Chapter 344: Mount Dingjun
In a small courtyard deep in the mountains, Old Mister Yao was sharpening his saber. He had received Qiu Zhiheng's message and knew that all thirteen Mourning Cultivators had died.
The lives of thirteen Mourning Cultivators would push the foul luck within the Formation of Misfortune to its peak. Once that happened, the formation would bring a terrible calamity down upon Medicine King Gully.
And where would that calamity begin? Obviously, it would start with the land deity. The Star of Misfortune would bring the calamity activated by the formation to Old Mister Yao. He would also bring the resentful ghosts of those Mourning Cultivators straight to Old Mister Yao's home.
Under normal circumstances, the Star of Misfortune would not dare attack Old Mister Yao head-on in his own home. But now that all the foul luck had gathered at Old Mister Yao's home, he dared to make his move.
"Come then, old dog." Old Mister Yao said as he tested the edge of his three-pointed double-edged saber. He planned to capture the Star of Misfortune alive and force him to reveal how to deactivate the formation he had set up.
Even if Old Mister Yao had to risk this old soul of his, he had to break the Formation of Misfortune! As long as his soul remained in existence, no one was allowed to touch Medicine King Gully!
Old Mister Yao drank more than enough liquor as he waited for the Star of Misfortune.
Clatter~
There were more than a hundred liquor jars stacked together by the foot of the wall. The jar at the very top slowly slid loose and was just about to fall.
Old Mister Yao swept out his long saber and placed the liquor jar back in its place.
All these jars of liquor were part of Old Mister Yao's fighting strength. The jars had been sitting by the wall for who knew how many years, stacked there all this time without a single problem.
Yet now, of all times, one had slipped.
That was foul luck at work.
The Star of Misfortune had arrived.
For every bit of liquor fumes, a bit of foul luck could be held back.
Old Mister Yao tried to use the liquor fumes to suppress the foul luck, but the Formation of Misfortune was far too strong. The liquor fumes and the foul luck were not even close in strength.
Chilly winds swept through the courtyard. Five balls of green flame drifted in, then began darting about wildly.
They were the ghosts of Mourning Cultivators. They had come as the first wave, hoping to wreck the mechanisms and traps hidden around the courtyard.
Old Mister Yao hooked a liquor jar with his long saber and tossed it into the air. As the liquor spilled down in a glittering sheet, the ghosts shrieked and wailed, and in the blink of an eye, they turned into smoke and dust.
"You turtle son!" Old Mister Yao spat. "I have waited all this time, and this is what you sent to deal with me? A few stinking fish and rotten shrimp?"
The moment he said that, over a hundred ghosts rushed into the courtyard. They didn't attack Old Mister Yao, but they just kept circling him.
Are all of them Mourning Cultivators? How can there be so many Mourning Cultivators?
They were not all Mourning Cultivators. Some were ghosts of people who had been hounded to death by Mourning Cultivators. The Star of Misfortune had spent decades of painstaking effort gathering them, and in his hands, every one of those ghosts became a weapon packed full of foul luck.
Old Mister Yao swung his long saber again. Hundreds of liquor jars rose from the foot of the wall and flew into the air, pouring out their contents as they went. A heavy rain of liquor came crashing down.
Under normal circumstances, that rain of liquor would have wiped out every ghost in the courtyard. But as luck would have it, and it was very foul luck indeed, a fierce wind suddenly swept in. It tilted the mouths of the jars, sending the liquor pouring in the wrong direction. Worse still, it poured too quickly, and in the blink of an eye, every jar was empty.
This was the power of the Formation of Misfortune.
The rain of liquor was scattered by the fierce wind, and the ghosts still circled around him.
Old Mister Yao touched the hilt of his saber. The three-pointed, double-edged saber shot out, its handle stretching more than thirty-three meters in an instant. Like candied hawthorns skewered on a stick, dozens of ghosts were pierced into a single line. Then as the saber twisted, all of these skewered ghosts became ashes.
The long saber returned steadily to Old Mister Yao's hand. The remaining ghosts hid far away, no longer daring to come near.
Old Mister Yao yawned. "Old dog, I am about to fall asleep waiting for you."
The Star of Misfortune had lost so many ghosts. Had he really gained nothing in return?
The ghosts had turned to ash, but the ash did not scatter. It still lingered above Old Mister Yao's head. The ashes silently gathered into a lump, but it seemed like Old Mister Yao did not notice this at all.
This was a great mass of foul luck. If it struck him, Old Mister Yao would not be able to dodge the next attack. No matter where he tried to move, some accident would happen.
As the ashes dropped quickly, Old Mister Yao seemed totally unprepared and unguarded.
Just as the ash was about to land on his head, Old Mister Yao suddenly drew a carved bow from behind him.
At the same time, the four banners on his back flew up around him. They whipped and fluttered through the air, scattering the ash above his head.
Old Mister Yao nocked a feathered arrow, drew the carved bow, and spun around. With a sharp twang, he shot straight behind him.
Dog thief. I knew you would make your move.
Old Mister Yao had known the foul luck was closing in above him. If he dodged it, he would fall right into the Star of Misfortune's ambush. If he did not dodge, the mass of foul luck would strike him, and the next blow would leave him badly wounded.
Because he had seen through the enemy's tactics, Old Mister Yao had also worked out where the enemy was hiding.
The arrow sliced through the air and unfortunately missed.
That was only natural. No matter how good his archery was, there was still a chance that he would miss. Under such a thick mass of foul luck, there was no longer any possibility of hitting with the first shot.
Old Mister Yao shot another arrow and it still missed.
Relying on experience, Old Mister Yao changed direction and fired five arrows in a row. At last, one arrow stopped dead in midair!
It was a hit!
Old Mister Yao breathed a mouthful of flame onto the arrow and a figure slowly appeared amid this wretched howl! The Star of Misfortune had shown himself!
The four banners on his back flew into position, sealing off all four directions. They crossed and wore through the air, then pinned the figure to the ground.
"Dog thief, die!" Old Mister Yao shouted. He raised his three-pointed, double-edged saber and brought it down, slicing off the head of the figure pinned to the ground.
To prevent the Star of Misfortune from coming back into existence, Old Mister Yao took out his liquor jug and poured half of it over the severed neck.
Scorched smoke curled up from the wound. Once he was certain the fellow was thoroughly dead, Old Mister Yao let out a long sigh of relief.
The Star of Misfortune was dead, but things were still troublesome. How were they supposed to deactivate the Formation of Misfortune?
Old Mister Yao was just about to take a sip of liquor and steady his nerves when the corpse on the ground suddenly turned into a cloud of dust and rushed straight into his face.
This mass of foul luck had struck him head-on!
Did this burst out of the Star of Misfortune's corpse? No. This is not the Star of Misfortune! The thing pinned to the ground just now is the ghost of a Mourning Cultivator! How could I have seen it wrong? How could I have failed to tell the difference between the Star of Misfortune and a ghost?
THIS IS A DREAM!
Old Mister Yao had been dragged into a dream and all his senses and judgement had been twisted by it.
When did I enter a dream?
Old Mister Yao knew the Star of Misfortune had the methods of a Dream Cultivator, and he had taken precautions against them. His mind had been highly focused. Logically speaking, he should not have fallen into a dream at all.
Is it because I got distracted earlier? With the foul luck clinging to me, anything can happen.
There was no use thinking about it any longer. Old Mister Yao breathed a mouthful of flame onto his own palm, and under the searing pain, he finally woke up.
He saw no ghosts in front of him, nor did he see the Star of Misfortune. Still, he felt something beneath his foot. It seemed he had stepped on some scattered wine lees.
Oh no! It's the trap!
Old Mister Yao had stepped on the trap he himself had set up.
The courtyard in the dream was not quite the same as the real one. While Old Mister Yao had been chasing the Star of Misfortune in the dream, his steps had been twisted without him realizing it. Through one nasty little accident after another, he had wandered straight into a trap he had set up himself.
The medicine jar hanging above the storehouse shattered, and powder spilled all over him. His luck had rotten to this point that every bit of the poison he had carefully prepared fell on his own body.
The poison seeped into his skin at once. Old Mister Yao's body stiffened, and most of the liquor fumes swirling around him scattered in the blink of an eye.
Those liquor fumes were an important barrier against foul luck. Old Mister Yao raised his wine jug, intending to rinse the poison away with liquor, but his palm was wet with either sweat or liquor. The jug slipped from his hand and fell to the ground.
As Old Mister Yao bent down to pick it up, two ghosts pounced at him from behind. Driven by Old Mister Yao's will, the three-pointed, double-edged saber moved on its own and flew behind him to block them.
By another perfectly dreadful coincidence, the poison chose that exact moment to flare up with vicious force.
Agony tore through Old Mister Yao's body. His will wavered, his technique slipped out of balance, and the three-pointed, double-edged saber went out of control. It turned and stabbed straight toward his back.
The strike was both vicious and precise. It pierced clean through Old Mister Yao's chest.
Old Mister Yao pulled the saber out, but his footing was unsteady. As he staggered, he stepped into another mechanism he had set himself. A jar of strong liquor dropped from above and splashed all over him.
Could this jar of liquor wash away the poison? No. There were many jars of liquor in the courtyard that could wash away poison, but not this one. This particular jar had been prepared by Old Mister Yao for the very opposite purpose. It was meant to make poison worse.
The poison erupted across his whole body. His skin peeled away, leaving him a bloody, mangled mess. He remained standing, but every movement had become difficult.
Immediately, ghosts closed in with all sorts of weapons in their hands. The four battle banners struggled to drive them back.
Old Mister Yao would soon use up all his liquor fumes and once they ran out, he would not even be able to control the banners.
At this moment, Old Mister Yao heard a voice. It was the Star of Misfortune talking.
"Look at yourself. Just look at what you have become. What do you even amount to?"
This was the ability of Mourning Curses.
The Star of Misfortune suddenly appeared. He passed through the battle banners, grabbed the weakened Old Mister Yao, and tossed him away as if he were playing with him.
Another Star of Misfortune caught him.
Why is there another one? Old Mister Yao thought.
The Star of Misfortune held Old Mister Yao up and laughed. "I can't believe a drunken old thing like you deserves to be the land deity? I don't even need to kill you myself. A few wandering ghosts are enough to take that old life of yours.
Driven on by the Mourning Curses, Old Mister Yao lost all will to fight.
Three ghosts lifted the three-pointed, double-edged saber and stabbed it into Old Mister Yao's chest.
The Star of Misfortune said, "Do you still care about your dignity? If you care about that old face of yours at all, hurry up and kill yourself. I am saying this for your own good. If you, as a land deity, really died at the hands of a few wandering ghosts, wouldn't that make you the laughingstock of the world?"
Dying would be easy, Old Mister Yao thought. But what about the Medicine King Gully?
The Star of Misfortune had already thought it through for Old Mister Yao. "I will leave half the living people in Medicine King Gully alive. As for the other half, I will send them along with you as burial offerings.
"What are you still waiting for? Are you so reluctant to die? You have lived to such an old age, and you still do not know shame!"
Kill half of them? You little son of a tortoise. Just give it a try!
Old Mister Yao suddenly wrenched back the three-pointed, double-edged saber and slashed at the Star of Misfortune.
The saber swept through the air. And at that exact moment, Old Mister Yao's ears began to ring.
His strike veered off course. He missed the Star of Misfortune entirely, and another Star of Misfortune kicked him to the ground.
For every bit of liquor fumes, a bit of foul luck could be held back.
A sip of liquor! Just one sip of liquor, and he could recover!
There were still a few liquor jars by the foot of the wall. Old Mister Yao struggled to get up and tried to summon them over.
A sudden gust of wind swept through the courtyard. The last of the liquor fumes around him scattered completely, and his ability failed.
Old Mister Yao rushed toward the liquor jars by the wall.
The Star of Misfortune appeared again and kicked him straight in the chest, sending him flying more than three meters back.
Before Old Mister Yao could even climb to his feet, another Star of Misfortune appeared beside him. This one shaped foul luck into a long sword and stabbed toward his back.
Old Mister Yao barely dodged it. Then yet another Star of Misfortune shaped foul luck into an iron hammer and smashed it into Old Mister Yao's face.
The blow cracked his skull, and foul luck poured straight in through the split. Old Mister Yao's vision darkened. All he could see were faint, blurry outlines.
Why are there so many Stars of Misfortune? Old Mister Yao thought. Is this a dream?
Old Mister Yao was sure that he was not in a dream, so he deduced that all these figures were clones.
But how are his clones so strong?! Is this a spell that the Inner Province gave him?
Old Mister Yao struggled to his feet. Before he could even stand properly, several Stars of Misfortune came at him with a whole pack of ghosts.
A sip of liquor! Just one sip of liquor, and he could still hold them off!
He forced himself through a few desperate exchanges and finally got his hand on a liquor jar. But before the liquor could touch his lips, one of the Star of Misfortune's clones swung an iron hammer and smashed the jar to pieces.
The same hammer sent Old Mister Yao flying into the wall, causing the wall to collapse.
Old Mister Yao crawled out of the rubble and staggered to the bedside, where he barely managed to stay on his feet.
The wind-up gramophone that Li Banfeng gifted him was next to the bed.
He knew what the gramophone was for. He knew where the record had come from too.
Should I listen? No. I have no face to listen. I wronged her back then. Today, I have even less face to see her.
This fight had become a disgraceful mess. Even now, Old Mister Yao had not so much as seen the real Star of Misfortune.
Old Mister Yao thought to himself, The Star of Misfortune was right. I really have lost every last bit of dignity today.
Old Mister Yao saw the liquor vat inside the room. It was his last chance, and the only backup plan he could still use. However, he knew the situation well. With the battle in this state, and his luck rotted to this degree, if he rushed straight at the liquor vat, he might not even touch a single drop. Even so, he had to try.
Old Mister Yao had only taken one step toward the liquor vat when his knee gave way in the worst possible manner. The joint slipped out of place, and his whole body collapsed limply to the floor.
He braced himself with both hands and crawled toward the liquor vat.
Two ghosts rushed forward and stepped on him, pinning him to the ground. Old Mister Yao forced himself up and knocked them away. One of the ghosts staggered back and crashed into the gramophone by the head of the bed.
With his luck in its current state, that crash should have smashed the gramophone to pieces.
However, the ghost did not break the gramophone. Instead, he accidentally hit the switch.
Pop, crackle, crackle~
A faint crackle came from the gramophone.
Inside the room, every Mourning Cultivator ghost froze.
Old Mister Yao's heart tightened. He had no idea what he would hear. He had no idea what the chief commander would say to him.
Clang, clang, clang~
The gongs and drums burst to life. The sound shook the Star of Misfortune's clones until their hearts trembled.
Is this gramophone an enchanted artifact? the Star of Misfortune thought.
The Star of Misfortune immediately commanded his clones to destroy it. But the moment the singing began, even his soul shook unsteadily, and the real Star of Misfortune was forced back several meters.
"This letter has come at the perfect hour.
"Heaven aids Huang Zhong in winning his merit.
"I stand before the camp gate and send forth the command.
"Soldiers young and old, heed every word!"
It was the opera Mount Dingjun. Back when they had marched to war, this was the opera she had sung for the soldiers.
Old Mister Yao's eyes widened. IT'S CHIEF COMMANDER! IT IS HER! She still remembers this old man!
Two of the Star of Misfortune's clones charged toward the gramophone again.
The real Star of Misfortune was lying in wait beside the liquor vat.
According to the Star of Misfortune's calculations, Old Yao would throw himself toward the liquor vat no matter the cost. When that happened, the clones would destroy the gramophone, and the real Star of Misfortune would deal with Old Yao himself.
Victory would be certain. But to his surprise, Old Yao did not go for the liquor vat. He threw everything he had into protecting the gramophone instead.
The Star of Misfortune was secretly startled. This old thing is an Inebriate Cultivator. What he needs most right now is liquor. Could that gramophone be even more important than liquor? Then there's even more reason to get rid of it!
The Star of Misfortune sent five more clones to surround Old Yao.
In the middle of the struggle, one of the clones knocked Old Yao to the ground, and he crashed into the table behind him.
The table toppled into a cabinet. The cabinet fell over and by sheer rotten luck, it landed right on the liquor vat.
Luck was a very difficult thing to explain. By all rights, this should have counted as bad luck of the very worst kind.
But unexpectedly, Old Yao fell and the liquor vat shattered. Every drop of liquor in the vat splashed right onto him.
The Star of Misfortune was shocked and sensed that something was off.
This old thing just got lucky? But with the power of the Formation of Misfortune at its peak, how could he possibly have any good luck at all?
***
Huff. Huff.
Inside the Pocket Dwelling, Li Banfeng lay flat on the floor, gasping for breath.
Huff. Huff.
The Pocket Dwelling gasped along with him.
Li Banfeng rubbed his hip. "It is far too exhausting to dig soil with one foot inside the door and one foot outside."
The walls trembled, and Li Banfeng heard the Pocket Dwelling's voice. "I was switching the four rails back and forth again and again. Do you think I am not tired?"
Li Banfeng looked at the sack of bloodstained soil and suddenly burst into laughter.
"Hah! Hahahahaha!"
A train whistle sounded. It seemed the Pocket Dwelling was laughing together with him.
Huff. Huff.
His wife cheered again and again, and the war drums thundered without stopping. The Formation of Misfortune had been broken!
***
Boom! Boom! Rumble, boom!
In Old Mister Yao's courtyard, the foul luck scattered with the thunder of the war drums.
The gramophone was still playing Mount Dingjun. The drums rang out bright and fierce, shaking the Star of Misfortune until his heart trembled. Each word struck like thunder, frightening the ghosts so badly that they clutched their heads and cowered back.
"At the first drum, the battle meal is made!"
The liquor that had spilled across the ground vanished. Old Mister Yao drank it all down, mud and grit included.
"At the second drum, tighten the war robes!"
Old Mister Yao stood up and straightened his clothes. The four battle banners flew up and returned to his back.
"At the third drum, the saber unsheathed!"
The three-pointed, double-edged saber flew back into Old Mister Yao's palm.
"At the fourth drum, the weapons fly into thy hand!"
The Star of Misfortune summoned the ghosts to block Old Mister Yao, but as the gramophone played the recording, the ghosts had long since lost the ability to move.
Old Mister Yao swung his long blade. Wherever the edge passed, liquor mist rose and spread through the room.
In the blink of an eye, more than a hundred ghosts turned to ash.
Perhaps it was because of his injured leg or perhaps it was because he was drunk, Old Mister Yao staggered toward the Star of Misfortune. The saber flashed. The wind stirred. The Star of Misfortune was cut cleanly in two.
It's a clone, Old Mister Yao muttered inwardly. Where's the real one?
Old Mister Yao couldn't see clearly.
"So what if I cannot see clearly?" Old Mister Yao laughed. "I will simply cut them all down!"
In an instant, liquor mist swallowed the entire courtyard. The sharp, burning reek of liquor stung the Star of Misfortune's eyes until he could not open them.
The saber flashed and swept through the air, and more than ten clones were reduced to severed limbs and broken remains scattered across the ground.
The Formation of Misfortune had been deactivated, and the foul luck was gradually being drowned beneath the liquor fumes. Seeing that the situation had turned against him, the Star of Misfortune controlled one of his clones and sent it flying toward the courtyard gate.
Old Mister Yao hurled out the three-pointed, double-edged saber, and the long saber shot after the fleeing clone.
The real Star of Misfortune seized that tiny opening and tried to slip away. But the moment he moved, he stirred the faintest breeze, and the liquor mist shifted with it.
The banners on Old Mister Yao's back fluttered slightly and Old Mister Yao immediately figured out the position of the Star of Misfortune.
"Dog thief, where do you think you are going?" Old Mister Yao shouted as he reached into the liquor mist and grabbed the Star of Misfortune by the head. With Old Mister Yao's hand clamped around his head, escaping would no longer be easy!
The Star of Misfortune turned foul luck into a short blade and hacked and stabbed at Old Mister Yao's arm, but Old Mister Yao acted as if he couldn't feel pain and charged forward with his hand clamped around the Star of Misfortune's head.
The Star of Misfortune immediately ordered all his remaining clones to swarm him. The four battle banners reacted. They whipped and snapped through the air, helping Old Mister Yao fend them off. If they could block it, they blocked it. If they could not, they took it head-on.
Old Mister Yao did not care how many blades cut into him.
He had caught the Star of Misfortune by the head, and he was not letting go. He just kept charging forward.
The Star of Misfortune dragged him into a dream. Old Mister Yao's steps were twisted by the dream, but he still kept charging forward.
Is he dreaming or awake? The Star of Misfortune couldn't figure it out.
Old Mister Yao could not be bothered to figure out what state he was in.
So what if I am dreaming? Old Mister Yao muttered inwardly. I will just keep charging forward!
After the clone had been cut down, the three-pointed, double-edged saber flew back and waited for Old Mister Yao in the courtyard.
"Step forward, and every man shall have his reward! Step back, and you will taste the saber! Generals, follow me back to camp!"
The old general roared. With the Star of Misfortune's head still clutched in his hand, he pulled him straight onto the edge of the saber.
The foul luck in the Medicine King Gully scattered away and the Star of Misfortune wailed nonstop!
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