Chapter Twenty-Seven: Ferocious Beasts Begin to Appear in Luoyang City (Please Support and Bookmark the New Book!)

The residential districts of Luoyang are divided into fifty-seven wards. The seven wards in the east of the city house mostly the prominent figures of the Qin court—each one a personage whose very presence could set the nation trembling. The nineteen northern wards are home to civil servants and wealthy merchants of Luoyang. The remaining thirty-one wards, to the west and south, are mostly inhabited by ordinary folk, though, of course, there are exceptions, but by and large, such is the order of things. Cultivators, too, reside here, though they are mostly found in the eastern and northern quarters, or else they lodge at inns; few remain long, given the peculiar demands of their profession. In the end, like attracts like—by the choices people themselves make.

In Swallow Ward to the south of the city, night had fallen deeply. Although Luoyang had no curfew, it was rare for ordinary people to roam at such an hour. Yet tonight, Swallow Ward was ablaze with lanterns. Squads of the Senluo Guards swept through, sealing every avenue and alley. Dozens of black-robed cultivators cast waves of light, searching for something unseen. The ward's residents had been strictly forbidden to leave their homes, but the lights in their houses shone bright—light brings a sense of safety, even if it is a false one. From the outside, one could see a thin veil of light blanketing the sky above Swallow Ward, though it left a gap near the main gate.

Before one such gate, a crowd had gathered. Besides twenty or thirty Senluo Guards, there were seven or eight black-clad cultivators, each bearing on their chest an embroidered cauldron encircled by three bolts of lightning—the emblem of the Thunder Tribunal, one of the Qin Empire's departments for handling cultivators. The three bolts signified their rank: all were at the Core Formation stage. Such cultivators were rare—though they seemed common, in truth, among the vast multitudes of the Immortal Realm, they were as a drop in the ocean. On average, among a thousand cultivators, there might be one Core Formation adept, and that was a generous estimate.

At the front stood three men in crimson official robes—two middle-aged, one young, all with grave expressions.

“We need no more than two days,” one of the middle-aged men said. “All the nonessential people in Swallow Ward will be evacuated. Once the civilians are gone, no matter who this interloper is, he will have no chance of escape.”

The young man added, “Outside, the Unifying Array is set. There is nowhere to flee, earth or sky. This gate is the only exit; no matter how brazen the enemy, he must come through here.”

The other middle-aged man nodded. “Still, we must not be careless. Every civilian must be checked against the household registers—any discrepancy, no matter how slight, and they will be detained. Also, have the ordinary constables evacuated as well; no need for needless sacrifice. Ask General Sun to send another company of Senluo Guards.” He sighed softly.

The first man shook his head helplessly. “Old Sun has done all he can. The Senluo Guards are stretched to their limit. With such chaos in Luoyang, all seven companies have been dispatched; that we have even two at our disposal is fortunate. And even these can only be used for three days—if we don’t solve this case within three days, they’ll be recalled for the city-wide search.”

“True enough. I, Yang Jingru, am but a minor official—what are a few dozen deaths compared to the life of a princess? It’s already a favor to lend me two companies of the Senluo Guards!” Yang Jingru’s voice turned sharp. “And what about the Five Cauldrons Division, the Department of Penal Affairs? Where have they all gone? And Lord Zhou the Diviner—how hard can it be to cast a reading? How grave a case must it be before they deign to act!”

His words ended in bitter resignation. He knew well enough the times were troubled. On one hand, the forthcoming Jade Bowl Banquet had drawn scores of cultivators to the city—an event of such importance to the Qin that no mishap could be allowed. Most forces had been deployed to maintain order, for the banquet was the face of the empire. Manpower was already stretched thin, when suddenly word came that Princess Youping had been murdered by a fiend. The blow resounded through the city. Outwardly, Luoyang appeared calm, but beneath the surface, panic and madness reigned. It was said that even three palace consecrators had been dispatched.

Here, in contrast, it was only a few dozen dead. From above, such loss was trivial. The law decreed all lives were equal, but in truth, could that ever be so? A princess dead—uproar across the city. Here, a handful of commoners—and even the two companies of Senluo Guards had been assigned only after much begging. As for the Thunder Tribunal cultivators, if not for the young man at his side, they would surely have dismissed the matter, mouthing perfunctory words: “Let the mortal authorities handle mortal affairs.”

“My lord, perhaps you should rest. You are not like us—you haven’t slept in five days,” the young man said softly, seeing the bloodshot eyes of Yang Jingru. Though a cultivator himself and scion of the noble Zhao clan, Zhao Yulin felt a hint of respect. He could understand the indifference of the high offices—after all, it was just a few dead mortals; at another time, perhaps someone would have checked on them out of kindness, but now, in this season of upheaval, who had the time? The dead were simply dead. As for his own help to Yang Jingru, it was not out of pure goodwill.

For all his experience, Zhao Yulin’s perspective was beyond Yang Jingru’s. Yang suspected the killer was a cultivator—a reasonable deduction, since so many had died without a trace of injury, passing away unawares. But Zhao Yulin was almost certain: this was no human. If a cultivator wished to kill in such a manner, destroying the soul was not difficult, but to do so en masse was taxing, and only the most depraved demonic sects would resort to it—and even they would not dare act so brazenly in Luoyang.

No, it was likely some fearsome beast, perhaps even a primordial creature from antiquity. The thought of capturing such a being made Zhao Yulin’s heart race.

Yang Jingru, for his part, looked utterly exhausted. He was not a cultivator, merely a mortal. But he could not forget the lives lost—some of whom he had laughed and talked with only days before. He could not rest. In his heart, he swore: whatever monster had done this, he would see it torn apart, even if it cost him his life.

“My lord! My lord!”

A sudden commotion broke out. Yang Jingru’s heart tightened. “What’s happened? Speak!”

Seven or eight constables rushed over. “Reporting, my lord—a squad of Senluo Guards has suddenly died!”

Yang Jingru drew a deep breath. “Tell me everything you know.”

They were men of the law, and though shaken, they recounted events clearly. Ordered to withdraw from Swallow Ward, they met a squad of Senluo Guards to hand over their positions. But during the handover, several guards suddenly collapsed, dead in the same inexplicable manner as before.

Yang Jingru’s face turned ashen. The Senluo Guards were no ordinary men—each had at least reached the fifth tier of Qi Condensation! At first, it was only women and children who died, then young men, now even ordinary cultivators. The killer’s appetite was growing.

Yang Jingru’s expression twisted with rage. “Report this at once! Summon the Five Cauldrons Division and the Department of Penal Affairs! Ask them—what sort of common criminal can slaughter cultivators as if they were nothing?” The Thunder Tribunal cultivators exchanged looks of disdain—Qi Condensation? Little more than large ants. Zhao Yulin’s face, too, was dark, but inwardly he was elated; his suspicions were all but confirmed: it was a beast, one either growing rapidly or gravely wounded, one that attacked or fed upon souls. What manner of creature could it be?

At that moment, not far from the gate, in a small alley, a solitary figure stood. Now and then, Senluo Guards passed by, yet none seemed to see him, moving on as if he were invisible.

“What a delicious scent,” the figure murmured. It was Wu Yue, a faint smile on his lips—yet there was something chilling about it. A group of black-robed cultivators flew overhead, and Wu Yue’s eyes gleamed with hunger—the look of a starving predator spotting prey.

“My dominant will is resisting again. But no matter—I have time to play with you all…” Wu Yue’s form slowly faded, and in his eyes, a symbol flashed for an instant.

It was a monstrous purple beast, resembling a giant eye, with long, writhing tentacles—a Void Devourer, the legendary soul-eater from the primordial chaos.