Chapter Seventy-Two: Vengeful Spirits Lure the Soul, The Dead Bargain for Life

Zhong Ming had no mind for idle chatter with Sun Luolian; his thoughts were consumed by how to rescue Fei Dacheng.

At the brink of life and death, who could still think of romance?

Having failed to persuade Hu Su to lend his aid, Zhong Ming knew the best strategist would be the wise and experienced Zhang Daozhen—perhaps the old Taoist might have a solution.

No sooner had he left the carpenter Li’s house, Zhong Ming hurried into Zhang Daozhen’s small courtyard.

Entering the room, he saw Zhang Nianchen engrossed in a book, a cauldron the size of a human head before him.

The cauldron had two chambers—the lower for the alchemical fire, fueled by coal and other combustibles, flames licking hungrily.

This was Zhang Daozhen’s alchemy furnace, and the master and disciple were in the midst of refining pills.

Zhang Daozhen himself was seated before the furnace, carefully sensing its heat.

The old Taoist was blind—he could not see the fire and relied on Zhang Nianchen to monitor it, while he gauged the temperature with his hands.

Seeing Zhong Ming rush in, Zhang Nianchen greeted him with a delighted smile, “Master Zhong, what brings you here today?”

Hearing Zhong Ming’s arrival, Zhang Daozhen flashed his yellowed teeth in a grin and beckoned him over. “Come in, Master Zhong. I’ve just devised a new method and am refining a pill for you—once it’s done, you can try if it works.”

These past days, the master and disciple had abandoned most worldly affairs, focusing solely on refining pills for Zhong Ming.

Zhong Ming had already consumed more than ten of Zhang Daozhen’s concoctions, none of which had worked.

But he was too anxious for such experiments now and hurriedly said, “Elder Zhang, I’ve no time for medicines; I have urgent matters to discuss with you.”

Zhang Daozhen caught the urgency in Zhong Ming’s tone and stood up. “Master Zhong, please sit and tell me everything.”

Entrusting the furnace to Zhang Nianchen, Zhong Ming and Zhang Daozhen sat at the table, where Zhong Ming recounted the events in detail.

When he finished, Zhang Daozhen’s expression darkened, brows tightly knit. After a moment’s thought, he said, “This is not easy. You know as well as I do, I am no match for the White Jade Capital’s disciple. I fear I cannot help you.”

Zhong Ming had expected this answer, so he quickly produced two items from his pocket.

The first was a life-buying copper coin left by his father Xu Qiandao inside the stone-lock mandarin ducks; the second was the Moonlight Pearl from the old mountain demon Yaya.

“Elder, look at these. My father said in his letter this coin can buy a life. I figure both are valuable—perhaps we can use them to purchase a life at the Lifesaver Hall in town!”

Hearing the mention of the Lifesaver Hall, Zhang Daozhen’s brows rose. He carefully felt the copper coin Zhong Ming handed him.

After tracing its patterns several times, he exclaimed, “This truly is a Lifesaver Hall coin—there’s hope yet!”

Zhong Ming had long possessed the coin, knowing it was a rare treasure. His father’s letter had said: if your life is in danger, take this coin to the Lifesaver Hall in town and buy yourself a way out.

The Lifesaver Hall was a third-rate pharmacy, its elderly physician barely able to treat dysentery, let alone revive the dead.

So Zhong Ming pondered—the coin must hold some hidden power, though no one could explain it to him.

Now, with life and death at stake, he produced the coin, hoping it might save Fei Dacheng.

As for the Moonlight Pearl, Zhong Ming feared a single coin might not suffice to buy a life from the White Jade Capital, so he added a sweetener.

Seeing Zhang Daozhen’s excitement at the coin, Zhong Ming pressed, “Elder, how does one use this coin? Do I simply take it to the Lifesaver Hall?”

“You possess a life-buying coin, yet do not know its use?” Zhang Daozhen was surprised.

Zhong Ming had no care for its deeper purpose and seized Zhang Daozhen’s arm. “Enough riddles! Come with me to the city at once!”

Rescuing Fei Dacheng was urgent; Zhong Ming had no patience for Zhang Daozhen’s theatrics.

Dragged outside, Zhang Daozhen hurriedly instructed, “Disciple, watch the furnace; don’t let the pills spoil.”

“Understood!” came Zhang Nianchen’s reply from within.

In his haste, Zhong Ming forgot the Moonlight Pearl on the table.

It lay quietly, glowing with gentle light, just as Zhang Nianchen noticed it.

Curious, Zhang Nianchen picked it up, examined it closely, and exclaimed, “Is this a stone essence?”

…

Meanwhile, Zhong Ming and Zhang Daozhen sped toward Wangxian City, both having taken swift-movement pills. Their speed rivaled that of horses.

Along the way, Zhang Daozhen explained the origin of the life-buying coin, letting Zhong Ming realize its true worth.

The coin came from a martial sect with a thousand-year legacy—Execution.

Strictly speaking, Execution was not a martial sect but a mysterious, powerful assassin organization spanning Xuanbei’s Zhongzhou.

Its heritage was ancient, reaching back to the era of the Grand Taoist Zhang Daoling. Legend had it the founder, Meng Tian, was as famed as Zhang Daoling, a legendary martial figure.

Meng Tian’s name might not be remembered now, but his moniker, the Soul-Harvesting Yama, was renowned, with his legend still echoing through the martial world.

Over the centuries, eight legendary figures bore the Yama nickname, collectively called the Eight Pavilions of Yama.

At their head was the Soul-Harvesting Yama; Zhong Ming’s father, Xu Qiandao, was the last—Great Blade Yama.

Each of these eight brought blood and chaos to the martial world, all reaching its pinnacle by wading through rivers of blood.

It was said the Soul-Harvesting Yama once dueled Zhang Daoling, who was acknowledged as the greatest Taoist martial artist. Their bout was for skill, not for death.

Zhang Daoling prevailed, but only narrowly, later saying, “I beat you by but a move and a half.”

Thus, the Soul-Harvesting Yama earned the title “Half a Move Short,” becoming second only to Zhang Daoling.

In those days, Zhang Daoling’s status was akin to that of Qin Xiong, the Invincible, chief of the Three Divine Generals of New Tang—universally acknowledged as martial world’s number one.

Meng Tian founded Execution not as an assassin group, but as a loose association to help martial artists.

Any martial artist could take or post tasks through Execution, trading as needed.

Because martial artists often dealt with love and vengeance, Execution became notorious for slaying prominent figures, gradually earning the reputation of an assassin organization.

Mention Execution, and martial artists think of a group daring enough to kill emperors.

As long as you had enough money, Execution could accomplish anything.

But “money” meant the life-buying coin Zhong Ming held, not ordinary currency.

To earn one, one had to complete many tasks for Execution.

Life-buying coins came in three grades: Zizhu, Copper Disc, Copper Coin.

Zizhu was the most common, used for simple tasks, like killing a minor martial artist or finding rare items.

Copper Disc was rare, awarded only to those who had done much for Execution, enough to warrant exterminating an entire martial sect.

The copper coin in Zhong Ming’s hand was a once-in-a-century rarity.

The last time one appeared was sixty years ago, when the infamous Blade Demon suffered a disastrous setback, his martial arts ruined. News spread, and countless enemies hunted him, leaving no refuge.

Desperate, the Blade Demon used a copper coin to hire Execution’s protection for three years.

For three years, Execution shielded him against the entire martial world.

Two hours after the term ended, the Blade Demon was butchered by his foes, leaving not a scrap of his body intact.

How to obtain a copper coin remained a mystery; Execution recognized only the coin, not the bearer. Anyone, villain or hero, could use it.

Since then, no copper coin had surfaced; Zhong Ming’s was likely the last.

His father’s letter spoke true: whatever the danger, this coin could buy Zhong Ming’s life.

Realizing its importance, Zhang Daozhen sighed, “Knowing its value, are you truly willing to use it for that fat boy’s life?”

“What else? Could you defeat Yutu, or could I rescue him?”

Truth be told, Zhong Ming was reluctant—the coin’s power was extraordinary and could only be used once. Afterward, it would be gone forever.

He took out the coin, rubbing its surface between his fingers. One side bore a fierce ghost, the other, the inscription for buying a life.

The old Taoist’s question made Zhong Ming pause.

Someday, it might truly save his own life—should he use it for Fei Dacheng today?

Suddenly, Fei Dacheng’s round face appeared in his mind, smiling foolishly. “Brother Ming, I went to town today to gather news…”

With resolve, Zhong Ming clenched the coin. “I must save him!”

No matter how reluctant, he would spend the coin—for if he failed to save Fei Dacheng, he would regret it all his life.

His steps quickened, urging Zhang Daozhen to hurry as well.

When Zhong Ming reached the city gate, the platform erected earlier was being dismantled by constables. The disciples of White Jade Capital had left, and the crowd dispersed.

Some constables recognized Zhong Ming, marveling as he vaulted the platform.

“Master Zhong, what skill!”

But Zhong Ming had no time for replies, heading straight for the gate.

Inside, he saw Liang Yu riding out in haste—the two met face to face.

Liang Yu dismounted, breathless. “Brother Ming, I’ve found out—someone saw the rabbit-rider take Dacheng to a mansion in the north of the city, where White Jade Capital’s disciples are staying. I’ve confirmed the entrance.”

Liang Yu was reliable, and Zhong Ming nodded. “No time to lose—follow me.”

Liang Yu hurriedly turned his horse, preparing to follow Zhong Ming to the Lifesaver Hall.

Misfortune always comes in droves. As Liang Yu turned, a pure white stallion galloped through the city, its rider seemingly in a hurry, nearly colliding with Liang Yu.

Liang Yu’s black horse was startled, rearing and bolting out of town, trampling the nearly dismantled platform and knocking over two constables, leaving only a cloud of dust.

“My horse!”

Liang Yu cried out, ready to pursue, but torn between chasing it and saving Fei Dacheng.

Zhong Ming frowned. “Go after your horse; leave the rest to me.”

With Zhong Ming’s permission, Liang Yu dashed off after his horse.

Meanwhile, the white horse, still startled, reared dangerously. It nearly struck Zhong Ming, but Zhang Daozhen sensed the peril and acted—leaping high, he seized the horse’s head and forced it to the ground.

The horse struggled and cried beneath his grip, but its rider did not fall.

The rider was clearly skilled, landing lightly like a drifting leaf and standing firm.

She wore a black martial outfit, a black gauze hat, and held a sword with a silver scabbard, bowing to Zhong Ming and Zhang Daozhen. “Forgive me—I am not skilled at riding and startled your mounts.”

Her voice was soft, like wind chimes—a woman.

Zhong Ming was angry, but hearing she was a woman and seeing her apologize, he sighed and let it go.

He cupped his hands. “No harm done,” and turned to leave.

By now, Zhang Daozhen had calmed the horse. Taoists excel at communicating with all things, and this white horse was extraordinary, highly spirited. The old Taoist gently soothed it until it stood quietly.

He patted its side and kindly advised, “Lady, be careful riding through the city.”

The black-clad woman bowed again. “Thank you, Master.”

Zhang Daozhen flashed a shaman’s smile, turning to depart, but the woman raised her hand and asked, “Master, do you know the way to Muddy Village?”

“What business have you in Muddy Village?” Zhang Daozhen halted, his smile fading as he began divining.

Zhong Ming, just a few steps away, turned sharply to look at her.

She named Muddy Village—what did that mean?

But with Fei Dacheng’s rescue urgent, Zhong Ming had no time to probe her motives.

His mind raced; whatever her purpose, he would send her on a wild goose chase, buying himself time. He beat Zhang Daozhen to it, taking the white horse’s reins and leading her toward the city gate, pointing at a desolate spot. “Lady, there’s a stream far off, beside it a village—that’s Muddy Village.”

It was pure fabrication—neither the stream nor the village’s location existed.

Zhong Ming appeared helpful but was insincere, thinking: Whatever she’s here for, let her wander the Suiyun Mountains!

He handed her the reins, urging, “Hurry, or you won’t reach Muddy Village by dusk.”

The woman found Zhong Ming’s enthusiasm touching, marveled at the kindness of border folk, and rode off toward the mountains.

Watching her depart, Zhong Ming pulled Zhang Daozhen toward the city.

But Zhang Daozhen would not move, rooted like an old tree.

Zhong Ming’s suppressed anger burst forth. “Old Taoist, why are you standing here? Go save him!”

“I cast two divinations—one brings joy, one brings worry. Which do you wish to hear first?”

Zhong Ming was so furious he wanted to slap the old Taoist’s face and knock out his yellow teeth.

He shouted, “Speak quickly, or I’ll slap you twice!”

Coughing awkwardly, Zhang Daozhen realized his mysterious act was ill-timed. He hurriedly replied, “I divined that the lady carries murderous energy—she may bring disaster to Muddy Village.”

Zhong Ming’s heart tightened. Why did trouble have to come now?

Fei Dacheng waited to be rescued, and now a sword-wielding woman threatened Muddy Village with bloodshed—was this fate determined to drive Zhong Ming to despair?