Chapter Forty-Five: The Monster

[A monster from Pu Hai stands atop the walls of Jinling]

Accompanying illustration: A blue-faced, fanged beast with a mouthful of human flesh stands on the city wall, surrounded by valiant Qing soldiers firing their guns in resistance. A little farther away, the emperor’s imperial carriage and the artillery of foreign powers are arrayed, as if ready in the next instant to unleash a rain of arrows and bullets upon the monster, cutting it down where it stands.

This was the front-page headline in newspapers across the northern provinces.

It was also the hottest topic in the current Xinghan.

With such sensational journalism, such appalling tales, such explosive news, the newspapers of every major city sold out the moment they hit the stands.

In comparison,

The Martial Artists’ Association, only just getting started, produced popular science pamphlets about innate qi, spiritual energy, and technology. These, being too tedious and containing content deemed dangerous, sold reasonably well under their own jurisdiction, but the moment they tried to distribute them northward, they faced immediate bans—both from the imperial court and from the foreigners.

They denounced them as seditious, bewitching texts.

According to them, all talk of innate qi and spiritual energy was false.

Only the foreigners’ ironclad warships and powerful cannons were real.

Descriptions of spiritual energy were ruthlessly erased, even the very term forbidden. Any trace discovered would bring collective punishment. They wiped away all mention of spiritual energy, and disseminated doctored accounts of martial cultivation—indeed, a most effective deception.

At least for the moment.

With spiritual energy radiating from the south unable to reach the north, this crude web of lies could be maintained—until the martial artists, grinning wolfishly, came knocking at their doors.

Such willful self-deception!

It was truly a marvel to behold. Even Lan Yi, upon hearing the news, could not help but shake his head and laugh softly.

“As expected, no matter the world or the era, whenever cultivators of spiritual energy emerge, there will always be such ignorant clowns spouting nonsense, behaving absurdly, thinking themselves safe and snug inside their shells.”

Lan Yi was utterly delighted.

He had seen this kind of farce not once but many times, and never tired of it. There were always fools inventing ever-new ways to court disaster. So much talk of ancestral laws that must not be changed—yet when the martial artists’ fists smash out their teeth, these seemingly hidebound traditions are the first to kneel.

And once down, they deny everything they once clamored for, eager as dogs to accept the new order.

“Immortal Master! These people are gravely disrespectful to you—they should be killed! Their clans exterminated!” Even the usually placid Zhao Sikong now seethed with murderous intent, genuinely concerned for Immortal Master Lan Yi’s reputation.

He watched Lan Yi peruse the newspaper, utterly unconcerned.

Zhao Sikong itched to act on his own, to march north and, city by city, wipe out those presumptuous ants who dared to malign the Immortal Master.

“Why are you so agitated? I’m not worried—if words could kill, they’d have cursed me to death by now.”

Lan Yi appeared thoroughly at ease.

To speak frankly, these northern papers left him quite unmoved.

Their insults were so ornate, so flowery.

And they dared call themselves trolls?

With such feeble invective, they wouldn’t last a minute on Xinghan’s main-world internet—not only would they fail to defend their families, they couldn’t even protect their own dignity. Compared to the online abuse he’d suffered—waves of venom, ceaseless harassing calls, lies and distortions, slander that threw facts aside—this was child’s play.

In truth,

It was no wonder that, upon returning to his home world, Lan Yi had wasted no words; he took advantage of the global chaos and embarked on a bloody purge. The mild-mannered had been provoked beyond endurance—no matter what breed of dog they were, all lives were equal, and killing was the only answer. Lan Yi had never been happier, reveling in the thrill of rebirth.

And now, even more so.

He had been reborn, and this good fortune would visit him again!

“All right, stop your nagging and fussing like a resentful housewife. The more gleefully they slander me now, the more painful their reckoning will be. Keep these newspapers for me—when we reach Yanjing, perhaps they’ll make for a good joke about the Immortal Master.”

Lan Yi motioned for Zhao Sikong to withdraw.

Zhao Sikong clearly had more to say, but in the face of Lan Yi’s command, he chose to obey.

Since the Immortal Master had promised retribution in due course, he would wait until the time was right.

Compared to the pig-dogs and pale foreigners further north, Zhao Sikong had more pressing matters at hand.

The day after the punitive fleet’s total annihilation,

Lan Yi set out with Shadow Marshal and Fierce Marshal, both practitioners of the Divine Martial Path, a retinue of war correspondents, several party members of the Chen Qimei faction, and a squad of three hundred armed qi practitioners, heading north.

His first stop: Jinling.

Jinling, ancient capital of six dynasties,

Was famed for its illustrious figures and auspicious geomancy. Though lacking the bold vigor of the north, the gentle charm along the Qinhuai River was exceptionally intoxicating.

Such a vital strategic stronghold—

Naturally, the court had stationed heavy troops and a high official to oversee it.

Unfortunately for this official, he had already fallen into the hands of the Martial Artists’ Association: the Governor-General of Liangjiang, Zhang Ji. Though Zhang Ji was now in custody, the garrison still had a commander, hastily promoted to clean up the mess—the Governor of Jiangsu and Commander of the Southern Seas, Liu Bian. With the rank of a second-grade official, holding both civil and military power, he was a heavyweight indeed.

This also reflected the rampant inflation of government posts.

Liu Bian was staunchly loyal to the Qing.

When he learned Lan Yi had wiped out the punitive fleet and was marching north, this Han official wept facing north. Having inquired how Lan Yi had dealt with the fleet in the Yellow Sea, he knew that with only a few thousand new troops, and barely any artillery, there was no way to stop the man-eating monster from Pu Hai.

If holding firm was impossible, then he would try guile.

This Governor Liu did two things.

First, he had men plant explosives along the railroad on Lan Yi’s route, hoping to blow up the demon Lan Yi and his henchmen.

Second, he ordered the city gates thrown wide, all garrisons withdrawn, putting on a show of welcome for the Immortal Master’s grand arrival—he planned a feigned surrender and a banquet à la Hongmen.

Clearly, Lord Liu had not read the southern rebel papers.

He had not seen Lady Felia’s report describing Lan Yi shrugging off every manner of attack that day.

The planted explosives never went off.

They were discovered and dealt with in advance by Liu Baiyuan and Guo Decheng, two masterful qi practitioners—who also dispatched a team of unidentified assassins, their training all too evident.

Though still at the qi-cultivation stage, these two martial artists were formidable.

One possessed unmatched perception, able to sense the faintest movement. The other was adept at all manner of assassination, uncovering numerous traps meant for Lan Yi.

The Hongmen Banquet was the feast Xiang Yu set for Liu Bang.

But Lord Liu had neither Xiang Yu’s might nor a reliable army. As for Lan Yi, who accepted the invitation with equanimity, his methods far outstripped anything this diehard loyalist could imagine.

When Lan Yi calmly ate the poisoned food and drink,

Liu Bian, overcome with excitement and tears streaming down his face, dropped all pretense and revealed his true intentions!