Demon Spirit Jiangshi
When the jiangshi first appeared in Jiangsu Province, the Namgung Family was thrown into utter disarray.
The crisis struck just as other sects had begun quietly establishing branch offices in Jiangsu and slowly extending their influence. To deal with the jiangshi threat, every asset the family had already planted in the province was forced into motion. And the first thing the main house in Anhui did upon receiving the news was bluster to the other sects that they would handle the matter themselves.
If their long-running schemes were exposed, the damage would go far beyond wounded pride—every effort they had poured into the region could turn to ash. So the Namgung Family fought desperately to bury their own secrets.
At first, morale was rock-bottom. The jiangshi that had appeared in Jiangsu were nothing like the stiff, shambling corpses of legend. They moved with fluid grace, radiated an eerie energy, and could even execute martial arts. Corpses that walked were already unsettling enough; the sheer numbers—dozens swarming together—made the situation far worse.
Then the Namgung Family realized something new.
These things… are weaker than we thought?
Setting aside their uncanny nature, the jiangshi’s actual strength barely scraped the bottom of the Second-class rank. Namgung Yo, the Second Young Master overseeing the entire Jiangsu operation, saw opportunity.
They’re nothing but a disorganized mob with numbers. If we use the terrain and pick them apart, the forces already in Jiangsu can handle this.
If the Namgung Family alone crushed the jiangshi horde, they would gain both renown and a legitimate claim to influence over the province.
Spreading influence in secret the way we’ve been doing risks drawing the ire of the other great sects. But if the main house becomes Jiangsu’s savior, the story changes completely.
The common folk would praise and support the Namgung Family for delivering them. That popular support would become a shield against interference from the other prestigious orthodox sects.
If it goes that well… challenging for the position of Young Family Head wouldn’t be a dream anymore.
Ambition stirred inside Namgung Yo. He had long since given up any hope of becoming head of the Namgung Family. The reason was the overwhelming gap between himself and his elder brother, the First Young Master Namgung Myeong.
The Namgung were a martial family and a sword house above all; martial achievement was prized above everything else. Namgung Myeong had reached the realm of Peak Expert while still in his twenties—an astonishing feat. The family head had immediately named him Young Family Head.
I volunteered for the Jiangsu branch just to carve out some standing inside the family…
Who could have imagined a chance like this would fall into his lap? Truly a case of turning disaster into fortune.
And big brother just happens to have left for a banquet at this critical moment?
Word was he had ignored every attempt to stop him and departed for Wuhan in Hubei Province. It was an uncharacteristic lapse for Namgung Myeong—but for Namgung Yo, it was perfect. While his elder brother was off wasting time, he would seize the initiative and leave a strong impression on the main house.
The only real obstacle was that his martial prowess still lagged behind Namgung Myeong’s. Time would solve that too.
The Namgung martial arts are profound enough to contend for the title of greatest under heaven. Steady training will eventually let me break through the wall.
Namgung Yo regarded the wall of Peak Expert lightly. He was no genius, but he possessed solid talent of the next tier down, and as a scion of the Namgung he had never wanted for resources. Above all, like every Namgung, he took excessive pride in his family—pride that bordered on arrogance. Failure simply never entered his mind. Failure was unbefitting of the Namgung name.
Forgive me, big brother. But the one who showed weakness is the one at fault, isn’t he?
Namgung Yo murmured to himself with a satisfied smile, already painting rosy visions of the future that would follow his success. That smile did not last long.
“Urgent report! The jiangshi horde has begun acting strangely!”
“What do you mean? Explain in detail!”
“The creatures that had been attacking martial artists indiscriminately are now ignoring them entirely and marching westward without pause!”
“Wait—west of Jiangsu is…”
Namgung Yo’s face went ashen. West of Jiangsu lay Anhui Province, the very seat of the Namgung Family.
“Stop them! Mobilize every man we have and keep them from reaching Anhui no matter what!”
He snatched up his treasured sword and bolted outside. The moment the jiangshi left Jiangsu, every plan would collapse. But that was not the worst possibility. If they pushed past Anhui as well, word of the Namgung Family’s incompetence would spread across the entire Central Plains. He had to halt their advance before that happened.
Yet the forces the Namgung possessed in Jiangsu alone were nowhere near enough to stop the endless tide of jiangshi. The rampage of the jiangshi horde—its true beginning—had just opened.
The jiangshi packs that had been scattered across Jiangsu. Sightings had been reported everywhere, yet no one knew their exact numbers. They had attacked in groups of ten, sometimes nearly twenty, never gathering in greater strength in one place—until now. When the scattered packs fused into a single host and began their advance, the numbers became almost impossible to count by eye. The army of corpses kicked up clouds of dust as it marched, its sheer presence radiating oppressive force.
From a distance, others watched the advance. Men who looked like Taoist priests at a glance held gleaming silver bells. When they rang them toward the horde, a sound inaudible to human ears rolled out. Riding the waves of qi, that sound reached the jiangshi with perfect clarity. In answer to the signal, the corpses gradually shifted direction and continued their march.
“Good. At this rate they’ll reach the destination without trouble.”
“Senior Brother Cho Un, there is one thing I don’t understand.”
“What is it?”
“Why did we never use the jiangshi to attack the common folk?”
The common people—the “grass of the people”—grew wild by the roadside like weeds. Seizing them as raw material would have let the jiangshi numbers swell far more quickly and easily. Why ignore them and hunt only martial artists?
“True, using the common folk would let us multiply the numbers rapidly. But it would also hand the other side a perfect pretext to move.”
“You mean the orthodox sects?”
“Hardly.”
Cho Un snorted at his junior brother’s question. If they had feared the great orthodox or unorthodox sects, they never would have touched martial artists in the first place. The one he truly worried about was someone else.
“The government—more precisely, the military’s temper. We must avoid provoking it as much as possible.”
“Ah…!”
The junior brother finally understood and nodded. At the same time he grasped why they had been so careful not to touch either the common people or the authorities.
“Corpses that walk already put them in a foul mood. If we start attacking civilians and officials, the military will have no choice but to act.”
In a chaotic age of endless war, when there was no proper way to dispose of bodies, perhaps such things could be overlooked. But walking corpses in a time of peace? That was why the Jinju Eonga had abandoned the arts of controlling jiangshi. That was why the Mount Mao Sect had sealed itself away on its mountain and cut all contact with the outside world—solely to avoid ruffling the imperial court’s feathers and drawing the military into motion.
“The military is slow to move, but once it does, it will wipe out the jiangshi horde we’ve gathered in an instant.”
For all that the military was derided as a swarm of locusts for the vast resources it consumed and the desolation it left on the battlefield, the reverse was equally true: once committed, clearing out a jiangshi horde would be trivial. All the hardship endured until now would become wasted effort.
“So we arranged things so that only martial artists would be attacked, buying even a little extra time before the military responds.”
The unspoken pact of mutual non-interference between the government and the murim. The jiangshi attacks were strictly a murim problem, not a matter for the authorities. Every precaution had been taken to make it appear that way—and to make it look as though the murim itself could resolve the crisis without government help.
“But now that they’ve left Jiangsu and begun advancing outward, will the military simply stand by?”
“Of course not. The nature of the threat has changed from when they were only striking martial artists inside Jiangsu.”
Until now it had been a local disturbance confined to a single province. The moment the jiangshi crossed Jiangsu’s borders, it became a large-scale disaster spanning multiple regions. The military was surely watching their movements with sharp eyes, ready to act at any moment.
“But as you both know, that no longer matters.”
“True. The numbers we actually need have already been smuggled away through the Heavenly Demon Cult. Most of the ones here are defective rejects—sacrifices.”
In short, this advance was closer to a display of power—a chance to show the world the true face of an art long believed to have declined.
That is why I betrayed my former sect, the Mount Mao Sect, and joined hands with the Heavenly Demon Cult.
Cho Un used his eye technique to examine the force approaching from afar: the combat units of the Namgung Family, known as the overlords of Anhui.
“A fitting sacrifice has come to demonstrate the jiangshi’s power and the name of the Ghost Cry Gate.”
The Ghost Cry Gate—the new school of sorcerers that had split from the fallen Mount Mao Sect—had nothing left to fear. Cho Un’s eyes flashed with a ghostly smile. To them, Anhui was nothing more than a waypoint on the road. The jiangshi’s true destination was only one place.
Wuhan in Hubei Province, where the Martial Alliance headquarters stands.
From the very beginning, the jiangshi advance had been aimed at that single goal. At present the Martial Alliance was less a military force than a simple communication network. Yet a network was nothing to underestimate. The orthodox sects’ ability to respond so swiftly across the Central Plains owed much to that network’s existence. Destroy it, and until it could be restored, contact between the orthodox factions would be severed and their responses would slow. Achieving the great enterprise would become that much easier.
In the end the Martial Alliance is just a school of minnows with a grand name. It won’t be difficult.
Cho Un smiled darkly and prepared to receive the approaching Namgung forces.
At the Martial Alliance headquarters in Wuhan, Hubei Province, an emergency council was in full session under Byeok Seonggun, Chief Administrator of the Martial Alliance. Among those present were Namgung Myeong, Cheonhwa, and the other rising talents who happened to be in Wuhan. No one could claim the expressions around the table looked good. The jiangshi problem that had begun in Jiangsu had finally spilled into other regions.
“At present the jiangshi horde is ignoring the Namgung combat units and continuing its advance. Judging by the direction of their march, their destination is almost certainly here—Wuhan.”
Namgung Myeong delivered the news from Anhui with a heavy face. He had originally feared the jiangshi would leave Jiangsu and pour straight toward the Namgung Family. That particular worry had proven premature, only for a far worse situation to take its place.
Byeok Seonggun carefully asked Namgung Myeong, “How is it that the Namgung combat units failed to stop them?”
“Originally the average strength of the jiangshi was below that of a Second-class martial artist. Yet somehow, the fewer their numbers became, the more explosively each individual grew in power. In the end the entire horde reached at least First-class strength. Some among them were even comparable to Peak Experts.”
“The explosive increase in the jiangshi’s strength is almost certainly due to the nature of demonic arts.”
Cheonhwa added to Namgung Myeong’s explanation. Every gaze in the room turned to him, silently demanding that he share whatever insight he possessed. Cheonhwa offered his conjecture.
“Among the demonic arts confirmed by the Zhongnan Sect is something called the Essence-Stealing Qi Absorption Art—a technique that absorbs the vital energy and internal power of those who have only recently died. I believe the entire jiangshi horde has mastered this art.”
“You’re saying jiangshi have learned martial arts?”
“Yes. Within the knowledge I possess, nothing else explains it.”
The true qi of ordinary internal cultivation methods was refined from the natural energy of heaven and earth, much like the refining process used in alchemy to create elixirs. By contrast, the demonic qi tempered through demonic arts was like a hungry ghost that swallowed everything in its path. Even the demonic qi and death energy that burst from destroyed jiangshi became nothing more than fuel for further accumulation.
“An army that grows stronger the more its numbers dwindle…”
“Even a great sect would hesitate to face such monsters alone.”
Sighs rose from every side. A host of tens of thousands of jiangshi would have been headache enough; the knowledge that they grew stronger as their numbers fell left everyone feeling helpless.
“Now that the Namgung Family has failed to stop the horde, we have no choice but to act ourselves. Does anyone have a good idea?”
At Byeok Seonggun’s question the council chamber erupted into noise.
“Shouldn’t we first send word to our own sects?”
“Fighting as we are is not the best plan. Better to withdraw and wait for another day.”
“Withdraw? Are you saying it’s acceptable for the orthodox communication network to collapse?”
“And if the stain of having fled attaches itself to us, which sect will want to remain in the Martial Alliance…?”
“Tch. The Namgung Family boasted so loudly—if they were going to fail like this, why step forward at all?”
Some thought only of their own sect’s safety. Some had already given up on fighting. Some simply heaped blame on the Namgung failure. Voices of every kind filled the air, yet not a single constructive answer emerged.
So it turns out like this after all?
Watching the council plunge into chaos in an instant, Byeok Seonggun wanted to tear his hair out. He had more or less expected it. For all that the Martial Alliance was a coalition of the orthodox sects, it was still only a communication network, not a true military force. Why else would its highest office be Chief Administrator rather than Alliance Leader? Even Byeok Seonggun himself was a man far removed from martial power; he had received the post solely because of his outstanding administrative skill. He possessed no ability whatsoever to handle a crisis of this magnitude.
And most of the people gathered here are the same.
The majority present were simply messengers stationed at the Alliance by their respective sects. Their lightness skill might be decent, but overall martial prowess was nothing impressive. Moreover, unlike Byeok Seonggun, they did not truly belong to the Alliance, so they fretted first and foremost over their own sects’ safety. A proper council was never going to function.
Once the Southern Barbarian Beast Palace matter was settled, we were supposed to gradually transform into a real military force. Who could have expected something like this to erupt in the meantime?
A proper military organization would have an Alliance Leader to set direction. But the current Martial Alliance had not yet risen above the level of a communication network. It excelled at transmitting information, yet lacked the talent to make use of that information on its own. As a result, no one could decide how to respond or which way to move.
While Byeok Seonggun despaired in that hopeless situation, someone addressed him—the rising talent of the Zhongnan Sect who had just spoken about demonic arts: Cheonhwa.
“Chief Administrator Byeok Seonggun, may I have the floor, if you would allow it?”
“Ah—yes, of course.”
“Thank you.”
Cheonhwa rose with a word of thanks and spoke.
“We no longer have the luxury of thinking about anything else.”
His voice was not loud, yet it carried with perfect clarity and rebuked everyone present. As every eye turned toward him, Cheonhwa pressed forward without pause.
“Even at this very moment the jiangshi continue to approach. If we keep dithering, we will lose even the time to respond. This is not a problem that can be solved by running away or by assigning blame.”
A gaze like flame swept across the assembly. The will burning in his eyes was intense enough to overwhelm those who met it. The others closed their mouths and listened.
“There is only one thing we must do right now: decide how we will deal with the jiangshi.”
The young Taoist who had stood at the summit of the rising generation at the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering stepped fully into the light.