Where Immortals Once Walked

“Spit it out!”

The gluttonous bull just rolled its eyes at Zhao Pan and kept chewing.

The hornbill swooped down again and landed on its horns, letting out two harsh, grating cries. Only then did the bull reluctantly cough up a mouthful of half-masticated leaves onto the ground.

Over by the tree, the monstrous phoenix tree finally stopped growing.

“As I thought, phoenix trees can withstand the effect a lot longer,” Ling Guang muttered, already hopping around to pluck several leaves of each color, along with some bark, and pack them away.

“Withstand longer?” He Lingchuan felt his brow twitch. “What exactly did you test this on before the tree?”

As he spoke, the gigantic phoenix tree began to shudder violently again.

This time, it was not growing but shrinking.

It was as if a pair of invisible hands had seized the entire tree and were twisting and wringing it like a soaked towel.

Sharp cracking sounds rang out as branches snapped by the dozen, contorting into grotesque, crooked angles.

Onlookers all shivered involuntarily. It was only a tree, but somehow it felt like watching a living creature tortured past all endurance, stretching out its arms toward them in a mute, desperate plea.

No one had the faintest idea how to save it.

Soon, the tree’s self-mutilation came to an end, but then the leaves began to wither.

A rain of foliage drifted down, and in short order the phoenix tree was bare, with nothing left to it but a skeleton of branches.

The bark turned from purple to a lifeless gray, splitting open in jagged cracks. Then, big clumps of dark brown dust crumbled out of the fissures and fell, making nearby soldiers cough and stumble back yet another step.

The whole camp fell quiet as everyone waited to see what would happen next.

However, nothing else happened.

For a long while, the tree simply stood silent and still.

Only then did Ling Guang approach the tree, pinch up a little of the brown dust, and store it inside a bottle. “It’s dead.”

“What happened?” Anyone with eyes could see the thing was dead, but that was not what they were interested in.

From sprouting, to towering, to warped and monstrous, and then to complete decay... the entire life cycle of this giant tree had taken barely more than a quarter of an hour.

All eyes now turned toward Ling Guang.

“When diluted a hundredfold, that medicine forces living things to grow wildly,” Ling Guang explained. “However, the growth is uncontrolled. In fact, it even causes the target to deviate from its original form.”

Ling Guang pointed at the dead phoenix tree. “Take this phoenix tree, for example. Once it was forced, it grew wildly and mutated, and the resulting growth made it look nothing like a typical phoenix tree. This is actually one of the better results. Last time, I used four rabbits for testing. One of them grew three butts; one’s skin turned inside-out, so all the flesh was on the outside and it was just dripping blood; another grew teeth longer than its ears; and the last one immediately exploded into a cloud of blood mist after swallowing the medicine. Of course, they all died. From start to finish, not even fifty breaths passed.” The medicine ape counted off very seriously on its fingers as it listed the horrors. “Compared to them, the phoenix tree seed could hold more vitality, so it was able to last comparably longer under the medicine’s effect.”

Everyone fell silent for a long while.

Finally, He Lingchuan ground out, “So you were the one who stole the four live rabbits I caught two days ago?”

Zhao Pan stepped up and gave the dead tree a hard kick. “This thing isn’t going to start any new tricks, right?”

Ling Guang answered, “No, it’s truly dead.”

“Then what are you all standing around for? Back to your posts!” Zhao Pan swept a glare around the ring of gawkers. Soldiers flinched and began to shuffle back toward their original positions.

On the far bank, the Xun Province camp had also noticed the commotion. They sent a small boat over to ask what in the world was going on.

Zhao Pan brushed the man off with a few perfunctory answers and was just about to send him back when someone behind him suddenly cried out in alarm, “General, look out!”

Zhao Pan stiffened. He heard the rush of wind at his back and did not bother to think. He simply sprang aside on reflex.

A massive bulk thundered past him with a whoosh.

The Xun Province envoy had not even registered what was happening before the thing hit him. One instant, he was standing on the bank; the next, he was flying into the sky with a single, cut-off scream.

Both He father and son saw it happen and had the same thought at the same time. Well, we’re screwed.

Charging through the camp was a bull.

It was the same bull that had just been contentedly chewing phoenix tree leaves like betel nut.

Anyone with eyes could tell that the tree had not been right, yet this idiot had still put its leaves in its mouth.

The hornbill had forced it to spit out the pulp, but some of the juice had already slipped down its throat and into its stomach.

Everyone else had been watching the giant tree, never imagining the bull would suddenly snap.

Once it finished launching the envoy into the river, the bull lowered its head and began rampaging through the camp. Its eyes were bloodshot, and it was shooting out thick white mist from its nostrils.

Soldiers in its path scrambled frantically out of the way.

It smashed through three tents in a row. Canvas collapsed over its head, but that did not calm it down—instead, being half-blinded only made it more frantic.

A toppled torch set the fallen tenting alight. Flames licked up toward its nose, and that flash of blaze at its nose seemed to blow its madness clean off the charts.

The tidy camp instantly descended into chaos. Commanding officers were shouting orders, but in a moment where every man was terrified for his life, commands did not carry far.

This was their own beast—no, their own war asset. Who dared be the first to stab or spear it?

Fortunately, the tent canvas was long and tangled like an enormous strip of bandage, wrapping around half the bull’s body. Its speed was drastically reduced, and it slipped on the cloth, falling more than once.

Zhao Pan’s face was dark as ink. He spun around to give orders, and several soldiers seized mallets and rushed to the nearest massive stake that anchored the stockade. Together they pounded it loose, acquiring a solid wooden post nearly a third of a meter thick.

At the same time, a Cloud-Piercing Pavilion disciple popped into view from who-knew-where. Muttering under his breath, he summoned forth an azure-kerchief laborer summon, then put two fingers to his lips and let out a piercing whistle.

Laborer summons came in many grades; this azure-kerchief type was the very lowest rank, and it was only good for menial heavy work. The talisman used to summon it was commonly called a “grass-head talisman.”

The shrill whistle sounded like a direct challenge in the bull’s ears. Even blinded by canvas, it snorted and charged toward the noise.

Dust flew beneath its hooves as it thundered forward. Just before impact, the laborer summon heaved the giant post in a wide sideways swing, and smashed it into the bull’s head.

Bang!

The post exploded into splinters.

The laborer staggered backward over three meters, then suddenly shrank down, collapsing into a straw doll no bigger than a palm that dropped to the dirt with a soft plop.

The bull fared no better. The blow snapped its head sideways, wrecking its balance. Its hindquarters dropped, and it slid on its knees in an undignified skid, then bowled straight into the camp’s main gate like a living battering ram.

The gate crashed down, and the bull flopped over as well. It was stunned cold, and it was now completely still.

Laborer summons immediately swarmed in and bound all four of its legs.

The bull had plunged the camp into uproar, but that was not actually the worst problem.

The envoy it had sent flying had come down with a splash in the river.

There was no hiding a commotion of this scale from the enemy. Over in the Xun Province camp, a wave of agitation broke out. Troops hurried to the riverbank just in time to see Yuan soldiers apparently tossing their envoy into the water.

That was how it looked, anyway. Outrage rumbled through their ranks.

The poor envoy thrashed on the surface, going under and popping back up. It was obvious that he had been badly hurt by the impact and did not have the strength to swim ashore.

Zhao Pan hurriedly sent men to haul him out.

Unfortunately, the Xun Province side had the same idea. Just as Zhao Pan’s men were putting a boat out, three of theirs dove in to save their comrade.

No one knew what went through the heads of the men over there, but suddenly, two arrows streaked across the water. One buried itself in the prow of the rescue boat; the other sank into the boatman’s arm.

He toppled forward with a howl, and the Yuan camp erupted. Men shouted to be allowed to cross and fight.

On the other side, the Xun Province officers had also noticed the blazing light and chaos within the Yuan camp. They had watched the gate come crashing down and seen a bull burst out, stagger two steps, and collapse.

The enemy camp was clearly in turmoil. Should they take the opportunity to attack?

The temptation hummed in every Xun Province soldier’s mind.

Zhao Pan knew full well that the mess in his camp was there for all to see. Sometimes the difference between victory and defeat really did come down to a seemingly minor spark like this. He, too, was on edge and ordered his men into full battle readiness.

The two forces, which had been coexisting in uneasy calm just moments before, suddenly found themselves toe to toe, tension so thick it was hard to breathe. There had been blood drawn, shots fired—everything was in place for an all-out clash.

He Chunhua glared at his son and the ape, eyes blazing. “Look at the mess you’ve made!”

First night on the front, and they had already caused an incident.

He had no desire at all for this battle’s fuse to be lit by his eldest son. When people started pointing fingers afterward, could the boy carry that weight?

He Lingchuan hunched his shoulders, expression properly contrite, one hand clamped around Ling Guang’s scruff as the little ape tried to sneak away. The ape frantically said, “I was wrong, I was wrong! How was I supposed to know one drop of medicine could do all this?”

“One drop?” He Chunhua’s anger stumbled. “You grew that entire monstrosity out of a single drop?”

“What else?” Ling Guang muttered.

Across the river, Yuan and Xun Province troops stared each other down. The tension hung so heavy it felt like it would condense into drops. The shouting quieted instead of rising; neither side rushed forward.

Zhao Pan tried to patch things over. “So what exactly happened just now?”

He Chunhua sighed and gave him the short version, then added, “This brat has stirred up a disaster. General Zhao, punish him as you like—kill him, flay him, it’s your call.”

Zhao Pan gave He Lingchuan a look, his expression dark and unreadable.

Sure, he was furious—after all, the camp was his responsibility—but the only reason they were eating decently at all these days was that He Chunhua had hauled grain up from the south at great risk. Was he really going to execute the governor-general’s son over this?

Just then, a screeching arrow arced through the sky from the Xun Province camp and thunked into one of the Yuan camp’s posts.

It was a whistling arrow, shrilling as it flew. It was clearly an arrow that was used for signaling, not killing; its very design shouted that it carried a message, not an attack.

A bodyguard brought the tied-on strip of paper to Zhao Pan. He glanced through it and snorted. “Nian Zanli wants to know what happened.”

Nian Zanli!

The name made the He father and son tense.

Their great enemy, whom they had never actually met, was finally making his presence felt.

He Chunhua asked, eyes narrowing, “Are you going to meet him?”

“Meet him? For what?” Zhao Pan gave a cold laugh. “I’ll tell him this: my boys were fooling around in camp and accidentally knocked his man into the river. The man isn’t dead, so that’s the end of it.”

He dictated quickly, had an answer written out, had it tied to the same whistling arrow, and had it shot back across the water.

Apparently, the Xun Province side accepted that explanation. The troops lining the riverbank soon pulled back, and their gate came down.

The standoff fizzled out, and in the space of an hour, everything was back to where it had been.

Clearly, neither side was ready to start a full-scale fight tonight.

Zhao Pan, too, ordered his men back into formation and told them to remain on high alert. At the same time, he turned to He Lingchuan and said, with a thin smile that did not quite reach his eyes, “Young Lord He, ever since you arrived, this place has been very lively.”

He could not hold back that jab; whatever he felt tended to come straight out of his mouth.

He Chunhua hurried to apologize again.

Zhao Pan let it go after a few pointed words. He was not actually planning to do anything to the new governor-general’s son.

Just then, there was more commotion in the trees. Hulking shapes squeezed out of the shadows one after another.

The bull herd had arrived.

Seeing their comrade trussed up with all four legs bound and dumped on the ground, several of the bull monsters immediately bellowed in anger.

And when they got riled, the entire herd followed. The earth trembled under hundreds of hooves; the very soil seemed to quake.

Nearby warhorses snorted and stamped, skittish and panicked.

The last thing Zhao Pan wanted was another incident now that the camp had finally calmed. These beasts were stubborn to the bone and hard to reason with. One rampaging bull could turn everything upside down, and if all three hundred of them lost their minds at once, the Yuan camp would be half destroyed before the enemy even needed to lift a finger.

He ground his teeth and all but growled at He Lingchuan, “Think of something. Fix that bull!”

He Lingchuan did not hesitate to grab Ling Guang again and shove it forward. “You heard the general, fix that bull!”