Chapter 635: Demons, Ghosts, and Evils

Chapter 635: Demons, Monsters, and Heresy

In the current power structure within the empire, the Buddhist Order, once listed among the Three Teachings, is now a hollow shell, destined to fade away quietly, unable to stir even a ripple.

The remaining Confucian and Daoist factions have now formed a confrontational stance, swords drawn and bows taut, ready to ignite at a touch.

This is the macroscopic trend viewed from above, yet even in seemingly insignificant details, undercurrents surge, not to be underestimated.

In Han Yang's words, the Peng bird sensed the damp, fishy odor preceding the storm, intending to seize the moment to make a comeback, dreaming of profiting from troubled waters.

Yet from Li Jun's perspective, describing the Peng with 'making a comeback' is inaccurate; it would be better to say the organization has once again actively surfaced.

Li Jun, once a commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, had clashed with the Peng many times, even slaying a marquis‑level Peng chieftain in the Golden Tower of Chongqing Prefecture.

Thus his understanding of this organization runs deep.

Peng members excel at concealing themselves and stirring popular sentiment; this is not merely a trait of the Zongheng sequence, but a deep‑seated modus operandi ingrained in every member's bones.

The Peng's influence within the empire is entrenched and intertwined, deep‑rooted and hard to eradicate—a fact evident from the New Donglin Party's inability to fully root them out over many years.

If the Confucian and Daoist orders truly erupt into open conflict this time, then whether control lies among the followers or the situation spirals out of hand, affecting the populace on both sides of life's fundamentals, it will provide fertile ground for the Peng's growth and expansion.

Once the Peng grows strong, even powers as formidable as the New Donglin Party and Longhu Mountain would likely find themselves plagued by headaches.

Besides that, lurking in the shadows, the Yin‑Yang Order's Donghuang Palace is also stirring.

After the Bianji incident, Li Jun has come to know that this group's acting and patience have reached an astonishing level.

Earlier, rumors circulated in the empire that the Yin‑Yang Order suffered a crushing defeat in the 'Yellow Millet Power Division,' causing many disheartened followers to flee overseas.

Those who remained within the empire were likewise scattered, their hearts dispersed, the entire order amounting to no more than a feeble handful of sand.

Even this falsehood was once believed by Zou Jiujiu of the Yin‑Yang Order.

The reality, however, is nothing of the sort.

The Donghuang Palace, harboring a host of masters including the Nine Lords, has lain hidden in the darkness for decades.

Even exploiting the rivalry between Buddhist and Daoist houses, they successfully lured the Buddhist Order into a misguided path, ultimately leading to a miserable fate of being flayed and skinned.

In this current complex and perplexing situation, the Eastern Branch Institute's desire to seek Li Jun's protection is entirely natural.

Recall that after the 'World Divided in Martial Arts,' the dark spirits within the Mo Order suffered grievous casualties, had not yet recovered their vitality, and then suffered another heavy blow; the ensuing split of the five institutes added insult to injury.

The dismemberment of the dark‑spirit realm caused their numbers and strength to plummet sharply, now reaching a state of strained resources and discontinuous supply.

This has prompted voices within the Mo Order, fearful of chaos, to urge seizing the moment to reclaim the Mo—i.e., to restore the artisan lineage's dominance within the Mo Order.

The Central Branch Institute's practice of enslaving dark spirits finds supporters among the other four institutes.

Moreover, the vast majority of these individuals are the new generation of Mo practitioners.

This is precisely what unsettles the veteran Mo practitioners like Han Yang.

Healed scars are forgotten—this is human nature.

But when a wound has not fully healed and is repeatedly torn open, the person will eventually meet a fatal end.

Besides this, Han Yang is certain of one more point.

Namely, as the situation continues to deteriorate, sooner or later someone will move to drag them into the fray.

The reason is simple: an innocent man bears no guilt, but he who holds a jade incurs blame.

The Mo Order, which holds numerous technical arts, possesses formidable manufacturing and creative abilities yet lacks means of self‑defense, is seen by any side as a prized piece of meat.

As for the Eastern Branch Institute itself, whether it be the New Donglin Party, Longhu Mountain, or the Donghuang Palace, aligning with them would pose no difficulty; indeed, the other side would welcome them warmly, promising elders like Han Yang all manner of benefits.

But in exchange, the entirety of the Eastern Institute's interests would be surrendered.

The technical arts they have accumulated over centuries would be seized, and their Mo practitioners and dark spirits would be used as cannon fodder in the front lines.

This is something Han Yang does not wish to see.

Therefore, only Li Jun is the best choice for the Eastern Branch Institute.

One person can rival an entire force; this statement is not mere flattery from Han Yang toward Li Jun.

However, the meaning of this sentence does not refer to Li Jun's current title as Lord of the Heavenly Gate; any discerning person knows its symbolic weight far exceeds its literal import.

Likewise, it is not about his followers—Chen Qisheng, Zou Jiujiu, and the Horse Prince—who, even if placed among the Three Teachings, would count as top‑tier combatants.

They are aids, yet they also constitute Li Jun's weakness.

Without these individuals, Li Jun would once again become a literal lone wanderer, a presence that would make all powers tremble with fear.

A wandering martial order unburdened by ties is both beast and deity.

‘I know that the Eastern Institute’s Heavenly Will Society once committed grave faults under its banner, and Lord Li, your dissatisfaction with us is understandable. But I wish to say that it was merely a couple of bad apples, not representative of the entire Eastern Institute’s Mo Order.’

Seeing Li Jun remain silent for a long time, Han Yang could only put on a brave face and continue speaking.

‘To speak frankly, I am not one who likes to use emotions to blackmail others; Qing Xia is a rare talent, I have taken him under my wing as a closed‑door disciple solely because I value him as a person, irrespective of his relation to you.’

Han Yang solemnly declared: ‘Even if we fail to reach an agreement today, my elder position will remain reserved for him; I will never vent my anger on Zhao Qingxia because of this. Likewise, regardless of the final outcome, the Eastern Institute will spare no effort to restore the Horse Prince, harboring no resentment whatsoever.’

Li Jun's brows rose involuntarily at these words, regarding the speaker with a half‑smile.

‘Mo practitioners are not eloquent; I prepared for this encounter long in advance. Yet now it seems I may have misspoken.’

Han Yang watched Li Jun's facial expressions closely; seeing a flicker of coldness in his eyes, he could not help but reveal a bitter, wan smile.

‘If Lord Li is unwilling, then let it be as if I never said anything.’

‘Master Han, your words are indeed ill‑timed; had it been my former temperament, I would already be plotting where to start dismantling your Eastern Branch Institute. Still, I have observed Zhao Qingxia’s attitude toward you, and anyone who can earn such respect from this youth would at least not bring harm to our people.’

To Han Yang's surprise, Li Jun did not reject his request but laughed: ‘Besides, mouths fed are short, hands taken are soft—those few scoundrels have already pocketed the benefits; if I were to turn face now, I would hardly be human.’

‘Lord Li, are you agreeing to this?!’

Han Yang's expression brightened, his eyes flashing with joy.

‘I am not one to overpromise; I cannot guarantee I can protect the Eastern Institute, but wherever I am able, I will surely do my utmost to help!’

‘Thank you.’

Han Yang clasped his fists and bowed deeply.

Li Jun rose from his chair, stepping aside to make way for Han Yang's obeisance.

‘It is still too early for thanks; when the time comes that you truly need my aid, we can speak of these matters again.’

Li Jun waved his hand and said: ‘Since matters here are settled, Master Han, do you mind if I wander about the Eastern Institute?’

‘Just a moment.’

Han Yang suddenly spoke, calling out to Li Jun as he prepared to turn and leave.

‘It is thus: although our Eastern Institute has not studied the solitary martial order extensively, back when we were under the protection of sect‑based martial orders, we complied with their request and researched the tempering process of Sequence Three for a period, yielding a modest but noteworthy body of findings.’

Han Yang smiled: ‘If you are interested, Lord Li, you may peruse them at leisure—consider it a greeting gift from the Eastern Institute.’

This old fellow certainly pays his protection fees decisively; he is a man of keen perception.

Li Jun chuckled helplessly and did not decline.

‘Then I shall not refuse.’

‘Of course, please!’

Li Jun, half-turned, suddenly halted, turning his gaze toward the old man brimming with delight.

"Master Han, on the way here I heard Zhao Qingxia say you are a craftsman obsessed with invention, inept at worldly affairs, an old Mohist artisan. Yet after our conversation today, I wonder if he still doesn't know you well enough."

"Actually, it's all the same."

Han Yang locked eyes with Li Jun, solemnly saying, "Just be honest."

As the new year approached, it was the perfect time to hang lanterns and drape festive banners.

Yet Huating County in Songjiang Prefecture of Southern Zhili bore no trace of holiday cheer; instead, every household shuttered doors and windows, the city draped in gloom.

A column of smoke rose relentlessly from the southern city, the air thick with the acrid stench of blood and burnt ruin.

"This Songjiang Prefecture is the Xu clan's stronghold, filled with countless officials high and low; these pampered nobles refuse to step forward, so why should we lowly wage‑earners be sent to clash with the Honghu?"

"You don’t get it—they aren’t unwilling; they disdain it. Look at who’s dying here—what great matter could it be? I’d wager those gentlemen hope the Honghu stir up more trouble, so once they’ve found their footing they can net the whole lot in one swoop and claim a hefty merit."

"Tch, what share of that glory could ever fall to us city guards? Likely only the suicidal detail would be ours."

"We all eat from the same bowl; if you’re told to rush a blade, you grit your teeth and go—what else can you do? It’s a pity for those plain‑headed folk. Look, they’ve been burned to a wretched state; just watching makes me shiver."

"Stranger still, you say the Honghu possess some sorcery that drives these folk to throw away their lives?"

"Didn’t you hear the inspector in charge of the scene? The perpetrators are either opium‑addled lunatics on the brink of madness, or wretches whose failed Sequence leaves them days from death—if the Honghu promise salvation, would you take it?"

"I"

"Hush, Lord Yang is coming,"

A cluster of guards exchanging whispers snapped their mouths shut, yet someone in the crowd let slip a contemptuous remark.

"What difference does his arrival make? He’s merely a puppet of the Xu family."

Yang Baize turned a deaf ear, ignored the terrified guards, crossed the police line, and stepped into the scorched wasteland left by the raging fire.

This place had once been a bustling thoroughfare; now nothing remained but scarred devastation.

Not long ago, a band of Honghu members robbed a shop selling prosthetics and mechanical hearts on this street; in retreat, to block the shop’s guards and the responding city watch, they unleashed no fewer than ten of the ‘Fire Dragon Rising’ devices.

The violent explosion ignited a blaze that instantly engulfed the entire district.

In the rubble lay flattened signs, beneath collapsed eaves curled charred, unidentifiable human shapes, and on broken walls clung tatters stained with bone‑flecked mud and blood.

Yang Baize blinked hard, as if a veil of thick, fresh blood hung before his eyes, rich and unwilling to dissolve.

"Sir, what are you pondering?"

An aged voice sounded behind Yang Baize.

He turned to see that the guards who had been protecting the scene had vanished without a trace.

Standing behind him were three strangers in black robes arranged in a ‘pin’ formation, their icy gazes making his hairs stand on end.

Yang Baize cautiously stepped back, brow furrowed, about to demand their identity when the old voice spoke again.

"Are you worried about the Six Strategies Consortium, or that the Xu clan will come after you for this?"

A thin, slightly stooped old man stepped slowly from behind one of the black‑robed figures.

The instant Yang Baize made out the old man’s face, his pupils contracted to pinpricks; shocked, his mouth opened wide, a gasp poised to escape.

"No need for formalities without official robes; just consider me an ordinary..."

The old man paused, pondered a moment, then smiled: "Just a passerby who happened to be here."

Yang Baize heard this, slowly closed his mouth, his eyelids heavy, quickly reining in the shock within.

"I wasn’t thinking of the Six Strategies or the Xu clan; I was wondering whether these Honghu are still human at all."

Seeing Yang Baize regain composure so swiftly, the old man’s eyes softened with admiration.

"They aren’t human—then what are they?"

Yang Baize replied without hesitation: "Some once called them righteous rebels, heroes resisting the Sequence for the common folk. Yet what I see are demons, monsters, ghosts—self‑serving killers who wreak havoc."

"Demons, monsters, ghosts, evil? The Honghu hardly deserve such labels."

Deep winter in Huating brought only howling cold, no trace of snowfall.

The old man, his face etched with deep lines, exhaled a faint white plume; his boots creaked on the piled ash.

"Let me give you an example: if someone binds the ignorant faithful with chains of blind faith, treats the masses as cattle, sits exalted beneath a jeweled canopy, recites scriptures written on human skin, lights candles of human fat, dreams of benevolent salvation while awake deceiving the masses—what would become of such a person if they did not die?"

Yang Baize answered, word by deliberate word: "Human life is as grass; the night knows no end."

"And if one cultivates ambition instead of virtue, seeks hegemony rather than the Yellow Emperor’s way, feasts not on heavenly dew but on human souls, stacking the bones of millions to build a tower to heaven—what fate awaits such a one who lives?"

Yang Baize replied: "All living things scorched, blood flowing like rafts."

"And if one seeks to invert right and wrong, warp reality’s dream, flood the Central Lands with the opium‑sea of illusion, so that the world’s people can no longer discern grain from chaff, know no rites, indulge desire at whim, and fall into endless sleep—what would be the outcome if they did not die?"

Yang Baize answered: "People become puppets; life turns into walking corpses."

"And if another dons beast‑hide, feasts on the offerings of myriad mouths, preaches of establishing life for the people, setting heart for heaven, inheriting the sages’ learning, opening peace for myriad ages—yet never lowers his gaze to the soil beneath his feet, only stares heavenward, never asking of mortals nor gods—what fate if he lives?" Yang Baize answered: "He brings ruin to the state and harm to the people."

"Thus the murderous villains you speak of, before true demons, monsters, ghosts, and evil, are merely petty clowns, not worth mention."

The old man gave a faint smile: "Now I ask you, who ought to be killed?"

Yang Baize pressed his lips, thought no further, and said in a low voice: "Great calamities must be eradicated; minor harms deserve the same remedy!"

"You cannot have both fish and bear’s paw."

The old man’s brows knit slightly: "Don’t you understand this principle?"

"I understand, yet we can weigh grave harm against minor ailment, prioritize urgency—but the common folk cannot make such distinctions."

Yang Baize’s voice rang out, firm and resonant.

"To them, life is a single endowment; heaven grants it, one may renounce it, but no outsider may seize it—be they bandits, fiends, or even you and I, we have no right to take it!"