With a stern expression, Zhao Deshan declared, "I, Zhao Deshan, read the words of the saints daily and have studied the laws of Great Yu. Nepotism and corruption—at minimum, lead to demotion, and at worst, to inescapable death."
He paused for a mont, glanced at the thousand-households badge, and sneered coldly, "If you're impersonating an official for your actions, then your cri will be even greater."
Chen Yi swept his gaze over the group of indignant scholars behind Zhao Deshan, his tone apathetic, "Are you intending to defy official orders?"
"We scholars are not defying orders," Zhao Deshan responded righteously, "but cannot abide anyone who bullies others with their power!"
The laws of Great Yu inherited from previous dynasties are nurous and intricate; even the officials of the Court of Judicial Review may not recite them backward fluently. Furthermore, despite the governing laws, where the people do not report misconduct, officials typically do not investigate—an unwritten convention. For instance, along coastal regions, who among the common folk has not bought or sold private salt? By the law, all should receive dozens of beatings and months of imprisonnt, the sort of deterrence that would force the local population to buy overpriced official salt. But who truly dares to enforce this? If they did, it would provoke public outrage and be deed cruel and heartless.
The current matter of illicit cattle slaughter is a similar situation. It could be regulated, but the asured approach ought to be lenient, not taken as an opportunity for extortion. If people are denied even a basic ans of survival, what path remains for them? Though Zhao Deshan is well-read in the teachings of the saints, he is not a pedantic person; he understands flexibility and discernnt when navigating life's challenges.
The seated man silently lowered his head, unmoving for a long while. After so ti, he slowly rose,
showing not anger, nor any hint of emotion on his face. He rely left behind a single phrase: "Fine, but do not regret this."
He then departed the inn with the female crown at his side, their figures fading into the distant mountain path.
The main hall erupted into thunderous applause. Excited guests flushed with exhilaration, and yet, glancing at the human flesh in their bowls, they felt too ashad to continue eating.
Zhao Deshan cupped his hands toward the group and then gestured for them to remain formal.
He glanced again in the direction where the two mysterious figures had departed, his fingers subtly pinching together as he confird that they had indeed gone far away.
In the end, he had spared two foolish lives...
Zhao Deshan exhaled in relief, exchanging a knowing glance with the refined man beside him.
Among the scholars, faces flushed red with excitent, their eyes glinting with clarity. The corner of the room where their book boxes lay faintly emanated traces of peach wood fragrance.
Today,
it was rely about purging evil and safeguarding righteousness!
......
On a long and winding mountain path, a man and a woman proceeded one after the other.
As they ascended the incline to its peak, the mountain scenery seed to cascade down like a bolt of lightning.
Tracks of wheels and hoofprints marked the road, evidence of frequent traffic by porters and traders, such that even the weeds along the center of the path had been trampled short. Within the mountain forest, the shadows of trees stretched endlessly, quivering like rippling waves under the gentle winds.
A wisp of mountain wind suddenly swept through the crevice.
The man glanced sideways at the woman imrsed in her surroundings, lost to the world.
He sighed softly and said, "Senior sister, you also cannot bear to turn a blind eye."
The woman remained silent.
From behind his back, the man's sword edge slowly slid from its sheath.
The blade gently lifted, as his fingers traced its surface, sketching out strokes.
Only a single character erged:
"Execute."
The sword bore no gleaming chill, its surface coated in a layer of dust from long neglect inside the sword box. He released his grip, and the sword hung suspended in midair, motionless and serene.
But as the wind passed once more,
it vanished without a trace.
......
Zhao Deshan often instructed his disciples with one particular saying, which also served as the creed of Longevity Palace: "Virtuous words are scarce for those bent on death; sharp actions can save those who cannot save themselves."
As the saying goes, bitter dicine heals, yet people are often unwilling to listen to words of kindness. Mistaking sincerity for envy, believing others fear their prosperity and fortune, they press forward heedlessly until they crash against a wall, only then realizing the selflessness of others' advice.
At Longevity Palace, under the Shenxiao Sect, there is no such foolish kindheartedness.
If virtuous words cannot persuade, then they shall not be spoken. Let sharp hands take their place—for the Bodhisattva's lowered gaze is of no use; only the Diamond King's wrath will suffice. Scraping away rotten flesh and dead bones with firm hands is what it takes for the world to recognize that what seems like blooming flowers is often no more than a terminal disease under the surface!
Just as the two earlier figures—the official and Taoist alike—were clearly such fools, indulging in nepotism and corruption, what harm would there be in letting them et their deaths? But if allowed to act recklessly, they could disrupt plans disastrously. Better safe than sorry.
At Tongfu Inn, the revelry gradually waned, the banquet's vigor fading beneath the spreading scent of alcohol. The misfit demons at the table were already slumped over, their human skins sliding limp to the floor. anwhile, the scholars' flushed faces betrayed their drunken stupor, barely maintaining consciousness.
Crackle, crackle…
The sound of boiling hot broth lingered near the ear.
Looking up once more, one saw that at so unknown point, an enormous pot had been moved from the rear kitchen to the front hall, its fiery base blazing crimson as fuel burned below. The cook climbed atop a stool, tossing in star anise, bay leaves, scallions, ginger shreds, and thirteen spices, filling the air with mouthwatering aromas of rich seasoning thickening into a red hue. Clearly, the beginnings of a flavorful broth.
Hu San brought over an exceptionally massive cutting board, placing it on an empty table. Another cook sharpened his blade, the cold gleam flashing suddenly.
Zhao Deshan's gaze grew slightly dazed. He raised his hand and said, "Full, we are all full."
Bull Lord wore an ambiguous smile as he replied, "Master Deshan may be full, but my stomach—which is far larger—is only half-full."
With a heavy closing of his eyelids, Zhao Deshan knew all too well that this group of monsters and ghosts could no longer wait. He played along, saying, "Perhaps there's still a grand finale to co?"
Bull Lord didn't answer directly. Instead, he turned toward the refined man fond of fish sashimi, slowly saying, "Young Master Li claims fish sashimi is carefree, yielding sweetness. But can life offer such flavors?"
Master Li wiped his face, fighting his drunkenness to muster coherence, replying:
"Fish is sweet; life is too bitter."
"What do you an by this?"
"Fish sashimi involves rely scallions, ginger, and sauce, ultimately a blend of salt and sweetness. But life, on the other hand, comprises firewood, rice, oil, salt, sauce, vinegar, and tea—the full spectrum of flavors blending sour, sweet, bitter, and savory, inevitably making it bitter."
"Perhaps not."
"How could it not? As the Saint once said, 'Ti flows endlessly, unceasing day and night.' Bull Lord could ask just anyone, and they'll tell you life is inherently short and bitter." Young Master Li swayed his head and spoke with conviction.
"But for us..."
With a sinister chuckle, Bull Lord bared his nacing fangs that seed to drip with imaginary fresh blood,
"We've tasted life!"
As his words landed, Bull Lord's massive head suddenly swelled to several feet, his gaping maw opening wide as if ready to devour the pair whole.
Having long prepared, Zhao Deshan's sword fingers suddenly moved, producing a golden light akin to ink spreading in water. When fully ford, the golden light resembled a protective bell, shielding the pair within.
Bull Lord's jagged fangs bit down hard, shattering the golden barrier. Zhao Deshan's eyes widened in shock as he uttered, "Wind rise," and in that split mont, he and Young Master Li—chairs and all—retreated several yards.
Bull Lord quickly closed his lips, his head shrinking back to its original size. Stroking his beard, he seed dissatisfied at his failure to swallow them whole.
Zhao Deshan invoked incantations with his fingers, sending ripples of spiritual energy outward. The drunken stupor disappeared from the scholars' faces, leaving them perfectly sober. As if in unison, they kicked open their book boxes, revealing dozens of peach wood swords crafted for exorcising evil spirits and demons!
"Monster, I've long known of your deeds, disturbing the lands. Today, we're here to purge evil and defend the righteous!" Zhao Deshan's eyes blazed with radiant determination.
By his side, Young Master Li tore open his scholar's robe to reveal a Taoist robe underneath. He held his sword aloft and stood beside his uncle, Zhao Deshan, a fiery sense of duty rising within him.
Her true na was Li Huiyue, daughter of the Sect Leader of Longevity Palace. Disguised as a male scholar, she had cooperated with her uncle Zhao Deshan to lull these demons into complacency. At last, the mont had arrived when the monsters had drunk themselves into a stupor. Li Huiyue's heart surged with anticipation, her grip tightening around her sword, yearning to sever the heads of each and every fiend present.
rciless execution with compassionate intent—what defines a Sword Immortal? This is a Sword Immortal!
Li Huiyue spoke boldly, "Vile creatures, you dare to prattle about life as if we haven't noticed the human at strewn across the floor?!"
The disguised scholars, in truth Taoists from Longevity Palace's Shenxiao Sect, had been waiting for this mont. Their Money Swords and Peach Wood Swords glead fiercely.
Yet unexpectedly,
Bull Lord did not flee in panic as anticipated. Instead, he stood firmly in place, unmoving. With a chilling grin, he said,
"So you're all rely a bunch of stinking Daoists. I feared you'd discover sothing unusual, yet what I fed you was real beef."
Seeing his absence of fear, Zhao Deshan's gaze grew wary.
Suddenly,
Bull Lord's clothes exploded, his human skin shell bursting apart like a blooming lotus. His true form revealed itself—a towering body of rippling muscle bound tightly as though forged of blood, appearing like an iron monunt. Under his blue-faced, crimson-eyed bull head was an intimidating sight of glimring dragon scales!
He rasped a laugh, "Humans may eat cattle, but monsters eating humans—isn't that the way of heaven and earth?"
Zhao Deshan's complexion changed drastically, his voice trembling as he exclaid, "Battle Ogre!"
In the western inner seas reside such creatures known as Battle Ogres, akin to a kind of dragon. In rain and mist they slither along roads, and even the gilded jade halls atop rooftops!
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