Chapter Fifty-Nine: A Sliver of Sky

Gazing at the great mountain wreathed in drifting mist, perhaps because of days of unending rain, the chill in the air between the two carriages grew heavier with the damp and cold. The horses had already come to a halt. Shen Yu opened his eyes slightly, studying the lofty peak before him.

Most of Central Province was an endless plain, but the farther east one traveled, the more mountains loomed, and here, near the border of Eastern Ancestor Prefecture, the ranges grew especially grand—massive, imposing, and perilous. At the very heart of the range was a vast chasm, some thirty or forty yards wide, as if the mountain had been cleaved in two by a single sword, forming a gorge just wide enough for people to pass through.

The maid, Caiwei, stepped out from the carriage, frowning as she gazed ahead, torn by hesitation.

“Spring has only just begun,” Ke Wang said, a note of worry in his eyes. “That creature in the Heavenly Crevice is likely still in its slumber. It is vicious beyond compare—if we pass through quickly, we should avoid trouble.”

Central Province was the largest of the five, with the greatest multitude of living beings, and so in many places spirits and monstrous creatures ran rampant, spawning countless tales of the strange and supernatural. The Heavenly Crevice was infamous as a haunt of such beings.

It was said that countless ghosts and monsters dwelled within these mountains, and deeper still lived a great demon who had held sway for many years. None in the mortal world knew the origins of this demon; only that it was lethargic by nature, its snores like thunder when asleep, and it had a particular fondness for gold, jade, and precious gems, though mercifully, it rarely sought to devour humans.

Travelers passing through, if fortunate, could offer up their valuables to pass unscathed; if unlucky, they might suffer a beating and be flung from the gorge, but there were no tales of the demon killing anyone. It was for this reason Ke Wang chose to cross through the Heavenly Crevice—taking a detour around the mountain would cost far too much time.

“Don’t worry. The king of this mountain is mild-tempered. It’s just the minor spirits who can be a little mischievous, but they mean no harm—just fond of playing tricks on travelers,” Jiang Jianghu said with an easy grin. “I’ve taken this road a few times before. As long as we’re careful, nothing will happen. Trust me.”

Perhaps reassured by his steady tone, even Ke Zhun relaxed somewhat.

Among mortals, martial artists possessed a yang essence in their bodies, what the Daoists called innate sovereign fire. Ordinary people might not sense it, but spirits and ghosts feared this elusive yet real energy above all.

Shen Yu remained calm, listening to the others finish their discussion before preparing to drive the carriage onward.

“Wait,” came a clear, cool voice. The maid Caiwei spoke: “Guard Jiang, please lead from the front carriage. Have Shen Yu come to the one behind.”

Jiang Jianghu’s eyes flickered with surprise, but his years of experience on the road kept his expression inscrutable. He nodded with a smile.

Shen Yu shook his head slightly. “No need,” he said.

“Who asked for your opinion?” Caiwei frowned. “You’re just an ordinary fellow—what good are you up front? If you die by accident, won’t that be a waste of my lady’s money?”

Shen Yu’s face remained impassive. He realized this girl was softhearted beneath her sharp tongue, cold outside and warm within.

The two exchanged places, and Jiang Jianghu drove the lead carriage toward the Heavenly Crevice. The group proceeded slowly through the narrow pass; at some point, the surrounding mist thickened, swallowing both carriages from view.

As the white fog grew denser, they could see no more than a few yards around them. Only the sound of wheels against earth and the increasingly anxious breathing of the travelers pierced the silence.

Something was wrong.

Even the worldly-wise Ke Wang sensed something amiss, his face grave. “Something is watching us. The demonic energy here is too strong.”

Jiang Jianghu’s face turned pale, a sheen of cold sweat forming on his brow. The sovereign fire within a martial artist could suppress lesser spirits, but only if the martial artist’s strength surpassed theirs. Like a torch falling into a river, in the end the flame would be extinguished by the water.

Caiwei peeked out from the carriage from time to time until Ke Wang scolded her softly, after which she hid inside and did not emerge again.

Shen Yu remained as composed as ever, lifting his head slightly to gaze into the distance, as if he had noticed something.

A wailing, ghostly cry echoed through the air. A pall of black mist, carrying countless moans and chilling screams, drifted from the sky to settle before the carriage, writhing and twisting until it formed the figure of a woman—her form voluptuous, clad in a vivid red dress, her face pale as paper, lips blood-red.

With her arrival, will-o’-the-wisps flickered around the carriages, stirring up gusts of sinister wind and a deeply unsettling atmosphere.

The red-robed specter stared at them with hollow eyes. In a cold, ghostly voice, she asked, “Where are you going?”

Ke Zhun stepped forward respectfully. “My young lady has caught the eye of a master from the Xuanyan Immortal Sect of Eastern Ancestor Prefecture. She comes of age this year and is traveling to the sect to become a disciple. We are passing through your domain—please grant us safe passage.”

Jiang Jianghu’s eyes narrowed at these words, surprise flickering across his face. Though Xuanyan Immortal Sect was a far cry from the nine holy lands, it was still among the most renowned sects in Eastern Ancestor Prefecture and well-known across all Linghuang Continent. He had not expected the girl masquerading as a maid to have such talent as to be noticed by them.

Ke Wang had deliberately mentioned the sect to harness its prestige and intimidate the specter, but she remained indifferent, her mocking smile growing ever more pronounced.

She gave a careless “oh.”

Seeing the ridicule on her face, Ke Wang’s withered features grew cold. “What would it take for you to let us pass? Is it money you want?”

The red-robed specter cut him off with a wave of her sleeve, and a chilling voice echoed in their ears. “Those two maids in the carriage—their skins are exquisite. If I were to strip them, I’d have two fine new faces.”

Ke Wang sneered. “You’d break the king’s rules by doing this, dare you?”

“Rules?” The specter threw her head back and laughed, then said coldly, “The great one is not yet awake, so what I say is the law.”

“Courting death,” the old man spat. A flash of cold light shot from his sleeve, striking the specter in an instant—a flying blade imbued with all of his spiritual power, forged from Central Province’s rarest Chiyang steel, utmost in yang energy.

A sound of metal cutting flesh rang out. The ghost’s head was severed from her body, blood spurting from the neck as the pale head rolled to the ground.

But before Ke Wang could breathe a sigh of relief, frigid yin energy surged from all directions. The ghostly flames around the carriages began to swirl violently, weaving together like a dragon of the underworld, roaring in fury.

The severed head began to float, its dirt-stained face twisted in a horrific, wicked grin. The woman’s chilling laughter rang out. “Not bad—try a few more strikes. When your strength is spent, you’ll come with me. I’ll find a way to carve out your organs and make you my ghost slave.”

Bang! A fist smashed into the floating head, bursting it like a melon, spattering Jiang Jianghu with foul blood and pus.

“Impressive—decent strength,” the specter’s voice sounded now from her headless body, full of mockery.

In the carriage, Caiwei had furtively lifted the curtain to witness this scene. She froze, about to cry out when a pair of warm hands clamped over her mouth.

Feeling the gentle touch, Caiwei’s eyes widened, her cheeks flushed, and she leaned back, shooting a furious glare at the young man who had taken such a liberty.

But Shen Yu paid her no mind, glanced at the dampness on his hand, frowned slightly in distaste, and wiped it on her trouser leg.

Caiwei was left utterly stunned, her mind blank.

“Brother Jiang, protect the young lady in the carriage!” Ke Wang shouted as he rushed at the specter, the two soon locked in fierce combat.

In this moment of gravest peril, Shen Yu suddenly leapt from the carriage and strode calmly into the depths of the mist on the left.

Caiwei cried after him in alarm, “Where are you going?”

Shen Yu waved a hand indifferently. “I’ll hide—when you’re done fighting, I’ll come back.”

...

Shen Yu walked through the mist as easily as on solid ground, heading toward the spot he had spied earlier. He could sense the aura of the great demon deep within the mountain, a presence that felt oddly familiar, along with the faint emanation of spiritual treasures—he wanted to take a look.

He had come down from the mountain to wander the world, so he was in no rush.

Soon, the sounds of battle and ghostly wailing faded, then vanished altogether, leaving only silence.

A gentle, graceful woman appeared ahead in the mist, smiling sweetly as she approached, full of affection.

Shen Yu watched her quietly.

“Young master, I…” she began, then suddenly placed her delicate hand to her forehead and pulled downward sharply, her voice turning grim. “Does it look good?”

A face, bloody and mangled, was revealed before Shen Yu. An ordinary person would have fainted dead away at the sight.

But Shen Yu was not ordinary.

Thus, the only response the woman received was the sound of his footsteps receding into the mist.

She stood rooted to the spot, her faceless, bloody features impossible to read—but surely conflicted.

Shen Yu walked on.

Many of the monsters and spirits in this mountain bore no ill will to humans; they were merely mischievous by nature, fond of scaring mortals for sport.

He passed through mist and loose stones, floods and serpents, then through endless illusions conjured by the spirits, until he finally came to a halt.

Though the fog before him was still thick, Shen Yu knew he was close.

As if following some unspoken command, the number of vengeful spirits and monsters around him swelled, blocking his path in dense masses—as though all the supernatural beings of the mountain had gathered here.

The air, already frigid, grew colder still, frost forming at the edges of his vision.

Any cultivator of the Spirit Wandering realm would have fled in terror from so many fearsome ghosts and monsters, but Shen Yu seemed not to notice. He stepped forward lightly.

And spoke, his voice utterly calm. “Begone.”