Chapter 8: The Independent Cultivator Zhou Fan
Tan Yong summoned his spirit and drew closer to a fragment of memory. The nearer he approached, the clearer the faint voices within that memory became.
Until his spirit finally touched the “bubble,” unfamiliar memories surged over him like a tidal wave. Amid the crashing waves, chaotic voices echoed, their tones strange and seemingly not orthodox Chinese. Yet, through the resonance of his spirit, he comprehended every word perfectly.
...
“Steward Shi, just now the branch sect sent word: nine disciples were killed while out gathering Yunyin Grass after a conflict with a rogue cultivator…”
“...Very well. I will dispatch people to investigate. Also, here is the list of sacrificial offerings from the tribe yesterday. Only twenty two-legged sheep were offered this time. They say a group of rebels has recently appeared among the Han slaves, making it difficult to capture live two-legged sheep. They request our assistance…”
...
“The branch sect has replied. That rogue cultivator’s name is Zhou Fan, apparently new to Liang Prefecture. Here is his portrait for your review…”
“As per your command, the branch sect’s elite have been ordered to proceed. This time, Zhou Fan’s head will surely fall.”
...
“Elder! Just now the steward reported that the third wave of elite sent to encircle and exterminate them have all…”
“You intend to lead the men personally? Elder Jinyu, I implore you to reconsider…”
“No, no, I would never mean that. Zhou Fan certainly cannot match you. But the next sacrifice is approaching, and without you, no one can negotiate with those mortals…”
...
“All the elders in the hall have signed the dossier. Except for Elders Jinyu and Chihu, who were killed earlier, we only await your approval to activate the Wolf Eye Order and summon all our forces.”
“To go to such lengths to kill a lone rogue cultivator? Sect Leader, it’s been seventy years since we last used the Wolf Eye Order!”
“Elder Nightowl, do you still not understand my intent? This order is not merely for vengeance. More importantly, Zhou Fan is a Han slave.”
“If we neglect him, one day those mortals will discover his existence. Then they will realize that even on Hu people’s land, Han slaves can act unrestrained, standing equal to us.”
“Such a thing must never happen.”
...
“Sect Leader, just received an urgent scout report. Zhou Fan’s location has been found!”
“Excellent. Order all underlings to prepare for immediate encirclement—where is he?”
...
“...”
“Sect Leader... Zhou Fan…”
“He is right beneath our mountain.”
...
A gentle breeze brushed his face, and the scene before him gradually came into focus, revealing a leaden gray sky.
It was mist. Hundreds of gray wisps intertwined beneath the dome, weaving into a vast net dense enough to blot out the sky and earth, the mesh so tight it was almost imperceptible.
Looking down further, each wisp originated from a fluttering battle banner. Like a forest of flags planted among the mountains, cultivators armed with spears stood beside each banner. Countless figures densely covered the mountaintops.
This was...
Tan Yong felt his spirit tremble slightly. He recognized this as a formation meant for extermination.
The combined force of thousands of cultivators gathered into a single array. Killing intent surged from all directions, so oppressive that even as a mere observer watching through the mist, he felt suffocated.
Straining to steady his quivering spirit, he followed the gaze of the crowd toward the heart of the extermination formation, where he saw a lone figure.
A man dressed in black, holding a long spear. The distance obscured his features, but behind him a red haze spread thickly. Fixing his gaze, Tan Yong’s spirit shook once more.
Corpses—countless corpses!
A mountain of dead bodies piled behind him, blood flowing for miles. It seemed he had fought his way up the mountain, treading over a path of corpses and blood, right into the net that enveloped the mountains.
“Kill!”
A fierce wind whipped up sand and stones, the clang of metal resounding across the sky. Hundreds of cultivators rose simultaneously, their energies surging in an instant. Beneath the protection of the great formation overhead, countless spiritual lights rained down like a torrential storm, all aimed at the same figure.
The world froze.
A burst of flame erupted from the ground like a thunderclap, charging into the enemy ranks as if a lightning strike in the rain. Amid the flash of fire, several figures arranged in formation turned to ash. The formation enveloping the mountains cracked open with a terrifying rift, as if the sky itself had been pierced, and the entire scene ignited.
Amid thunder, wind, and flying dust, Tan Yong could barely see anything. His eyes caught only flashes of blades and swords, his ears filled with the relentless sounds of slaughter and screams. Torrents of blood rained down with severed limbs at his feet, but he remained unmoved, fixated solely on that figure.
Overwhelming suppression, absolute dominance. Though alone in the formation, his presence overpowered hundreds. One man with a spear slaughtering all before him—witnessing this was like beholding a god of death descend to the mortal realm.
The whistle of the wind brushed his ears. As the dust cleared, the black shadow soared into the air. Countless figures circled him, sealing off all directions—north, south, east, west, and center—forming an ironclad encirclement.
Tan Yong forced his eyes wide open, tracking the black figure at the center of the crowd. At that moment, the man in the air bowed his head. In the brief opening within the crowd, their eyes met for a split second.
The next instant, Tan Yong’s vision flooded with crimson.
...
“Ah!!!!”
The officers guarding the perimeter surged forward, pinning the screaming Tan Yong to the ground. He struggled wildly, clutching his head and howling in agony, three or four burly men barely able to restrain him.
“Officer Tan, calm down!”
“Call medical! Administer aI'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.