Volume 3, Chapter 38 – Interception (Two-in-One)

When he heard Bai Xiang say she was coming to his residence to take the head of the Jingyi Gang’s leader, “Lian Di,” Zhang Xianzhi’s heart was full of shock and fury.

But when Bai Xiang recited that opening line of the poem, it was as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his rage, chilling him from head to toe.

In the year 938 of Great Yu, the Huang clan usurped the throne and split into a main line and a cadet branch. The head of the cadet branch, Huang Zhangyin, was enfeoffed as Marquis of Zhong’an for supporting the Human Emperor “Yao.” The Zhong’an Army and Zhong’an Circuit were named for this, known in history as the “Three Zhong’an Enfeoffments”… that was the extent of most people’s impression of this period.

But things hadn’t been nearly so simple.

A single line in the histories, and ten thousand bones wither beneath the brush. Behind the glory of Huang Zhangyin’s title of marquis and general, behind Human Emperor Yao’s blazing, comet-like rise, lay Great Yu’s mountains and rivers beaten to a pulp, the so-called “realm split in three under heaven,” and countless common folk cast adrift as refugees.

When Zhang Xianzhi had studied this part of history, he’d done extra homework. He’d gone to see his teacher, “Mister Cijing,” Liu Haoran, and been told that hidden within this history was a magnificent work—a long narrative poem devoted entirely to describing the impact of the Huang clan rebellion.

That poem began with the line “In the neutral spring of the guimao year, in the third month,” and what had shocked Zhang Xianzhi most back then was that line: “The inner treasury burned to brocade-ash dust, Heaven Street paved with high ministers’ bones.”

“Heaven Street paved with high ministers’ bones! High ministers’ bones!” the young Zhang Xianzhi had shouted excitedly. “I don’t even know why, teacher, but every time I read that line I just feel… exhilarated!”

In 938, the reason the Huang and Luo clans had dared to usurp the throne in the first place couldn’t be separated from the weakness and corruption of the previous generation of Great Yu’s imperial house.

The emperor had trusted wild nonsense and dismissed worthy ministers; the court and capital were full of treacherous villains.

The reigning Yu Emperor at the time, “Emperor Renxin” Yao Feng, had even taken on a twisted fetish—ignoring perfectly good human women to seek out those demonic women who cultivated stray arts.

When rot set in at the top, court officials hoarded wealth and indulged in wine ponds and meat forests.

The corvée was crushing; among the common folk there was only grief and resentment.

When such a corrupt, deranged court was overthrown, the older generation might have different feelings, but for young students like Zhang Xianzhi, it really did feel like they had it coming.

Going further, he’d given that mysterious long poem an extremely high evaluation, believing it was not only rare in its language and craft, but also filled a gap in records of the chaos of that era.

“It’s just that there’s one thing this student doesn’t quite understand,” Zhang Xianzhi had asked Liu Haoran with a frown. “Why is a work like this not famous?”

Faced with this question, Liu Haoran’s reaction had been very strange. He’d said Zhang Xianzhi was asking too early—that when he passed the exams and achieved his dreams, he’d understand on his own.

Liu Haoran was indeed a true contemporary master; he had accurately predicted the path Zhang Xianzhi’s heart would take.

Now when Zhang Xianzhi thought back on it, how could he not understand what his teacher meant—nothing more than that the scenes described in that poem were too real, too cruel, too terrifying. So much so that rulers of any era would never dare to discuss it openly.

Heaven Street paved with high ministers’ bones… was that something you could talk about?

Now the Sacred Emperor was peerless in frugality and filial virtue, the Thirty-Six Circuits of the Nine Provinces lived in peace and prosperity, untouched by demon calamities—so what was your intention in talking like that?

How dare you compare the present dynasty with that tyrant!

Zhang Xianzhi realized he had changed.

When he was young, he should have been outraged by this sort of attitude. But after he passed the exams and became an official, he’d instead begun to understand the painstaking rationale behind burying that poem.

“The masses are ignorant and must be guided.”

That was a sentiment he’d once shared with a friend in private conversation.

“Different times require different policies, but one thing never changes—the ignorant masses at the bottom are easily led astray.

“Enlightening the people’s minds is undesirable, and large-scale public debate is even more unacceptable. Unrestrained thought only breeds endless disasters and gives the remnant demon clans opportunities to stir up trouble.”

He had even gone again to visit Liu Haoran, bowing deeply and saying that “if you are not in the position, you should not plan its policies”—as a student he hadn’t understood his teacher’s care, but after being an official for more than ten years, he now knew that governing the world was far more than brush and ink on paper.

Liu Haoran’s attitude, however, had remained oddly off.

He’d looked at Zhang Xianzhi for a long moment without speaking, then simply shaken his head lightly and gestured for his student to leave.

Zhang Xianzhi still didn’t understand the deeper meaning and even now felt puzzled when he thought of it, though originally it had just been a trivial matter.

In recent years he’d rarely thought of those old stories. But today Bai Xiang had brought all that flooding back at once, and a swell of bad premonition rose in his heart.

How did Bai Xiang know that poem?

At a time like this, why was she reciting that line—what did she intend?

It was precisely the third month of the year right now. Did she want not only Lian Di’s head, but mine as well?

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Did she really dare to “burn the inner treasury to brocade-ash dust, pave Heaven Street with high ministers’ bones”???

Zhang Xianzhi felt both fear and rage. When the call on the other end was abruptly cut off, he immediately raised a hand to summon an attendant. “Go! Get Lian Di out of here, now!”

A Divine Fetus cultivator… Divine Fetus!

If someone like that truly went mad, even a Kong An might not be able to stop her!

On the other side, after hanging up, Bai Xiang went calmly downstairs and instructed Bai Zhuqing to keep an eye on the hotel with the other disciples.

“I’ve taken over as Dao Lord, which makes you ‘Senior Sister’ now.” She pressed her hand down on her younger sister’s shoulder in front of everyone. “Things are going to get messy here. Go tell Manager Lu to call up security and hold the doors.”

“I know!” Bai Zhuqing nodded vigorously, then added in a small voice, “I’ll go tell Old Pei right away and have them get ready to go back and work…”

Bai Zhuqing now understood perfectly why Bai Xiang had taken in Pei Jian and the others.

Even after ripping out the Jingyi Gang, they’d still need these people to link up the gangs’ strength. If she tamed these small bosses beforehand, then once you strung them together, the entire system would be under Bai Xiang’s control. It would be as if she could indirectly command all the gang power in Chilong Circuit to work for her.

That was a feat even the Roads Directorate couldn’t accomplish. Under normal circumstances, Bai Xiang certainly wouldn’t be able to do it either. This windfall was entirely thanks to the Jingyi Gang’s mischief forcing these people to defect and gather around her.

“Oh?” Bai Xiang narrowed her eyes. “You know which people to notify?”

Bai Zhuqing shot her a wink. “I’ll weed out the ones who didn’t have it that bad.”

Clever girl.

From her angle, Bai Xiang reached out and pinched her cheek.

There were definitely spies among Pei Jian’s crowd, but the ones who’d suffered at the Jingyi Gang’s hands had already practically offered up their pledge of allegiance—the chance of them turning coat would drop sharply.

There was no way to chase perfection any further than this. Nothing in the world was flawless; if you wanted to use people, you had to accept some risk. The fact that her little sister had thought this far was already enough.

After a few more instructions, Bai Xiang activated her soaring technique and rose into the air, streaking off at high speed under the gaze of all the disciples and the hotel staff.

“Going straight up into the sky, that’s never a good sign…”

Manager Lu, temporarily in charge of the hotel, shook his head at the sight.

“Go notify the security team. Time to earn their pay!”

Whoosh, whoosh…

Rushing through the high air, Bai Xiang took the chance to call a few acquaintances.

“Hello?” Zhang Daoming’s voice was full of pent-up anger when he answered. “Dao Lord Bai? I see the reports say you’re back. Want me to bring people around to congratulate you?”

“You’re in a bad mood,” Bai Xiang punctured him with a single line. “This official post has been suffocating, hasn’t it?”

With the Jingyi Gang running rampant, there was no way Zhang Daoming hadn’t wanted to step in.

But Zhang Xianzhi had come with the Sacred Emperor’s edicts. As the post-disaster specially appointed Watchman of the Roads Directorate, his actions represented the Imperial House’s will in the short term. Even an independent department like the Inspectorate had no way to interfere.

“So what if I’m in a bad mood, can you help?” Zhang Daoming’s eyelids twitched.

This woman really knew how to poke where it hurt. Didn’t she know saying that made him lose face?

But Bai Xiang had hit the mark. As soon as that damned Lian Di had shown up, he’d been stirring trouble everywhere. The Inspectorate had been getting more than two thousand reports a day, yet all their policing power had been suppressed by the Roads Directorate and left unused—what could be more suffocating than that?

Zhang Daoming figured the public had probably already cursed him to pieces, maybe even made a little clay doll of him to stick needles in every day.

Damn it. They took the credit while he took the blame and wasn’t even allowed to speak?

Outrageous… Old Zhang had never eaten such shit in his life!

Right now he was a powder keg, ready to go off at the slightest spark.

“Come to Maozhou,” Bai Xiang said. “Move the entire Inspectorate over.”

…?

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Zhang Daoming’s brain blue-screened.

When he came back to his senses, his eyes were bulging and his lips puckered. “Do you even know what you’re saying?”

The Inspectorate was that kind of department—did she think some random Dao Lord could just tell it to move?

Never mind that she hadn’t even gotten her rank-confirming edict yet. Even if she really did become the Dao Lord of a mountain-and-river–grade dojo, she’d still have no authority to meddle in administrative and personnel transfers.

And that wasn’t even mentioning that the Inspectorate answered directly to the Imperial House, nicknamed “the hounds” and “the Six Gates”… how could they possibly move without an edict from Dry Jade Palace?

“There’s going to be a ‘great demon calamity,’” came the cold voice from the other end. “Chilong Circuit can’t be held. I’m planning to relocate all of Chilong Circuit’s departments, citizens, and supplies to Zhen’nan Circuit. If you don’t come, what are you going to do—sit in a ruined city every day staring at the walls?”

…???

Zhang Daoming’s brain froze again.

He understood every word she said, but once you strung them together into a sentence, he had no idea what it meant.

So Bai Xiang gave him a brief outline of what had happened and warned him, “You’ve got insider information. You should understand the blood sea calamity better than I do. I won’t force you. Decide for yourself.”

Then she hung up and started dialing other numbers.

“Hey? Hey, hey?”

Zhang Daoming called a few times, then tried to call back, but the line was busy. He stood there helplessly, torn between heaven and earth in his head.

Just then, Han Li knocked and came in. Seeing him like that, he couldn’t help staring. “Boss? What are you doing?”

“Have there been demon beast incidents around the circuit-city?” Zhang Daoming asked him woodenly.

“Yeah?” Han Li nodded in confusion.

Zhang Daoming’s eyes went wide. “Are the demon beasts’ eyes blood-red, and can their broken limbs revive for a short time?”

“Seems like it…” Han Li nodded again. “Two reports said that.”

“And you didn’t report it to me?” Zhang Daoming roared.

“Didn’t you say not to report it, boss?” Han Li spread his hands innocently. “You said to pull back the patrols and give everyone time off… you even said, ‘any trouble, let that bastard Zhang and his pet Lian Di deal with it.’”

“…,” Zhang Daoming muttered, yanking at his own hair. For a moment he couldn’t even tell whether he should scold Han Li or himself.

“You okay, boss?” Now Han Li was starting to worry about him. “Is that bastard Zhang coming after you? It’s fine, I’m telling you, Commandant Huang feels the same way. Half the Chilong Army’s already been sent to Zhen’nan…”

“Quit yapping,” Zhang Daoming sighed. “Go call everyone back in. Big job.”

“Everyone?”

“Yeah. Everyone.”

Han Li left, still suspicious, and Zhang Daoming sat alone in his chair, staring into space.

After a long while he suddenly started grinning like an idiot.

“Directly replacing one circuit’s populace with another—that might not be entirely unprecedented, but it only happens in truly great disasters, even regime change.”

“If there really is a ‘great demon calamity’ and Chilong Circuit truly can’t be held, and reinforcements can’t arrive in time, then the only retreat is to relocate the entire circuit into Maozhou and use Maozhou’s terrain to seal the city and hold out to the death.”

“Yes… that’s the best and only choice…”

“Or would you rather let a million people be slaughtered by demon beasts? Would that bastard Zhang really dare to do that?”

“Easy to let them in, hard to let them out!”

“Brilliant. Brilliant!”

By the end, Zhang Daoming was laughing aloud, leaping into the open space and waving his arms around.

If events really developed that way, then they would have righteousness on their side.

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With righteousness in hand, what was there to fear?

Why wouldn’t you take the chance to really go for it!

Meanwhile, Bai Xiang had just finished speaking with Principal Zhang Longze of No. 1 High, and he too sat at home in a daze.

“Old man, what are you thinking about?”

A slightly wrinkled woman happened to come in carrying a fruit platter. She put it down, then shot him a curious look.

“Feel like going on a trip?” Zhang Longze asked her. “Take the whole school along. Have Li Shuming and Wang Wanqian take their schools too and all head west for a while?”

“You got a fever?” The woman reached out to feel his forehead. “What’s with this nonsense all of a sudden?”

“Quit it.” Zhang Longze slapped her hand away impatiently and let out a long sigh.

“I knew that blood mist wasn’t going to be that simple…”

“Old woman.”

“What now?”

“Go get the Dingbo Sword off the wall.”

Zhang Longze flexed his fingers, the joints cracking sharply.

“Ah.”

“No idea how many more swings I’ve got left in me…”

…

At this moment, Bai Xiang was on the phone with her last contact, Huang Qian. After hearing what she intended, he was silent for a moment before forcing out, “…Heaven’s timing and the land’s advantage.”

Maozhou was now in ruins, everything waiting to be rebuilt, and Shenming Sword Dao was at odds with Yujing. Under normal development, there was no way they’d come out ahead; Yujing would use population and supplies to pinch and bully them.

She could indeed run to Luo Hou to bring in refugees, or go elsewhere to attract investment and technology—but that would be slow, and even if she barely managed to build the circuit-city up, once Yujing sent a few “on-site supervisors,” how could a mountain-and-river–grade dojo overstep its bounds and take over their roles?

In the end, someone else would pick the fruit; it wouldn’t truly be her turf.

But now, with the blood sea calamity delayed and erupting, Bai Xiang was effectively standing on the moral high ground, giving her a chance to pull all of Chilong Circuit’s population and resources into her pocket.

She could very well say she wasn’t trying to swallow Qizhou’s resources—she was simply taking in the people of Chilong Circuit in order to save a million lives.

What could Dry Jade Palace say to that?

They probably wouldn’t even dare fart.

If they couldn’t suppress her, they’d have to cut flesh off themselves to feed Bai Xiang. Afterward there’d likely be no way around giving her public commendations too, using her achievements to trumpet their own benevolence abroad.

How many people in Yujing would be so mad their noses went crooked?

Huang Qian didn’t know. But he was definitely savoring it inside.

He’d earned credit leading troops in Chilong’s territory and was about to be transferred in a while, a promotion. He’d never expected to catch such a big event before leaving, giving him one last chance to help Bai Xiang.

“Tell me,” he said crisply. “What do you need me to do?”

“I’m afraid I’ll need to borrow the Commandant’s title for a while,” Bai Xiang said bluntly. “After the rebellion was quelled in Chilong, that title of Commandant meant something. If I go around saying this myself, the common folk won’t trust me. I’ll have to rely on you to guide them and push to start the relocation as soon as possible.”

“So the sooner the better—best if we start now!” Huang Qian nodded. “Got it!”

He truly was a straightforward man. After hanging up, he ordered the Chilong Army to start mobilizing. At the same time, message after message went out, and very soon the Chilong radio station began broadcasting urgent announcements.

【We interrupt with a temporary bulletin…】

【Dear listeners, we have an urgent notice to convey…】

Companies and factories of all kinds heard the news as well. Some people hesitated, half believing, half doubting. Others, after reading the notice, immediately started hauling supplies.

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The pedestrians on the streets were the first to sense the change. Some hadn’t paid attention to the news and were just walking along when they suddenly saw a column of armored vehicles rolling past, and the number of heavy trucks and railcars on the main roads suddenly skyrocketed, completely ignoring traffic regulations.

“What’s going on?”

“No idea. Why does it feel like something’s happening again?”

People muttered to each other on the streets, while helicopters roared overhead.

Some helicopters were going to pick people up; others just hovered in fixed positions over the urban district, broadcasting evacuation notices back and forth, urging everyone to grab their belongings and come downstairs to gather as quickly as possible.

Racing over the city high above, Bai Xiang could clearly sense the transformation across the entire circuit-city.

The atmosphere had grown tense in an instant. At this rate, the relocation would still be in time.

Inwardly giving a thumbs-up to the efficiency of Huang Qian and the others, Bai Xiang suddenly had a feeling, and her figure halted in midair.

Shoo—

An invisible blade of qi sliced past her hair from ahead, flying on for fifty or sixty meters before slowly dissipating, as far as she could sense.

Bai Xiang looked up to see a slender figure standing in midair under the glaring white sun.

The figure slowly descended and drew closer. Looking carefully, it was a handsome young Daoist with a neat mustache.

The Daoist looked to be around thirty, his hair pinned straight up with a jade hairpin, clad in a tri-colored robe of dark green, black, and white, holding a long sword with a cloud-shaped guard.

His sleeves billowed; his sword aura was intimidating.

Just the way he looked marked him out as anything but ordinary.

“Master Kong An?” Bai Xiang asked.

“Indeed, I am Kong,” the young Daoist nodded.

Bai Xiang narrowed her eyes. “A sneak attack halfway—hardly the conduct of a ‘master.’”

She honestly didn’t feel like tangling with Kong An. Strictly speaking, the sword sect behind him, “Jingzhu Sword Dao,” had a debt of gratitude with the Bai family.

Jingzhu Sword Dao was one of the Nine Sword Dao of Great Yu.

One of its main branch disciples, known as “Reverend Nine Leaves,” had been the teacher of both Chai Jingyuan and Bai Shengju.

Before Bai Xiang had traversed and merged with her memories, everything Bai Shengju knew of the sword had basically come from Jingzhu Sword Dao.

He hadn’t, of course, learned Jingzhu’s core methods. But it wasn’t wrong to say they had ties.

With such a relationship in the background, Bai Xiang truly didn’t want to fight him.

“I only just took over the dojo from my father and didn’t expect to run into something like this,” Kong An shook his head. “Dao Lord Bai has ties with my Dao. Why not call it off here?”

“You mean to protect a criminal?” Bai Xiang’s brows drew together.

“I’m not protecting him,” Kong An said, staring straight at her. “The man may deserve to die, but how he dies is not for Dao Lord Bai to decide.”

So there was nothing to discuss.

Bai Xiang glared at Kong An.

Well, of course.

He’d eaten the Saint-Heart Pill; you couldn’t expect everyone to be like her cheap master.

“I can understand Master’s difficulties.”

Bai Xiang closed her eyes, drew her sword, and held it upright before her, giving a proper sword salute.

“Bai Xiang of Shenming.”

“Requests Master’s sword.”