Wind Evil

AHHHHHHHHHHH——!!!”

Wang Lingjiao sat up in bed with a shriek. Wen Chao, who had been reading a letter at the table, smacked the table and roared, ‘In the middle of the night, what ghastly screams are you making again!’

She caught her breath, still shaken, and said, ‘I... I dreamed of that Wei again, I dreamed of him again!’

Wen Chao said, ‘I threw him into the Burial Mounds over three months ago. Why are you still dreaming of him? How many times have you dreamed of him now!’

Wang Lingjiao said, ‘I... I don’t know why either, but lately I keep dreaming of him.’

Wen Chao was already irritated by the letter, and had no time to pay her any mind, much less the patience to hold and comfort her as he used to. Impatiently, he said, ‘Then just stop sleeping!’

She got out of bed and rushed to Wen Chao’s table. ‘Young Master Wen, I... the more I think about it, the more terrified I get. I think... did we make a terrible mistake back then? ... Could he have survived being thrown into the Burial Mounds? Could he...’

The veins at Wen Chao’s temples throbbed as he said, ‘How is that possible? How many batches of cultivators has our family sent to clear out the Burial Mounds before? Has a single one ever returned? Thrown in there, his corpse has probably already rotted and stunk through a whole cycle by now.’

Wang Lingjiao said, ‘Even dead, it’s terrifying! If he really did as he said he would, turn into a Wrathful Ghost and come back for us...’

As she spoke, both of them recalled that day, the face Wei Ying had worn as he fell, that expression — and they shuddered involuntarily.

Wen Chao immediately retorted, ‘Even dead, impossible! The souls of those who die in the Burial Mounds are trapped there. Stop scaring yourself. Can’t you see I’m already vexed!’

He crumpled the letter in his hand into a ball, hurled it away, and said through gritted teeth, ‘What Sunshot Campaign, bullshit sun-shooting — you think you can shoot down the sun? Dream on!’

Wang Lingjiao stood up, carefully poured him a cup of tea, mulled over some flattering words, then said in a coquettish tone, ‘Young Master Wen, those few clans can only run wild for a while. Sect Leader Wen will surely be able to...’

Wen Chao cursed, ‘Shut your mouth! What the hell do you know! Get out, and stop bothering me!’

Wang Lingjiao, feeling wronged and a little resentful, put down the teacup, adjusted her hair and gauze gown, and walked out wearing a smile.

The moment she stepped out, the smile collapsed from her face. She unfolded the paper ball in her hand. When she had left, she had quietly picked up the letter Wen Chao had thrown, wanting to see what news had angered him so. She could read only a little, and after puzzling over it for a long time, she finally gathered that the letter said: the eldest son of the Wen sect leader, Wen Chao’s older brother Wen Xu, had been beheaded with a single stroke by one of the rebel-leading sect leaders, and his head was paraded before the battle lines as a show of defiance!

Wang Lingjiao froze.

The Gusu Lan Clan had been burned, the Yunmeng Jiang Clan wiped out, and countless other families, large and small, had been suppressed in various ways. There had been voices of resistance, but they had always been swiftly crushed by the Qishan Wen Sect. So three months ago, when the Jin, Nie, Lan, and Jiang clans formed an alliance, took the lead in rebellion, and raised some banner called the ‘Sunshot Campaign’, they had all dismissed it as nothing.

Sect Leader Wen had spoken at the time. Among those four, the Lanling Jin Clan was a fence-sitter; now, seeing everyone’s righteous indignation and talk of punitive expeditions, they had jumped on the bandwagon. But if defeats piled up, they would soon realize they were asking for trouble and would likely come running back to cling to the Wen Clan’s thigh, crying for father and mother. The leader of the Qinghe Nie Sect was too rigid and brittle to last long; without anyone else lifting a hand, he would sooner or later die at the hands of his own people. The Gusu Lan Clan had been burned to utter ruin; Lan Xichen had moved the Library Pavilion and returned to take up leadership, but he was only a junior, incapable of bearing any great burden. Most laughable was the Yunmeng Jiang Clan: its entire household slaughtered or scattered, leaving only one Jiang Cheng, even younger than Lan Xichen — a snot-nosed brat with no one under him, yet daring to call himself a sect leader, raise a flag, and wage a campaign, recruiting new disciples even as he fought.

In short, eight words: no real threat, overestimating themselves!

Everyone on the Wen Clan’s side regarded this Sunshot Campaign as a joke. Who would have thought that three months later, the situation would develop in a direction none of them had imagined!

The loss of key territories like Hejian and Yunmeng could be let go. But now, even the eldest son of Sect Leader Wen had been beheaded.

Wang Lingjiao lingered uneasily in the corridor for a while, then returned to her room in a state of agitation, her eyelid twitching uncontrollably. Rubbing her eyelid with one hand and pressing her chest with the other, she pondered her way out.

She had been by Wen Chao’s side for nearly half a year now. Half a year was the limit of how long it took Wen Chao to go from liking a woman to tiring of her. She had thought she was different, the one who could last to the end, but lately Wen Chao’s growing impatience had told her that she was no different from any other woman.

Wang Lingjiao bit her lip, thought for a moment, then crouched down and pulled out a small chest from under the bed.

This small chest contained the money and treasures she had managed to scrape together during her half-year with Wen Chao. The money could be spent, the magical artifacts could be used for self-defense. Though unwilling to accept it, this day had finally come.

She wanted to take stock of her possessions. She dug a small key out from her sash, and as she unlocked the chest, she muttered, ‘You cheap bastard, you oily, lecherous demon — you’re bound to die sooner or later. This old lady won’t have to serve you anymore, and I’ll be all the happier... Ah!’

She fell to the ground with a thud.

Just now, the instant she opened the chest, she saw what was inside.

There were none of her cherished treasures — only a small child with ghastly pale skin, curled up inside the chest!

Wang Lingjiao screamed in terror, kicking her legs and scrambling backward. She always kept this chest locked, with only one key kept close to her person — how could there be a child inside? She hadn’t opened it even once in a month; if a child had been hidden inside, how could she not know? How could the child still be alive?!

The small chest toppled over from her kick, its mouth overturned, the bottom facing her. For a long moment, there was no movement.

Wang Lingjiao got to her feet, her legs trembling, wanting to draw closer for another look but not daring to. Her heart cried: A ghost, a ghost!

Her cultivation was extremely poor; she couldn’t deal with a ghost even if she tried. But then she suddenly remembered that this was the Supervisory Office, and talismans were posted outside the main gate and every room. If there were a ghost, the talismans would surely protect her. She rushed out, tore down the talisman from outside her room, and stuck it to her chest.

With the talisman against her chest, it was as if she had swallowed a pill of reassurance. She crept into the room, found a clothes-pole, and used it to flip the chest over from a distance. Inside, her treasures were neatly stacked, and there was no child at all.

Wang Lingjiao breathed a sigh of relief, squatted down with the clothes-pole, and was about to begin counting when she suddenly noticed two points of white light under the bed.

It was a pair of eyes.

A small white child was lying under the bed, staring straight at her.

This was the third time tonight Wen Chao had heard Wang Lingjiao scream. His temper flared even higher, and he roared, ‘Stupid whore! Starting at every shadow — can’t you fucking let me have a moment’s peace?’

If it weren’t for all the vexing news these days, leaving him no time to find a new beauty, and if he weren’t afraid of bringing in a female assassin sent by those riffraff families — not clean and reliable — and if he didn’t still need someone to warm his bed, he would have long ago told this woman to get as far away as possible. Wen Chao barked, ‘Someone! Make her shut up!’

No one answered. Wen Chao kicked a stool aside, his rage soaring: ‘Where the hell is everyone!’

Suddenly, the door burst open. Wen Chao said, ‘I told you to make that bitch shut up, not to come in...’

He turned around, and the second half of his sentence stuck in his throat. He saw a woman standing at the door to his room.

This woman’s nose was crooked, her eyes slanted, her features as if they had been smashed apart and then haphazardly pieced back together. Her two eyeballs were actually looking in different directions — the left eye fixed diagonally upward, the right eye diagonally downward — her entire face twisted beyond recognition.

It took Wen Chao a great deal of effort, but by her rather revealing gauze gown, he recognized her. This was Wang Lingjiao!

Wang Lingjiao’s throat gurgled as she took a few steps closer and stretched out her hands: ‘... Help... help... save me...’

Wen Chao let out a great shout, drew his new sword, and hacked at her: ‘Get away! Get away!’

Wang Lingjiao was slashed in the shoulder by his sword, her features twisting even more horrifically as she shrieked, ‘AAAAHHHHHH... it hurts AHHHHH — it hurts AHHHHHH!!!’

Wen Chao, not daring even to retrieve his sword, snatched up a stool and smashed it against her. The stool broke apart on impact, and Wang Lingjiao swayed, then knelt down and prostrated herself on the floor, as though kowtowing to someone, babbling indistinctly: ‘... I’m sorry... I’m sorry... forgive me, forgive me, forgive me, wuwuwu...’

As she kowtowed, blood began to stream from all seven apertures of her head. She was blocking the doorway, so Wen Chao could not rush out; he could only shove open the window and scream at the top of his lungs: ‘Wen Zhuliu! Wen Zhuliu!!!’

On the floor, Wang Lingjiao had already picked up one of the stool legs and was frantically stuffing it into her mouth, laughing as she did so: ‘Alright, alright, I’ll eat it, I’ll eat it! Haha, I’ll eat it!’

And sure enough, she forced a whole section of that stool leg down her throat!

Wen Chao was terrified out of his wits and about to leap out the window when he suddenly noticed, in the courtyard, amid the moonlit ground, a black silhouette stood.

At the same time.

Jiang Cheng stood before a stretch of forest and sensed someone approaching; he turned his head slightly. The newcomer was dressed entirely in white, a forehead ribbon bound across his brow, the trailing ends floating gently behind with his hair. His face was as fair as jade, supremely handsome and refined, and beneath the moonlight, his whole figure seemed to glow with a faint halo.

Jiang Cheng said coldly, ‘Lan-er-gongzi.’

Lan Wangji, his expression solemn, inclined his head. ‘Jiang-zongzhu.’

After greeting each other, they had nothing more to say. Each gathered their own cultivators and, in silence, set off on their swords.

Two months earlier, the Twin Jades of Lan and Jiang Cheng had launched a surprise raid, seizing back the confiscated swords of the various clan disciples from Wen Chao’s ‘Office of Edification’ and returning them to their rightful owners. Sandu and Bichen had thus been returned to their respective hands.

Lan Wangji’s light-colored eyes flickered to the other sword at Jiang Cheng’s waist, then returned to his original line of sight.

After a long moment, still looking straight ahead, he said, ‘Wei Ying still hasn’t appeared?’

Jiang Cheng glanced at him, seeming to wonder why he suddenly asked about Wei Ying, and replied, ‘No.’

He looked at the sword Suibian at his hip and said, ‘My people haven’t found any word of him yet, but once he comes back, he’ll definitely contact me. When he appears, I’ll return the sword to him.’

Not long after, the two arrived at the Supervisory Office where Wen Chao had been hiding, leading a group of cultivators, ready to launch a night raid. Before they even entered, Lan Wangji’s gaze sharpened, and Jiang Cheng furrowed his brow.

Yin energy overflowed; resentment surged rampant.

Yet the talismans on either side of the main gate were intact. Jiang Cheng gestured with his hand; his cultivators spread out and crouched beneath the walls. Then he swept Sandu, sending a blast of sword energy that slammed open the gate.

Before entering, Lan Wangji’s gaze swept over the talismans on both sides of the gate.

The scene inside the Supervisory Office was appallingly gruesome.

The courtyard was strewn with corpses. And not just the courtyard — even the flowerbeds, the corridors, the wooden railings, and even the rooftops were piled with bodies.

These corpses all wore the Blazing Flame Robe—disciples of the Wen clan. Jiang Cheng used Sandu to flip one body onto its back; the pallid face bore crisscrossing bloodstains, and he said, 'Bleeding from all seven apertures.'

Lan Wangji stood on the other side and said, ‘This one is not.’

Jiang Cheng walked over and saw that this corpse’s eyes were rolled back, its face unrecognizable, yellow bile leaking from the corner of its mouth — it had been frightened to death.

One of his disciples said, ‘Zongzhu, we’ve checked — they’re all dead, and every single corpse died in a different way.’

Strangled, burned, drowned, poisoned, frozen, throat slit, brain pierced by a sharp weapon... Jiang Cheng listened to the list and said grimly, ‘It seems tonight’s mission has been completed for us — by something else.’

Lan Wangji remained silent and was the first to enter the house.

The door to Wen Chao’s room was wide open. Inside, only a female corpse remained. Dressed in flimsy clothing, she had a stool leg halfway down her throat; it seemed she had forced herself to swallow it, and in doing so, had stabbed herself to death.

Jiang Cheng flipped over the corpse’s twisted face, stared for a moment, gave a cold laugh, then grabbed the stool leg and rammed it violently into her mouth, forcing the remaining half section all the way in.

He stood up, eyes red, about to speak, when he saw Lan Wangji standing at the doorway, frowning in thought. He walked over and, following Lan Wangji’s gaze, saw a talisman with yellow paper and vermilion characters posted on the doorframe.

At a glance, there seemed nothing amiss with this talisman, but upon closer inspection, there were subtle details that felt deeply unsettling.

Lan Wangji said, ‘There is more.’

Jiang Cheng’s brows tightened. ‘As expected.’

The method for drawing this type of household-protection talisman was something both of them had memorized by heart since they were fifteen or sixteen. Yet amid the bold, sweeping brushstrokes of cinnabar on this talisman, a few extra strokes had been added. And it was these very strokes that altered the entire pattern of the spell. Now, looking at it, the talisman stuck on the door resembled a human face, smiling a bleak, eerie smile.

No bodies of Wen Chao or Wen Zhuliu were found in the Supervisory Office. Jiang Cheng deduced that they must have fled toward Qishan and immediately led his men out of the abandoned office, pursuing on swords. Lan Wangji, however, first made a trip back to Gusu.

The next day, Lan Wangji caught up with Jiang Cheng. He produced the talisman from before and said, ‘This talisman — it has been reversed.’

Jiang Cheng said, ‘Reversed? What do you mean, reversed?’

Lan Wangji said, ‘An ordinary talisman repels evil. This talisman summons evil.’

Jiang Cheng was stunned. ‘A talisman — can summon evil? I’ve never heard of such a thing.’

Lan Wangji said, ‘Indeed, it is unheard of. But after testing, it does indeed have the ability to call yin energy and gather baleful forces.’

Jiang Cheng took the talisman and examined it carefully. ‘Just by adding a few strokes, the entire function of a talisman is reversed? Was this done intentionally?’

Lan Wangji said, ‘In total, four strokes were added, drawn in human blood. Every household-protection talisman in the entire Supervisory Office had been altered. The brushwork and style are from the same person.’

Jiang Cheng said, ‘Then who could this person be? Among all the famed cultivators of the clans, I’ve never heard of anyone who could do such a thing.’ Then he added, ‘But no matter who it is, as long as their aim aligns with ours — slaughter every last Wen-dog!’

Following their intelligence reports, they traveled north. Every place they passed, they heard of gruesomely killed, bizarre corpses appearing locally. Without exception, these corpses were Wen Clan cultivators wearing Blazing Flame Robes, all of high rank and considerable cultivation. Yet every one of them had died a horrific death, in all manner of gruesome ways, and their bodies were displayed in crowded, bustling spots. Jiang Cheng said, ‘Do you think these people were also killed by that person?’

Lan Wangji said, ‘The evil energy is extremely strong. It should be the work of a single person.’

Jiang Cheng snorted. ‘Evil? In this world, is there anything more evil than Wen-dogs!’

By the fourth night of the pursuit, the two finally picked up traces of Wen Zhuliu near a relay station in a remote mountain town.

The relay station was a two-story building, with a stable right beside it. By the time Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng arrived, they just caught sight of a tall figure rushing inside and bolting the main door. Wary of Wen Zhuliu’s ‘Core-Melting Hand’ technique, they did not want to alert their prey. Instead of entering through the door, they leaped onto the roof. Jiang Cheng, forcibly suppressing the surging hatred in his chest, gritted his teeth and peered down through a gap in the tiles.

Wen Zhuliu, travel-worn, was carrying a figure in his arms. He trudged up to the second floor, set the person down by the table, then rushed to the windows and yanked all the cloth curtains shut, making the room airtight, before returning to the table and lighting an oil lamp.

The weak lamplight illuminated his face, still pale and cold, but with heavy dark circles beneath his eyes. The other person at the table was wrapped up tightly, even his face hidden under a cloak, like a fragile, fragile cocoon, huddled and shivering inside. Panting heavily, he suddenly said, ‘Don’t light the lamp! What if he discovers us!’

Lan Wangji raised his head and exchanged a glance with Jiang Cheng; the same cloud of doubt hung in both their eyes.

This person had to be Wen Chao. But how had Wen Chao’s voice turned into this — so shrill and thin, completely unlike Wen Chao?

Wen Zhuliu lowered his head to rummage through his sleeves and said, ‘Do you think he wouldn’t find us if we didn’t light the lamp?’

Wen Chao panted, ‘We’ve run so far, run for so long, he... he shouldn’t be able to catch us anymore!’

Wen Zhuliu said indifferently, ‘Perhaps.’

Wen Chao erupted, ‘What do you mean perhaps! If we haven’t escaped, why don’t you run faster!’

Wen Zhuliu said, ‘You need medication. Otherwise you will certainly die.’

So saying, he suddenly flung back Wen Chao’s cloak. The two on the roof both froze.

Beneath the cloak was not Wen Chao’s arrogant, handsomely greasy face, but a bald head wrapped entirely in bandages!

Wen Zhuliu peeled off the bandages layer by layer, like skinning something, and the bald person’s skin was exposed. This face was covered in uneven burns and scars, making him look as if he had been boiled, hideous and ugly, with no trace of the person he once was!

Wen Zhuliu took out a medicine bottle and gave him a few pills, then retrieved a salve and began applying it to the burns on his head and face. Wen Chao whimpered in pain, but Wen Zhuliu said, ‘Do not weep, or the tears will fester the wounds and make the pain worse.’

Wen Chao could only choke back his tears; he couldn’t even cry. Beside the flickering lamplight, a bald man with a burned face bared his teeth, emitting muffled, strange sounds. The flame was on the verge of going out, casting a dim, yellowed glow. The scene was truly incomparably horrifying.

Just then, Wen Chao let out a shriek: ‘A flute! A flute! Is that a flute?! I hear him playing the flute again!’

Wen Zhuliu said, ‘No! It’s the wind.’

But Wen Chao had already fallen to the ground, howling in terror, and Wen Zhuliu had to pick him up again. It seemed Wen Chao’s legs had some problem and he could no longer walk on his own.

After finishing the medicine, Wen Zhuliu took out a few steamed buns from his robes and handed them to him. ‘Eat. After you finish, we continue.’

Wen Chao tremblingly lifted one and took a bite. Seeing this, Jiang Cheng recalled the miserable, wretched state of himself and Wei Wuxian on that day they had fled, with not a bite of food to share. This scene before him was truly a case of retribution delivered in full measure!

Filled with savage delight, the corners of his mouth lifted, and he laughed silently, maniacally.

Suddenly, as if he had bitten into something, Wen Chao’s face twisted into an expression of utmost horror. He threw the bun away and shrieked, ‘I don’t eat meat! I won’t eat! I won’t! No meat!’

Wen Zhuliu handed him another one. ‘This one isn’t meat.’

Wen Chao said, ‘No more! Take it away! Get away! I want to find my father. When can we get back to him!’

Wen Zhuliu said, ‘At this pace, two more days.’

He spoke with absolute honesty, no exaggeration, no deception. And this honesty caused Wen Chao immense agony. Hoarsely, he said, ‘Two days? Two days?! Look at me now, what do I look like? Wait two more days, and what will I look like then?! Useless wretch!’

Wen Zhuliu stood up abruptly. Wen Chao shrank back in terror, thinking he meant to run away alone, and suddenly knew fear. All his guards had died one by one before his eyes; only this Wen Zhuliu was his strongest reliance, and his last. He hastily backtracked: ‘No, no, no, Wen Zhuliu, Wen-dage! Don’t go, you can’t abandon me. If you just take me back to my father, I’ll have him promote you to the highest-ranking guest cultivator! No, no, no, you saved me — you’re my big brother, I’ll have him recognize you as part of the main family! From now on, you’ll be my big brother!’

Wen Zhuliu stared toward the stairs and said, ‘No need.’

Not only he heard it — both Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng did as well. From the stairs of the relay station came the sound of footsteps, one after another.

Someone was climbing the steps, one by one, coming up the stairs.

The burns on Wen Chao’s face instantly drained of their excess blood color. Trembling, he reached out from under his cloak with both hands and covered his face, as if, in his extreme terror, he wanted to protect himself by covering his eyes like a thief covering his ears. And those hands — they were utterly bare, not a single finger!

Thud. Thud. Thud.

That person walked slowly up the stairs, dressed all in black, tall and slender, a flute tucked at his waist, his hands clasped behind his back.

On the rooftop, Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng both pressed their hands to their sword hilts.

However, when that person leisurely ascended the stairs, smiled, and turned around — Lan Wangji, seeing that bright and handsome face, widened his eyes in disbelief.