Chapter 27: The Black Robe

Rustling pages!
Within her heart, the pages of the Green Book turned rapidly, finally settling on a single leaf.

The Green Book
Main objective: Unknown
Side objectives: None
Eliminating targets grants rewards; completing the main objective allows a return to the main world for respite...

No sooner had she entered Jinjiang County than Bai Xian felt the Green Book react within her.

Yet the illustration on the task page remained a blurred enigma, even the name of the objective was but a delicate pair of characters—Unknown.

Moreover, the book’s enemy-seeking function seemed to be malfunctioning, flickering wildly before her eyes, as if everything in the county was a demon in disguise, making her vision swim.

Helpless, Bai Xian could only exit the interface of the Green Book.

“No… they’re coming, I won’t go into the city, they’ll eat me… let me go…”

Just then, He Shan, who had been quiet and docile along the journey, suddenly seemed to suffer a fit of madness.

Yang Xian, standing beside him, reached out to restrain him.

Unexpectedly, a surge of inhuman strength shot through his grip, and before he could react, he was thrown aside.

He Shan, meanwhile, darted into a nearby alley and bolted like a startled hare.

Yue Wenying’s eyes sharpened as he unhooked the long saber from his saddle.

“I told you he was possessed, yet you wouldn’t believe me. Quick, after him!”

With that, he charged into the alley, leading the way.

Bai Xian followed close behind. Yang Xian, sprawled on the ground, stared in disbelief at his own hand.

The force he’d felt just now was beyond human capacity.

Could his colleague truly be a fiend? Was he the one who had wronged Lord Yue after all?

Gritting his teeth against the pain in his back, Yang Xian rose, snatched up his fallen spear, and rushed into the alley after them.

After several dozen paces, Bai Xian found herself in open space.

What she’d thought was a deserted alley opened onto the main thoroughfare.

The street teemed with people; stalls of every kind lined both sides.

Barely had she shaken off her confusion when she spotted the lumbering figure of Yue Wenying in pursuit.

Like a living battering ram, he plowed through stalls and pedestrians alike.

Farther ahead, He Shan threaded through the crowd with the speed and agility of a mole, nearly as swift as Yue Wenying himself.

Far too many people…

Bai Xian’s gaze shifted. Across the street, a steamed bun shop stood, and outside it, a plump Daoist was about to take a bite.

In that instant, the shopkeeper, the fat Daoist, and the young woman bursting from the alley locked eyes.

“My apologies!”

Before the two could grasp the reason for her apology, Bai Xian leapt onto the Daoist’s shoulder, then vaulted onto the awning, and from there to the roof of the adjacent house.

With a cacophony of clattering, a cascade of tiles and dust rained down, burying half the shop.

Both freshly steamed and uncooked buns were ruined.

The plump Daoist, stumbling from the impact, righted himself and turned to see that the last of his travel money—the buns he’d just bought—had fallen to the ground.

“Heavens above!” he cried.

He bent to pick up his precious buns.

But just then—

“Careful! Coming through!”

Crunch!

Yang Xian’s foot flattened the Daoist’s buns into a mushy pancake.

“Damn it! Even a saint’s patience has its limits! Do you take me for a clay idol? Return my buns!”

High atop the roof, Bai Xian’s view swept across nearly half of Jinjiang County.

In the distance, Yue Wenying still pursued the frenzied escort.

From the alley, Yang Xian hurried over, clutching his arm.

Below the eaves, the bun shop’s owner cursed fervently.

But farther off, a black-clad figure moved swiftly toward them, at a speed far beyond that of ordinary men.

Bai Xian’s eyes narrowed. She raced across the tiles toward Yue Wenying.

Seeing Bai Xian’s slender form bounding over rooftops, Yang Xian pressed through the crowd, spear in hand.

He vaguely recalled stepping on something and someone cursing him, but he had no time to dwell on it.

Meanwhile, in the guardhouse, a scar-faced man named Cai Wei slammed his wine bowl onto the table at the news.

“Someone’s causing a disturbance in the eastern market—just what I needed to blow off steam! Brothers, arm yourselves and come with me!”

“Yes, sir!”

The constables donned their black uniforms, took up their weapons, and surged from the yamen in a furious swarm.

Yue Wenying hadn’t intended to barrel through the crowd, but his sheer size made maneuvering the crowded streets impossible.

He Shan, meanwhile, seemed a man transformed—fast as lightning, slipping through every gap.

Though they’d started only a few paces apart, by the time Yue Wenying had navigated stalls and sidestepped people, the gap had only widened.

Frustrated, he stopped dodging altogether and charged straight ahead.

Smashing through the last stall at the end of the street, he finally broke free of the throng.

He Shan stood at the corner just ahead, face twisted in terror, muttering to himself.

“Don’t eat me—I didn’t mean to enter the city—let me go…”

Yue Wenying’s face darkened as he strode over.

“Let’s see where you’ll run now!”

But just then, a woman’s voice called from the rooftop.

“Watch the corner!”

Yue Wenying’s gaze flicked to Bai Xian on the roof, but his sheathed saber thrust not ahead, but to the corner behind him.

There stood a figure in a black robe, face obscured.

With a muffled thud, the scabbard struck the black-robed figure’s chest.

Yet the sensation was strange—it was as if the blade hadn’t struck flesh, but cotton.

Suddenly, a tremendous force whipped back along the saber, twisting his hand nearly halfway around.

Yue Wenying’s expression changed; he released his grip, letting the saber spin and fly from his hand.

The hilt tore bloody grooves into his palm. Had he held on a moment longer, his wrist might have been snapped.

With a single move, the black-robed figure had disarmed him, and now reached a withered hand toward the exorcist’s face.

Unarmed, Yue Wenying retreated, but the black-robed figure was even faster.

In a flash, that desiccated hand was inches from Yue Wenying’s face.

At that instant, Bai Xian reached the rooftop, vaulted down without hesitation, spear in hand, reassembling it mid-leap.

A cold gleam of steel shot straight for the black robe’s chest.

But the figure seemed to have anticipated Bai Xian’s attack.

Another hand shot from the robe, bypassing the razor edge, seizing the shaft.

Bai Xian gave a sharp cry, shifting from thrust to upward flick—caught off guard, the black-robed figure was flung skyward.

At that moment, from the side, Yang Xian lunged in.

He saw the melee from afar and, knowing the black-robed figure’s power, dared not hold back.

Stance braced, spear leveled, he launched a flurry of precise strikes.

The white-waxed spear whipped out with a hiss—over a dozen rapid thrusts, each aimed for a vital point.

By rights, this should have been a killing blow.

Yet the black-robed figure twisted in midair as if sprouting wings, soaring even higher. Every one of Yang Xian’s attacks missed.

The chill of steel faded.

Yang Xian stood at the ready.

The black-robed figure landed lightly seven or eight steps away.

That lightning-speed skirmish, though it seemed to last an age, was over in an instant.

In that brief moment, the black-robed figure had crossed blades with all three of them.

Nearby merchants and passersby had barely begun to recover from their shock—the battle was already done.