Chapter Twenty-Six: The Valley of Ghosts

Sixfold Ugly was still unable to escape from Guiju’s grasp. Yet, unlike before, Guiju did not flay his bones or tear out his sinews. Instead, he declared that he would send Sixfold Ugly to a certain place, where he would train in martial arts and sorcery alongside many other young demons. If he could survive and emerge from that place, he could join the ranks of the Great Zhou, ascend the Celestial Ladder, and ultimately become a god.

Such a fate held a powerful allure for Sixfold Ugly. Observing that Guiju truly showed no intention of slaughtering him, he finally felt at ease, submitting to captivity and eventually being sent to the far western land, to Thunder Sound Monastery. There, demons from all corners gathered, and so he arrived at this new domain.

The root of that allure was the final, flickering wish in Sixfold Ugly’s heart—to become human.

The mechanized Bi’an beast, belching black smoke, gained speed as it went. The demons caged inside felt the lurch and jostle as if they were on a boat, swaying up and down without end. At first the discomfort was mild, but as their journey deepened, the air grew tinged with a faint stench of sulfur, rotting and oppressive, and the heat rose ever higher, until it felt as though they were immersed in scalding soup, making every moment a torment.

Nearly ten hours passed with no end in sight. Peering through the bars, Sixfold Ugly saw that the stone walls around them now glimmered with a faint light—dim, but enough to vaguely make out their surroundings.

After a while, the glow intensified, bright as a starry night, and the descending mountain path lost its steepness. Suddenly, the Bi’an beast leaped into the air and plunged toward a deep ravine at the roadside. Sixfold Ugly, quick as ever, gripped the bars tightly, while most of the young demons beside him were flung into the air.

A massive shudder ran through the mechanized beast as it landed, slamming the demons to the ground in a chorus of groans and wails. Although Sixfold Ugly managed to hold on, his arms throbbed with pain. Over the din, the laughter of Jian Keng echoed, signaling their arrival at the valley floor.

Through the gloom, a vast mountain valley came into view. The Bi’an beast had stopped at a patch of fertile land pressed against the mountainside, scattered with countless houses and cultivated fields. People and demons moved busily about, but soldiers clad in armor, wielding halberds and spears, were the most numerous, guarding every corner.

Flowers bloomed everywhere, their glow illuminating the place as though it were broad daylight. Yet when one gazed up, the sky was unfathomably deep and utterly black, with not a trace of sun or moon.

In the center stood a great stone, carved with bold archaic characters:

“Ghost Valley.”

Beneath, in smaller script: “Yan Feng.” (YANFENG, pronounced like ‘yan feng’—the first of the Heavenly Stems, commonly referred to as ‘Jia’.)

At the foot of the winding mountain path, a long row of wooden stakes stood, each one impaling a demon. Some had perished, some had rotted to bare bones, and some still decayed alive, one even gasping weakly as maggots crawled in and out of its mouth and nostrils.

Amid Jian Keng’s unceasing laughter, someone approached the Bi’an beast. Without a word, this newcomer produced several knife-coins and pressed them into Jian Keng’s hand, whispering, “Here, I admit defeat.” This person wore a plain robe, his face powdered white, his chest embroidered with a brilliant red flower as large as a head—almost garish, a stark contrast to Jian Keng’s roughness. As he moved, a sweet fragrance wafted about him. Yet his eyes were wild and strange, and coupled with his costume, he radiated a bizarre, almost feminine allure.

Jian Keng refused the coins, waving his hand. “Forget it, it was just a game. No need to take your money.”

The newcomer pocketed the coins, casually swung open the cage door, and exclaimed, “Why are there still so many?” He glanced at Jian Keng and suddenly laughed. “Gone soft again?”

“Six or seven, that’s all—these tried to escape, so I killed them,” Jian Keng replied seriously. “There’s no point in slaughtering defenseless young demons. I disdain such acts.”

“Oh, listen to you! Sounds like you’re blaming me, but I don’t mind—I’m afraid of you after all,” the newcomer said, his gaze flickering with mischief. Then he exclaimed, “Almost forgot—Feifei just sent word. The old man wants to see you the moment you return.”

Jian Keng glanced at the caged demons, about to give instructions, when the newcomer interjected, “Go on, I’ll handle things here for you.”

Jian Keng didn’t argue, nodded, and strode into the valley.

As soon as Jian Keng was gone, the newcomer’s face betrayed a hint of smugness. He seized several chains and dragged a group of young demons from the cage. Iron collars dug into their necks, making them wail in pain, but he paid them no heed and continued pulling.

Some, overwhelmed by pain, tumbled and crawled from the cage, but the newcomer ignored them.

Sixfold Ugly dared not move, recalling Guiju’s warning: “Move rashly and you die…”

Once all the young demons had been dragged from the cage, a squad of soldiers surrounded them, armed with knives and spears, some swinging whips, their faces twisted and eager to seize the captives.

The newcomer smiled lightly, then suddenly began to sing:

“Chirping are the grass insects,
Hopping the hill locusts;
Not yet have I seen my lord,
My heart is filled with anxious longing…”

The lyrics were elegant, but the melody was eerie and ghostly, unsettling in the extreme.

At the abrupt end of the song, he waved his hand with a soft laugh. “Kill them.”

He didn’t specify who to kill, but the soldiers seemed to know well enough. They seized the demons who had crawled from the cage and pinned them to empty stakes. Chains fastened, hammers and long nails in hand, they nailed the prisoners’ hands and feet with sharp, sickening thuds.

Those impaled knew their fate and wailed in terror. The more timid lost control, the stench of urine mingling in the air.

In an instant, all the rash demons had been nailed to stakes. Three died on the spot; two lingered, groaning faintly. The newcomer frowned slightly, murmuring in a tone half petulant, half reproachful, “Why aren’t you dead yet?”

Two soldiers, trembling, raised their blades and stabbed the dying demons, ending their suffering.

The newcomer’s gaze swept over the pair, eyes glimmering, lips curling in a sly smile. “Why so afraid? Am I going to eat you?”

The two soldiers dropped to their knees, kowtowing desperately. “Spare us, Hundred-Marshal! Spare us, Hundred-Marshal!”

“So dull, so very dull,” the newcomer sighed. “There’s nothing interesting about you at all…”

With that, he turned to the young demons, smiling sweetly. “What I have just shown you is the second rule of this valley: Move without leave and you die. Have you learned it?”

His voice was tender and charming, his face gentle and kind. Yet, recalling his actions, every demon’s heart raced with terror. Compared to Jian Keng, this man was even more bizarre and cruel, his nerves stretched thin and unpredictable. Even in this sweltering place, a chill crept over everyone.

Suddenly, an angry shout echoed from the valley: “Tu Zhu, what are you doing…” The voice drew rapidly closer—it was Jian Keng returning at a furious pace, shouting before he even arrived.

“Ah, I’ve been caught! What a disaster…” Clad in white, Tu Zhu dared not dawdle, dashing swiftly away, giggling. “There were simply too many. Is such a small matter beyond me?” He kept laughing as he ran, quickly vanishing into the distance.

“Who asked you to teach them!” Jian Keng roared, giving chase and changing direction. “Take a punch from me!”

“You’re still chasing me… Oh, aren’t you worried about those young demons? What if they run off while you’re gone…”

“Enough of your nonsense…”

Their voices faded into the distance, soon lost to the ear.