Jiang Cheng spent seven days on the mountain.
The town where they had agreed to meet up was in a mountainous region itself, very remote, with just a few citizens. The streets were narrow and uneven, and there weren’t even any vendors by the roadside.
Wei Wuxian squatted by the road as he gazed in the direction of the mountain. Still not catching any sight of Jiang Cheng, he pushed himself up and stood. He felt a wave of dizziness and staggered for a moment before walking toward the one and only teahouse in town.
The teahouse was the only building in town that was not simple and rudimentary. As soon as he stepped in, a waiter came up to him with a smile.
“Can I get you a drink?”
Wei Wuxian’s mind jolted.
He was exhausted, having been constantly on the move for the past few days. He hadn’t had the presence of mind to tidy himself up and probably looked unkempt. It would be a miracle if the staff of a typical teahouse didn’t pull faces at the sight of him and boot him out at once. This man rushing over to greet him with such enthusiasm seemed fake.
He swept a swift glance around the teahouse. The cashier stood behind the counter with his head practically buried in the ledger. Seven or eight people sat scattered across ten tables. Many of them wore cloaks and were drinking tea with their heads down, as if to conceal something.
Wei Wuxian immediately made his decision and turned to leave. But he’d only taken one step out of the teahouse door when a tall, shadowy figure pressed in close and, in one thunderous move, struck him in the chest.
He crashed into two tables, sending them flying. The waiter and cashier fled in panic, and the seven or eight people inside removed their cloaks to reveal the blazing sun uniforms underneath. Wen Zhuliu strode over the threshold and stood before Wei Wuxian. With a pensive expression, he looked at him as he struggled to stand, then at his own palm.
Someone kicked Wei Wuxian in the back of the knee, making him fall heavily to the ground.
Wen Chao’s face appeared above him, his expression one of cruel excitement.
“Down already?! You stinkin’ bastard, weren’t you quite the jumper in the Xuanwu of Slaughter’s cave? Just one strike and you’re finished? Ha ha ha. Go on, jump around again. Let’s see how you manage!”
Wang Lingjiao’s impatient voice rang out. “Quick! Wen-gongzi, chop off his arm! He still owes us an arm!”
“No, no, no. No rush,” Wen Chao said. “It wasn’t easy to find this guy. Cutting off his arm will make him bleed out, and it’s boring if he dies that quickly. Dissolve his core first. I want to hear him scream like that little bastard Jiang Cheng did!”
“Then dissolve his core and get to chopping off his arm!” Wang Lingjiao insisted.
While they were merrily discussing their preferred methods, Wei Wuxian suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood. “Sure! Whatever torture you people have, bring it on!”
“You asked for it,” Wang Lingjiao said with a laugh.
“Still trying to play the hero when you’re on the verge of death?!” Wen Chao scorned.
Wei Wuxian sneered at him. “It’s because I’m on the verge of death that I’m happy! I was afraid I couldn’t die. Torture me if you dare! The more brutal, the better—that way, I’ll be sure to return as a malicious ghost and haunt everyone in the Wen Clan of Qishan. I’ll curse you all and not allow you a single hour of rest!”
At those words, Wen Chao wavered. Descendants of illustrious clans, such as Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan, were nurtured by their families and influenced by their spiritual weapons from birth. As they matured, they underwent countless Soul-Tranquilization Rites in order to minimize the chance of them turning into malicious ghosts after death.
But Wei Wuxian was different. He was the son of a servant. He hadn’t been with the Jiang Clan since birth, and so he hadn’t had the opportunity to undergo a full suite of Soul-Tranquilization Rites. If he died full of resentment that corrupted his lingering soul into a malicious ghost bent on haunting them, that would indeed be a headache. The more torment he suffered in life, and the crueller and more drawn-out that torment was, the more savage and unmanageable his malicious ghost would be in death.
Seeing this hesitation, Wang Lingjiao hurriedly piped up. “Wen-gongzi, don’t listen to his nonsense. It’s not like anyone can just turn right into a malicious ghost after death. The time and place and conditions all have to be right, or he won’t be able to manage it! Besides, even if he really does pull it off, don’t tell me the Wen Clan of Qishan can’t handle one wandering ghost?! Haven’t we been hunting him all this time specifically to punish him? Or are we going to let him off just because he bluffed?”
“Of course not!” Wen Chao said.
Knowing that death was all but certain, Wei Wuxian felt increasingly calm. The bone-deep hatred in him hardened into a determination as cold as iron.
His expression made Wen Chao displeased, but it also made his hair stand on end. He kicked Wei Wuxian in the stomach.
“Still pretending, huh?! Who are you trying to scare?! Stop pretending to be a hero!”
The sect disciples followed suit and pummeled him. It was only when Wen Chao felt they’d done enough that he barked, “Enough!”
Wei Wuxian coughed up another mouthful of blood. He thought furiously, Time to deal the killing blow? Dying is all the same; no worse than living. And my odds of turning into a vengeful malicious ghost are one in three!
To his surprise, he felt incredibly excited by the prospect.
But Wen Chao said, “Wei Ying, you consider yourself a dauntless man who fears nothing, one who is both brave and mighty. Don’t you?”
“Huh?” Wei Wuxian sounded surprised. “So Wen dogs can actually manage to say something that makes sense?”
Wen Chao’s fist slammed down. He grinned nastily. “Go on, mouth off all you want. I gotta see how long you can keep up that heroic act!”
He ordered his men to seize Wei Wuxian. Wen Zhuliu walked over and picked him off the ground. Wei Wuxian strained to raise his head to look at the man who had killed Jiang Fengmian and Madam Yu and destroyed Jiang Cheng’s golden core. He seared his face and his indifferent expression into his mind.
The Wen Clan group took off on their swords with Wei Wuxian in tow. The town and the remote mountain gradually grew farther and farther away. Even if Jiang Cheng descends the mountain, he won’t find me…Wei Wuxian thought. Why are they flying so high in the air? To throw me to my death from the clouds?
After flying for some time, a black mountain suddenly broke through the layers of snow-white clouds. It was wreathed in an ominous, deathly aura, as if it were a gargantuan thousand-year-old corpse. Even laying eyes on it from afar struck terror into one’s heart.
Wen Chao stopped over this mountain. “Wei Ying, do you know what this place is?” He laughed cruelly. “This place is called the Burial Mounds.”
The name caused a chill to creep up Wei Wuxian’s spine.
“The Burial Mounds are right here in Yiling,” Wen Chao continued. “You people from Yunmeng must have heard that name before. This is a mountain of corpses, an ancient battleground. Stick a shovel in any spot on the mountain and you’ll unearth a corpse. Any unnamed corpses are also wrapped in mats and thrown here.”
The formation of swords slowly descended closer to the mountain.
“Look at all this dark energy. Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Wen Chao said. “The hatred is intense, isn’t it? And the resentment too? Even the Wen Clan can’t do anything about it. We can only close it off and prohibit anyone from entering. It’s daytime now, but once night falls, all manner of creatures will awake inside. When a living person enters this place, there’s no coming back—for the body or the soul. They can forget about ever escaping.”
He grabbed Wei Wuxian’s hair. With a nasty grin, he enunciated every word of his next statement. “You, too, can forget about ever escaping!”
With that, he threw Wei Wuxian off the sword.
“Ahhhhhhhhhh—!”