Chapter 32: CH 32

Before, the Devil Lord had been trying to foist the dream bell off on others, but now that he carried it on himself, he’d changed his mind. He didn’t remember anything of the past, yet felt this dream bell was rather precious, and simply did not want to let other people touch it.

……

Especially not the Tianxiu Immortal Xiao Fuxuan.

Each time he touched it, the Devil Lord’s expression was quite subtle. Despite Xiao Fuxuan being the first person he handed the dream bell to just now.

Ning Huaishan and Fang Chu continued to play dead while witnessing everything clearly through the cracks of their eyes. They thought to themselves: he does indeed live up to our City Lord. We can’t tell what his mood is at all, and it seems like his face may change at any second.

Wu Xingxue didn’t want to engage in a constant tug-of-war with Xiao Fuxuan over a little bell. But his subordinates misunderstood his calm and unbothered face as a deeper meaning.

He simply shut his eyes and leaned on the carriage wall to feign sleep. Inside, he couldn’t help but mock himself: I, the great devil lord, now have to imitate the pair of idiots Ning Huaishan and Fang Chu.

Yet the idiots’ method seemed pretty effective. After playing dead for a bit, he actually felt a bit drowsy.

***

As Yi Wusheng had said, it was a chaotic era. Cultivation sects would erect prohibitions and wards across the boundaries of their sect’s sphere of influence. Just like the seals in Dabei Valley, they came in a wide variety.

They stood as a thicket in urban outskirts, mountains and valleys, piers and other places, layered atop one another, impossible to ignore.

Once, those with high cultivation bases among the cultivation sects could have flown on their swords and traveled thousands of miles without any effort.

Now, however, it was different.

It wasn’t because their cultivation bases grew weaker. Rather, it was because in that short moment of traveling, the cultivator would have to go through dozens of restrictions and would alarm countless sects as well. Just receiving each sect’s sealed letters on the road would be enough to make one’s hands go limp.

So these years, to avoid trouble, if it wasn’t an emergency, each sect was forced to primarily use specialized horse carriages to go out.

Each time the carriage stopped for a bit or made a sudden turn, it was passing another restriction barrier.

Along the way, one could use these to determine how many cities they’d crossed.

From Dabei Valley to Falling Flower Terrace, it took about a full day, passing four cities.

Within his drowse, Xingxue felt the carriage lightly jolting, and internally calculated that this must have been the third one; Falling Flower Terrace wasn’t too far out.

When they set off, the sky had just brightened, and now it was again approaching dusk. Perhaps because they were getting closer and closer to the Devil’s HQ, Zhaoye City, the thrill in the air grew much heavier.

Even Wu Xingxue felt the cold.

His fingers were tucked in his wide sleeves, their tips lightly stroking the handwarmer. The heat in the handwarmer was in fact more than enough. After holding onto it for a while, it would even feel slightly scalding, most suitable for such a winter night.

But Wu Xingxue was still cold.

At first, he’d thought that the chill was slipping in through cracks in the carriage windows. But then, he realized that wasn’t it. It was more like it seeped out from the cracks in his bones like liquid ice and circulated throughout his meridians.

The warmth in his hands just wasn’t enough to cover up that somber chill.

He tried to circulate his internal energy again several times.

Even colder.

His lack of memory was truly annoying. When killing people he didn’t even bat an eye, but in times like these he was utterly useless. 

Wu Xingxue grumbled at himself.

He lazily opened his eyes a crack, about to get a thick woolen blanket to cover himself. However, he caught sight of Xiao Fuxuan’s gaze at him. It was unclear whether he was looking at him, or just looking through him in a trance.

“……”

Wu Xingxue was stunned for a moment, then slightly closed his eyes again.

The blanket was out of reach and getting it would cause too much of a movement. As for the cold…

Just let it be. He was already the Devil Lord, it wasn’t like he could be frozen to death by this.

As the somber chill wrapped around him, he dazedly fell asleep. Before falling wholly asleep, his consciousness still struggling, he didn’t forget to hold the dream bell tight in his hands lest it be touched again by others. 

Perhaps it was because he was gripping that white jade bell, that he was swallowed whole into a dream.

***

He was also very cold in the dream, the exact same somber chill that seeped from his bones throughout his entire body. But he was only wearing a thin layer of clothing, without even a handwarmer to hold.

Both his hands were empty as he stood in a certain spacious courtyard. He stooped beside a green section of bamboo to wash his hands.

The moss and lichens on the masonry were frosted in ice; it could be seen that the water must have been quite cold, yet he remained unfeeling. He just lowered his gaze to look at his ashen-white fingers.

“City Lord,” someone called him.

Wu Xingxue loosened and tensed his fingers a few times, then composedly straightened his posture and turned his head to look over. 

He saw that Fang Chu was standing below a towering tree. Before his feet was a deep pool, and beside the pool were snowbanks. The water in the pool was murky and thick. 

At first glance, the water was black, but the bubbles that rose to the surface splashed the snow banks dark red.

There was a hand struggling to stretch out of the pool. It vainly scrabbled a couple times, but one kick from Fang Chu, and it sank back in.

After a while, there was no more movement.

Wiping the blood on his sole onto the mossy grass, Fang Chu reported, “City Lord, these two chatty numbskulls are finished, but it’s unclear how far their rumors have spread.”

Wu Xingxue pulled a snow-white cloth from a silver rack beside the bamboo pump. Wiping his hands, he said: “I don’t remember faces. Where did these two little scamps come from?”

Fang Chu: “…Little scamps.”

The corners of his mouth twitched.

His City Lord was always throwing around appellations like this. If people who didn’t understand heard it, they’d think it was some term of endearment. However, those two things who’d been in over their heads were presumably helping their own master scout for intel, and made the fatal decision to scout out No Sparrow’s Landing.

They so happened upon his City Lord while he was weak and in a bad mood. Hence, they were dunked into the blood pool, leaving not even bones.

Of course, they might have gotten off even worse if he’d been in a good mood.

Ning Huaishan had always been a bit spooked by that blood pool, but Fang Chu wasn’t. The only reason he was still alive right now was all thanks to this blood pool.

On seeing a little golden hook floating atop the blood pool, he carelessly used his fingers to pull it out. After analyzing it for a moment, he said, “City Lord, there’s a soul hook.”

The devil’s den Zhaoye City was a place for neither human affection nor human nature. In great devils’ manors, they’d always raise plenty of little devils to help handle tasks.

With great devils suppressing them, they were obedient underlings and attendants. But if their masters couldn’t suppress them due to injury or sickness, they would turn into hungry wolves who could bite back at any time, just waiting for the opportunity. 

In order to set their minds at ease and stay in control, some devils would tag their underlings’ vital gates with a soul hook, much like a dog leash on mortal streets.

Those soul hooks would usually be hidden underneath the skin and muscle, so they could only be exposed upon death.

If it were an immortal sect, this shady and ruthless device would never have a name carved on it so that no one would ever know who’d done it. But at the devils’ den, was quite the opposite. 

Devils were arrogant and tyrannical, so each soul hook would bear a unique sigil, heedless of being found out. Better that it was seen in fact, as it could help garner infamy for themselves. 

And the greater their infamy, the fewer people that’d dare cross them—and hence, the more docile and obedient their underlings.

So at first glance, Fang Chu knew whose sigil it was, “City Lord, it ought to be Lord Sang’s.”

Wu Xingxue: “Lord Sang, which Lord Sang?”

Fang Chu was stupefied.

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Wu Xingxue let out a light “Oh”: “You mean Sang Yu?”

Fang Chu truly couldn’t bear it, and mumbled, “There’s only one person in Zhaoye City with the surname Sang…”

How can you confuse it with anyone else?

But his City Lord was quite strange. Perhaps he was too strong, that other people simply did not enter his eyes. Zhaoye City’s many illustrious devils could strike terror in anyone in the world, yet for the City Lord, he occasionally would even have to think before recognizing who the names were.

Especially this Sang Yu.

And yet his infamy was second only to Wu Xingxue.

Before, there were even people who said, each time Wu Xingxue didn’t remember Sang Yu’s name, it was actually a deliberate mocking. Otherwise, how could he not know who “Lord Sang” referred to?

At first, Fang Chu also thought this, but after following Wu Xingxue for a while, he discovered that his City Lord truly wasn’t doing it deliberately.

Those who could make Wu Xingxue “deliberately” do something could be counted with one hand.

“Where’s Ning Huaishan?” Wu Xingxue asked, putting aside the cloth.

“Went out for some stuff,” Fang Chu replied, “The stuff you briefed about last time. He said he wants to use these couple days to finish it up. Yesterday I heard him going on about his body feeling cold, so he’s probably about to get his calamity period and won’t be able to leave for a few upcoming days.” 

Hearing “calamity period,” Wu Xingxue’s expression dimmed.

Fang Chu cautiously glanced over at Wu Xingxue a few times, and hesitantly probed: “City Lord, your calamity period the past few days…”

Wu Xingxue turned his gaze toward him.

Fang Chu went silent, no longer daring to say anything more.

Wu Xingxue said: “Since the soul hook is Sang Yu’s, how about you go with me on a trip to Sang Yu’s place.”

Fang Chu obediently handed the soul hook to him. He couldn’t help but say, “Why should City Lord go over there, shouldn’t it be him rolling over to beg forgiveness?”

“That’s unnecessary.” Without taking the soul hook, Wu Xingxue empty-handedly walked out through the long corridor’s exit, “l can’t stand his smell, best that he doesn’t come.”

Fang Chu had only offered the soul hook as a courtesy. Seeing that he didn’t taken it, he quite habitually stuffed it into his own waist sack, then said: “The corpse refining path does indeed bear a somewhat musty air, but Lord Sang’s already refined it to its utmost; there is no smell.”

But upon turning around, he came back to his senses. At times, his city lord was so picky it was practically like he wasn’t a devil. He stopped talking.

It must have also been a cold winter in the dream. Zhaoye City was fogged over, one’s breath visible when they spoke.

Wu Xingxue dismounted a black horse carriage and entered a large manor.

Zhaoye City’s foul devils were often eccentric, with all sorts of odd-looking manors. Especially those of the corpse refining path, their manors were often modeled on mausoleums.

Sang Yu’s place, however, was quite normal. At first glance, there was no difference between it and those vermilion gates of a wealthy family in the imperial capital. But upon entering the gates, one could see the difference—

Ordinary households’ guest halls would be lined with chairs. Here, however; the walls were surrounded by a ring of pitch-black coffins.

The coffin covers were sealed tight with coffin nails all around, and were also bedecked in yellow talisman papers. A vague twanging of laughter was audible.

If any common folk were to come here, they’d surely be scared to death by that laughter.

But as though he hadn’t noticed it, Wu Xingxue took Fang Chu through the hall and into a chamber.

Sang Yu’s underlings strode after them in a flurry, but didn’t dare get too close. They could try to attempt to stop them by shouting, “City Lord, City Lord, CITY LORD!”

“Speak, I’m listening.” Wu Xingxue didn’t slow his pace, his stride was neither hurried nor slow, though oftentimes one step would transport him all the way to the other end of a corridor. He was so very sly, as he set those foul devil underlings into hysterics. 

“Our Lord Sang, he, right now it’s not convenient for him to receive guests,” the underlings said.

Haughtiness was Sang Yu’s wont in Zhaoye City, and his domestic underlings were the same. Were anyone else to have entered his manor, they would have long since come to blows without bothering to open their mouths. But alas, it was Wu Xingxue; they fundamentally didn’t dare raise their hands against him, and were instead forced to flap their gums.

With an “Oh,” Wu Xingxue said, “Whether or not it’s convenient is his affair. Do I look like I care?”

The underlings: “…” 

He entered a place with no one present. Turning a few corners, he flashed to a halt before a lofty chamber.

It went without saying that he also knew Sang Yu was in this chamber—because the entire room was surrounded by an extremely thick musty air, so thick it seemed that tens of thousands of people had been buried here.

This time, even Fang Chu felt the smell was too heavy.

Furrowing his brows, Wu Xingxue pinched his nose without any attempt to conceal it.

The underlings: “…” 

They couldn’t stop him, could only raise their voices to shout into the chamber, “Lord, City Lord’s here!”

They seemed to both desire and dread approaching the door. Each one looked like a mangy, emaciated mutt, green-eyed with hunger. On one hand, there was the food they lusted after inside, but on the other, they had to curb themselves, not being strong enough.

No reply came from inside the chamber, but there were some extremely quiet voices, cloying and indistinct, as though sealed off by a ward.

Yet the musty air wrapping around grew suddenly thicker.

“Lord—” the underlings kept on calling.

The fingers dangling at Wu Xingxue’s side made a single movement, and with a loud “BANG!” that tightly-shut chamber door sealed by a restriction barrier was slammed open by an invisible force.

Upon knocking into the walls, they issued out a resounding echo. 

The thick, damp, gloomy air flooded out through the doors like a plume of steam.

Wu Xingxue averted his head and turned back around before at last seeing clearly the scene within the doors—

The bed curtains were open wide, the room replete with the stench of congealed blood, along with a series of intertwined figures.

With the restriction barrier broken, the voices once stifled within now flooded out undammed and ricocheted against the walls, doors, and windows, at once smothered and clear.

Foul devils only ever sought pleasure. Heartless, artless, and even more so lacking normal people’s sense of honor and shame, of righteousness.

After a moment of composing himself, he turned his body back around, lifting a leg from amongst the crisscrossing bodies to sit on the bed.

In a husky voice, he spoke toward the door: “Why has City Lord come? I so happen to be on my calamity period. It was truly too cold, so I called for some people to come warm me up. Please excuse me for being unable to welcome you out in the hall.”

Wu Xingxue remained expressionless; it was Fang Chu who widened his eyes.

Seeing this, Sang Yu began to smile: “What’s that, aren’t all calamity periods spent like this? Don’t tell me there’s another way other than relying on this?”

He was embraced by those figures, his body all covered in sweat. Indeed, he didn’t appear to be cold.

But the moment that sweat dried, he let out an extremely light shiver, and then grabbed one of the people’s hands and held it close to suck up their blood.

The person whose hand was bitten didn’t react at first, but after a while they began to tremble, to struggle.

Sang Yu cast away that hand. Leaning back on another person’s body, blood staining the corners of his mouth, he looked toward the great devil at the doorway.

Lifting the tip of his nose, he ostentatiously sniffed a few times: “Sss—Right, I heard the underlings saying, City Lord had also had his calamity period the past few daysss—

“Tch, cultivating our ways, free and unfettered, anything goes, the only difficulty being the calamity period. And the higher the state, the more difficult it is.” Sang Yu chuckled, “So I was actually a bit comforted, that at the very least City Lord was bound to be suffering even more than I am.

“But I’d never seen City Lord capture people for his calamity period, so how ever did you manage through them? I was ever so curious, and dispatched some of my people to help me keep a lookout. As it appears, they were unable to return?”

He evidently knew why Wu Xingxue had come, and didn’t put on any pretenses, just got straight to the point. Letting out an unctuous sigh, he said, “Two pitiful things, yet those two pitiful things explained something quite interesting to me yesterday.” 

He looked over at Wu Xingxue and said: “I heard that during City Lord’s calamity period these few days, they’d spotted someone at No Sparrow’s Landing, and suspected that their own eyes had been hallucinating and seen wrong. Seeing as those two pitiful things are already dead, I’ll help ask for them… “

“City Lord, why ever during the calamity period of all days, would the Tianxiu Immortal be in your No Sparrow’s Landing—?”

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