Chapter Twenty-Two: The Daoist Sects of Huaguo (Part One)

According to the local bear spirits who were familiar with the area, after passing through this dense forest and the hills, one would reach a branch of the Negro River. That river marked the boundary; beyond it lay Gaul.

Wei Wujie led the group forward on a strange route—though a straight path would suffice, he purposely guided everyone along winding S-shaped trails. What should have taken a short time instead consumed hours, several times longer than usual. Oddly enough, this roundabout way allowed them to evade the attacks of wild spirits time and again. Gamiar and Leyard sensed the spirits had not been left behind; they lingered nearby, sometimes behind, sometimes to the sides. Yet Wei Wujie seemed to anticipate their movements, always avoiding them just in time.

Still, it was impossible to escape every interception. Occasionally, some reckless wild spirits would burst forth and be slain by Wei Wujie. This was not because they evaded him; rather, the presence of the Hegel couple, mere ordinary people, severely slowed the party’s progress.

Wei Wujie cast a spell of wind and cloud upon the Hegel couple, allowing them to barely keep pace with the group. Even so, the two Commineson agents were deeply impressed. They were, after all, navigating a forest teeming with spirits—albeit fallen wild spirits. The spirit race had ever been masters of woodland warfare.

But Wei Wujie’s expression only grew grimmer; he felt no pride in their success.

Having dispatched yet another wild spirit that had caught up, Wei Wujie frowned. The group was nearly out of the woods.

“He’s ahead of us. We can’t avoid him.” Wei Wujie suddenly halted at the edge of the forest. Beyond lay rolling hills, and the broad surface of the Negro River was visible in the distance.

“Who’s ahead?” Gamiar asked, confused.

“Someone much like myself,” Wei Wujie replied, gazing out past the trees. A faint, gauzy mist drifted among the hills, as if he could see through it, though Gamiar could see nothing. Possessing the blood of the Monk Orcs, Gamiar was agile, but lacked the ability to pierce through mist.

“Let’s just deal with him,” Gamiar said eagerly. Leyard was more cautious, especially as he noticed Wei Wujie seemed wary. “Should we change direction instead?”

“It’s useless.” Wei Wujie glanced at the sky beyond the trees. “This person holds a magical artifact capable of drawing upon the power of the stars to observe the life force within tens of kilometers. He cannot pinpoint us directly, but the Hegel couple, being ordinary, cannot conceal their presence.”

“What do we do, then?” asked Rukovsky, the bear spirit leader, summoning his courage.

“We’ll meet him and see who he is.” Wei Wujie strode out of the woods. At that moment, he cared little for the Taoist ahead or the wild spirits still searching behind.

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Wei Wujie walked straight toward the Negro River. The former bandits—the bear spirits—now protectees, and the two Commineson agents, followed closely behind with the Hegel couple.

“Watch my path and follow closely. Do not stray or you’ll bear the consequences,” Wei Wujie warned.

Everyone hurried after him, witnessing a marvel: as Wei Wujie advanced, the mist before him and to either side surged as if responding. The fog shifted shape, sometimes forming weapons, sometimes flames, fierce beasts, monstrous rivers, and floods, all assailing him. At first, Wei Wujie moved quickly, but soon his pace slowed. He drew talismans, each shining with Eastern mystical light, dispersing the illusions. But as they pressed on, the mist thickened, concentrating around Wei Wujie, so much so that the group could see their surroundings clearly, except the path ahead. The fog before, and to his left and right, was now dense, a white expanse where nothing could be seen.

Some clever bear spirits wondered if the mist was targeting Wei Wujie, and thought to slip away. Two quietly veered off the path and ran left. But as soon as they left the trail Wei Wujie had carved, the distant white fog surged toward them. Terrible screams echoed from the mist; everyone watched as the two bear spirits trembled, as if countless blades were slashing them. Their muscles flew off in strips, staining the fog red.

Two skeletons fell within the mist, and the group shuddered, finally understanding Wei Wujie’s warning not to stray.

“I told you not to wander! You two—what are your names? Watch the Hegel couple; ignore the others. If they wish to die, let them. This is the ‘Primordial Illusory Slaughter, Forest of Ten Thousand Spirits’ formation, woven from the energy of the hills and woods.”

Seeing the fate of the two bear spirits, none dared run off again. There was nowhere to go—front, back, or sides; retreating might leave the formation, but the wild spirits lurked behind. Only on Wei Wujie’s path did the white fog part, as if a river split through it, roiling but never crossing.

While the mist was distracted attacking the bear spirits, Wei Wujie pressed forward, no longer relying on talismans. He unleashed the power of his internal golden core, summoning the Geng Metal Sword Light used earlier against the wild spirits—attack met with attack.

Wei Wujie’s body slowly rose, enveloped in a faint golden glow. He no longer needed to walk; the golden light carried him forward, sending forth sword beams that tore the white fog to shreds.

Their pace quickened, forcing everyone to run to keep up. The bear spirits, delighted, hurried after. Gamiar and Leyard led the Hegel couple at the front; no matter how bold the bear spirits were, they dared not overtake them, obediently following behind.

Then Wei Wujie shouted, and a crescent-shaped sword light shot from the golden aura, piercing deep into the mist. The group seemed to hear a shattering sound.

Wei Wujie stopped abruptly; the white fog gradually faded, sunlight streaming down. They realized, without noticing, that most of the journey had been traversed—before them lay the Negro River.

“Nine Luminaries, Seven Calamities Geng Metal Sword Light, Xuan Tian Black Gold Slash?” said a strange-dressed figure ahead in surprise. Between him and Wei Wujie stood a dozen small flags, the ground marked with odd runes. At the center of these was a small incense burner-like object, now broken into pieces. Several shattered fragments of crystal lay beside it. Leyard, sharp-eyed, recognized the crystal as a wind-elemental magic stone; its pure, flawless color and swirling cloud-like energy within revealed its high grade.

PS: Tomorrow’s update will feature flying swords. I tried describing them in an online game style—not that it’s necessary, but I wanted to consider balance. If a flying sword has no attack range limit, it could decapitate someone from a thousand miles away, which would break the story’s equilibrium, especially if matched against cannons. This style might feel out of place, so after the next update, let me know in the comments if you find it jarring. I’ll adjust accordingly. In any case, flying swords won’t be abundant in the Revolution arc. If it doesn’t feel off, I’ll keep using this method.