Chapter 61: The Enchantress of Turmoil

Chapter 61: Sorcerers Amid Chaos

Zheng Ji decisively ordered Zhang Sanlu to take Hui Niang and leave the carriage, while he himself stayed behind to divert the ruthless pursuers.

After disembarking, Zhang Sanlu carried the frail Hui Niang on his back, limping through the dense forest. His old wounds had not yet healed, and now fresh injuries compounded his suffering, making every step excruciatingly difficult.

Sunlight filtered through the treetops, scattering patches of light and shadow. A midday mist had settled among the woods, and from the distance, the shrill cries of unknown birds echoed, adding an eerie and sinister atmosphere to the forest. Anxiety and unease filled Zhang Sanlu’s heart—both for Zheng Ji and himself. He knew that if the pursuers caught up, the consequences would be dire.

From far behind, the sound of rustling in the woods grew closer, like the footsteps of death itself. A squad of soldiers must have begun their search, their steps piercing the silence of the mountain forest, sharp as blades cutting through every inch of air.

Zhang Sanlu’s nerves tightened. On his back, Hui Niang had regained consciousness; sensing his tension, she gently grasped his shoulder. Zhang Sanlu dared not delay, hastily carrying Hui Niang onto a winding, narrow path.

He no longer knew how long he had been running, nor how much distance remained between himself and the pursuers. He only knew he could not stop, could not give up.

He passed through another section of woods, only to find a wide road suddenly appear ahead. His heart sank—this was bad. If they continued moving through the forest, they might evade pursuit, but stepping onto the open road with Hui Niang would surely lead to capture.

Yet there was no turning back now. Shouts from behind were growing louder, filling Zhang Sanlu with despair. He could only leap onto the road and run faster, bracing himself for a desperate fight should the soldiers catch up.

A crisp jingling of bells rang out, followed by the thudding of something heavy upon the ground.

A voice drifted from afar, reciting: “Those who follow the harmony of heaven and earth will govern long... Those who align with the seasons will see their rule flourish... The Way needs no strange words, its workings are in the balance of Yin and Yang... Those who gain its order will prosper; those who lose it will fall into chaos. To follow the Way is to be enlightened; to forsake it is to see the Way lost... To unite oneself with the Way...”

The voice was deep and resonant, as if expounding scripture.

Turning the bend, a middle-aged Daoist appeared, clad in ochre robes, holding a ceremonial staff, his bearing ethereal and dignified. At his side was a youthful apprentice.

The Daoist looked toward them, surprise flickering in his eyes. He glanced at the blood-stained Zhang Sanlu and his lamed leg, then studied the unconscious Hui Niang on Zhang Sanlu’s back. Without asking, it was as if he already understood.

The Daoist smiled gently and spoke in a soft voice, “Fellow traveler, do you require my humble assistance?”

Since arriving in this world, Zhang Sanlu seldom encountered good-hearted people—especially those skilled in the arts. Most practiced the making of pills from human flesh, hastening lifespans, stealing intelligence; slaughtering innocents and causing harm, often outstripping bandits in cruelty.

Now, at the end of his road, encountering a Daoist who seemed upright and noble, how could he not be suspicious? Yet he dared not offend them at this moment, and could only press forward, replying with effort, “Thank you for your kindness, Daoist. We will manage as best we can and take our leave...”

The Daoist stroked his beard and laughed, “Calamity is upon you; the pursuers will arrive at any moment. How can you simply manage on your own? Pity the young lady—she may not avoid death yet again.”

Zhang Sanlu’s expression changed sharply. It was not difficult to deduce he was being hunted, but how could the Daoist know Hui Niang had already died once?

He turned, bowing with one hand in respect, “Master Daoist, we are no criminals. To be frank, we are persecuted, with soldiers close behind. I beg you to rescue the young lady, while I attempt to draw the pursuers away.”

With that, he moved to hand Hui Niang to the Daoist.

The Daoist waved his hand gently and said, “Rest assured, I will see to her safety. There is no need for you to exhaust yourself on the road; stay here and wait with me for a while.”

He turned with his apprentice, gazing into the forest where the sounds came from.

Saying nothing, Zhang Sanlu had no time to flee, and could only stand behind him, bracing himself.

No sooner had the Daoist turned than a squad of soldiers burst from the woods, shields and swords in hand, their demeanor composed and silent—clearly veterans of many battles.

Zhang Sanlu’s heart pounded. There was no longer any chance of escape; he gripped his sword at his waist.

The soldiers emerged from the forest and immediately spotted the Daoist and his companions. Excited shouts rang out.

“Quick! There’s the sorcerer! And more than one—they must be criminals too. Kill them all, then examine their bodies!”

“Front ranks, prepare! Form up! That sorcerer uses wicked magic—shoot him first with arrows dipped in black dog’s blood!”

Before the leading captain could speak, the Daoist suddenly drew a deep breath. His voice boomed like a great bell, stirring Zhang Sanlu’s heart.

“I am Zhang of Jizhou. Which county’s troops are ahead? Will you come forward and speak?”

Zhang Sanlu had thought himself doomed, but to his surprise, the soldiers were stunned upon hearing the Daoist announce his name. The captain then ordered his men to lower their bows and arrows, asking,

“Are you the renowned Zhang Immortal of Jizhou, who has revived countless lives?”

“I dare not claim to be an immortal; I am indeed Zhang the Daoist of Jizhou.”

The captain instantly signaled his men to lower their swords, though they kept their shields raised, and ordered the rest to form ranks at the forest edge. After a moment, he approached with two shield-bearing soldiers.

Seeing the Daoist, the captain clasped his fist respectfully, “May I ask, Immortal Zhang, I’ve heard rumors in the county that you would arrive, but have not met you until now. I am currently on official duty, pursuing a one-armed sorcerer who has killed dozens. Afterward, I hope to receive your instruction.”

He spoke while examining the group’s clothing and demeanor, evidently verifying their identities. As his gaze fell on Zhang Sanlu, Zhang Sanlu gripped his sword, ready to strike. Suddenly, a hand gently tugged his sleeve.

The captain’s gaze moved past them, focusing on the Daoist, who now held up a finely carved jade token.

Upon seeing the token, the captain’s frown eased. He clasped his fist again, “Let me introduce myself: I am Xue Zhenhai, constable of this county. Since you have arrived, Immortal, please stay a few days so I may properly welcome you. Today I am on duty to apprehend the murderous sorcerer, but will return to pay my respects.”

He bowed again, and after the Daoist returned the gesture, the sound of armor rang out as he led the shield-and-sword soldiers away.

As they passed the Daoist, most hurried to salute, their faces showing great respect.

Watching the dark mass of armored soldiers—surely numbering several hundred—Zhang Sanlu stood frozen in tension. Once they had passed, relief washed over him, the weight in his heart finally lifted.

Yet seeing the troops heading straight for the main road, he could not help but worry for Zheng Ji.