Chapter Forty-Five: Spreading the Faith Across the Grasslands (Part Five)

Once an Asura appears, it is beyond the power of ordinary celestial soldiers and generals to handle. Now, all Liaochen could hope for was that the celestial soldiers would hold out a little longer, buying him more time to prepare.

The Asura belonged to the six realms of hell and should never have reappeared in the mortal world. For reasons unknown, this particular Asura had come to the human realm and, after centuries of worship by a tribe, had usurped the name of a deity, becoming a being that was half-divine and half-demonic. To make matters worse, it had been summoned through a blood sacrifice, intensifying its ferocity.

As expected, the battle on the other side was turning grim—golden light gradually faded, and the celestial soldiers were being overwhelmed, barely holding out with the help of a grand formation.

“Divine weapons in urgent need, the talisman array begins. Quickly!” Liaochen swiftly wrote out talismans, waved his peachwood sword, and the freshly inscribed charms on the altar shone with a radiant light, soaring into the air. Suspended midair, they formed a strange arrangement—the Seven-Star Demon-Slaying Array. Once set, the talismans plunged to the ground and disappeared.

By then, the celestial soldiers’ array had already been shattered. One by one, the soldiers were swallowed by the Asura’s gaping maw, vanishing in a wisp of blue smoke.

“Yunhua, come here,” Liaochen called, pulling out three talismans and speaking to her in a low voice: “Yunhua, soon you must return to the tribe at once with Lord Eldemutu and Bayan. This bloodthirsty Asura is their tribal deity and will not harm the tribe tonight—it should be safe for now. I must stay here to deal with this evil god and cannot look after you. If, by dawn tomorrow, I have not returned, ignite these talismans. This earth-colored one is an Earth Escape Talisman; it will let you flee ten miles away from the tribe instantly, so the shamans cannot catch you. The silver-white one is a Godspeed Talisman; carry it and you can travel eight hundred miles a day to make your way back within the walls. The last is the Five-Thunder Talisman—if anyone tries to harm you, throw it and shout ‘Quick!’ That’s all. We don’t have much time. Remember my words: if I don’t return by morning, take the fox and go at once.”

“Master, I’m not leaving. I want to help you kill the Asura!” Yunhua was on the verge of tears.

“Be good, listen to your master. If you stay, you’ll only distract me. Remember what I’ve said,” Liaochen said, looking her in the eyes and articulating each word with care.

“Master, you must come back,” Yunhua said through her tears.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Even if I don’t return to the tribe by dawn, I’ll come find you myself at Xuanguang Monastery.” Liaochen forced a reassuring smile. Then he turned to the onlookers and called out, “Eldemutu, Bayan, you all should go back. Take Yunhua with you. Tonight, I must face this demon in a battle to the death. If you stay, you may be caught in the crossfire. It’s best you return to the tribe at once. Once the demon is vanquished, I’ll come drink with you all again.”

Eldemutu, Bayan, and the others had long been anxious to leave. Such a clash between gods and demons was not something mortals should interfere in, yet they had felt ashamed to run away. Now, hearing Liaochen’s words was like receiving a pardon. They called Yunhua and vanished into the night. In the distance, the last celestial soldier was finally seized by the Asura and disappeared in a swirl of blue smoke, returning to the heavens.

“Come, for it is our duty to slay monsters and demons. May the ancestors bless me with victory this day.” Liaochen muttered a few words, gripping his peachwood sword, standing ready for battle.

A chilling, manic laughter echoed—the stench of blood grew so thick it seemed to congeal in the air. The blood-drenched figure floated before Liaochen, three feet above the ground, drifting uncertainly before the divine altar. Its eyes, like bronze bells, were wholly devoid of white, fixed intently upon him.

Liaochen, unafraid, gave a slight smile. “Asura of the blood sea, are you not meant to cower in the underworld’s depths? Since when do you stride so brazenly through the human realm? You must be but an avatar. If your true form had appeared, I would have had to retreat. But as things stand, I alone must uphold the way of heaven and slay evil!” With that, he formed a seal with his left hand and shouted, “Seven Stars Subdue the Demon—array, arise!”

Suddenly, within thirty feet of the altar, golden light flared, trapping the Asura within. The demon’s expression was unchanged, though its blood aura surged mightily, resisting the golden radiance.

“Seven stars turning, seasons revolving—the array of vanquishment!” Liaochen cried, pointing his sword at the heart of the formation. “Shake Star descend, Kaiyang move, Yuheng suppress!” As his words fell, three beams of starlight shot skyward from the formation’s core, piercing the heavens. For a hundred miles across the steppe, the columns of light could be seen. Bathed in starlight, the blood-sea Asura was immobilized; its miasma sizzled and smoked under the celestial rays. Its face contorted, and blood-red began to creep into its black eyes. The blood aura surged, now threatening to overwhelm the starlight.

“Tiānquán command, Tiānjī conceal, Tiānxuán entrap!” Three more beams of starlight pierced the night, brightening the array, and gradually the miasma was pushed back—slowly, but surely enough to set Liaochen’s mind at ease.

Inside the formation, the Asura wailed—a screech like porcelain shards scraping together, shrill and unbearable, nearly shattering Liaochen’s concentration. Fortunately, he had been prepared; as his mind began to waver, he immediately composed and sealed his senses, shutting out the sound and narrowly escaping disaster. He took up the master talisman for the Seven Stars from the altar, murmured a prayer, and, using a drop of his own blood, traced it as he intoned: “Pivot Star judges, starlight unite, Big Dipper turns, seasons alternate, time diminishes—arise!”

Just as Liaochen was about to cast the Grand Dipper talisman to finish the foe, a sudden rush of wind roared behind him. Alarmed, he turned his head slightly—an arrow whistled past, shattering the talisman in his hand.

“Who’s there?” Liaochen’s expression changed. With his senses sealed, he had not noticed anyone’s approach.

A mocking voice came from the darkness. “Who else could it be? Surely the immortal hasn’t forgotten?” A few figures emerged—it was the tribal shaman and his warriors, one of whom still held a bow, clearly the archer.

“You worship an evil god and perform blood sacrifices—Shaman, are you not afraid of your khan’s wrath? Blood sacrifice of living people has long been forbidden!” Liaochen fixed the shaman with a fierce gaze.

“If not for you, why would I need a blood sacrifice? As long as you die tonight, no one will ever know.” The shaman spat the words through clenched teeth.

“Let’s see what you can do,” Liaochen replied, gripping the wooden sword.

As Liaochen and the shaman faced off, the starlight, never fully united, left the Seven Stars array incomplete, giving the Asura’s miasma a chance to surge back. The blood aura now threatened to break through the starlight and shatter the formation.

“A wolf in front, a tiger behind—and my own powers limited. With divine aid, I could face the Asura, but against these Mongol warriors, I am at a loss,” Liaochen thought bitterly. “It seems this ordeal will be harder to pass than I hoped.”