Chapter 934
Chapter 934
Before dawn, the snow had already lessened.
The official road at the foot of Qingyun Mountain was worn into two deep, black, muddy ruts by the constant ruts of carts, their edges glistening with frost. A dozen or so black-covered horse-drawn carriages slowly rolled over the snow, their wheels creaking and groaning as if someone were scraping bones with a dull knife.
The drivers were neither merchants nor soldiers, but only about twenty men dressed in thick cotton-padded coats with knives at their waists. Each of them wore a felt hat, their foreheads pulled low, and puffs of white breath from their mouths drifted in the wind, making them appear both inconspicuous and exuding an indescribable steadiness.
In the first carriage, Han Wuhen, wrapped in a fox fur coat, huddled beside the carriage shaft, holding a copper hand warmer in his hands, his nose red from the cold.
"Damn, this place is freezing." He sniffed, turned around and whispered to those behind him, "Remember this, everyone. Once we get to the mountain gate, keep your mouths shut. Anyone who dares to swear first and ruins the master's plans, I'll rip their tongue out and use it as a snack."
A skinny man behind him grinned and said, "Master Han, I've been to the mountain gate to deliver taxes a few times, but I've never felt this comfortable. This cart is full of treasures today. I'm afraid they'll see it and get so angry they'll die of anger."
"It would be better if they were driven to their deaths by sheer rage." Han Wuhen smiled, his eyes narrowed, his face trembling with laughter. "But the master said we can't let them die too quickly. We have to let them see clearly, smell clearly, want to eat but dare not, and want to go crazy but have to hold back. That would be wonderful."
The skinny man nodded and bowed, "Yes, yes, sir, you've calculated things very well."
Inside the second carriage, a faint but undeniable smell of blood seeped out from between the curtains.
Beneath the smell of blood, there was an even stronger aroma of wine and meat.
The aroma was so enticing, it smelled like it was coming straight from the kitchen of a restaurant, even though it was freezing cold. It made my stomach churn.
The wind lifted a corner of the carriage curtain.
Inside, a thick layer of dry grass was laid out, upon which sat wooden basins covered with red cloth. Inside the basins were neatly cut square pieces of braised beef, braised lamb legs, and stewed pork hocks so tender they practically fell off the bone; the oil droplets glistened in the sunlight. Several unopened jars of strong liquor were tied with red string and sealed with clay, the rims still adorned with the character for "happiness."
Between the meat and the wine, three corpses lay side by side.
Mo Ku was at the very front.
His face was wiped clean, and his tangled, blood-stained hair was straightened somewhat. However, a large bulge sank into his chest, and all ten of his fingers were twisted, like ten broken tree roots. His red robe was carefully brushed clean of snow and mud, and a large red flower was tied to his chest.
The two inner sect elders behind them were in a similar situation; the bloodstains on their faces had been wiped away, but their wounds were not deliberately concealed, with only the most frightening gashes covered with new cloth. Each of them also had a jar of wine stuffed in their arms, as if they had drunk themselves to death halfway through a banquet.
In the third car, Yin Feng Zhenren lay upright, the short gun pulled from his chest, the wound roughly stitched up. His broken staff was also placed beside him, with a string of dried cured meat hanging from its head.
When the old horse pulling the cart reached the mountain gate, it snorted softly.
The outer disciples guarding the mountain were already bruised and swollen from the cold, huddled under the stone gate tower, warming themselves by a half-dead charcoal fire. Hearing the sound of the carriage, the disciples instinctively looked up, first startled, then all became alert.
"Who goes there!"
An older outer sect steward stood up, leaning on his sword sheath. His voice was hoarse from the cold and hunger, like a broken bellows.
Han Wuhen got out of the car with a smile, his hands tucked into his sleeves, and bowed to the steward from a distance.
"Hongyun City, ordered to deliver gifts."
"Gifts?" The steward was stunned for a moment, then his face turned ugly instantly. "How dare you! This is a sacred place, and you dare to be so insolent!"
"Hey, don't get angry so quickly." Han Wuhen took two steps forward unhurriedly, the snow crunching under his feet. "Our master said that there was a battle yesterday, and we were deeply grateful that the elders of your sect had come from afar. We were unable to properly entertain them, which was truly impolite. So he specially asked us to send the seniors back, along with some simple wine and meat, to help the immortals on the mountain calm their nerves."
The faces of those outer disciples turned completely pale.
"What...what did you say?"
"I said, send it back." Han Wuhen turned around and waved his hand. "Come, lift the curtain and let the immortals see the goods."
Several men immediately stepped forward and, with a whoosh, violently lifted the black awning of the second carriage.
The cold wind in front of the mountain gate rushed in with a "whoosh," and brought out the incredibly rich aroma of meat and wine.
Several outer disciples smelled the incense first, and their throats twitched almost simultaneously.
The next moment, they saw Mo Ku.
"what--!"
The youngest disciple was so frightened that he sat down hard in the snow, dropping the half-frozen mixed flour pancake he was holding.
Another disciple, leaning against a doorpost, trembled as he said, "Elder Mo... Elder Mo..."
The outer sect deacon stared blankly, as if he had been hit hard on the head with a stick. He staggered forward two steps, trying to see clearly, but as soon as his eyes fell on the big red flower on Mo Ku's chest, all the color drained from his face.
"Beasts! You bunch of beasts!" He drew his sword abruptly, his voice cracking, "How dare you insult my sect's elders like this!"
"Insult?" Han Wuhen tilted his head, looking innocent. "Brother, don't talk nonsense. Our master is very particular about rules. He specifically told me to clean the corpses for you. We were worried they would freeze on the way, so we put the best dry grass in the car. Look, this wine is top-quality baijiu, and this meat is freshly made snowflake beef this morning. Ordinary people can't even get to eat this."
As he spoke, he tapped the edge of the wooden basin lightly with his finger.
"Boom."
The pot of braised beef trembled slightly, glistening with oil.
The eyes of several disciples guarding the mountain were involuntarily drawn to it.
It wasn't that they didn't want to move it; it was that their stomachs betrayed them first.
One of the disciples' stomachs rumbled loudly on the spot, which was particularly clear in the silence.
Han Wuhen heard this and his smile grew even wider.
"Hungry?" He deliberately lowered his voice, as if talking to a child. "Don't be shy. Who isn't hungry in this weather down the mountain? Look, the meat is still warm. How about I cut you a couple of pieces to tide you over?"
"Shut up!" The outer sect deacon's eyes were bloodshot, and his sword trembled. "Get out! All of you get out! If you don't leave, I—"
How are you?
The skinny man behind Han Wuhen suddenly laughed, reached out and lifted his cotton-padded coat, revealing a row of dark short crossbows underneath.
He didn't speak, he just stared at the deacon.
The air in front of the mountain gate suddenly tensed up.
The deacon's throat bobbed, and he swallowed the rest of his sentence.
He could tell that these people weren't there to die.
They didn't bring many men, but they were all like wolves. Plus, news of yesterday's crushing defeat at the foot of the mountain had probably already spread. Right now, these people at the mountain gate can't even get a hot meal; if a fight breaks out, it's hard to say who will live and who will die.
Seeing that the time was right, Han Wuhen immediately smiled and raised his hand again: "Don't be nervous, don't be nervous. We're really here to deliver gifts. We've delivered the gifts, and we also need to convey the message."
"What did you say?" the outer sect steward asked through gritted teeth.
Han Wuhen cleared his throat and, mimicking Zheng Yi's measured tone, said clearly, "Our master said that the elders of the Qingyun Sect have come from afar and have had a long journey. Yesterday, due to the haste, they were unable to fully enjoy themselves. If any of you on the mountain wish to come down for a banquet, Hongyun City will be ready to welcome you at any time. There will be plenty of wine and meat, and even enough coffins."
The area in front of the mountain gate was deathly silent.
The expressions on the faces of those outer disciples were even more unsightly than tears.
Han Wuhen paused, then added, "In addition, our master also said that these elders died suddenly yesterday, and most of them probably didn't have enough to eat. If any fellow disciples on the mountain remember our old friendship, they might as well offer these few bowls of meat before their spirit tablets, as a way of showing their filial piety."
"you wanna die!"
One of the outer disciples could no longer contain himself and charged out with his sword, howling.
The crossbow tether snapped.
"Boom!"
The disciple had only raised his sword halfway when a burst of blood erupted from his knee, and he screamed as he collapsed into the snow.
Han Wuhen didn't even look at him, only brushing the snow off his sleeves. "I already said, don't rush. We'll leave after we've delivered the gifts. Whoever makes the first move is disrespecting your own elders' right to collect the corpses."
The outer sect steward's face was contorted, and the veins on the back of his hands bulged, but he still held down several disciples around him who wanted to rush out.
"...Leave the car here. Get out."
"That's right." Han Wuhen nodded with a smile. "It's much better to reason with people."
He turned around and called to his men, "Did you all hear that? Unload the truck! Arrange the gifts we prepared for the immortals neatly, don't mess them up."
Everyone immediately got to work.
The corpses were carried off the vehicle and laid flat on the snow in front of the mountain gate. A jar of wine was placed next to each person's head, and a bowl of meat was placed at their feet, as if a wedding feast was being held.
In the very center of Mo Ku's corpse, an extra brass charcoal brazier was placed, the charcoal fire burning brightly in the brazier, the heat giving his deathly gray face a strange hint of life.
Finally, Han Wuhen took out a roll of red silk cloth from his pocket.
He walked to the stone steps of the mountain gate and unfurled the red silk with a "whoosh".
The eight large characters above were as black as blood.
"With great fortune coming to an end, this small gift is insufficient to express our respect."
The faces of all the Qingyun Sect disciples in front of the mountain gate turned green.
"Hang it up," Han Wuhen said calmly.
Two men immediately climbed onto the stone lion and tied the red ribbons to it on either side. When the wind blew, the eight characters fluttered wildly, as vibrant as freshly cut meat.
After doing all this, Han Wuhen clapped his hands and bowed to the outer sect steward.
"The gifts have been presented; farewell. Please enjoy your meal, esteemed immortals."
He turned and got into the car, giving the reins a shake.
The convoy turned around and left, at a moderate pace, the wheels continuing to creak and groan as they ground through the snow.
Before the mountain gate, all that remained was the increasingly strong aroma of meat, the increasingly pungent smell of alcohol, and the corpses of Mo Ku and the others lying in the snow.
The wind picked up again.
The red silk ribbon slapped loudly in the wind, like slaps hitting people's faces.
The first to collapse was the young disciple who was shot by an arrow and fell to the ground.
He rolled around in the snow, hugging his knees, his face streaked with tears and snot, gasping for breath as he screamed, "Elder Mo is dead... Elder Mo is really dead... They brought Elder Mo back..."
"Shut up!" The outer sect steward turned around and kicked him, making him curl up into a ball.
But after he finished cursing, he turned around and saw the bowls of steaming meat, and his throat moved violently.
One of the gatekeeper disciples swallowed hard, his voice trembling, "Sir... what... what should we do with this meat?"
"What are we going to do? What else do you want us to do?" The outer sect steward glared at him.
The disciple trembled at the glare, but his eyes remained glued to the flesh, as if nailed to it: "I...I didn't mean that. I meant that the corpse still has to be carried up, and the meat and wine...someone has to deal with them."
Another disciple whispered, "If we leave it here... the inner sect members will probably go crazy when they see it."
"If you don't go crazy now, you'll go crazy later." The youngest disciple wiped away his tears, staring at the pot of braised beef, his lips trembling. "Deacon... I... I haven't seen a piece of meat for three days..."
"You want to eat?" The outer sect steward stared intently at him.
The disciple's face turned pale, and he immediately shook his head, but his stomach betrayed him and started growling again.
Upon hearing this, the expressions on the faces of the others all changed.
No one spoke.
In the wind and snow, only the aroma of those few bowls of meat remained, drifting further and further away.
After a while, an older disciple suddenly murmured, "Steward, perhaps... we should carry the bodies inside first. We can't let the elders lie at the mountain gate forever."
The outer sect deacon gritted his teeth, veins throbbing on his forehead, and finally squeezed out, "Go! Call people! Summon everyone from the Enforcement Hall, the Affairs Hall, and the Spirit Affairs Hall! Don't leave anyone out!"
"That meat..."
I told you not to touch it yet!
But no sooner had he finished speaking than a servant in a gray robe crept over, his hands, blue with cold, trembling as he reached for a piece of pork knuckle at the very edge.
He moves as fast as a mouse.
"Snapped!"
The outer sect steward swung his sword sheath, sending the servant tumbling to the ground, and half of his teeth flew out.
"You bastard! How dare you!"
The servant lay prone in the snow, his face covered in blood, but he was still clutching a small piece of frozen meat skin that he had scraped off the edge of the basin.
Instead of crying or shouting, he suddenly stuffed the piece of flesh into his mouth and chewed it twice as if protecting his life.
This scene brought tears to the eyes of everyone present.
The outer sect steward stepped forward, wanting to strike again.
Suddenly, a series of chaotic footsteps came from inside the mountain gate.
A large group of people rushed out.
There were black-robed disciples from the Enforcement Hall, several inner sect deacons wearing old cotton cloaks, and a bunch of outer sect members who had caught a whiff of the smell. Dozens of them, each with a grim expression and a hungry look in their eyes.
They saw the body first.
The crowd immediately erupted in uproar.
Elder Mo!
"That's Steward Wang from Blazing Fire Peak?!"
"Elder Yin Feng too..."
"They're all dead...all of them are dead..."
A black-robed law enforcement disciple knelt beside Mo Ku's corpse, reached out to check his breath, his fingers froze in mid-air, and then he slumped down as if his bones had been removed.
"She's out of breath... she's really gone..."
A nearby inner sect deacon stared intently at the large red flower, his face twitching: "Who tied it on? Who tied this for Elder Mo!"
No one could answer it.
But everyone knows that this is even more ruthless than simply chopping Moku up.
At this moment, an old man from the Lingwu Hall, wearing a short fur coat and with yellow teeth, suddenly squatted down and reached out to lift the seal on a jar of wine. (End of Chapter)