The Wind Rises
The north wind was bleak, and the winter day was grim. The city of Liangzhou was as silent as death.
Perhaps the word “as” should be removed.
At this moment, Liangzhou was littered with corpses, rivers of blood flowed, and the stench of blood filled the air. The city was like a massive grave, and even the sound of breathing was too harsh.
A crow flew from afar, perching on the eaves, its harsh cawing tearing through the silent night, followed by a second, a third, a fourth… They came in flocks, covering the sky and landing on the streets and alleys of the city, stepping on the bodies that filled the streets.
It was unclear which crow it was when a pair of light apricot-colored cloth shoes stepped on the main street of Liangzhou, instantly stained mottled with blood.
The owner of the shoes was a girl in a moon-white dress, looking about seventeen or eighteen years old. Against the bleak red background, she seemed like a white lotus blooming in a pool of blood.
She was holding a jade pendant, her index finger hooking the pendant’s string and spinning it continuously, emitting a glowing blue light.
“It seems a massacre has occurred…” The girl spoke with an unusually calm tone.
An ordinary girl would have fainted at such a bloody and horrifying scene, but He Simu was no ordinary girl.
She was a malevolent ghost.
When a person dies clinging to unresolved desires, they become a wandering spirit unable to move on, and after a hundred years, these spirits turn into malevolent ghosts.
Malevolent ghosts consume humans.
He Simu, unfortunately, was one such ghost looking for prey.
The night was pitch-black, so dark one could not see their own hand in front of their face, and the city was filled with bodies, one on top of another. He Simu moved agilely among the corpses, always finding the right gap to step in. Just six steps out, however, someone grabbed her foot.
“Save… save…”
He Simu looked down to see a man with a gash across his stomach, his flesh turned inside out, holding onto her foot. His face was so smeared with blood that his features were indiscernible, his eyes vacant, but he weakly pointed to one side.
“Save my son… save… Chen Ying…”
He Simu glanced in the direction he pointed. There was a child, about seven or eight years old, trapped under several bodies, only his pale face showing. He seemed to be still breathing, but his eyes were tightly shut, likely passed out.
She turned her gaze back to the man, disheveled and on the brink of death, and said, “Your son is in a better state than you. You’re the one who’s about to die.”
“Save… save…” The man seemed not to hear He Simu’s words, persistently begging.
So He Simu squatted down, rested her hand on her knee, and looked straight at the man whose life was hanging by a thread, “If I consume you, then save your son, would you agree? Think carefully. Those consumed by a malevolent ghost will lose a soul flame, leading to misfortune in their reincarnations, not knowing how many lifetimes it would take to recover.”
The man seemed to ponder in confusion for a while before he understood her words. His eyes widened in terror, his hands trembling slightly.
“Unwilling?” He Simu tilted her head.
After a moment of trembling, tears welled up in the man’s eyes, and he whispered, “…willing…”
He Simu narrowed her eyes, a trace of pity in her smile, “Alright.”
Then she briskly pulled the man’s hair, forcing his head back, and bit into his neck. Her sharp canine teeth pierced deeply into his veins, blood spurting out and splashing onto He Simu’s face. The glow from her jade pendant flared brightly before fading.
The man’s hand, which had been holding her right foot, dropped into the pool of blood. A light rose from the man’s body and slowly ascended into the dark night sky.
Humans originally possess three soul flames, located on each shoulder and atop the head. At the moment of passing, these unite and ascend like a bright lamp, a meteor moving backward—this is the death only malevolent ghosts can see.
High-level malevolent ghosts like He Simu consume the soul flame atop a person’s head.
With one soul flame missing, the man’s spirit light upon passing was much dimmer than others. For a lifetime of father-son affection, to suffer through several lifetimes seemed like a loss. Yet, mortals often engage in such unprofitable transactions.
He Simu let go abruptly, and the man’s heavy body thudded to the ground. With this heavy thud, the first light of dawn appeared, diluting the pitch-black darkness. It seemed as if the sunrise was near, and the crows became restless one after another.
She dusted off her hands and stepped over the bodies scattered across the ground, following the trail of blood the man had crawled along, heading towards where his son was.
Honestly, with He Simu’s strength, she could have consumed the man without any resistance from him. However, ghosts like her, who had reached such a state, always had their own rules. He Simu held high regard for her food, always adhering to a principle of equivalent exchange.
After standing firm in front of the pile of bodies, she reached out to lift the corpse lying on top of the child. Unexpectedly, the corpse’s neck was injured, and when she lifted by the head, the skull detached from the torso, and the bloody torso fell back onto the child, making his pale face even paler.
He Simu, somewhat helplessly holding the dirty skull, frowned as she locked eyes with the dead man’s wide-open eyes of terror.
“The army of the Great Liang has arrived!” A shout came from the distant city gate, in a slightly aged voice, as if mustering all the strength to shout such a phrase, the voice trembling as if on the verge of tearing.
From afar came the noisy sounds of people and horse hooves, the strong presence of the living dispelling the aura of death. Around, cries of joy started to emerge, and the survivors in the city began to emerge sporadically from their hiding places, gathering in sorrow on the long street.
The city gate at the end of the long street slowly opened, dawn broke, and the first light of morning appeared. Countless hooves and military boots stepped into the blood-stained streets, forming an endless procession.
He Simu glanced over and immediately noticed the man at the forefront of the troops.
He appeared very young, still a teenager, riding a tall white horse, clad in silver armor, facing the gradually clarifying morning light. This man had a tall and sturdy figure, with high cheekbones and a straight nose, and a pair of bright, slightly upturned almond-shaped eyes.
He was an exceptionally handsome and noble-looking young man.
Facing the morning sun, he came like a blade slicing through the darkness.
This was He Simu’s first encounter with Duan Xu, at dawn, when all things awaken, supposedly a beautiful time, yet there was no beautiful view to be had—after all, she stood among corpses and grieving people, holding a dead man’s head in her hand.
The young man’s gaze swept over the tragic scene in the city, his brows slightly furrowed, and he looked along the long street far into the distance.
Blood-covered He Simu and the surviving people did not catch the young man’s attention. She discarded the head she was holding and curiously watched the young man.
—To be precise, He Simu was examining the jet-black, slender sword with silver carvings at his waist.
Ghosts have excellent vision, and she could see the details of the sword clearly. He Simu thought the sword looked very familiar, where had she seen it before?
After searching through her lengthy memories, she suddenly realized, wasn’t this the Po Wang Spirit Sword forged by her uncle over three hundred years ago?
Po Wang was a spirit sword second only to the Bu Zhou Sword, known for its benevolence, highly sought after by the sects of immortals. This young man seemed like an ordinary young general, not someone who practiced cultivation, yet he possessed the Po Wang Sword?
“General, you’ve finally come to save us!” A man crying bitterly ran out from He Simu’s right, bumping into her and causing her to stagger in place. Watching the man run to the side of the street to kneel and kowtow, He Simu glanced at the surrounding people, some grieving, some overjoyed, and realized she seemed out of place standing there.
Should she also cry out loud?
After a moment’s thought, she bit her tongue hard, and tears immediately welled up in the body she possessed.
With tears in her eyes, she showed a smile as if seeing a savior, lifted her skirt, pushed past the man kneeling in front of her, and ran straight to the young man’s horse, shouting, “General, the Hu Qi people slaughtered the city before retreating, countless are dead or injured, have you come to save us?”
The young man reined in his horse, his soldiers behind him also stopping in their tracks. He looked around at the surviving citizens, his face displaying a calmness that belied his age. He spoke clearly, “I am Duan Xu, commander of the Taba Army of Daliang. The enemy has retreated north to the Guan River, and today, Liangzhou returns to Daliang. As long as I am here, the Huqi people will never set foot in Liangzhou again.”
There was a mixture of joy and sorrow in the cries of the surviving citizens. He Simu followed suit, shouting twice and pretending to be deeply grieved, reaching out to tug at the young man’s sleeve.
The young man’s attendants were about to draw their swords, but He Simu trembled, her eyes turning red. The young man waved his hand, indicating that they needn’t act. Then, he took out a handkerchief from his pocket and bent down to hand it to He Simu, saying, “Wipe away the blood.”
His fingers were long and white, with prominent blue veins, indicating that they once belonged to someone of nobility. However, they were now marked with numerous bruises, weathered by hardship.
He Simu wiped away her tears and, as she took the handkerchief, she also touched his hand, a smile appearing on her face as she looked down.
Indeed, it seemed they had found a beautiful and delicate girl to possess, whose tears softened people’s hearts. Not only did they not drive her away, but they also offered her a handkerchief.
However, just as she had touched the young man’s pulse, it became apparent that he was an ordinary person with no spiritual power whatsoever. Strange, why would the Sword of Illusion, the Po Wang Sword, obey someone like him? Was he the master of the Po Wang Sword?
In her contemplation, He Simu suddenly felt the scene before her becoming blurry and unstable. She thought to herself that she might faint in the body she inhabited. She urgently pointed to a child in the pile of corpses nearby and shouted, “Help me save that child!”
Then she saw her own body sway and softly fall in front of the young general’s horse.
…The downside of possessing a delicate and fragile girl’s body is that it’s too delicate; if she doesn’t sleep for one night, she can’t hold on and will faint.
He Simu slipped out of that body, floating in mid-air and sighing as she hugged her arms.
Of course, no one could see He Simu floating in mid-air. The young general glanced at the poor girl lying in front of his horse and said to a nearby deputy, “Take her down and take care of her.”
After a pause, he continued indifferently, “Spread the order, today we will organize military affairs in the city. Apart from the necessary defense arrangements, everyone else will participate in rescuing the surviving civilians in the city. If there are any who seize the opportunity to steal or plunder, they will be punished according to military law!”
The deputy obeyed the order, and He Simu watched as that body was lifted up by several soldiers and taken away. He Simu leisurely followed behind those soldiers, taking out a bright pearl from her pocket and calling out, “Fengyi.”
The pearl was about the size of a pigeon egg, crystal clear and shining brightly, faintly engraved with many small runes. Before long, a man’s voice came from within the pearl. He seemed to have just woken up, still lazily yawning.
“Rare guest, old ancestor! It’s barely dawn yet, what do you need from me?”
He Simu ignored his complaint and said directly, “Help me find someone, someone from the court.”
“Since when did you take an interest in the court? Who is it?”
“The person holding the Po Wang Sword.”
The man on the other end of the pearl fell silent for a moment, somewhat surprised. “The Po Wang Sword has reappeared? What’s the name of the sword’s master?”
“His name is…” He Simu squinted her eyes, glancing back at the young general who was gradually moving away.
That was indeed a good question.
His name… what was it?
The moment she saw him, in her eyes, there were only three glaring words – “Po Wang Sword”. As for his name… she hadn’t paid attention.
Perhaps she had been dead for too long, and in the midst of death, she had become too lazy to bother remembering many things.
The man on the other end of the pearl seemed to guess that He Simu hadn’t paid attention to the person’s name and burst into laughter. He seemed to be grooming himself, as the sound of rushing water could be heard in the pearl.
“Never mind what his name is, what do you want to do after finding out about him? Snatch the Po Wang Sword?”
“What do I want with the Po Wang Sword? I’m not cultivating immortality.”
The figure of the young man in white robe shimmered in the sunlight. After a moment’s thought, He Simu said, “Perhaps I’ve been too bored lately, rarely resting for decades. I just want to find something interesting to do. If the Grandmaster isn’t too busy lately, he can accompany me.”
“Oh, venerable ancestor, you really make me laugh. Once you inquire about the name, I’ll make sure to find it for you.”
The pearl shimmered briefly before dimming again.
The man on the other end of the pearl, He Jia Fengyi, was the twenty-first generation descendant of her uncle who had died more than three hundred years ago. He excelled in the art of curses and was a wandering calamity. Now he concealed his identity and had risen to the position of Grandmaster in the court.
Considering her lineage, although she could be considered Fengyi’s ancestor, she was actually connected through a convoluted path of eighteen distant relatives. Their good relationship probably stemmed from the favors she had asked of him since childhood.
He Simu tucked the pearl back into her pocket, looked up at the sky. The sun had fully risen, the sunlight bright and clear, even illuminating the pools of blood on the ground with a radiant glow.
She walked among the people who cried, mourned, and raged, searching for their loved ones, gathering the bodies, with her hands behind her back, walking calmly and contentedly, as if she were an unexpected visitor in this world.
Despite the hardships faced by humanity, the weather was beautiful, with clear skies stretching for miles.
The joys and sorrows of all things do not communicate with each other. The wild grass, parched for many days, now irrigated with fresh blood, perhaps also thought today was a good day.
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