Chapter 53: Water Curse (Revised)

The guards moved swiftly, wrapping the prepared oilcloth around the cargo and securing it tightly with fine dark red cords. The rain grew heavier, and all the escorts felt as though a great weight pressed upon their hearts. None felt it more keenly than Chief Chu, who knew well that if anything went wrong with this delivery, it would be catastrophic. How many of these men would live to tell the tale was uncertain, yet theirs was a trade where lives were exchanged for coin.

When they took the commission, Chu had advised the young master against it, but as merely a chief escort, the final say wasn’t his—there was always someone higher up. He had already resolved: if he survived this journey, he would quit this blood-stained profession for good.

From ahead on the official road came the sound of hooves—Wang Huai, returning from reconnaissance, pulled his yellow horse to a halt beside the convoy, water spraying from its flanks.

“Big brother, Qianshan Town is just three or four li ahead. Turn past that mountain pass and you’ll see it,” Wang Huai reported urgently.

“Good. Before the roads become slick, let’s pick up the pace, brothers!” Chief Chu shouted.

With horses pulling and men pushing, the convoy gained speed. Rounding the pass, they could see the old stone bridge at the town’s entrance, standing firm after two or three centuries across the clear river, offering passage to townsfolk and merchants alike.

Beneath the bridge rested a decaying bronze sword, its blade thickly coated in verdigris, bearing witness to its ancient history. Many places upheld the tradition of offering swords beneath bridges—some said to ward off river dragons, others to repel water ghosts—but in Qianshan Town, the bronze sword was meant to block evil spirits.

At this moment, the sword vibrated faintly, and as the convoy drew closer, the trembling intensified. When the lead wagon’s wheels rolled onto the bridge, flakes of verdigris fell from the sword, and the rotting blade crumbled to dust.

The escorts, debating whether to first feast and drink or head straight to the brothel, were in high spirits, their laughter ringing above the rain.

Suddenly, Chief Chu seemed to hear something, and he barked, “Shut your mouths, all of you! Stop the wagons and check your vehicles!”

The guards fell silent, inspecting their wagons top to bottom. Chief Chu dismounted, quickly checking each wagon, even pressing his ear to the wood to listen closely, unable to pinpoint the source of the sound.

Finding nothing amiss, he waved for the convoy to move on, but kept his senses sharp, straining to catch the sound again.

There it was—the crack. This time, not only Chief Chu but all the escorts heard the distinct snap from within the convoy, and before they could react, the lead wagon’s wheel broke, sending the carriage tumbling.

With a loud crash, something long inside the wagon rolled, snapping its ropes—a red coffin, which smashed through the bridge’s railing and plunged into the river.

Chief Chu was so stunned his heart nearly stopped. He reached out, trying vainly to catch hold of something.

He drew a deep breath; rainwater streamed down his hair and into his collar, but he felt no chill at all.

“Wang Huai, hurry to town and notify the Office of Peacekeeping. Tell them a water demon of Qi Sea level is about to emerge, and have them request aid from the county office. I’ll hold the line here.”

How fierce a water demon could be, he did not know if he, Chu Xiong, could withstand it.

“The rest of you, form an arrow formation. If I die, flee for your lives.” Chu Xiong’s throat tightened, his tone tinged with tragic resolve. He unfastened his bronze dragon staff, eyes fixed on the churning river as he issued orders.

Meanwhile, Li Shui was cultivating in the rear courtyard of the town magistracy.

“Third young master, something’s wrong!” came a shout from outside, making Li Shui’s heart skip a beat as he rushed out.

Two junior flag officers brought a drenched man running up to him.

“Sir, I am an escort from Fengli Escort Agency. The water demon we were transporting accidentally fell into the river at the old stone bridge. Chief Chu sent me to seek aid. He’s delaying the demon there—it has Qi Sea cultivation. Please send for help from the county office immediately,” the man gasped.

Li Shui’s eyes widened. Usually bored, he had finally encountered a case, but it was beyond his ability—he could only request reinforcements.

The frustration stuck in his throat, but he acted swiftly, dispatching four men in two teams: one to Crane County to fetch his master, the other to the nearby Willow Town for Old Six.

For his master, he instructed them to ask for details. For Old Six, the message was simple: “Old Six, come save me.”

He sent the messengers off at once.

“Tell me, what’s the background of this water demon?” Li Shui pressed.

“Sir, this water demon was dredged up in the prefecture, found by fishermen and turned over to the local authorities. It’s an ancient corpse, along with its family—six bodies in total.”

“The authorities sold it at a high price to the Wei family of Shengzhou, who hired our escort agency to deliver it. At the bridge, the wagon wheel broke, and the coffin fell into the river,” Wang Huai reported rapidly.

“Once the water demon hit water, its ferocity exploded—it’s likely to begin a killing spree. With this heavy rain, where can the townspeople hide?” Li Shui sighed inwardly.

He immediately called the remaining two men to take a letter to Crane County for his master.

“Zhang San, go summon all flag officers to assemble at the town entrance.”

“Li Si, notify the mayor—have him warn the townsfolk to hide if they can.”

Li Shui gave swift orders, then hurried toward the old stone bridge himself.

At Willow Town’s training ground, blades whistled through the air, and Ling Chi moved with the grace of a dragon, his long saber slicing and thrusting with formidable power. Hei Wa and the others watched, imagining the day they would become experts themselves, full of flair and heroism.

Cao Bianjiao had only stayed a dozen days before his father summoned him home with an urgent letter.

After practice, Ling Chi was gulping rice from a large bowl.

“Sir, someone from Qianshan Town is here with a letter from Magistrate Li,” reported the flag officer on duty.

Third brother? What could he want?

Ling Chi dared not be careless, taking the letter and reading it—his expression changed.

“Did you already start fighting?” Ling Chi grabbed the messenger.

“Not yet—Magistrate Li sent us for help immediately,” the flag officer said quickly.

“Follow behind, I’ll go ahead.” Ling Chi said, “I’ll eat later.”

Before his words finished, his figure vanished in a flash of thunder at the doorway, the wind he stirred fading into the distance.

Ling Chi’s diligent training had made his Thunder Step capable of covering dozens of yards in an instant; his form became a streak of lightning racing toward Qianshan Town.

At the old stone bridge in Qianshan Town, the river’s turmoil slowly subsided, but Chu Xiong’s heart was now suspended in dread. He gripped his bronze dragon staff tightly, his Qi Sea spinning within, gathering thick earth-aspected spiritual energy around him.