Chapter Fifty-Six: Repayment of Life

After sleeping endlessly for many hours, Tian Ku awoke to find himself aboard the cloud vessel, which was gliding slowly on its return journey toward the interior of the Southern Continent. The sky, though no longer stormy, remained shrouded in darkness—it was night.

Within the vessel, everyone was occupied with their own affairs. From what Tian Ku could see, apart from Xiao Jiu, who seemed unscathed, the rest bore bandages here and there—arms, chests, abdomens—indicating injuries, though none appeared serious as there was no blood seeping through the wrappings. Only the bearded monk lying at the stern was wrapped so thoroughly he resembled a rice dumpling, lying groggy and silent, his condition uncertain.

As soon as Tian Ku awoke, the others immediately noticed, and though none spoke, they all turned their gaze upon him.

He reached out and at once touched the great sword lying beside him, which reassured him. Sitting up, he found his body restored, his strength nearly returned. Only then did he ask, “How are things?”

“We’re fine. Second brother’s shoulder and eighth brother’s stomach were hurt, not gravely, but the wounds were festering quickly. After applying medicine, the rot stopped,” Xiao Jiu answered gently. “Only the monk seems in bad shape. Whether he’ll survive until we reach camp is uncertain.”

Tian Ku understood. On the way, in order to catch up with the other two vessels, the bat-ship had been pushed to its limit; its sigil furnace damaged, the return had to be slow lest it break entirely and become unrepairable. He pondered a moment, then asked, “What of the monk’s vessel?”

“That one’s no good either. The sigil furnace is of a different kind, and the demon cores we carry can’t power it. I’ve contacted Lord Lone Star, who ordered us to destroy it on the spot. It’s been done…” At this, Xiao Jiu frowned slightly, took a deep breath, then said, “There is something I think you should know.”

“Oh?” Tian Ku raised an eyebrow, expectant.

“The monk we killed belonged to the Yaksha division of the Eight Celestial Legions of Bishamon, and the one you slew was none other than one of the four Yaksha Generals—Night Yaksha himself,” Xiao Jiu said, apprehension in his tone. “Though Bishamon is far from our Great Zhou, and the Yaksha are not much to fear, Night Yaksha’s elder brother is the Dragon King.”

“And what of it?” Tian Ku was unmoved by Xiao Jiu’s gravity, smirking askance. “Are you afraid he’ll come seeking revenge?”

“My lord, among the Eight Celestial Legions, the most formidable are the Heavenly King, the Dragon King, and the Asura. According to our spies, the Dragon King’s prowess is said to surpass even Lord Lone Star. If he comes in secret, I fear…”

Xiao Jiu let the rest hang unsaid. Tian Ku, though no fool, caught his meaning and, after a moment’s thought, asked, “Have you told my elder sister?”

“My lord, you’d instructed us not to trouble Lady Yinsha with matters unless necessary, so I haven’t yet mentioned it.”

“That’s different now.” Tian Ku smiled faintly. “Before, I withheld it to spare her worry. But with Brother Jie back, what have I to fear? Bring me the messaging basin—I’ll tell her myself.”

“Yes, my lord.”

A moment later, Xiao Jiu brought a bronze stand, placed it before Tian Ku, then opened a wooden box, carefully unwrapping layers of silk to reveal a crystal cup the size of a wine goblet. He set it in the stand’s recess so it fit snugly, then inserted a demon core in the left slot and, from another box, selected one of a row of crystal pieces for the right slot.

The left was the miniature sigil furnace for communication; the right, the crystal slot, determined the recipient.

The messaging basin was of immense value, its crystal cups exceedingly rare—even the Tianshan Retainers possessed only a few dozen. Usually, it was kept secured, brought out only during assignments, and always stored carefully to prevent damage.

Water was poured into the cup, then ink, and Xiao Jiu gently rubbed the base; after a few strokes, both the base and the crystal cup began to vibrate, emitting a barely perceptible hum.

Though faint here, the sound was loud at the far end. Soon, light shimmered on the dark water, and the lovely face of Yinsha appeared.

“Little Tian, what is it?” Yinsha, still drowsy, covered her mouth with a yawn, her image unguarded. “Are you itching for trouble?”

“Elder sister, I killed Night Yaksha on this mission,” Tian Ku began, then realizing he’d been vague, added, “One of the four Yaksha Generals serving the Yaksha of Bishamon’s Celestial Legions—Xiao Jiu says he’s the Dragon King’s own brother.”

Sleep vanished from Yinsha’s eyes, replaced by a chilly focus. “What did he look like?”

“Monk’s robes, shaven head, sinister eyes, unfriendly look… and a face begging for death!” Tian Ku replied.

Yinsha nodded, thinking. “It must be him. This is troublesome. If the Dragon King comes openly for revenge, Brother Jie can handle him. But if he sneaks in…” She trailed off, then turned and called quietly, “Jie Shen, Jie Shen!”

At her words, Xiao Jiu and the others smiled but soon Xiao Jiu motioned to Second and Eighth, leading them to the stern to join Gui Qu. Second caught on immediately, but Eighth turned with confusion. “Jiu, why the sudden change?”

Xiao Jiu gave a wry smile: everyone knew Yinsha and Jie Shen cared for each other, but living together unmarried was still a matter of embarrassment for a maiden. Distracted by business, she might not mind now—but who could say if she’d be angry later? Best to keep a distance.

But Eighth, ever slow-witted, still didn’t get it even with hints.

“Shut your mouth!” Second whispered, dragging Eighth along to join Xiao Jiu in feigned rest, ears alert for the basin’s sounds.

Tian Ku saw their retreat and understood; it was only natural for subordinates to be discreet. He acted as if he hadn’t noticed, waiting for the basin’s developments. After a while, Jie Shen’s eyebrowless, broad face appeared beside Yinsha, rubbing the back of his neck. “Is it urgent?”

Yinsha relayed Tian Ku’s account. Jie Shen’s reaction to the Dragon King was more subdued, though his eyes held a hidden meaning. After a moment’s thought he asked, “The body?”

“The body…” Tian Ku began, but Xiao Jiu, hiding at the stern, answered, “Thrown into a pit and burned to ashes.” As members of the Ghost Banquet, burning corpses was routine; even with Tian Ku unconscious, none would forget.

“Wasn’t the fire set at the original site?” Jie Shen’s eyes narrowed, then he changed the subject. “Little Tian, where are you now?”

Again, Xiao Jiu answered while Tian Ku chuckled at the two of them, covering his embarrassment, much to Yinsha’s annoyance. “Over a hundred miles past Qin Pavilion, three days from Quanqiu.”

“So you’re close to West City?”

“At most two or three hours,” Xiao Jiu replied.

“In that case, turn for West City instead of Quanqiu. I’ll meet you there.” With that, the image went dark.

Tian Ku and his companions exchanged puzzled looks but could only obey, steering the cloud vessel toward West City.

Hundreds of miles away, Jie Shen closed the messaging basin, lost in thought, then began dressing in layers. Yinsha did the same, donning armor and arming herself.

Seeing her, Jie Shen paused and said, “You needn’t come.”

“Hm?” Yinsha halted, meeting his gaze. “Why?”

“Even if the Dragon King comes, he won’t rush. Whether you come or not makes little difference. I’ll take the cloud vessel and reach them faster,” Jie Shen said, then smiled. “But where we were going originally mustn’t be delayed—you must go in my stead.”

After their reunion, the two had returned to Quanqiu, reported in, and were enrolled as elders apart from the Ghost Banquet’s Seven Generals. Jie Shen had proposed to recruit three of his favored former students—two had been summoned, one remained a hundred miles away, half a day’s journey.

To request someone from the Fourth Army, Yinsha’s presence was needed; otherwise, it would be difficult.

This was reasonable, but Yinsha felt uneasy, suspecting Jie Shen hid something. She fixed him with a solemn gaze. “Be that as it may, I worry for your safety if you go alone.”

Jie Shen laughed heartily. “A mere few years apart, and you think I can’t handle the Dragon King? Do you underestimate your husband?”

“Of course not! I only worry for Little Tian. Who would dare look down on you?” Yinsha, flustered, forgot Jie Shen’s previous match with the Dragon King, which had ended undecided. At this, her worries eased, her doubts forgotten, and she smiled coquettishly. “Then you go, and once I find… that last person, I’ll come to West City.”

“The last student is named Yang Gu; the other two are Hu Xiaolin and Lu Yu—all my personal disciples from Ghost Valley. Their martial skills may not stand out, but their demon power runs deep, and they’ve mastered the second chapter of the Myriad Demon Codex,” Jie Shen briefly explained. “No need to come to West City; once you find them, return to Quanqiu. Little Tian and I will meet you there.”

“That’s fine,” Yinsha agreed at last, though she pouted, face flushed with longing. “I’ll miss you…”

Jie Shen laughed, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her deeply before striding out, leaving Yinsha blushing and savoring the moment.

Outside, Jie Shen’s expression turned grave. He quickly roused the cloud vessel’s pilot, ordering him to fetch a fat sheep and fine wine for the journey, while he took up a massive black halberd. All prepared, the vessel shot skyward, racing toward West City at full speed.

Though farther from West City than Tian Ku, Jie Shen’s vessel was swifter, arriving an hour earlier. He ordered the vessel to hover high above, watching Tian Ku’s cloud ship crawl toward the city. Only then did he activate the sigil furnace, circled wide, and cut into the bat-ship’s path.

After traveling several dozen more miles, he picked a remote, open spot, brought the vessel down, disembarked, and had the fat sheep and wine unloaded.

“You are to leave now—but not toward West City. Wait thirty miles south. If I do not return within twelve hours, go to West City and tell Tian Ku to return at once…” Jie Shen paused, then added, “Tell him I have already returned from elsewhere, and he should meet me at Quanqiu.”

“Yes, sir.”

The pilots, all reserve Tianshan Retainers, knew well the prowess of the Ghost Generals and dared not disobey, so they departed, traveling fifteen miles before stopping.

Jie Shen, alone, gathered dry branches and arranged them in a pattern, then set them alight. The flames outlined a strange symbol on the ground:

“卍”

Beside the symbol, Jie Shen raised his hand like a blade, severed the sheep’s head with a single stroke, lifted the carcass, and circled the fire, blood spraying, the stench heavy.

When all was done, he skinned and gutted the sheep, then roasted it whole over the flames.