Chapter 84#

Sang-ge, I Miss You So Much#

More than four hours had passed since the start of the battle, and Ying Zhao grew increasingly restless. He sent a message asking, “Still no sign of the Saint?”

“No need to ask,” Bai Ruoye’s face was as cold as water. “He must be at the front line.”

“A bunch of useless trash! We’ve been fighting for so long and haven’t even advanced a mile into the city. We can’t even take down a single market district!” Ying Zhao gritted his teeth. “If only we had a Heavenly Eye mystic. After surveying the terrain, we could simply open the Formless Law Gates and send people straight inside.”

“Indeed, truly useless,” Bai Ruoye sighed.

She knew Su Ruhui and Sang Chiyu’s tactics. They were stalling for time; they wanted to save the people of Black Street. Perhaps Su Ruhui was currently setting up an array in the Inner City ward, attempting to evacuate everyone.

“If we can’t even take the Outer City, my Yao race will become the laughingstock of the world,” Bai Ruoye said. “The Inner City ward is nothing more than a group of old, weak, sick, and disabled. My King, we should concentrate our forces to attack the Outer City and capture the Saint alive.”

Ying Zhao requested instructions from the King of Luofu: “Should we not simply open the Law Gates and go in?”

The King of Luofu remained silent.

A look of mockery appeared in Bai Ruoye’s lowered eyes. If not for these fools’ massive slaughter, how could the mystics of the Border City have suffered such casualties? It had reached the point where they couldn’t even pick out a few Heavenly Eye mystics. Generally speaking, when besieging a city, the Formless Law Gate must cooperate with the Heavenly Eye. The Heavenly Eye surveys the terrain to determine a landing spot, and the Formless Law Gate opens the portal for transport. After all, the number of soldiers a Law Gate can transport is very limited—at most twenty-five Yao at a time. For such a small number of Yao to enter the tiger’s den without being familiar with the terrain, the entire squad could easily be wiped out if the surrounding conditions aren’t surveyed in advance.

Before long, her guard escorted a black-clad monk through the army ranks to their horses. Leading them was Xia Jing. Xia Jing first bowed to the King of Luofu, respectfully calling him “My King,” and then turned to Bai Ruoye. “Princess… Jiang, the person you requested has been brought.”

Bai Ruoye dismounted and bowed. “Great Star Official Motuo Yanna, I trust you have been well. How are the injuries on your body?”

The monk was covered in bandages, his face mostly obscured. When the Wujian Prison exploded that day, he had been caught in the blast and injured, and had been recuperating at home ever since. Who would have thought that upon stepping out of his manor again, the world outside would have completely changed. He smiled bitterly. “I would rather have died of my wounds.”

“I must ask the Great Star Official for his assistance. You are a Fire-Watching Realm Heavenly Eye mystic; observing Black Street is an effortless task for you,” Bai Ruoye said. “Our race is thirsty for talent and recruits widely. Whether in the Secret Sect or in the Royal Court, the Great Star Official remains the Great Star Official.”

The King of Luofu waved his sleeve. “My daughter’s words are my words.”

Motuo Yanna shook his head gently. “Lord Jiang, you have failed the Great High Priest. Life is like dew on grass, the icy heart is solitary and bitter. Even if you betray me, I shall not betray you.”

Bai Ruoye’s expression stiffened, her heart feeling as if it were being seized by someone. She closed her eyes and said, “Great Star Official, why bother with this?”

“Ruoye, step back,” the King of Luofu commanded.

Bai Ruoye knew that the King of Luofu was about to use a secret technique. The consequences of Motuo Yanna disobeying the King of Luofu’s orders were obvious. Sweat broke out on Bai Ruoye’s forehead as she cupped her hands. “Father, give me a few more moments of time. I can persuade him.”

“No need. Step back,” the King of Luofu’s voice grew several degrees sharper.

Bai Ruoye had no choice but to step away. All the surrounding Yao turned their faces away, even Ying Zhao turned his back to them. While Motuo Yanna was wondering why, he saw the white-robed Yao on the horse remove his hood, revealing his deathly pale face. Motuo Yanna’s pupils instantly contracted until they were like needles. The monster’s face had no features, only a single giant vertical eye. It looked as if his entire face had been split open, with a bulging eyeball peeking out from the crevice, showing a hint of white and a pupil—it carried an innately sinister aura.

The eyeball stared at Motuo Yanna. In an instant, it felt as if darkness had shrouded his soul. Motuo Yanna’s mind suffered a massive shock, and he began bleeding from his seven orifices.

After a long while, he bowed his head and knelt. “Dantai Jing is a wicked person. I am willing to abandon the darkness for the light and serve my King.”

Law Gates opened throughout various parts of Black Street, establishing individual strike teams. They approached Thunder God Street, Mountain Fire Alley, and Tea Street in a pincer formation. Black Street was forced to divert manpower to deal with the strike teams inside the city. They were already shorthanded, and now they were stretched even thinner. Anan had sent two urgent distress signals, and Sang Chiyu’s position had already been moved once.

Just when they were truly unable to hold out and were planning to retreat, the rain of bullets ahead suddenly ceased. Many puppet courtesans carrying firelocks crawled out from behind the barbed wire fences. These courtesans climbed along the earthen walls like spiders, their long robes with cloud, water, and crane patterns stained with blood, revealing ivory thighs beneath their split skirts. Dusk had arrived, and their jade-like skin shimmered as if coated in a thick layer of oil.

Beautiful as they were, the sight of them climbing the walls with their bare hands was terrifying.

In the Inner City of Black Street, many puppet courtesans lay before Su Ruhui with the backs of their heads opened. A single-lens glass monocle was perched over his right eye, and his hands moved with lightning speed. While he adjusted their spiritual star arrays, he spoke into the compass: “I’ve sent three hundred flesh puppets to you.”

“Received.”

“I’ve modified their spiritual star arrays. Their primary objective has changed from ‘serving’ to ‘killing Yao.’ They are very fierce; use them as you wish.”

Just as Sang Chiyu was about to reply, he heard an anxious voice from Su Ruhui’s end: “Boss Su, the trench for the third sub-star array is about to be dug. How should we dig it? Is it the same as the first two?”

“Not the same. I’ll direct you,” Su Ruhui said. “Sang-ge, I have to get to work.”

“Go on.”

Su Ruhui whispered softly, “Sang-ge, I miss you so much.”

Sang Chiyu’s hand paused as he loaded a cartridge. He said softly, “I miss you too.”

Su Ruhui began his busy work, and Sang Chiyu placed the compass back inside his shirt. The sunset was like blood, and the streets were piled with severed limbs. They had just finished a round of combat; it was now a ceasefire period. A Law Gate mystic could open a gate at most four times a day, and after opening it once, they needed at least two incense sticks’ worth of time to rest. Both the Yao and the people of Black Street knew full well that when the Law Gates opened next time, both sides would be plunged into a fight to the death again.

Sang Chiyu placed the puppets Su Ruhui had sent outside to guard the door, leaving a few thugs crouching behind sandbags to watch the opposite side and prevent enemy ambushes. He hunched his back and entered the back room, which was filled with wounded soldiers. Sang Chiyu’s position had already become a gathering point for the wounded. The Inner City had sent several healing mystics to support them, but it was still far from enough.

Two thugs were in the corner counting the remaining cartridges, gunpowder, and blood-stanching herbs. They didn’t need to count for Sang Chiyu to know that their stockpiles were nearly exhausted. What they lacked most wasn’t manpower, but ammunition.

A wounded person named A-Yao lay on the long table in the back room. A bullet had entered his stomach, and the healing mystic had to dig it out before treatment could begin. Han Ye was pinning down A-Yao’s upper body, the veins on his forehead bulging. Sang Chiyu stepped forward to help, pinning down his two legs.

“Stay calm! Calm down, I’ll be done in a moment!” The doctor comforted A-Yao, cutting open his clothes. “I am in the Nether-Passing Realm. Trust me, this little injury of yours is nothing!”

“Give me mandrake,” A-Yao cried out, gripping Sang Chiyu’s arm tightly. “Give me mandrake!”

Mandrake was a medicine used for pain relief, but it had been used up an hour ago. Seeing that A-Yao was about to bite his tongue, Sang Chiyu tore off a piece of his lapel and stuffed it into his mouth. His clothes were cut away, exposing the wound to everyone. The doctor froze on the spot, and Han Ye shouted angrily, “Why aren’t you digging out the bullet yet?”

Sang Chiyu looked at the wound and knew that this person could not be saved. His wound was the size of a fist; his intestines had been blown apart, and fecal matter mixed with blood was gushing out. If it were an ordinary wound, healing secret arts could make it close. But it was different now; the fecal matter would contaminate his wound. Even if it were forcibly healed, the wound would fester due to inflammation, and he would soon die in a high fever.

After Han Ye finished shouting, he saw that horrific wound and suddenly went silent. Sang Chiyu asked in a low voice, “Is there a way to make him suffer less?”

The doctor sighed, leaned down, and pulled a dagger from his boot, handing it to Sang Chiyu.

A-Yao saw the dagger and understood.

“Any last words?” Sang Chiyu asked.

A-Yao looked around. The room was filled with people missing arms and legs. The smoke from the cannons had blackened their faces, and their eyes were vacant. Night had fallen, and the oil lamps in the room flickered, looking like lonely stars in the long night. His life was also like that flickering candlelight, about to be extinguished in an instant. He looked at Han Ye, then at Sang Chiyu, and asked tearfully, “My… my mother is in the Inner City ward. Can Boss Su really take them away?”

Could he really? Han Ye couldn’t answer. They were already at the end of their rope, while the Yao were continuously entering the city from outside.

In the dead silence, all the wounded looked over; they too were waiting for the answer to this question.

“He can,” Sang Chiyu’s answer was concise and clear.

Tears poured from A-Yao’s eyes.

Sang Chiyu repeated, “I promise, he can.”

“That’s good… that’s good…” A-Yao closed his eyes.

His hand loosened from Sang Chiyu’s arm and fell to the side of the table. Before Sang Chiyu could finish him off, his life had already come to an abrupt end.

For some reason, Sang Chiyu felt lucky. He found that he couldn’t plunge the dagger into this young man’s chest. A-Yao was a mediocre name; if you shouted it in the slums of Black Street, countless people would probably turn their heads. The young man had no surname, which meant he had no father. Every year, many babies were born in Black Street; most of them only had mothers, and some didn’t even have that.

Sang Chiyu began to ponder why he hadn’t been able to feel their significance before. It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen heroic sacrifices, nor that he hadn’t felt hot blood. However, today, it was as if a hidden switch had been flipped in his mind, and he suddenly understood their joys and sorrows.

Perhaps this was the first time he had intervened so deeply in their world. Just as Su Ruhui had once done—fighting for them, listening to them weep, and watching them die.

In the Inner City ward, Su Ruhui was swinging a hoe, sweat pouring down like rain. Behind him, winding trenches intertwined to form a complex array. Children and women worked together to push ore carts, picking up spirit stone ores to fill the trenches. Blind Lu looked up into the distance and said with a trembling voice, “Almost there, Young Master! The star array is almost complete!”

Su Ruhui looked up as if waking from a dream, pulled the compass from his waist pouch, and shouted, “Sang Chiyu, prepare to retreat! Prepare to retreat! Within one incense stick’s time, everyone return to the Inner City!”

The news reached the front-line positions, and light finally appeared on the thugs’ faces.

“Young Master!” Blind Lu grabbed Su Ruhui’s arm. “We only have four Law Gate mystics, so we can only open the Law Gates four times. But there are three front-line positions. Mountain Fire Alley and Tea Street both have over a hundred people. Thunder God Street has the heaviest casualties, with only forty people remaining. We… how about we bring back Master Sang and Han Ye first?”

Upon hearing the news on his end, Han Ye and Sang Chiyu looked at each other.

If they missed this Law Gate, the next one wouldn’t be for another two incense sticks of time. But there were so many civilians in the Inner City; how could they wait for them to return to the Inner City before leaving? Once the star array was activated, not only would the spirit stones in the trenches be instantly exhausted, but the Law Gate mystics would also have to bear a massive amount of secret art consumption. It would be absolutely impossible to open a second Law Gate for them.

The longer they stalled, the greater the risk.

“Su Ruhui,” Sang Chiyu asked, “we don’t have a second chance to open the Law Gates, do we?”

Su Ruhui closed his eyes and said, “No.”

Han Ye took a deep breath and said, “Go save the people at the other two positions first. There are more of them.”

Su Ruhui looked up, and the surrounding Law Gate mystics were waiting for him to order where to open the gates. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his flesh. It felt as if a knife were cutting his heart, and every heartbeat was dripping with blood. He carried the lives of tens of thousands of civilians, and he carried the lives of the Paradise Ward and the Hall of Great Compassion. He knew he had to make the most rational choice. But how was he to make this decision—to give up on Sang Chiyu and choose others?

“Su Ruhui,” Sang Chiyu’s steady voice came from the compass, “don’t be afraid. We will make it back to the Inner City within one incense stick’s time.”

Could they really?

Su Ruhui knew he was lying.

“Boss Su?” The Law Gate mystics were waiting for Su Ruhui’s order.

A moment later, Su Ruhui slowly raised his head and said, “Go to Mountain Fire Alley and Tea Street. Save the people.”