Chapter Sixty-Five: The Six Plagues Taoist, Refugees of Jiangzhou

Just moments ago, as he was observing the stars, the elder in hemp robes suddenly sensed that one of his spiritual treasures had been stripped of its imprint by another. He vaguely recalled that this soul-path artifact had been entrusted to a subordinate over a decade ago, tasked with gathering soul materials for his alchemy. Though this treasure was of little true importance to him, for someone to erase his soul mark, it could only have been done by a cultivator of equal standing.

In this age of declining spiritual law, could there truly be another who, like him, had established a Dao Foundation? Or perhaps some fugitive survivor hiding within the lesser paradises had emerged? The elder's gaze grew deep and inscrutable as he pondered the possibilities. It seemed that the purge by the Grand Primordial Sect all those years ago, after a century's passage, had begun to lose its deterrent power. Yet, it was only natural—this land, though now in decline, still retained its profound heritage, far beyond what those lesser paradises could compare with.

This was precisely why he had braved such peril to serve as Grand Preceptor in the mortal realm. Without these circumstances, how could he have, in just a few decades, encountered such great fortune, established his Dao Foundation, and even glimpsed the possibility of forging the Mystical Pill realm?

Thinking of this, the elder narrowed his eyes, a trace of gratitude rising in his heart toward the elders of his former sect who had expelled him from their little paradise. He believed it would not be long before they met again.

“Send word to the Wind Division—have the Listening Wind Tower monitor the movements of cultivators in every province. Should there be any unusual activity, report to me at once,” the elder commanded in a cool, even tone.

“As you command, Master!”

From the darkness behind him came a deep male response.

“And also, send word to the Plague Division. Have the Six Plague Daoist deliver the essence of the Five Elements without delay. I must begin alchemy, to extend His Majesty’s lifespan.”

“Your will shall be done!”

Another reply came from the darkness, and then all fell silent.

After giving his instructions, the elder pointed a finger, and a jet of black flame shot forth, reducing the shriveled skin beside him to nothingness. Not even a trace of ash remained, and only then did he nod in satisfaction. This Feathered Ascension Platform was to be the place of his enlightenment, the purest and most unsullied ground; how could it be stained by mortal filth?

Having set all in order, the elder descended the high dais at his leisure, making his way to instruct Emperor Yu on the path of Non-Being and the subtle arts of tribulation transcendence.

...

The next day at noon, on the ancient Golden River Road.

This main thoroughfare linking Jiangzhou and Jinzhou was now filled with the ceaseless clamor of carts and horses. A dark, teeming mass of people pressed forward in waves. Cries and wails, coughs and moans, rose and fell without end.

“Father! Mother! Please wake up! We’re almost at Jinzhou! Open your eyes and see!”

A child, just six or seven years old and clothed in tattered rags, sobbed as he shook the bodies of the middle-aged couple before him. The parents who had once doted on him so tenderly now stared ahead with vacant eyes, their faces gaunt, lips tinged with ashen blue—lifeless. Perhaps before long, this frail boy too would follow his parents, collapsing by the roadside, becoming just another set of withered bones.

Such scenes were now common all along this road.

...

“My husband, I won’t last much longer. I leave our two children in your care…” A woman, her face so emaciated it was little more than skin and bone, gripped her children’s hands and summoned her last strength to speak to the man beside her. But his condition was no better; he only nodded numbly, his eyes empty and gray.

Those witnessing this could not help but feel a surge of utter despair, and many simply dropped to their knees, wailing with heartbreak.

“What kind of world is this?”

Every cry was ragged, every word soaked in blood and tears.

Yet the others, hearing the sobbing, only maintained their blank expressions, dragging their families along, not daring to pause for even a moment. As they moved, every so often someone would fall by the roadside, never to rise again. Among them were elders, children, and sturdy men who had been heads of their households. Now, they all shared but one identity—refugees. Worse yet, they were plague-bearers.

Since the great drought in Jiangzhou, plague had begun to spread from Qianjiang Prefecture, growing ever more rampant. The authorities did nothing, even severing all contact with the outside world—no healers allowed in, no victims allowed out. The pestilence worsened until the city was nearly emptied; of eighty thousand citizens, only about twenty thousand remained, barely clinging to life. Only then did the officials open the gates, letting the survivors flee—almost as if deliberately abetting the spread of the plague.

But these refugees cared little for such matters now. Given a chance at escape, they seized it, gathering up their families and fleeing the city with all haste.

“Everyone, hear me!” A sharp-eyed middle-aged Daoist with two long whiskers, covering his mouth and nose, shouted among the crowd. “I am Jade Tranquility, Abbot of Red Pine Daoist Palace! Tomorrow, our Red Pine Daoist Palace will host a grand gathering of healers in Jinhua Prefecture. All who reach the city will receive treatment! Should I speak one false word, you may go to Red Pine Mountain and raze our palace to the ground!”

Hope flickered in the eyes of the refugees. Red Pine Daoist Palace—they had heard of it, said to be the foremost medical sect in Jinzhou! Could it be that Heaven had finally opened its eyes, sending a savior to rescue them?

Yet none saw the flash of cunning and loathing in the Daoist’s eyes. In a few short hours, he had roused the crowd and was driving them toward Jinhua Prefecture.

“Heh! This fellow is truly a talent,” chuckled a man in plague priest’s robes, observing from a distance as the Daoist worked the crowd into a frenzy. He had watched this man for several days—always gathering refugees, spreading lies about a healer’s assembly, luring them toward the city.

But that suited his purposes just fine. After all, his goal was to herd the plague-ridden to other cities, spreading the Six Plagues. As for this so-called healer’s gathering, it really was set for tomorrow, though he hardly cared. What use were mortal physicians or even so-called miracle doctors against his Six Plagues? The plague-worms he had cultivated were his pride and joy; without spirit herbs and medicines, no ordinary remedy could hope to destroy them.

...

Yet seeing the Daoist working so tirelessly, curiosity stirred within him. Never before had he seen someone actively usher plague-bearers into a city. With a flicker of thought, the man vanished from his spot and reappeared behind the Daoist.

“What’s your name?” The sudden, amused inquiry startled the Daoist in mid-shout. He spun around warily to face the uninvited guest.

“I am Jade Tranquility, may I ask who you are, Daoist friend?”

“Daoist friend? You flatter yourself,” the man sneered.

The Daoist’s face darkened. Just as he was about to retort, a wave of weakness swept over him, and greenish, poisonous blood oozed from his nose and mouth. Terror froze him where he stood. He stared at the young man before him as if seeing a ghost.

“Now, I ask and you answer. Should you speak half a falsehood, you’ll beg for death,” the man said calmly.

The Daoist nodded in fright. “I am Liu Chuang! I will answer truthfully, holding nothing back!”

Under questioning, Liu Chuang confessed everything: he had been sent at the command of the Prefect of Jinhua to lure refugees into the city.

The man found this amusing, then asked, “Do you bear a grudge against this Red Pine Daoist Palace?”

“None at all. It’s just that our Prefect, following the Prince’s instructions, wishes to seize that spiritual land and its ancient pine for himself,” Liu Chuang answered honestly, his mind racing. Realizing this man might be one of the rumored ‘strange ones,’ he decided to watch the tigers fight from the mountain—so he deliberately omitted any mention of a grandmaster residing in Red Pine Daoist Palace. He had heard the Prefect mention that these strange ones coveted spiritual lands above all else.

Sure enough, at the mention of the ancient pine, the plague priest’s eyes lit up. The Grand Preceptor had long been searching for spirit woods to build his Ascension Platform; if this ancient pine truly was a spiritual tree, presenting it would earn him great merit, whether used for the platform or in alchemy.

After a moment’s thought, the man waved his hand. Before the Daoist’s incredulous eyes, countless invisible worms poured from his mouth and nose, and his body shriveled to a husk in an instant. Why kill him? This was Liu Chuang’s final thought.

The plague priest regarded the act as a trivial matter. A mere mortal dared call him a peer? Such was courting death.

He clapped his hands and summoned three men from nearby.

“Black Death, Plague’s End, Heaven’s Punishment! You three continue herding the plague-bearers to Jinhua Prefecture and coordinate with the local Prefect. Defiance will be met with death! I will pay a visit to Red Pine Mountain first, and reconvene with you tomorrow.”

“As you command, Lord Plague!” the three men in plague robes knelt and answered in unison.