My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion

Chapter 1219: Chapter 661: Speaking of Slaying the Jiao Dragon, Then Slay the Jiao Dragon (Two-in-One)

The wheels crushed the dirt road covered with fallen leaves, emitting a muffled rustling sound as they slowly headed towards the dense mountains at the border of the Southern Border and Sichuan.

The roadside trees gradually thinned, revealing layers of gray-blue mountains in the distance, and the air was filled with the desolation of late autumn and the unique damp chill of the frontier.

Inside the carriage, Chen Yi was resting with his eyes closed, while Yin Weiyin sat sideways, watching the autumn colors of the forest flashing by outside the window, his face showing neither joy nor sorrow, only a slight weariness from the long journey.

Upon reaching a small mountain village bustling with people, Chen Yi signaled to stop and took Yin Weiyin into a roadside tavern with a tattered banner hanging in front, intending to gather some news and take a brief rest.

As soon as he lifted the greasy curtain, a thick odor mixed with cheap alcohol hit his face. The small hall was crowded with traveling merchants and local idlers, spitting as they loudly discussed something, the noise bustling yet filled with a sense of panic.

"It’s unbelievable! That thing in the water is really about to turn into a dragon!" A shirtless man gulped down some wine, wiped his mouth, and shouted, "Just up ahead at the Red River! A flood struck recently, not only destroying the Mountain God Temple, but half the mountain collapsed! The commotion was earth-shattering!"

Nearby, a skinny old man nodded repeatedly, lowering his voice, which made it even eerier: "Have you heard? The neighboring villages have already started preparing offerings. Three sacrificial animals are common, and gold, silver, and jewels are being gritted through to add to the offerings... but most deadly is," his cloudy eyes swept through the crowd, showing a bizarre mix of fear and numbness, "boys and girls!"

"Hiss." A sound of gasping in shock arose.

"It’s sinful!" someone slammed the table.

"Not sacrifice? Not sacrificing, can it work?" The shirtless man retorted, straining his neck, "If that thing gets mad, hundreds of miles will turn into a flood! You and I can run, but can the ancestral tombs and temples run? Can the crops in the fields run? That’s going to wipe out families!"

Chen Yi frowned slightly, his fingertips gently tapping the rough table surface, while Yin Weiyin sat upright beside him, his face still cold, although a barely perceptible ripple crossed his eyes as they glanced at the speakers.

"Is anyone handling this?" Chen Yi asked, his voice low but clear enough to reach the neighboring table.

Seeing his distinguished demeanor and the exceptional presence of the woman beside him, the people did not dare to neglect them and chattered away, adding more details about how the Jiao Dragon stirred trouble, how the rituals were urgent, and which village or town had already selected the sacrifices.

In the end, the skinny old man added: "However, I’ve heard that the townsfolk can’t sit still either. Someone spent big money to invite the High Priest Daoists from the Shenxiao Sect to exorcise the demon! That’s genuinely immortal means! Perhaps... perhaps there’s still hope?"

Shenxiao Sect? Zhao Deshan?

Chen Yi briefly recalled the brief encounter at the inn outside the Capital City. He nodded, asking no more questions, signaling Yin Weiyin to stand.

He asked no more, leaving a few Copper Coins as a token of thanks.

"Let’s go, take a look at that town."

Yin Weiyin silently followed, with Chen Yi still undecided yet showing signs of a change, hence trying to present herself as agreeable as possible, avoiding causing him frowns.

As for the child named... Qin Yue...

Yin Weiyin silently recited the Supreme Forget Love Technique, halting her thoughts to prevent herself from dwelling too much.

.........

As the carriage entered the town rumored to be preparing for the sacrificial ceremony, the atmosphere had transformed entirely.

Faded divine banners were hung along the streets, the air pervasive with the choking smell of incense and paper money burning, mixed with the unique pungent odor of livestock.

The crowd gathered near the stone bridge in the center of the town, mostly filled with numbness and an almost fanatic hope, intermittently punctuated by suppressed, low sobs of women.

Clouds of sorrow and gloom.

The sacrificial ceremony seemed about to begin.

On an open space near the bridgehead, a makeshift altar constructed with rough wood was set up, laden with pig, cow, and sheep heads, whole chickens and ducks, along with several crude golden and silver vessels.

Most glaring were the sides of the altar, where two young children dressed in brand new, yet bizarrely styled red garments, with faces coated thick with powder, were held by several men showing complex expressions. Their frightened wide eyes and faint sniffs added to the scene’s desolation.

The paper money mixed with dead leaves swirled in the bleak autumn wind.

The stone-paved path was moist, reflecting the gray sky, as Chen Yi and Yin Weiyin, akin to two outsiders mistakenly here, walked along the edges of the crowd, Yin Weiyin’s simple Daoist robe drawing many curious yet reverent glances.

She gazed directly ahead, as if the surrounding joys and sorrows were worlds apart to her.

Her gaze swept over the altar, grazed the frightened faces of the children, finally landing on an old stone bridge spanning the Red River not far away.

Under the bridge, originally suspending the town’s Sword, the groove lay empty,

the Dragon Slayer Sword had long been removed.

Awaiting the Jiao Dragon to trespass the waterway.

Chen Yi paused slightly, abruptly turning his head, his gaze falling onto an inconspicuous open-air tea stand by the riverside, motioning for Yin Weiyin to follow him as he headed straight over.

Scattered among the few simple tables were several people appearing to be resting travelers. At one table, several individuals dressed in scholar garb for exams seemingly chatting while drinking tea, but their backs were straight, eyes sharp, hands subconsciously resting on the sword hilts hidden beneath the table.

With Chen Yi’s approach, the bodies of those at the table instantly tensed, their gazes wary. Just as one of them was about to act, a gaunt-faced middle-aged Daoist beside him raised his hand to gently press down.

Precisely Zhao Deshan, who upon recognizing Chen Yi’s face, a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes, instantly turned complex, their eyes engaging briefly in the air, neither speaking.

Chen Yi’s expression remained calm, leading Yin Weiyin to quietly sit at the empty table opposite Zhao Deshan and his men.