Chapter Twenty-One: The Wilderness

After a time, the Six-Wretched One appeared in the wilds of the Western Border, accompanied by the mechanical beast Golden Eyes.

He did not go straight to that place of darkness. Instead, he first reached the western frontier, then turned northward again, slipping in gradually from the edge of human-held lands and entering the deep, boundless territory controlled by the demon clans.

He bore no mission upon him. Rather, he had come prepared to pursue the common bounty issued by the Escape from Mount Heaven: to slay demons, take their heads and organs, and exchange them at Dog Hill, thereby replenishing funds, recruiting attendants, and forming a force in a practical compromise.

After changing over to Golden Eyes, he traveled for a day and two nights, penetrating several hundred li into the depths. After resting one night, he began to slow his pace and proceed with caution. By then there was no trace of humankind to be seen; white bones and scattered remains faintly appeared here and there. By dint of the demon race’s peculiar instincts, Six Wretched could tell that this place had already become demon territory.

Soon he encountered demon soldiers armed with weapons, roving in hunting parties. Unlike the various mountain and cave demons he had once seen at Plum Mountain, the lesser demons here already bore a cold, murderous aura; their ranks were solemn, all the bearing of an elite demon force.

Since this was hunting, there was no need to choose. Six Wretched killed his way forward, gathering every demon corpse into the gourd realm to erase all traces. As he pressed deeper, by the time he found a demon settlement, more than thirty lesser demons had already fallen to him.

It was a fortified stronghold built upon a lake island.

Unlike the native demons of the Southern Continent, the demon folk here lived much as humans did. They no longer dwelled in caves and burrows, but built houses, towers, cities, and passes like mankind. With the waters encircling the island, it was crowded with watchtowers, halls, sheds, and dwellings. In the very center stood a great fortified keep, its outer walls stacked from massive timber and green stone, arrow slits along the top and spear ports concealed below. The walls were covered in moss and lichens, slick and treacherous, and on them were posted archers and crossbowmen, patrolling and watching over the place so tightly that it seemed iron-cast and nearly impossible to breach.

Within the stronghold dwelt the upper demon clans, half on shore and half in marsh, spanning the river. The entire island felt damp and cold; aside from waterborne demons, even ordinary monsters could scarcely endure there for long.

Six Wretched silently climbed a great tree and, from above, took in the full view of the stronghold.

This was a den of alligator demons. From a distance there seemed to be a little more than a hundred in all. The lord of the stronghold was a stout eighth-rank alligator demon, with fleshy tumors on his head and a face covered in knobby growths, his limbs powerful and robust. The rest of his kin were mostly fifth- and sixth-rank lesser demons, numbering a dozen or twenty. Beyond them were the subordinate monsters living outside the keep—softshell turtles, fresh-water turtles, tortoises, and crabs, seventy or eighty in all—though they were only first-, second-, or third-rank, barely a hundred altogether, and not many.

The buildings nearest the stronghold were all low huts. Here lived several hundred humans, herded by the lesser demons like livestock. They idled away their days, lying in the huts gorging themselves and coupling. Whenever it was time to eat, one or two would be seized, slaughtered and drained of blood; the freshest and fattest parts would be sent into the stronghold, while the rest was chopped into chunks and boiled in cauldrons for food.

As for the humans themselves, they spent their days stuffing themselves with fish and shrimp taken from the lake, and beasts and birds hunted in the hills, along with organs and entrails. Every one of them was fat-headed and broad-bodied, much like penned pigs and sheep, knowing only how to eat and nothing of life or death.

Seeing this, Six Wretched understood clearly: the place was likely akin to a human outpost. Strategically, it held no great value, and because of its position, even if humans tried to attack it they would have difficulty landing on the island. Thus it had become a stubborn nail driven fast into this place, severing the routes of passage.

Still, that did not prevent Six Wretched from making his move, beheading and taking the core to exchange for what he needed.

Patiently, he waited outside the lake for the chance to strike. He had plenty of time to waste, so there was no need to rush.

He began cultivating the Ten Thousand Demons Art. For several days he did not move at all, tempering the unstable realm he had attained over and over, refining it, integrating it, practicing the staff technique taught by Gentleman Overthrown Deer dozens of times.

On the sixth day, the moment finally arrived. The stout alligator prepared bows, crossbows, and arrows, then, with dozens of attendants crowding around him, launched a bamboo raft across the lake toward the shore, as if going out to hunt. Six Wretched, meanwhile, was ready at the first instant.

The moment the raft reached the bank and lightly struck against it, Six Wretched pulled the trigger.

The twang of the crossbow string rang sharply through the air in a crisp note, but the bolt flew faster still. Its silver gleam, stained with poison, flashed like a meteor in the morning light, racing at high speed toward the alligator demon. The stout alligator had just been preparing to leap ashore, body still not yet in motion, when the bolt already reached his face.

Again, a thousand-weight bolt!

Blood mist exploded at once. Within the range of a hundred zhang, the heavy crossbow displayed its full might. The stout alligator’s whole body was flung upward by that tremendous force, hurled backward through the air. Half his shoulder and part of his neck had already been blasted into pulverized flesh and bone. The raft fell into chaos. Those lesser demons lunged toward the stout alligator, thinking to shield him, or else looked frantically about, trying to find the killer’s whereabouts.

But it was already too late.

Six Wretched did not pause. Since the enemy had happened to cluster together, sparing him the trouble of aiming, he naturally would not miss the chance. His fingers snapped the mechanism again and again, and two more bolts shot out in quick succession.

Silver light appeared once more, striking toward the alligator demon drilling the wind—who was also searching desperately in every direction for the enemy. At that very moment, the drill-wind demon happened to cast his gaze this way. Seeing it, he was struck with terror. He had never imagined that the instant he found his foe, death would also arrive.

But it no longer mattered. The bolt pierced straight through his chest and back, gouging out a great hollow in his body, carrying away even his heart, and he died instantly.

Six Wretched did not wait for the result to settle. Almost at the same instant that the drill-wind demon was struck, the third bolt had already flown from his hand, rushing toward another alligator demon nearby who was fleeing in panic.

With the passage of time, Six Wretched gradually recovered his feel for crossbow shooting. In his previous life his marksmanship had been excellent; with bolts there was a slight deviation, but such a difference could not erase the advantage granted by talent. Moreover, the bolts had been tempered by the Calabash of Refinement, growing more powerful by the day. In his hands, there was little practical difference.

The continuous barrage of bolts could not remain hidden even if Six Wretched wished it so. The alligator demons soon discerned his position. After a brief moment of panic, the remaining demons scattered and surged toward him. These demon folk all had experience fighting humans, and were quite familiar with dealing with bow and crossbow users; instinctively, they reacted at once.

What they did not know was that for Six Wretched, close combat was no problem either.

The alligator demons were not especially fast, and Six Wretched had more than enough time to shoot them down one by one. But he did not do so. After making sure no alligator demons were fleeing, he rushed straight out from his hiding place, flipped his hand to reveal the Iron-Rod Soldier, sprang high into the air, and brought down a solid blow squarely upon the skull of the foremost alligator demon.

With that strike, the demon’s head caved in at once, turning concave; his body sank into the ground, and with a crunch of shattered bone he was sent to his grave.

Six Wretched did not stop. His staff whirled like the wind as he moved to meet two more alligator demons. Faced with the long swords slashing toward him, he did not dodge at all. Instead, he sped up his hands; before their blades could fall, he had already delivered two heavy blows, sending both crashing to the ground in spasms.

After advancing to seventh rank, Six Wretched had greatly improved in speed, strength, and physique. In addition, over this journey the demon cores he had harvested had all been refined into spirit pills, and his attributes had risen once more, nearly reaching ninth rank. Thus, facing these fifth- and sixth-rank lesser demons, he met them with complete ease and without effort.

The reason he fought in close quarters was simply to adapt as quickly as possible to the changes in his body.

Amid the slaughter, the bloodlust in Six Wretched’s heart gradually surged, and his killing intent rose hot. Suddenly, he even discarded the Iron-Rod Soldier, instead seizing an alligator demon by the belly with his bare hand while his right hand hammered into the creature’s chest and abdomen like a storm. The blows were heavy and fierce; though he stood only chest-high to his foe, with repeated strikes he drove the demon’s body down as if it were a deep pit, bending it like a bow.

With a crisp crack, the alligator demon’s spine was broken alive by Six Wretched. He crumpled like a shrimp, collapsed to the ground, curled into a ball, and every bone in his body was shattered.

Such frenzied punching naturally gave the other lesser demons an opening. Suddenly, a long sword stabbed in from the side, thrusting down into Six Wretched’s shoulder. But the strike only split his fur and hide; the moment it met flesh it was clamped fast, unable to penetrate further.

With a turn of his wrist, Six Wretched seized the lower part of that alligator demon, tightened his five fingers, and tore away a mass with a gush of fresh blood. The demon cried out miserably, clutching between his legs and collapsing to the ground. After rolling only twice, he was stamped in the face by Six Wretched, who crushed the entire protruding snout beneath his foot until it became a lump of mangled flesh.

Six Wretched was like a wolf among sheep, rushing left and right through the pack of demons. Though using his fists was more laborious than wielding the Iron-Rod Soldier, it also accelerated his understanding of and adaptation to his own body.

In an instant, the ground was strewn with alligator demon corpses, and the earth was entirely stained red with blood. The dripping gore even ran into the lake, drawing schools of fish to thrash and gorge themselves on the fallen scraps of flesh and bone.

Only not far away, the stout alligator seated on the ground gasped for breath, one hand pressed to the wound in his neck as he struggled to rise. His other arm hung useless at his side, connected to his shoulder and torso only by a little sinew. With each movement, that arm swung limply, utterly useless.

Having been met by such a sudden ambush, the stout alligator was both shocked and furious. He had only just managed to force the poison from his body, and his combat strength had not yet recovered. When he saw Six Wretched glance over, the stout alligator abruptly turned and charged toward the lake, then with two steps plunged into the water with a splash.

Six Wretched was no slower. The stout alligator turned, and Six Wretched was already moving; the alligator entered the water, and Six Wretched leapt; the stout alligator had only just fallen in when Six Wretched had already arrived and descended from above.

A gaping blood-red maw surged up from beneath the water to bite at Six Wretched. Its mouth was lined with ferocious teeth like knives and swords, stinking foully. It was the alligator demon revealing his true form and launching a sudden attack.

How could such a crude trick deceive Six Wretched? He let out a long cry, spread both claws apart, and pressed one against the alligator demon’s upper jaw and the other against the lower, beginning a contest of strength in deadlock with the beast.

The alligator demon itself was immensely strong. Even with Six Wretched’s nearly ninth-rank power, he could not gain the upper hand. The two sides were locked in stalemate. But Six Wretched merely turned a thought, and summoned an excellent helper.

Golden Eyes.

Such a killing hand, of course, was to be used at the sharp edge of the blade.

When the towering beast suddenly appeared before him, the stout alligator’s eyes widened in utter terror. He whipped his tail around and tried to plunge deeper into the water, but Golden Eyes was no less adept in the water. With the slightest motion, it shot out like an arrow and clamped its jaws around the demon’s neck.

Spiritual essence, carrying demon power, surged in like a tide. Golden Eyes opened its jaws and swallowed. With each mouthful, the spiritual essence was carried through the machinery of its body to the central rune array. The purity of this essence far exceeded that of the artificial demon cores it usually consumed. As it poured in, those parts that had not yet fully awakened opened all at once, greedily absorbing it.

The alligator demon felt as though he were trapped within a whirlpool; strength drained from his body at a terrifying speed. In an instant it seemed as if a hundred years had flashed by in the blink of an eye. His features grew gaunt, his whole body became like rotten wood, losing its luster and elasticity, and little by little even the signs of life faded away.

Six Wretched silently lamented the loss, but there was nothing for it. He could only let go and allow Golden Eyes to suck him dry into a strip of desiccated meat. After being soaked in the water, the killing intent in his heart gradually settled back into calm, no longer as savage as it had been moments before.

He quickly removed the demon core from the alligator demon’s body, severed the head, and selected a few more intact corpses for provisions. Then he climbed aboard the bamboo raft, used the Iron-Rod Soldier as a paddle, and began making his way toward the stronghold in the lake.