Chapter 80: The Mystery (Part One)

“If this continues, it won’t be long before the barbarians cross the Yangtze. When that time comes, you won’t be eating others—you’ll be waiting to be devoured by the barbarians. Now you’re feasting on your own kind and feeling quite satisfied, but I wonder what you’ll think when the barbarians feast upon you?”

After Zhang Chi finished speaking, he noticed that no one among the crowd had anything to say; their faces were all marked by shame. Turning to the Wine Maiden, he said, “Let them down from the trees.”

The Wine Maiden nodded and moved to untie the ropes.

“How dare you!” A sudden shout rang out as a group of men parted the crowd and strode in. At their head was a burly man with a face full of coarse, fleshy lines. He cursed, “If men go hungry, how will they have the strength to fight? This is an order from the Master and the High Priest—who dares defy it? Kill these three, chop them up, and boil them with those women!”

The three he spoke of were, of course, Zhang Chi, Dao Xuan, and the Wine Maiden. At his command, the group that had followed him in surged forward with savage intent, heading straight for Zhang Chi and his companions.

This leader, with his brutish face, was well known to the Five Bushels of Rice followers. He served under High Priest Yan Yicao and was a fanatical devotee. Strong and burly, he was always at the forefront in battle, and among the ghost soldiers, he held no small measure of authority.

It was a pity—he might once have been a decent man. But once someone is consumed by faith, when their belief reaches a certain fervor, they often lose all sense of right and wrong.

“Stop!” As the men charged forward with murderous intent, Zhang Chi hadn’t expected the shout to come from the very man who had faced him earlier, blade in hand. “We cannot feast on our own people!”

“That’s right, we won’t eat our own!” others in the crowd began to shout in agreement.

“This man is sowing chaos with his words—don’t be taken in!” the brutish man barked.

“I’m not learned enough to judge his words, but they ring true to me. We cannot slaughter the innocent,” said the honest, blade-wielding man.

This wouldn’t do—if a few words could sway the hearts of men, this man could not be allowed to live. The brutish man thought this to himself, snatched a spear from a nearby follower, and ignoring the man with the blade, charged straight at Zhang Chi.

But the man with the blade was not about to yield. In two long strides, he stepped in front of the brute. “He serves the Heavenly Master’s Way as we do—only he refuses to harm the common people. I will not let you kill him.”

He naturally assumed Zhang Chi was also a ghost soldier of the Five Bushels of Rice Sect, and Zhang Chi’s words had touched him deeply. He was not an educated man, but he was a man of honor. Seeing someone move against Zhang Chi, he dared to speak up.

Zhang Chi nodded to himself. Clearly, not all within the Five Bushels of Rice Sect were cold-blooded; many, though manipulated by Sun Tai, still possessed feeling and virtue. Zhang Chi found himself admiring them.

The brutish man sneered. “You dare defy the Master’s orders? You deserve death!”

No sooner had he spoken than he thrust his spear at the blade-wielding man, who was too close to dodge. The spear pierced straight through his chest.

No one had expected the brute to kill so suddenly; everyone was caught off guard, frozen in shock. The brute kicked the corpse aside, planted his spear in the ground, and roared, “If anyone else dares spread such heresy, you’ll end up like him!”

This sudden turn left Zhang Chi stunned. He had just begun to admire the man, and now, in the blink of an eye, he was dead—killed, no less, for standing up for him. Zhang Chi’s lips twitched with restrained fury. Though ablaze with anger, his expression grew ever calmer. He turned to Dao Xuan and said quietly, “Kill. Make an example.”

Dao Xuan, young and fiery, had already clenched his fists. Surrounded by enemies, he had held back, knowing that if a fight broke out, he could protect himself, but Zhang Chi and the Wine Maiden, unskilled in combat, might suffer. So, he had been restraining himself all along. Now, hearing Zhang Chi’s order, he wasted not a word. He leapt forward and smashed his fist into the brute’s face.

Though a monk, Dao Xuan knew that even the Buddha must slay demons and exorcise evil. When he first left Dao Yuan to follow Zhang Chi, Dao Yuan had advised him: decide for yourself whom to kill and whom to spare. Without question, this beast who slaughtered and ate innocents was one who should die.

He held nothing back; his fist landed like thunder on the brute’s nose.

The brute had never imagined Dao Xuan possessed such martial skill. In the blink of an eye, Dao Xuan was upon him—there was no time to dodge. The punch sent blood spurting from his nose.

Dao Xuan had used his full strength—enough to shatter the nasal bone. The brute’s vision swam with stars, but Dao Xuan did not stop there. Seizing the man by his collar with one hand, he rained punch after punch onto the same spot—ten, twenty blows in the space of a breath.

Dao Xuan’s fists were a blur. When he finally stopped, the brute collapsed, blood streaming from every orifice, utterly lifeless—beaten to death with bare hands.

To kill a man with one’s fists is far more intimidating than with a blade. Though Dao Xuan’s head was wrapped in a turban, hiding his shaven scalp, the fury in his eyes made him resemble a wrathful guardian.

The others, who had been ready to seize them, were stunned into motionless silence. Zhang Chi pointed at the Wine Maiden and called out, “She is none other than the Holy Maiden of our Heavenly Master’s Way. Now, she and I must see the Master and ask for the truth. Until then, if any of you dare harm the innocent, you will share this man’s fate.”

These were the very words the brute had just spoken, but now, with him dead, they belonged to Zhang Chi.

All the Five Bushels of Rice followers had heard of the Holy Maiden but had never seen her. Now, hearing Zhang Chi declare that the Wine Maiden was the Holy Maiden, they were skeptical. In their minds, the Holy Maiden should possess supernatural powers and command innumerable ghostly troops—surely she should look nothing like an ordinary woman.

Yet, though they doubted, no one dared voice it. If she truly were the Holy Maiden, disbelief would be a terrible crime. Seeing the crowd frozen in place, Zhang Chi shouted again, “What are you waiting for? Take us to the Master!”

Though fearful after witnessing Dao Xuan kill the brute, the group dared not protest. “The Master is atop the mountain ahead. We will lead you there.”

As Zhang Chi was about to leave, he turned back and pointed to the women still tied to the trees. “Release them. Do not harm them.”

But then, worried that harm might still come to them in his absence, he added, “They will come with me.”

The Wine Maiden personally untied the women. Seeing the so-called Holy Maiden obey Zhang Chi’s every word, the Five Bushels of Rice followers grew even more curious—was she truly the Holy Maiden? They all followed Zhang Chi up the mountain to see for themselves.