A Pawn's Passage

A dull, expressionless voice echoed inside the flying ship. “Fellow Daoists, we have now entered Fenglin territory. Please beware.”

Qi Xuansu looked out the window and saw only a thick white fog blanketing the sky and obscuring everything below. He could see neither sea nor land. Something was off. Why was the fog so dense?

Suddenly, the entire flying ship jolted violently.

Qi Xuansu’s expression changed at once. He immediately left his cabin and stepped onto the deck.

Now that Qi Xuansu was a Heavenly Being, even the howling tempest could not move him.

He raised his eyes to look ahead and vaguely saw a colossal silhouette looming in the distance. His heart sank.

Moments later, the thick fog cleared, and the massive figure revealed its full form.

It was a giant serpent rivaling a true dragon in size, pitch-black from head to tail. Its scales bore patterns resembling serpent pupils that seemed to seize the soul. What was even more terrifying was its eight heads and eight tails. This giant serpent had crimson eyes that were as large as an adult man. Moss, cypress, and cedar trees grew from its body, and its abdomen was gory and split open, as if someone had gutted it.

The eight snake heads blotted out the sky. It had been one of those heads that attacked the flying ship moments ago.

If Qi Xuansu was not mistaken, this serpent was the legendary monster of Fenglin—Yamata-no-Orochi.

According to The Kojiki, Yamata-no-Orochi had eight heads and eight tails and was so massive it could fill eight valleys and eight ridges. That was the origin of its name, and it explained why it could reach a flying ship.

It had come from Koshi to Izumo and demanded the sacrifice of one maiden each year. Many mistakenly thought it was the Nine-Headed Serpent of Central Plains legend, but that creature had one body and nine heads, whereas Yamata-no-Orochi had eight distinct heads and eight tails.

Qi Xuansu’s first thought was, Am I incompatible with flying ships or what? Last time, it was the Ancient Immortal Wu Luo, and now, it’s the legendary monster Yamata-no-Orochi? Or perhaps this is Fenglin’s way of saying hello—a little taste of shock?

In terms of cultivation level, this Yamata-no-Orochi was comparable to an Immortal. How could a mere Heavenly Being like Qi Xuansu possibly stand against it? The Daoist Order certainly had many Immortals, but not a single one was present here.

More importantly, Qi Xuansu was currently riding an ordinary flying ship, not the Yinglong Warship.

In the next instant, three of the serpent’s heads moved at once, like mountains sweeping through the sky, instantly smashing the flying ship to pieces.

The last time Qi Xuansu was in a flying ship crash, he had not yet been able to fly. Now that he was a Heavenly Being, flying posed no issue. But in the face of such a mythical beast, he dared not take flight recklessly for fear of catching the monster’s attention because if the monster noticed him, it would mean certain death.

So Qi Xuansu could only fall along with the shattered wreckage of the flying ship.

He did not know how much time had passed, but the Yamata-no-Orochi had already vanished.

Qi Xuansu pushed aside a piece of wreckage pinning him down and slowly stood up. He was wearing the Youyi Cloud Robe gifted by Sage Donghua, which masked his aura. It was remarkably tough and had not suffered any damage.

At this time, Qi Xuansu had never been more glad to be a man. Legend had it that this creature preferred to eat maidens. Thankfully, there were no maidens aboard the flying ship, so it had only smashed the ship. Had he been swallowed whole, no garment could have saved him.

Qi Xuansu looked around. Since the flying ship had been shattered midair, wreckage lay all around, along with many bodies. Given the violent impact, ordinary folk would likely have been torn apart, but most passengers on this flying ship were cultivators with resilient bodies. Thus, many corpses remained intact. There might even be survivors.

He took out his golden-purple fish talisman but found that he could not contact Madam Qi. Just as she had warned, the talisman’s function was ineffective beyond the Central Plains. Fortunately, since Fenglin had a Daoist mansion where the Daoist Order’s armies were stationed, his Intermediate License was still usable.

Not knowing his precise location, Qi Xuansu resolved to leave the area as quickly as possible to avoid another encounter with the invincible Yamata-no-Orochi. But first, he needed to search the area for survivors. If he found any, he would bring them along, then seek out the nearest Daoist army garrison.

The bodies should also be buried on the spot, lest they fall into the bellies of wild beasts.

Qi Xuansu first dug a deep pit because beasts could easily dig it up if it were shallow. Then he began searching in all directions, placing any bodies he found into the pit.

Soon, Qi Xuansu heard a faint cry for help.

Luckily, Qi Xuansu was a Heavenly Being with sharp senses. Anyone else likely would not have heard it.

Qi Xuansu followed the sound, pushed aside a piece of wreckage, and pulled the victim out from beneath it.

This time, the flying ship had not fallen from nearly as high as at the Kunlun Pass. It had been flying lower, and this person was a Martial Arts Practitioner, so he had not died on impact. However, the force of the crash had severely damaged his internal organs, and his blood qi had been gravely depleted. He was still hanging by a thread as his regenerative abilities barely sustained him. At this time, he had already fallen unconscious. His cry for help had merely been a reflexive murmur.

Qi Xuansu quickly infused a stream of divine power into the man.

When it came to healing, innate qi and magical power were insubstantial. Blood qi could heal oneself, but not others. Divine power was the real deal. That was why cults had always relied on talismans and divine blessings for healing. Qi Xuansu had not studied such arts, but even raw divine power could ease injuries. Since this man was a Martial Arts Practitioner, he should be able to recover on his own once he made it past the critical moment.

It was also because his blood qi was at rock bottom that his natural resistance to divine power and magical power was at its lowest.

Soon, the Martial Arts Practitioner’s breathing steadied, and a hint of color returned to his face.

After a moment, he finally opened his eyes. Seeing Qi Xuansu beside him and sensing the condition of his body, he immediately understood what had happened.

He struggled upright and saluted. “I am Han Yongfeng, the Superintendent of Liaodong Daoist Mansion. Thank you for saving my life, Deputy Hall Master. I shall never forget this immense kindness.”

In the Daoist Order’s military structure, the Tiangang Hall served as the central elite guard, while regional Daoist mansions maintained local garrisons. For this large-scale deployment, Tiangang Hall naturally took the lead. Apart from Daoist mansions with heavy border responsibilities like the Kunlun, Western Region, Lingnan, and Borneo Daoist Mansions, most other Daoist mansions had contributed troops. The Golden Horde had long declined, so the Liaodong Daoist Mansion was not exempted.

According to Daoist regulations, if the chain of command was disrupted, the highest-ranking Spirit Guard or Daoist priest would assume leadership. This was one of the key functions of the rank system—to allow scattered disciples to regroup and reestablish order and combat capability as quickly as possible.

The Holy Xuan had set the rule in stone. Regardless of background or cultivation, rank was the most practical standard.

Of course, there were cases where a high-ranking Daoist priest was less capable than one of lower rank, lacking experience or unfamiliar with command. But even so, the logic held. Without restored stability, there could be no reorganization, and thus no command to speak of. The most effective response was always to rally around the highest-ranking person available, choosing the lesser of two evils. That rule had to remain absolute.

After regrouping the remnants, a high-ranking Daoist priest could then delegate command to a lower-ranking but more capable strategist, thus completing a temporary reorganization. Once the initial consolidation was complete, the process would snowball. Many mid- to high-ranking scattered Daoists would quickly rally, and everyone would resume their duties according to their rank.

Though Qi Xuansu’s third rank was an administrative title, it was still an official rank. So long as the Golden Tower Council had not removed him, he remained a third-rank Deputy Hall Master.

By contrast, Han Yongfeng was a fourth-rank Jijiu Daoist master. Whether in post or in rank, he was beneath Qi Xuansu. So by regulation, he now had to follow Qi Xuansu’s commands.

Qi Xuansu gestured for him to forgo formalities and asked, “How are your injuries?”

Han Yongfeng replied, “Thanks for your concern, Deputy Hall Master. I can move without issue now, but full recovery will take another two or three days.”

Qi Xuansu nodded and said, “Given our current situation, this place is not safe for a prolonged stay. Let’s quickly search for the wounded and bury the dead. We’ll split up.”

“Yes, sir,” Han Yongfeng responded in a deep voice.

Had this been Qi Xuansu of the past, he would likely have left the danger zone first. But Qi Xuansu was no longer the same as before. His responsibilities had changed as well.

The Confucian School had a well-known saying that punishment did not reach officials, while propriety did not bind commoners.

To put it plainly, power and obligations were proportional. Commoners had no duty to observe ritual propriety. In the Confucian worldview, the state and the family were one, and loyalty to the sovereign equaled loyalty to the nation. Such loyalty was the highest form of propriety, but it was a demand placed upon the officials, not the common folk.

Put more simply, during dynastic changes, commoners—who had no choice or power—would not be blamed for abandoning the emperor in the face of slaughter. But officials were expected to be loyal to their liege. Receiving the emperor’s salary meant it was their duty to serve him. If they, too, surrendered, it would be seen as a disgrace.

Under the Confucian ethical system, male and female integrity were also defined differently. Since the ruler was the authority over the minister, a man’s integrity was to remain loyal to his lord. Since the husband had authority over the wife, a woman’s integrity was to remain chaste for her husband. Thus, men were not expected to be faithful to their wives, and women—except for empresses and a few exceptions—were not expected to remain loyal to the ruler.

When a man chose to remain faithful to his deceased wife, or a woman remained loyal to her sovereign, it was regarded as a noble story.

Though the Daoist Order had overthrown the Confucian School, Qi Xuansu still agreed with this core idea. The Daoist Order had given him power, status, and honor, so he must shoulder the duties that came with them.

Fortunately, the flying ship had not been very high at the time of the crash, so the two of them managed to find four more wounded survivors. Qi Xuansu spent about 200 marks of divine power to revive them one by one. Then, they buried the remaining corpses before finally leaving the crash site.