“Whoosh...”
Bolai waved his hand again, sending a gust of wind and a flurry of sand flying.
With over a hundred thousand elite soldiers and countless skilled individuals stationed in this city, how could he dare linger any longer?
He immediately turned and fled!
The horse under General Lu’s saddle shook its head instinctively, disturbed by the sudden storm of sand. The general raised his arm slightly to shield his eyes, and by the time he lowered it, the demon had already leapt onto the rooftops again. General Lu merely smirked, his lips curling into a sneer. Combined with the scar on his face, his ferocity rivaled that of the demon itself.
“Hya!”
With a light nudge, he spurred his horse forward in pursuit.
The demon had barely landed on the rooftop when another arrow struck, forcing him down again.
This time, his thigh was nearly pierced clean through.
It was said that even the tough-skinned rhino demon, whose hide could barely be penetrated by siege crossbows, had fallen to one of Cao Yan's arrows. That legendary shot had pierced the demon's eye, killing it beneath the city walls. Bolai had no doubt about the precision and power of this famed sharpshooter of Great Yan’s army.
“But what on earth is going on?”
It wasn’t surprising that the northern garrison had skilled individuals capable of predicting his arrival tonight. But why were so many dark corners of the city lit with lamps tonight? Why were those previously abandoned buildings and storehouses now under constant guard? Could it be that they had uncovered the secret behind his technique?
And why was it that, despite finding supposedly unguarded places multiple times, he still felt as though he was being watched and unable to escape?
Neigh...
Ahead stood another imposing general, armed with a spear.
“Whoosh...”
Bolai exhaled a gust of gray smoke.
As the smoke swept over, the soldiers behind the general immediately became disoriented. Some stumbled into walls, while others collapsed to the ground, with at least half losing their combat capability.
However, the other half, consisting of highly skilled warriors with strong qi, lifeforce and steadfast resolve, quickly covered their noses and mouths, glaring directly at Bolai.
As for the mounted general with the spear, he had undergone ceremonial blessings before the campaign, including offerings to the heavens and deities, crossing fire pits, and drinking sacred water. Resistant to evil and corruption, he was entirely unaffected by the gray smoke. Narrowing his eyes, he waved the smoke aside with his left hand, spat to the side, and charged forward on horseback.
Clop, clop, clop...
In his panic, Bolai’s animal instincts kicked in. Without thinking, he avoided the well-lit streets and alleys, fleeing into the darkness.
He ran as if racing against the soldiers and clashing with the officers at every turn.
Finally, dragging his injured leg and bristling with arrows, his body resembling a pincushion, he stumbled into a pitch-black alley. This was the edge of the military town.
It was only after arriving that Bolai realized his predicament: on the right stood the city wall, towering four to five zhang high. On the left loomed another tall building of unknown purpose. He was trapped in the middle of a narrow horse path.
If his leg were uninjured, he could have easily leapt onto the rooftop to his left. Even the steep city wall to his right, as sheer as a cliff, wouldn’t have posed much of a challenge—he could have scaled it with ease. But now, with his injured leg, such feats were out of the question.
Bolai felt an involuntary pang of frustration but had no choice but to move forward.
He ran to the middle of the path and stopped.
Sure enough—
Ahead stood a group of officers and soldiers.
Leading them was none other than the burly, hammer-wielding Lu Dehui. His robust qi and lifeforce seemed to shine brightly in Bolai’s demonic eyes.
Flanking him was a squad of elite soldiers. If thrown into the jianghu, they would undoubtedly hold some renown. Clad in iron armor, shield-bearers formed a wall at the front. Behind them were soldiers armed with long spears or broadswords, and at the rear, another squad was slowly pushing forward a arcuballista, already loaded and ready to fire.
Bolai, panicking, turned to look behind him.
A second group of officers and soldiers was advancing from that direction.
The general leading this group appeared to be in his forties or fifties, wielding a mighty bow that radiated a divine light in Bolai’s eyes. At his waist hung a thick-backed golden blade, undoubtedly stained with the blood of many demons.
“Gaaah!” Bolai let out a sharp screech, raising both hands in a desperate gesture.
A fierce gale suddenly arose on the horse path, blowing toward both sides.
The wind was so strong that it not only kicked up sand and gravel but also sent people and horses tumbling.
Even the warhorse beneath the general couldn’t help but rear up on its hind legs.
Chaos broke out in an instant—shouts of alarm, the cries of horses, and the clanging of armor. The ballista was caught in the gust and knocked askew, its massive bolt firing off with a twang.
The bolt flew diagonally into the city wall, carving a deep gouge before rebounding to the opposite wall. It ricocheted back and forth several times between the walls of the narrow horse path before finally clattering to the ground.
Seizing the moment, Bolai took a deep breath, his chest swelling dramatically.
He then exhaled a thick cloud of black smoke.
The smoke was as dark as ink, darker even than the night. In mere moments, it filled the entire horse path, completely obscuring his figure.
“...” Bolai’s eyes sharpened as he formed a hand seal, preparing to escape.
“Hmm?”
Why couldn’t he leave?
“Something’s wrong!”
He faintly sensed a gaze descending from above. That gaze was sharp and resolute, cutting through the night and piercing the dense, inky black smoke surrounding him.
Bolai instinctively looked up.
There, protruding from the city wall, was a wooden board. On the board was a talisman, roughly three fingers wide and over a palm in length. The edges were inscribed with cinnabar markings, and at the center was a single, intricately drawn eye.
The eye seemed almost alive and carried essence. Cold and aloof, it gazed down at him with an air of indifference.
In such a scene, it felt divine, an overwhelming force that shook the very core of his being.
Clop, clop…
The sound of heavy hoofbeats grew rapidly louder, approaching from a distance.
Caught in the grip of that gaze, Bolai froze, unable to react. He suddenly felt the black fog part violently as a rider charged through. The mounted figure’s iron mace, wielded with the combined force of a galloping warhorse, struck him squarely.
“Boom!”
The blow was devastatingly powerful.
Bolai, far lighter than a human, was sent flying backward from the impact, his body hurtling out of the black smoke.
Even if his entire body had been made of iron, such a strike would have left it deeply dented.
Before he could even hit the ground, another arrow shot through the air.
Bolai collapsed to the ground, still trying to struggle, but when he looked up, he saw the general with the iron mace standing before him.
The burly general, as strong as an ox, had a full beard and a face full of fierce muscles. His jaw was clenched tightly, his eyes wide like copper bells, and he swung his mace downward with all his might. His body radiated an overwhelming vitality—so potent that even ghosts would be terrified.
His gleaming golden armor shimmered faintly in the darkness, making him appear less like a mortal general and more like a divine guardian deity descending from the heavens.
Bolai couldn’t help but stare in shock, his courage shattered. Meanwhile, the talisman on the city wall continued to glare coldly at him.
***
In a house near the center of Yuanzhi City…
The calico cat was still perched by the window, gazing out into the late-night distance with her ears pricked.
In truth, with the house and courtyard walls blocking her view, she couldn’t see anything. But her curiosity was insatiable, so she sat there, listening intently and piecing together the chaotic sounds and movements to imagine the scene.
Even with such limited information, she was completely absorbed.
When the noise from that direction finally subsided, she snapped out of her trance and turned to look behind her. She saw that the Daoist had just set down his brush, seemingly finished with his writing.
“...?”
The calico cat blinked in confusion.
She quickly leapt down from the window and dashed over to the table, only to see the Daoist blow gently on the paper, drying the ink. By the time she jumped onto the table again, the Daoist had just finished folding up the sheet of paper.
“...?”
The calico cat tilted her head up, staring directly at him.
“It’s nothing much,” the Daoist replied, “I just some matters related to you, Lady Calico.”
“...!?”
The cat’s curiosity grew even stronger.
Lifting her right paw, she tried to grab the Daoist’s sleeve. However, with a casual turn, the Daoist avoided her and neatly tucked the paper away into a pouch.
“Did they catch the demon?”
“Hmm...”
“Did they catch it?”
“They did,” the calico cat said absentmindedly. “It seems to be some kind of sparrow.”
“A bird demon?”
“I heard a sparrow calling.”
“Why didn’t the bird just fly away?”
“I don’t know...”
The calico cat ran over, tilting her head up to stare at him. “What did you write about me?”
“It’s late. Go to sleep.”
“What did you write about me?”
“Tomorrow we’ll go see that bird demon. Hopefully, it’s still alive.”
“What did you write?”
“You’re not allowed to peek.”
“What did you write?”
The Lady Calico grew so anxious she began pacing in circles on the table.
“Time to sleep...”
Song You, ignoring her entirely, walked over to the bed. He then lay down, and pulled the blanket over himself.
The grassland nights were cool but not cold, the perfect temperature for a good sleep under a blanket.
The calico cat stared at him, dumbfounded. Seeing that he had really fallen asleep, she grew restless for a while longer. But there was nothing she could do, so she reluctantly wiped her paws, jumped onto the bed, and sat by his head, staring down at him intently as if trying to wake him up with her gaze.
The Daoist slept soundly.
The Lady Calico watched him for a long time before lying down to sleep herself, but she couldn’t fall asleep no matter how hard she tried.
***
When she finally opened her eyes, it was already morning.
General Chen sent someone with hot water and breakfast and invited Song You to the training hall.
“What’s wrong, Lady Calico?”
“Nothing’s wrong!”
“Didn’t sleep well last night?”
“I didn’t sleep well last night!”
“Do you still want to go to the training hall?”
“I want to go to the training hall!”
“Let’s go then.”
Song You pressed his lips together and said no more.
In the training hall, officers and strategists formed a circle around a bird in the center, larger than a chicken.
The bird’s feathers on its head and neck were grayish-white, resembling a misty winter morning. Its back was colored like the vibrant clouds of sunrise or sunset, while its wingtips, tail, and the area around its eyes were black. It lay collapsed on the ground, barely able to stand, its body covered in wounds and blood trickling from its beak.
Its wings, however, appeared malformed—small and misshapen.
“So it wasn’t Bolai, but bolao,” Song You remarked as he stepped closer, glancing at the creature.
It was a bolao, also known as shrikes or the butcher bird. They were the shrikes often described in Chinese poetry.
This bird wasn’t large and couldn’t compare to raptors, but it was naturally fierce and cruel. It had a habit of impaling its prey on thorny trees or brambles. Sometimes, people who didn’t know better would come across thorn trees in the wild with small birds, mice, lizards, or even insects impaled on them, dried by the sun.
They’d feel both horrified and fearful, sometimes even suspecting it was the work of ghosts. But in reality, it was the doing of this bird.
Song You, however, seemed indifferent to the shrike’s injuries and instead turned to General Chen.
“Were there any casualties when you captured it?”
“This creature isn’t particularly dangerous. A few soldiers took a tumble or got some bruises from its strikes, but nothing serious.”
“That’s good.”
This was expected.
Birds were naturally frail. Though the shrike was more aggressive than a swallow, it is still far weaker than a raptor. Even after becoming a demon, it remained physically small. Its cultivation level wasn’t shallow, but most of its time had been spent practicing Phantom Trace. Naturally, it wasn’t skilled in combat.
“If there’s anything you’d like to ask, give it a try. We questioned it thoroughly last night. It can speak Great Yan’s language and is rather timid—not particularly bold.”
“Understood.”
Song You then turned his gaze toward the shrike lying on the ground.
The bird stared back at him with its glossy black eyes.
“We invited you here simply to ask this: the Phantom Trace technique is an ancient Daoist art of Great Yan, a legitimate technique of our tradition. General Chen mentioned that you can speak Great Yan’s official language. Might I ask, where did you learn this skill?”
This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.
“...”
The shrike, as large as a chicken, rolled its glossy black eyes. It spat out a few clots of blood, and weakly asked, “If I tell you, will you let me go?”
“I'm afraid not,” Song You replied calmly.
“Then why should I tell you?”
“Bam!”
A small paw smacked it squarely on its body.
“Gah!” The shrike squawked in pain, turning its head to the side—only to find itself face-to-face with a cat's head.
“...!”
Where did this cat come from?
Panicking, the shrike quickly turned its head back, its voice feeble. “I—I’m originally a southern bird. I cultivated within the borders of Great Yan. When I was young, my wings were deformed, and I was taken in by the head of a Daoist temple. That temple was built on the remnants of the Grotto-Heavens and Blissful Lands from antiquity.
“It contained some incredible techniques, but the descendants were short-lived and could never master them!”
“And what was the name of this temple?”
“Why should I tell you?”
“Bam!!”
“Gah!” The shrike let out another pitiful cry, turning its head away again.
The calico cat had already retracted her paw and was now sitting lazily on the ground, yawning as if nothing had happened. It was as though hitting the injured bird was no different to her than eating or drinking—completely effortless and with no burden on her conscience. Naturally, she didn’t care in the slightest.
“In Jingzhou. If you’re capable, go find it yourself!” the bird grumbled.
“Jingzhou, huh...”
“Don’t ask me the name. I won’t tell you.”
“Within the pot, the heavens near,
A boundless realm, serene and clear.
The cave holds mist, the sun stands still,
Time flows soft, a gentle will.”
Song You recited the verse softly as he glanced down, carefully observing the bird’s reaction.
The shrike’s eyes immediately widened. Despite its injuries, it flapped its wings twice on the ground in visible agitation.
“How do you know that?”
“Ancient legacies are rare in this world. During my travels in Jingzhou, I happened to come across one and decided to ask around,” Song You replied with a slight smile. “Looks like I guessed right.”
“This has nothing to do with them!”
“I can tell right from wrong,” Song You assured him before continuing, “But why did you come to the North?”
“...”
“Aren’t you going to answer me?”
“There are people to eat here. Eating people accelerates cultivation,” the bird admitted reluctantly.
“And why did you go to Zhaoye City?”
“That place is full of demons.”
“And why did you assist the northern frontier people?”
“What difference is there between the northern frontier people and Great Yan people?”
“Surely you know that since the chaos of ancient times, demons, deities, and ghosts are no longer permitted to interfere in human conflicts?”
“If I’m already eating people, what difference does it make?”
“I see,” Song You nodded. “So, you and the other demons helped the northern frontier people because they allowed you to eat humans?”
“They promised us land of four prefectures if Great Yan fell.”
“Is that all?”
“What more would you want?”
“I’m merely asking if someone else might have been secretly directing this.”
As before, Song You spoke calmly while observing the bird.
Unfortunately, it was hard for humans to discern expressions on a cat’s face, and even harder on a bird’s face.
The bird on the ground looked much the same as before and even mocked him, saying, “Do you think everything in this world must be under human control?”
“Fair point,” Song You nodded again. “I’ve finished my questions. But I’m curious about one more thing. If you were taken in as a disabled chick, raised, and later gained your cultivation within a Daoist temple, didn’t they try to persuade you to live virtuously? How did you end up eating people and causing harm?”
“And what do you think happened to these wings of mine?” the bird retorted bitterly.
“I see,” Song You nodded, letting out a sigh.
As a chick, its wings had been broken by humans. Later, it was fortunate enough to be taken in by a Daoist temple. It eventually attained enlightenment, but unable to fly, it painstakingly mastered the Phantom Trace technique—an inspiring story in its own right.
However, harboring resentment toward humans and frequently retreating into isolation to practice this demanding art, the bird’s heart was tested repeatedly. Coupled with its inherently cruel nature, it unknowingly strayed into the demonic path.
“I have no further questions,” Song You said, withdrawing his gaze and turning to the nearby general.
“Understood.” General Chen waved his hand, his expression indifferent. “Impale it on a long spear and display it on the city wall.”
The shrike immediately began to thrash about wildly.
Two highly skilled generals stepped forward and, as if handling a mere chicken, dragged it away.
For a moment, the people in the hall couldn’t help but sigh.
This bird demon, while not a particularly ferocious or powerful creature, had been extremely troublesome and terrifying. It had caused more casualties and fear among the city’s officers and soldiers than many larger, stronger demons. Despite everyone’s best efforts, they hadn’t been able to subdue it. Who would have thought that Mr. Song, on his very first day here, would capture it so effortlessly?