Chapter Ninety-Three: Discord in the West

The warriors on Green Wolf Mountain were deeply grateful for He Chang'an’s timely help, and with great enthusiasm they insisted that he come back to their stronghold for a good long drinking bout before they would let him leave.

In the end, he had no choice but to go up the mountain with them.

He rather liked these men, even though they had plainly told him that they had once been frontier soldiers, and later convicts; after killing those damned wardens, they had become a band of wandering outlaws.

Still, mindful of the old saying of the martial world that one should not speak too freely with strangers, He Chang'an drank in silence and did not dare ask too much.

In chaotic times, mud and sand all sink together.

Simply for daring to stand up to demons and ghosts, they counted as real men in He Chang'an’s eyes, and that was his own way of seeing things, having nothing to do with the Tang Empire.

After more than a dozen jars of rough wine were emptied, the men’s uproar gradually died away, until at last no one said a word.

Almost every gaze turned toward He Chang'an.

There was no hostility in those looks. On the contrary, they were warm.

So this was what the old scholars meant when they said that things of a kind gather together and people find their own. Some people may gnash their teeth at each other across endless mountains and rivers, while others become friends after a single meeting, for no reason at all.

He Chang'an raised the half bowl of leftovers, swayed to his feet, and smiled toward the broad-shouldered man seated in the center. “Boss, I’ve had my fill. It’s time for me to set out.”

The boss also lifted a half bowl and drained it in one go. “Next time you pass through Green Wolf Mountain, be sure to come in for a drink.”

“All right.” He Chang'an finished what was left in his bowl, slung his pack over his shoulder, and turned to go down the mountain.

More than a dozen men rose to their feet and watched him leave without once looking back. Only after a long while did they sit down again, each of them oddly subdued.

The battle near Da San Pass had only just ended. Zheng Hongxiu looked exhausted as she sat in the command tent, turning through the battle reports with a deeply furrowed brow.

The situation was even worse than expected.

This time the Ghost Clan had marched south in almost total strength. They had driven even their old, weak, and young along with them, forcing them onto a vast stretch of grassland two thousand miles away, where they tended sheep and horses and supplied the Ghost Army with a steady flow of provisions.

And yet even so, those half-human, half-ghost soldiers were clearly starving. On the battlefield, whenever a human soldier was slain, dozens of Ghost Clan soldiers would surge forward to tear at the corpse and devour it.

This was a struggle to the death.

On the human side, thanks to the defensive grand formation of the military fortress, casualties among the troops were not yet especially severe. The real problem was the immense consumption of the materials needed to sustain the formation. In just over three months, even she, the fortress commander, had been left badly strained.

What troubled her most was the baleful yin energy.

Each time a Ghost Clan soldier was killed, a wisp of yin energy seeped into the world. For the Ghost Clan, it was a tonic of immense value. For the human defensive formation, it was poison.

Many border troops had been contaminated from within by that yin force. Not only were they gradually losing the ability to fight, they had also become a huge source of instability, like a hidden festering wound buried in the human army.

Damn He Chang'an, why was he still not here?

Lord Zheng had once personally told her that He Chang'an possessed a special constitution and cultivated a strange method, and that he could be of enormous help to her.

But the scholars from the academy had already arrived at Da San Pass more than two months ago, and there had still been no sign of He Chang'an. Zheng Hongxiu even regretted not having kept that boy at her side back then.

He Chang'an hurried along, and just as he was nearing Da San Pass, trouble found him.

Ajiu, growing restless in the city of Chang'an, had no idea which sinew in her head had gone awry. She had actually brought the little spirit fox and headed north all the way to the frontier. By a remarkable coincidence, she ran into He Chang'an in a small market town.

He Chang'an was eating steamed buns in a bun shop. Feeling someone glaring at him, he looked up and saw the dark, plain-faced Ajiu smiling at him with a look that was half amusement and half something else.

When you meet an old acquaintance far from home, the first order of business is seven or eight baskets of buns.

“Lamb filling. Add minced scallions for the flavor.” He Chang'an waved a hand grandly, looking for all the world like a wealthy man.

“Bring two small dishes of garlic sauce with clear oil too. They’re best for dipping.” Ajiu turned and casually instructed the woman running the bun shop, looking as though she had been doing quite well for herself in Chang'an lately.

The shopkeeper agreed and hurried into the kitchen to prepare the food. Only then did He Chang'an faintly frown and ask, “Why did you bring the little fox too?”

Demons and spirits were taboo in human lands of the Tang Empire.

Ajiu patted the spirit beast pouch at her waist and said with an easy laugh, “It’s fine. This one is as sly as they come and never causes trouble.”

He Chang'an did not ask further.

After leaving Chang'an and going through a few affairs of the martial world, He Chang'an felt that a little monster like Ajiu, who had come out of deep mountains and old forests, ought to have even stronger survival skills than he did.

Especially that three-tailed little spirit fox. A demon that had managed to loaf around Chang'an for so many years, and had even cultivated the Dao in a Buddhist temple, naturally had methods he knew nothing about.

He had been worrying for nothing.

So the two of them ate their buns slowly, chatting aimlessly about this and that, laughing carelessly as they looked at each other without the slightest weariness.

Only after a full hour did He Chang'an finally produce a broken silver ingot, settle the bill, and step out the door.

Ajiu waited until the woman in the bun shop had returned the dozen-odd copper coins in change before she came out with great satisfaction, grumbling that He Chang'an had no idea how to live at all. How could he just throw away a dozen coins like that?

He Chang'an laughed loudly and promised that he would certainly pay attention next time.

Having someone at your side who never let a bargain slip away felt rather good.

After they had gone seven or eight li beyond the town and entered a sparse stretch of mountain woods, the two of them suddenly slowed, both of them almost at once entering a state of combat readiness.

“Five people. Seventh rank strength,” He Chang'an sent to Ajiu.

Ajiu gave a slight nod and said nothing.

She wanted to tell He Chang'an that among the five people ahead, there was one unusual presence whose strength should exceed that of a pure fifth-rank martial artist.

But she also knew that at a moment like this, saying more would be useless. It might only disturb He Chang'an’s state of mind.

Like a nimble female leopard, she relaxed her body completely, lowered herself, and in perfect understanding slipped sideways to hide behind a large tree on the left.

He Chang'an looked much more at ease. He continued forward at an unhurried pace, his aura fully restrained, making him look like nothing more than a capable hunter.

A martial artist’s instinct warned him that the other side bore hostility.

It was a feeling impossible to explain, something He Chang'an would have called old-fashioned superstition in another life, or perhaps a sixth sense.

After seven or eight breaths, He Chang'an finally saw them.

Four young monks and a white-furred monkey with a red mole between its brows were sizing him up at will, neither the fierce aura nor the thick murderous intent in the slightest concealed.

Especially that white monkey. It was baring its teeth, its eyes glittering with savage light, as though it were about to leap at him and tear him to pieces.

The cinnabar mark on its brow was bright as fresh blood, like a third eye, shimmering with a blood-red radiance.

He Chang'an stopped in his tracks and said nothing.

It looked as though they had come prepared, waiting here especially for him. In that case, there was nothing more to say. A bitter fight was unavoidable.

“You four, go catch the girl and the little fox.” The white monkey suddenly spoke in a human voice, its tone muffled and rough, like that of a child of seven or eight.

He Chang'an’s heart pounded wildly. He knew at once that this was real trouble.

He had once read in an idle book that in the far west there was a mountain called Strange Peak, and among the descendants of an ancient divine ape called the Three-Water Ape there existed a line of beasts with golden eyes and white fur, possessed of limitless strength. By nature they were cruel and suspicious, devouring metal, stone, earth, flesh, and blood alike, whether from man or beast. For that reason, they were known as Sky-Swallowing Apes.

According to legend, these Sky-Swallowing Apes were born with extraordinary gifts. Once they reached adulthood, if fortune granted them the chance to swallow vast quantities of the five elemental energies, the cinnabar mark on their brows would burst open and a vertical eye would emerge.

He Chang'an suddenly found a bitter taste rising in his mouth.

The four young monks joined their palms, inclined their heads slightly, and turned toward the place where Ajiu was hiding. From the look of it, they held this white-furred beast in considerable reverence.

He Chang'an knew very little about the Buddhist lands of the West, but he could distinctly feel the malice in that white-furred creature before him, along with its unmasked and intense killing intent.

He drew in a breath, clenched his fist, and slowly took a step forward.