Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Eight

The carriage curtain was suddenly pulled aside, revealing a delicate face filled with concern. Yun Shang quickly assessed Li Chenggang’s wounds, then turned to the Taoist and said, “He’s injured! Revered Master, please, you must find a way!”

Ordinary people would never dare speak so boldly to a revered master; only the young lady of the Yun family, naïve and sheltered, would be so forthright. The master glanced once at Li Chenggang and spoke slowly, “What kind of solution do you want me to find?”

“Revered Master, please display your divine power and capture those bandits in one fell swoop!” Yun Shang urged excitedly.

The Taoist replied sluggishly, “Cultivators do not kill.”

“That’s fine! At least stop those archers so they don’t kill innocent people anymore!”

The Taoist said, “I was entrusted only to protect them from monster attacks. Now it is humans attacking them, which falls outside my vow.”

With a tinge of desperation in her voice, she pleaded, “But if you don’t intervene, they will be killed too!”

Yun Shang could not understand the Taoist’s words. Being killed by monsters was one thing, but being killed by humans was somehow different?

“There are people killed every moment in this world. How can I possibly save them all?” the Taoist said calmly.

“But… but…” Tears welled in Yun Shang’s eyes, and the Taoist’s words felt like a bucket of cold water poured over her head. Raised in a marquis’s household, she had only ever heard of loyalty and sacrifice for one’s country, never considering that fighting for the nation might require any justification, never imagining that saving a life needed a reason.

To her, everyone should be fighting now for the honor of the state and the bounty, whether mortal or immortal cultivator. Yet, to her shock, the Taoist was indifferent to these beliefs.

Tears threatened to spill, and she said, “But didn’t you also promise to protect me?”

The Taoist replied, “If anything happens to you, I will ensure you do not die.”

In other words, as long as the arrows don’t fly at her, the Taoist will not intervene.

Shaking with anger inside the carriage, Yun Shang could do nothing but watch. Outside, Li Chenggang gave a bitter chuckle. He was not like Yun Shang; he understood that not all Taoists were benevolent or righteous. Cultivators did not regard mortals as equals—not even as humans. To them, they were superior beings, far above ordinary folk.

The outcome was always the same: they looked upon mortals as humans look upon ants, feeling no sympathy for their suffering.

That a revered master would sacrifice cultivation time to involve himself in mortal affairs was already extraordinary; one could ask for no more.

“Find a way… break through…” Li Chenggang panted. His chest felt like a leaky bellows; he barely had the strength to speak.

Fortunately, his soldiers were elite and knew that chaos was useless now. Only unified resistance could save their lives. They braved the arrows, hoisted shields, formed ranks, and flanked the support troops pushing the carts, urging the horses forward.

In this terrain, rushing headlong through a hail of arrows would be suicide. Once they protected the convoy through this narrow stretch, they were confident of facing the enemy head-on.

The soldiers all carried shields of varying sizes. Though made from simple rattan, these shields offered excellent defense against arrows. As they consciously defended against the archery assault, the damage to the convoy lessened greatly.

At first, the highest casualties were among the support troops pushing the carts. Lacking armor and positioned most conspicuously, they suffered heavy losses and panicked, scattering and disrupting formations, which led to even greater casualties.

Thanks to Li Chenggang’s rigorous training, the soldiers regrouped and forced the support troops to the front, shielding them with their shields as they pushed the carts. Amidst the arrow storm, the convoy began moving again.

Beyond this narrow path, the road opened wide and descended rapidly toward the county’s jurisdiction, where supply and patrol soldiers of the Cai Kingdom awaited. Once there, no matter how many enemies, there would be nothing left to fear.

Hidden on the slopes were the forces of Xu Wenshan.

He had learned through a small spider spy that the Cai Kingdom was escorting supplies to the front lines from here. Sensing opportunity, he realized this ambush could greatly advance his ambitions for nobility and power.

So he decisively laid his trap here. Only now did he realize how risky this move was.

The enemy outnumbered them ten to one. Though he seemed to hold a momentary advantage, the enemy troops demonstrated the fighting prowess of frontline soldiers, quickly recovering their formation after the initial blow. Once they left this narrow pass, his weak forces would be exposed, not only dooming this plan but risking the destruction of his previous operations near Sha County.

There was no time to hesitate. If he did not use his trump card now, he might never have another chance.

“Fire!” Xu Wenshan shouted at the top of his lungs.

Here, “fire” was not about cooking or campfires. It referred to a weapon Xu Wenshan had hastily crafted before attacking Fengshi Village—a burning bottle.

After witnessing its devastating power, the soldiers abandoned the cumbersome formal name "burning bottle" and simply called it “fire.” To them, this earthen jar contained the very spirit of the fire god.

With a “whoosh,” the fuses on the earthen jars were lit and passed hand to hand. The initial flame licked each fuse, until every soldier held a jar trailing sparks.

“Throw!”

At Xu Wenshan’s command, the soldiers solemnly hurled the bottles into the Cai Kingdom convoy. The jars arced through the air, landing among the wagons.

“Boom!” Flames erupted in over a dozen places along the long convoy, instantly igniting dry twigs and leaves on the road as well as the felt coverings on the carts. The fire spread rapidly, far more terrifying than the sudden volley of arrows, shattering the morale of the Cai soldiers. The mountain path erupted in cries of panic.

One jar landed directly on Yun Shang’s carriage, soon setting the canopy ablaze. She witnessed it all, having been pampered all her life, never before seeing such a calamity, and stood frozen in shock.

Inside the convoy, the only one remaining calm was the Taoist. Seeing the destruction wrought by the jars, he murmured, “Interesting.” With a wave of his hand, he caught one spinning in midair, its fuse still sparking.

He twirled the jar in his palm, observing it as alcohol seeped from its mouth. The fuse ignited the alcohol, and soon the floor beneath the carriage was engulfed in flames. Yun Shang screamed in terror.

The Taoist recited an incantation, and a pool of clear water appeared in his palm, dousing the fire. Yet the flames did not diminish; instead, they grew stronger.

Yun Shang’s cries became more desperate. The Taoist frowned, grabbed her clothing, and pointed his sword upward. The carriage canopy instantly burst open. Grasping the girl, he leapt out of the carriage.

Yun Shang had escaped immediate danger, but the horrific scene before her was beyond description: countless burning soldiers running wildly on the road, helpless against the inferno; panic had seized all.

Her face pale as death, Yun Shang was certain of one thing.

“Witchcraft! They’re using witchcraft!” she shouted beside the Taoist.