruited and formed this Red Sleeve Army, and followed her father on his campaigns.
They had finally managed to capture Qingjia Town, but unexpectedly, a sudden plague half a month ago had claimed the lives of half the town’s people, and a large number of the female soldiers had also died or been injured.
What was even stranger was that after the plague, the bodies that had not been burned in time had come back to life. They could walk and run, and would bite anyone they saw. And those who were bitten would also slowly show symptoms of the plague, eventually turning into poison corpses that only attacked people.
Qingjia Town was originally a strategic location that all armies vied for. After the plague, it instantly became an uncontested land. Only Jing Zhao and her Red Sleeve Army remained stationed here, struggling to hold on.
Min He asked, “Why not retreat?”
Jing Zhao shook her head. “It’s a long story.”
She led the group to the prison in the government office.
The prison was dark and damp, emitting a foul, rotting smell. Before they even got close, Xie Qingzheng heard the clanking of iron chains and beast-like roars.
As they got closer, they saw that there were no prisoners in the cells, only dozens of women with cangues on their heads and their hair disheveled.
Their faces were contorted, their skin festering. Sensing the arrival of living people, their eyes rolled back, and they threw themselves against the bars of the cells, letting out roars from their throats. The cangues on their heads crashed against the bars, making a clanging sound.
Jing Zhao frowned, as if unwilling to see this scene. She turned her head away and said:
“They are all my soldiers. They were careless and were bitten by poison corpses while trying to capture them.”
“They were afraid of harming the town’s people after turning into poison corpses, so they voluntarily put on the cangues and iron chains, locked themselves in the prison, and slowly became like this.”
“These people followed me from the north to the south, through life and death… I can’t bear to leave them here…”
The female cultivators were all moved. Some even had red eyes.
Only Mo Jiangxue remained impassive, her gaze fixed on one of the cells that was shaking as if it were about to collapse.
With a loud crack, the bars of that cell suddenly broke.
A new round of even louder roars erupted in the prison, like a beast breaking free from its cage, its cries sharp and excited.
Everyone looked towards the sound, their pupils shrinking.
Before Jing Zhao could even say the word “run,” before the female cultivators could even draw their swords, Mo Jiangxue placed the jade xiao to her lips and played two notes.
The sound of the xiao was clear and serene, like striking jade, like a babbling stream. The previously frenzied and roaring poison corpses instantly froze in place, like clay sculptures or wooden carvings.
The female cultivators silently sheathed their swords.
With “Cloud Melody, Flowing Frost” here, what did they have to worry about?
The crisis was quelled in an instant. The prison fell silent, leaving only the heavy breathing of Jing Zhao and a few of her female soldiers.
In the silence, the female cultivators secretly pondered: Where did the first poison corpse come from?
