Where Immortals Once Walked

The moment they saw that their supreme commander had not died, the troops of Xia Province finally let out a collective sigh of relief, only to have their minds be filled immediately after with the tantalizing bounty.

While He Chunhua was breaking free from the giant ape’s rampage, He Lingchuan had already rushed back in from the opposite direction. With a flick of his wrist, his storage ring flashed; the Rising Dragon spear was in his grip, its point gleaming cold as he drove it straight toward the monster’s right eye.

The ape loomed well over three meters tall, even when standing half upright. Because of that, He Lingchuan, even mounted and at full stretch, still needed the length of a spear to reach its face.

The giant ape saw him coming. Fury ignited in its gaze, red as burning coals. Clearly, it still remembered the humiliation of being crushed beneath the walnut boat.

The bone plate above its eye suddenly lengthened, sliding down to shield its eyeball completely.

He Lingchuan’s spear struck an instant later.

The black-gold spearhead, forged with a trace of meteoric iron from beyond the heavens, could pierce armor that ordinary blades would only dent.

The bone plate shattered. Rising Dragon drove through into the right eye, and a spray of hot blood burst forth.

Yet the armor’s resistance had sapped most of his strength. The point lodged shallowly. Hanging half-in midair, He Lingchuan tried to wrench the weapon free for a second thrust, but the giant ape’s answering roar made the sky tremble. Its hand shot out like lightning and seized him!

It’s much faster than before.

He Lingchuan had counted on the creature’s movements being dulled by the word-curse carved upon its brow, so he was caught off guard when that glowing slow character splintered and vanished into thin air.

That single blow had driven the beast into such a frenzy that even the binding power of the word curse could no longer restrain it.

Pain exploded through him as the monster’s grip clamped down. Blood was forced to his head and limbs; he felt his entire frame compacting, as if he were a water-filled wineskin about to burst. Only one arm remained free to move.

His Fleeting Life saber was pinned fast, impossible to draw.

Elder Liang watched from below, aghast. “Impossible!”

He had spent twenty-five years mastering the Word-Spirit Curse, fifteen of them in absolute silence to refine his inner voice. His single-character curses were his life’s culmination: light to bear, devastating in effect. Even the master of Cloud-Piercing Pavilion could not have broken free within a few breaths, yet this ghost ape had done it. How?

He Chunhua’s eyes went red. “Chuan’er!”

Several Xia Province soldiers lunged forward, thrusting their spears to help, but the ghost ape’s bone armor turned their attacks aside effortlessly.

The monster, utterly unbothered, squeezed. With its strength, crushing He Lingchuan to pulp would have been effortless, but all at once, the pressure vanished. Its palm felt strangely empty.

It opened its hand to look. The small human who had wounded it twice had simply vanished.

Something minuscule and feather-light remained in its palm, but before the ape could see what it was, the thing scattered like dust to the wind.

Behind it, He Lingchuan suddenly reappeared, his substitution spell successfully taking effect. Fleeting Life moved free of its scabbard, and a flash of steel carved through the night.

An arc of cold light slashed across the monster’s ankles. The blade found the seam between its bony scales and bit deep, severing both Achilles tendons in a single stroke.

The ghost ape’s scream reverberated so strongly that it was as if there were an earthquake. It twisted, clawing back at him, stumbling a step in retreat, and that one step came with agony one would perhaps fail to even be able to imagine.

He Lingchuan’s own heart pounded. Had he not thrown out his ghost-shadow cicada shells at the last instant, then substituting his body with it, he would already be nothing but a crushed smear.

He Chunhua’s grief flipped instantly to fierce clarity. “Chuan’er! Throw me the Ghost-Eye Bow, now!”

He Lingchuan dodged beneath a sweeping fist, yanked bow and arrow from his ring, and tossed them across the battlefield without a thought.

Right, how could I have forgotten about the bow?!

However, he was in no mood to gamble his own life to fire it.

He Chunhua caught the weapon but did not nock the arrow himself. Instead, he thrust bow and shaft into the hands of a nearby guard. His voice was steel. “Shoot.”

The guard obeyed without hesitation. He drew, sighted the ghost ape, and whispered, “I sacrifice five years of my life.”

At once, the eye in the bow’s grip began to whirl madly. It opened wide, its pupil locking upon the monster’s face.

A hiss of air, and the arrow was gone.

The giant ape, sensing danger, dropped backward with a crash, its haunches hitting the ground as it dodged the frontal shot.

But it knew nothing of the Ghost-Eye Bow’s true nature. The arrow curved mid-flight, described a wide arc, and came screaming back even faster than before.

The monster had another eye on the back of its head. From that place, a new arm sprouted in a flash, reaching up to snatch the arrow from the air.

However, it was too late.

Bang!

The shaft punched into its right shoulder and detonated. Blood and flesh fountained outward in a crimson cloud. From He Chunhua’s vantage point, he could see clean through the ape’s chest; the blast had torn a hole as wide as a basin.

He roared, “Kill it!”

The Xia Province troops surged forward.

Half-blind, chest shattered, tendon cut, the ghost ape was a shadow of its former might. A broken drum invites a thousand blows; its bone plates had already begun to slough off around its wounds, offering little defense against human steel.

Pain overwhelmed even its fury. With a hoarse bellow, it dropped to all fours and bounded away, smashing through brush and trees alike in a desperate retreat.

Arrows and spears rained after it, but it was to no avail. It ignored them all, crashing through anything in its path. One leg dangled uselessly, but the other three limbs carried it at frightening speed.

Meanwhile, the Xun Province troops realized the tide had turned. With He Chunhua’s men fighting ever harder, and several cultivators among them casting divine techniques powered by origin energy, they had no chance of reclaiming the field.

If they lingered, they would be surrounded and wiped out.

The maimed Lord Baili, supported by his guards, gave the signal to retreat.

Retreat, in truth, meant to run for their lives.

Morale soared among Xia Province’s forces. He Chunhua appointed Zeng Feixiong and another general to lead the pursuit, ordering them to press the advantage relentlessly.

When the clamor eased, He Lingchuan hurried to his father’s side. “Father, are you alright?”

“Maybe a cracked rib.” He Chunhua’s face was pale but steady. “Nothing serious.”

All around lay wreckage. Scores of Xia Province soldiers had fallen, more than twenty of whom were crushed outright by the giant ape’s thrown boulders. Several disciples of Cloud-Piercing Pavilion, fighting their first battle alongside the army, were also wounded.

The medicine ape Ling Guang scrambled out of the smoke, chattering as it began tending to the injured.

Scattered grain covered the trampled ground; tents and wagons still burned here and there. Yet compared to the disaster that would have followed had the supplies been stolen, these losses were negligible.

If the convoy’s grain had truly been taken, the northern front would have faltered again, and all of He Chunhua’s hard-won prestige would have gone up in smoke.

“Father, stay here and direct the troops,” He Lingchuan said grimly. “I’ll finish that ape.”

He Chunhua nodded. The ghost ape, grievously wounded, posed far less of a threat now. “Be careful of Dong Rui.”

At He Lingchuan’s whistle, his mount—a glossy bo beast—bounded out of the chaos, unharmed and sleek as ever.

Good. This beast has better sense than many men.

He swung into the saddle, called Mao Tao, Shan Youjun, and a few other men to him, and set off, following the trail of blood and shattered brush the giant ape had left behind.

As he rode out, he caught the echo of his father’s voice behind him, “Send a squad to Bailu Town. Find out what’s happening there, quickly!”

Of course. Xinhuang had been attacked; who knew what had become of Bailu Town? The Xun Province forces had fled that way, while the giant ape had gone in the opposite direction. It seemed like he would have to let others handle the town.

Tracking the ghost ape was child’s play. Its wounds bled like open fountains, leaving a crimson path that gleamed even under moonlight.

The key was not to lose sight of it. He Lingchuan remembered too well that the giant ape could change its size at will.

Fortunately, the land beyond Xinhuang was mostly flat. Only after several kilometers did the first low hills rise, sparse with stunted trees and scrubby bushes—a landscape no ape would favor.

Keeping its hulking form within view, He Lingchuan and his small party maintained their distance. A wounded beast was most dangerous when cornered. With fewer than ten men and no army to back them, the smart move was to wear it down.

Size was power, but it was also a burden.

Sure enough, after five kilometers or so, the giant ape’s pace faltered.

Running on three limbs was awkward. Add to that the torrent of blood from its mangled eye and chest, and every bound only bled it faster.

Shan Youjun suddenly called out, “Master, above!”

He Lingchuan looked up. Against the dark vault of the sky wheeled a large birdlike shape, circling low over the ape’s head.

His eyes narrowed. “That’s Dong Rui’s other monster puppet.” Whether or not Dong Rui himself rode it, he could not tell in the dark. But if that bird was here, then the rock wolf had failed its mission.

A chorus of wolf-howls rose in the distance.

Moments later, He Lingchuan spotted a black dot racing toward them, growing rapidly larger.

Speak of the wolf, and the wolf arrives.

The rock wolf bounded up beside the bo beast, tongue lolling, breath steaming white in the cold. Its panting rasped loud as a bellows. Clearly, it had been running a long, long way.

“What happened?” He Lingchuan demanded as the two mounts ran side by side. “Where’s Dong Rui?”

“On the bird’s back!” the rock wolf growled between breaths.

After leaving the battlefield, the rock wolf had followed the ghost ape’s scent trail backward, reasoning that since Dong Rui had created and commanded the beast, his own scent must linger somewhere along that line.

The logic had been sound. Before long, it found Dong Rui perched on the roof of a peasant house barely three hundred or so meters from the Xia Province camp, bronze mask gleaming in the moonlight, a bald vulture roosting on his shoulder.

Even from that distance, the rock wolf had recognized the smell. For it, that scent was unmistakable and unforgettable. At that moment, all its old hatred flared up at once.

It slunk closer through the shadows, silent as smoke.

But Dong Rui’s spiritual sense was too keen, and the vulture on his shoulder keener still. The bird croaked once in alarm, wings beating furiously.

The rock wolf had no choice but to spring early.

Unfortunately, it was one breath too late.

The vulture expanded in an instant, its talons kicking off the roof as it launched skyward with Dong Rui on its back.

The rock wolf missed its first lunge. Snarling, it sprinted along the roof for momentum and leaped again, clamping its jaws on the vulture’s tail feathers and dragging down with all its might.

The bird shrieked, slashing at it with iron-hard claws that nearly tore out its eyes.

As wolf and bird wrestled midair, Dong Rui flicked a hand and sent a spell streaking downward. The rock wolf’s forepaw burst with pain, causing it to lose its grip.

The large bird, powerful even without magic, beat its wings once, twice, and soared free, flinging off the extra weight. A rain of black feathers drifted down.

The rock wolf landed hard, jaws full of nothing but fluff.

Unwilling to concede, it gave chase across field and forest all the way here, and thus reunited with its master at last.