Volume 3, Chapter 1 – Remaining Regret (2)

The old man had looked impatient at first. Once he saw the notes, though, his face changed. He waved at the younger folk walking with them to say everything was fine, then pulled Han Yuanfeng off to the side of the column and lowered his voice to mutter.

“Swordsman… you know about the Qizhou incident, don’t you?”

“You mean the Southern Prince’s rebellion?” Han Yuanfeng nodded. “Of course I do.”

“Then do you know Qizhou is finished?”

Huh?

Han Yuanfeng blinked.

What kind of bizarre claim was that?

“That Yao Qingyuan brought filthy things here.” The old man shook his head with a sigh. “Filthy things… all bloody… can’t be touched… that kind of thing is spreading across Qizhou without stopping. There’s one near the Chilong Circuit too. You’ve seen it yourself… At this rate, how much longer can people live in the Chilong Circuit?”

“One day sooner or later, it’ll all be flooded! So of course we’ve got to find a way out early!”

So that was it.

Han Yuanfeng suddenly understood, though he still couldn’t help feeling a bit amused.

Because as far as he knew, the Sea of Blood that had emerged this time wasn’t the same as the one up north.

In the south, the Sea of Blood was just corrosive mist. If left alone, it would gradually dissipate.

If it weren’t for the problem of the erupting springs—if blood mist weren’t constantly spewing out—the blood sea here would have dispersed in a few months and never had the chance to merge into a “Great Marsh.”

But people like this old man—little folk on the very bottom—naturally had no way of knowing. At their level, all they saw was that the springs kept gushing nonstop, so the blood mist would eventually drown Ze and Qi entirely. Naturally, they started thinking about relocating. That kind of thinking was only normal.

“So where are you planning to move to?”

Thinking to himself that this kind of migration was probably illegal, Han Yuanfeng continued probing.

The old man didn’t answer. His gaze toward Han turned wary instead.

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“I’m a professor at Liangzhou University.”

Helpless, Han Yuanfeng could only take out his credentials for the old man to inspect.

“I don’t have any authority here. I’m only here to research the blood mist.”

As he spoke, he slipped a few more bills into the old man’s hands. Only then did the latter finally crack a smile.

He’s willing to take money…

Watching the shifts in his expression, Han Yuanfeng analyzed them inwardly.

Which meant they weren’t planning to disappear into the wilderness.

And of course not—the wilds were crawling with Aberrations. Without powerful cultivators escorting them, heading there would be suicide.

“Have you heard of the land-reclamation corps?” the old man suddenly asked.

What corps?

Han Yuanfeng froze.

“The land-reclamation corps.” The old man gestured. “We heard news here… that there’s going to be land opened up in the southwest. They’ve recruited a huge number of Shinu laborers but are still short on manpower… so we figured we’d try our luck over there. At least with a mountain in between, the blood mist shouldn’t drift over, right?”

Now Han Yuanfeng understood completely.

So they were going to throw themselves onto Shenming Sword Dao’s turf.

He thought to himself.

That “Shenming Bai Xiang” really had made a thunderous debut… As the only “fortunate” point in this disaster, and a terrifying genius to boot, Yujing naturally had to lavish praise and support on her, eager to smother all negative impact under the radiance of her reputation.

So without a doubt, in this tenth province being developed, no one could shake Shenming Sword Dao’s status.

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Even though the formal edict of appointment hadn’t arrived yet, no one doubted that Shenming Sword Dao would become the tenth Mountain-and-River–grade dojo.

Of course… in terms of foundation, they were still very weak. They only had one Divine Fetus cultivator; mid- and low-level combatants were seriously lacking. Not to mention that establishing a Dao City also required a huge population, and that population could only be drawn locally from Ze and Qi.

So this was probably a deal.

The Bai clan had offered certain benefits—like trade conditions once the Dao City was built—in exchange for the two provinces turning a blind eye to this population movement.

Because under normal circumstances, a refugee column of this size would never be allowed to leave the city.

This had to be tacit consent.

And it was also Governor Fang repaying her for saving his life…

“Murder!”

Just as Han Yuanfeng was turning over whether he should pay a visit while he was at it, a wail of panic rose from behind him, followed by the din of chaos. It sounded like someone was attacking the refugee line.

What the hell is this world coming to… Is there even any oil left to squeeze out of a group like this?

Rage flared in Han Yuanfeng’s chest. He was just about to rush over and see when the hiss of something cutting through the air reached his ears.

Guns?

His expression changed. He threw himself into the snow for cover, and in the next instant, he heard screams ring out behind him, along with the wet, muffled thuds of bullets punching into flesh.

What the hell?

Han Yuanfeng’s heart lurched in shock.

Weren’t bandits supposed to be in it for loot?

And they just started killing without a word?

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Since when had southern ways turned this vicious?

Before he could figure out what was really going on, dozens of figures burst out of the trees, all wearing black leather coats and wielding longswords. The moment they charged out, they began hacking madly into the refugee column.

Especially at Han Yuanfeng—he soon realized he’d clearly become a primary target. Not only were several swordsmen swarming him, but every so often a black gun barrel would swing his way, making it hard for him to fight freely. He couldn’t bring even half his strength to bear.

“Who exactly are you people?” he couldn’t help demanding.

“Why attack refugees?”

“Huh?”

Someone among the attackers suddenly raised his voice.

“Stop!”

The sword edges withdrew; the swordsmen fell back.

Han Yuanfeng glanced around. He saw that the entire refugee column had been practically slaughtered. Only the old man was still alive, sheltered behind him—left as the column’s sole survivor.

Too vicious!

Han Yuanfeng glared at the swordsmen in fury.

How could they be so ruthless?

“You’re not with Zhengwo Dao.”

A boy of about fifteen stepped out, holding a sword. He frowned at Han Yuanfeng.

“Then why were you covering for them?”

“Covering for them?” Han Yuanfeng repeated, frowning. Then, as if something had just occurred to him, he suddenly spun around, his sword already swinging up to knock aside a stabbing dagger.

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“You—?”

He stared wide-eyed, stunned, at the old man before him.

The man’s face had twisted into something brutally feral. When the sneak attack failed, he let out an ugly shriek and flung himself at Han Yuanfeng with outstretched arms.

Puff, puff!

The surrounding swordsmen surged forward as one, stabbing him full of holes before he could get close.

Thud!

The old man’s corpse crashed heavily to the ground. A gush of black water sprayed out of his wounds, soaking into the snow and sending up wisps of white vapor.

It looked poisonous…

The sight made Han Yuanfeng’s blood run cold.

This southern world…

It really wasn’t the same anymore…

“Shenming Sword Dao, rounding up demon-cultivators.”

“I’m Lian Feng, captain of this temporary squad.”

The boy stepped up to Han Yuanfeng and gave him a sword salute.

“You’re suspected of aiding a demon of the Dao.”

“Together with those people up ahead, please come with us.”