Chapter Thirty-One: Darkness Approaches

Beneath the starry night, the earth was slick with mud, yet Chen Jin moved through it without the slightest discomfort. Every step he took was sure and unhurried, his movement as fluid as drifting clouds and flowing water, never hindered by the mire beneath his feet.

Moreover, in this dark night, his gait was swift as the wind; with each stride, he could see, ten paces ahead, where puddles and pits of mud lay, a skill far beyond the comprehension of ordinary folk.

Chen Jin, too, seemed to marvel at this, his face alight with eager interest. Of course, he hadn’t forgotten the purpose of his journey or the reason for walking in this manner—he was headed to Wenma County, and this was all thanks to Ge Hong’s message.

Still, Chen Jin didn’t rush forward borne on the wind, not that he possessed such ability himself, but Xinyang did. The body he now inhabited had that skill; however, to ride the wind, he would have to expend Xinyang’s cultivation, which would be a waste. It was better, he thought, to use his own cultivated primordial energy to hurry along; this way, he could also become more familiar with this energy.

If he could accomplish two things at once—travel swiftly and deepen his understanding of his own power—why wouldn’t he? He rather enjoyed such efficient pursuits.

Lan Family Village lay more than twenty li from the city of Wenma—neither too far nor particularly close. For Chen Jin, it was a matter of just over ten minutes.

Now, he had already caught sight of the packed-earth city walls of Wenma. They were not high, perhaps four or five meters, built in the style of the Qin and Han, mere earthen ramparts meant to discourage bandits and the like—a prudent measure, given the number of marauders in the area.

At this hour, the earthen walls, washed by heavy rain, had taken on a blackish-brown hue, looking even more like dung than their usual pale yellow.

With a few light steps, Chen Jin vaulted over the wall. No one was on guard; at this late hour, all had retreated to their earthen dwellings below to sleep.

Thus, he entered Wenma County with ease, as if it were unguarded territory—which, truth be told, it often was.

Chen Jin guessed that Ge Hong had called him here because he’d discovered the source of the plague demon. Now, he wanted Chen Jin to help decide how to deal with it.

But Ge Hong surely already had a solution—after all, he’d been preparing for this for some time.

So why not handle it himself? Why summon Chen Jin as well? Perhaps he lacked enough hands after all?

Soon, Chen Jin sensed the auras of Bao Xincun and Boyang Zhongxin, but not Ge Hong’s—he did not seem to be in Wenma.

If Ge Hong was absent, it likely meant he’d been entangled by something or someone formidable. Even if he’d found the source of the calamity, he couldn’t come himself, leaving the task to the younger generation.

In truth, Chen Jin felt his presence was unnecessary. After all, Boyang, Zhongxin, and Xincun were not ordinary cultivators; their cultivation had reached at least the Concentration phase, a whole level above him. Especially Bao Xincun—he might have already condensed his Yin Spirit, achieving the Soul-Fixing stage.

Suddenly, a thunderous sound rolled in from afar, echoing from Gaoping Mountain.

This confirmed Chen Jin’s suspicion: Ge Hong was indeed entangled elsewhere, so dealing with the plague demon would fall to the younger disciples.

Leaping onto a pavilion, and then across the rooftops, Chen Jin swiftly reached the place where the auras of the three men converged—the government office. The two stone lions at the gate, carved to resemble mangy dogs, nearly made Chen Jin laugh aloud.

It was a shame he was pressed for time; otherwise, he would have taken a moment to appreciate their oddity.

The government office was brightly lit, but the main doors were tightly shut. Standing outside, Chen Jin could faintly hear voices within—some anxious, some in pain, none calm.

He didn’t bother knocking, but vaulted over the courtyard wall instead.

The moment he landed, an arrow shot toward him.

Fortunately, his reflexes were sharp; he caught the arrow in mid-air.

“Stop, that’s Brother Xinyang, he’s with us!” Boyang immediately rushed out, stopping the nervous county soldiers at the gate, each gripping a crossbow.

“Had I been a moment slower, I’d be riddled with arrows,” Chen Jin said, feigning annoyance.

“Heh, my oversight, truly,” Boyang replied sheepishly. “I should have warned the guards, but things are so hectic here in the yamen that I forgot.”

Chen Jin knew Boyang was a simple, honest man; the guards were only doing their duty. He didn’t make things difficult for them, but got straight to the point and asked about the current situation.

“The demon is not the one-eyed lord alone—he has many helpers. One of them infiltrated the master’s side and ambushed him. Though the master was only slightly hurt, the attacker was formidable and now has him entangled. Meanwhile, the others came here to Wenma and spread the plague. The master could not spare himself, so he sent us to exorcise the demons and cure the sick.”

“We’ve just finished cutting down the demons, but they managed to spread much disease. We can’t purge it all at once, so we asked the magistrate to summon local physicians to assist, in the master’s name. But this pestilence is stubborn—the cure requires pills from the mountain. We came in haste and have few left in my Xuan Zhen Qi Gourd. Now, Brother Xinyang, we need your help. Could you go to Gaoping Mountain and fetch the medicine?” Boyang recounted, bowing deeply as he spoke.

Chen Jin hurriedly lifted Boyang upright. “It’s my duty—such courtesy is unnecessary between us.”

With that, he agreed to take on the task.

“Should I set out now?” he asked.

“No time to lose—go quickly,” Boyang urged, glancing back worriedly.

At this moment, the townsfolk afflicted by the plague were all being quarantined and treated in the county office.

Chen Jin was not skilled in medicine, so running this errand was just right for him. Healing the sick was not his forte—he could heal himself, but not these people.

At best, he could gather his own vital energy, purge its impurities, and pass it to the sick to speed their recovery, but beyond that, he was helpless. After all, neither he nor Xinyang had studied medicine or alchemy.

After clarifying the precise location of the pills with Boyang, Chen Jin set off for Gaoping Mountain at once, riding the wind.

It was not a dangerous task—Ge Hong had already moved the battle to the northern slope of Gaoping Mountain, so the southern caves would be safe. Boyang and the others had to stay at the yamen to save lives and could not leave; ordinary soldiers would take a whole day to reach the mountain, by which time every afflicted villager would surely perish.

It had to be a cultivator like Chen Jin, capable of traveling on the wind.

Yet after riding the wind for a while, Chen Jin quietly turned back.

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