Chapter Twenty-Seven: Kill First

All the little demons still stood obediently in place, none daring to move. The soldiers were equally motionless, continuing to surround the demons without making any move. Thus, on their first day in this ghostly valley, Six-Blemish and the other demons learned the two most vital rules: there is no escape, and no reckless action is permitted. Also, they met the two most merciless instructors here—Jian Keng and Tu Zhu.

Of the twenty-six little demons, only fifteen remained; nearly forty percent had perished.

It wasn’t until half an hour later that Jian Keng returned, leading the soldiers to remove the iron shackles and chains from the little demons and escort them to an enormous cavern. Over a hundred little demons had already been quartered there. There were no doors, no guards, yet all these little demons stayed quietly inside, showing not the slightest intention of escape.

Later, as the luminous blossoms in the valley gradually closed and night descended, Six-Blemish and the rest were brought out again the next day. They were then herded, according to their numbers, into rows of houses standing side by side. Each room held perhaps a dozen, sometimes as many as twenty, yet there were only ten beds per room, covered with dry straw and coarse linen, and a set of short, cleanly laundered garments for each.

Looking around, Six-Blemish realized that there was more than one cavern used for their captivity. Other dens also held demons, densely packed, nearly a thousand in total, each crammed into dozens of these houses, about fifty houses in all.

None dared move—not Six-Blemish, not the others. All stood obediently inside until a loud voice outside began to shout, over and over: “When the incense stick burns out, whoever has not claimed a bed and clothing—will be slaughtered! When the incense stick burns out, whoever has not claimed a bed and clothing—will be slaughtered!”

Six-Blemish kept his attention on the commotion outside. The instant he heard the call, he dashed for the farthest bed. Sure enough, as soon as he had donned the clothes from the bed, fighting broke out all around him—beds turned into battlegrounds, blood splattering everywhere.

Demons, by nature, were ruthless. After the torments endured here, some were already half-mad; given this chance, their violence exploded. They tore and bit their opponents, leaving wounds everywhere, shattering bones and still not relenting, attacking until their victims were barely clinging to life.

Seeing the others move, the slowest demons finally realized what was happening and rushed to claim beds. But by then, most beds were already taken or still contested. At that moment, a hulking brute set his sights on Six-Blemish, bellowing as he charged. His massive fists transformed into a pair of claws, sharp as hooks, slashing for Six-Blemish’s head and face.

But just halfway through his leap, Six-Blemish let out a low growl, grabbed a handful of straw from the bed, and flung it outward. Suddenly, the air was filled with swirling straw. Six-Blemish’s form vanished in a flash.

The brute was stunned for a brief instant. Suddenly, he looked up, and in his widened eyes, a fist appeared, threading between the horns atop his head, growing larger and larger as it approached.

For a moment, only one thought filled the brute’s mind: “So fast! How can he be so fast?”

This demon was, after all, of the third rank and did have some skill. Though shocked by Six-Blemish’s sudden punch, he instinctively drew a breath, his body glowing with a yellow aura, and bore the blow head-on.

With a dull thud and the sound of something cracking, the brute staggered back a step, but Six-Blemish fared even worse—he was sent flying, crashing heavily against the wall.

The monster chuckled but soon saw Six-Blemish spring to his feet with lightning speed and charge again.

“Still coming at me?” the brute roared, striding forward, one claw raised to strike, the other held defensively. But Six-Blemish was unafraid; as they were about to collide, he suddenly accelerated.

The brute instinctively slashed upward with his other claw, but this time, Six-Blemish lunged low in a bold maneuver, darting straight between the brute’s legs.

Only then did the brute realize his mistake. He gave a strangled cry, claws slashing down at Six-Blemish’s back. But he had already lost the advantage, and was never as fast as Six-Blemish—how could he possibly land a blow?

Six-Blemish slipped through the brute’s legs, reached out, seized something, and gave a savage yank.

A deafening roar erupted, echoing through the room. The brute’s face twisted and contorted like a kaleidoscope; after just two screams, he could only gasp hoarsely, clutching his thighs and collapsing to the ground, curling into a ball.

Whether demon or man, such an injury was utterly incapacitating.

Yet Six-Blemish did not stop. He threw aside the bloody lump in his hand and pounced again. His assault was as vicious as a wolf, as savage as a tiger, and he did not care for shame or honor. He killed to eliminate all future threats. Under his relentless blows, the brute bled from nose and mouth and died on the spot.

The other demons looked at Six-Blemish with more than contempt and disdain; there was now a deep wariness in their eyes.

“Time’s up!”

Six-Blemish delivered a final, crushing stomp to the brute’s face, splintering his skull, then quickly returned to his bed, sitting upright as the heat from his exertions seemed to fill the entire room.

Suddenly, the door swung open and Tu Zhu strode in, a squad of fierce soldiers behind him, armed with weapons and whips.

Today, he wore a robe of deep red, embroidered with a cluster of white flowers that spread from his shoulders down to his waist—a striking sight.

The room’s temperature plummeted. The scene from before replayed in every demon’s mind; all faces turned deathly pale, every body shivering.

Tu Zhu’s gaze swept the room. He wrinkled his nose and said, “Not bad—five dead, three alive. More died than survived. That makes me so happy.” He waved his hand in front of his face, feigning annoyance. “But the stench of blood is really too much—it makes my heart tremble.”

No one dared speak—not the demons, not the soldiers. All remained motionless.

After circling the room and seeing no further commotion, Tu Zhu sighed softly, his brows furrowed with disappointment. “How quickly you’ve all learned. Not fun, not fun at all…”

The air was heavy, not a sound to be heard but his voice. Perhaps truly bored, he finally nodded and spoke gently, “Enough, enough. Whoever fought, step forward—stand by the one you defeated.”

(The chirping of grass insects, the leaping of mountain locusts. I do not see my beloved, and my heart is troubled—From the Classic of Poetry, ‘Grass Insects’)

Ghost Valley

The ten Heavenly Stems and the ten Earthly Branches forged the Ghost Valley, refining monsters without purpose.

After the fall of the last tyrant, there is no true king; the rivers and mountains remain, but the glory is gone.