Chapter 5

The Nine Spirits Platform rises like a small mountain, with thousands of stone steps extending upwards. At the very top, a bronze statue of a giant bird taking flight can be faintly seen.

This is where the royal family and nobles of the Zhao Kingdom hold their sacrifices, and it is also the sacred site for the grand annual sacrifice to the heavens.

At the bottom of the Nine Spirits Platform, eight huge bronze furnaces are arranged. One of them is now ablaze, with surging flames spewing heat, and sparks dancing within.

Even though Ning Qinshui's body is covered with a white cloth, the sight of his flesh rotting and bones festering is still clearly visible.

Song Ce glanced back at the young man and woman behind him. The young woman furrowed her brows, clearly in great pain, while the young man who had just spoken boldly would surely not entertain any more absurd thoughts after seeing this scene.

However, Song Ce carefully observed Ning Changjiu for a moment and found little emotion on his face.

Ha, pretending to be calm.

Just as Song Ce was about to say something, Ning Changjiu walked over and bowed slightly to the corpse, as a sign of respect.

Ning Xiaoling, nervous and uneasy, followed him, closing her eyes and giving a perfunctory bow to the old man she detested so much.

Song Ce folded his hands in front of his abdomen, his sleeves hanging low.

With the frequent wars between the Zhao and Rui Kingdoms, the suffering of the people has been ongoing for a long time. So, looking at this master and disciple, he felt no pity, only a desire to send them away quickly.

As he was thinking, Ning Changjiu had already walked up to him and said, "Let's go."

Song Ce sighed in relief, thinking that the young man had finally given up. He naturally wouldn't say anything sarcastic, only, "Someone will take you shortly."

Ning Changjiu shook his head, "Lord Song, I mean to go to the Young General's Mansion."

Song Ce's expression changed dramatically, "What did you say?"

Ning Changjiu said, "Last night was not peaceful. There was a disturbance at the Young General's Mansion. The dead should be the son of General Wang Yangyu."

"Who told you this?" Song Ce asked.

Ning Changjiu replied, "Deduction and calculation."

Song Ce didn't speak, but his gaze on the young man before him had changed, "Interesting."

Ning Changjiu met his gaze calmly.

After a moment, Song Ce took a deep breath and said in a solemn voice, "Follow me."

...

At the Young General's Mansion, a line of servants and retainers stood outside. Several guards stood with their hands on their swords, their brows furrowed, showing a hint of fear.

"Since General Wang Yangyu's death, the young general has placed many Buddha statues in the house. Today, as usual, he paid his respects, bowing three times. After the third bow, his head hit the ground and didn't rise. A servant felt something was wrong and went to check, then smelled the blood. His neck was cut, and his chest, though not severely injured, was oozing blood. The blood formed a strange bird shape through his clothes."

"Is it a sparrow ghost?"

"Yes! This is the fifth person. All the dead have this blood mark on their chests, including the Taoist priest who was invited to perform the ritual."

"Has this happened before?"

"No."

"What happened twenty days ago?"

Song Ce, looking at the young, innocent-looking boy, his expression turned displeased, "Young man, you may have learned some skills from your master, but being overly confident won't save you."

As he spoke, Song Ce had already led him across the threshold and into the Young General's Mansion. Ning Xiaoling followed behind, head down, not daring to speak.

As they entered the main gate, the smell of blood hit them. Black, thick blood flowed like a snake, leading to the golden Buddha statue where a robust young man, now lifeless, knelt. From behind, his neck looked as if it had been scalded and was rotting.

Ning Xiaoling covered her nose and mouth, taking a few steps back.

Ning Changjiu walked up to the body, knelt down, and without changing his expression, tore off the front of the man's shirt. The strange bird pattern was made up of countless tiny red dots, as if pierced by thousands of needles.

Ning Changjiu looked at it for a while, then looked at Song Ce, who was frowning, and asked, "Lord Song, what happened twenty days ago?"

Song Ce's face turned angry, "Taoists are only supposed to exorcise evil. If you can, do it; if not, let someone who can. Why so many questions?"

Ning Changjiu said, "Until the sparrow ghost is eliminated, people will keep dying. If we can find the root cause, this will be much simpler."

Song Ce glanced at him, about to get angry, but finally sighed, "Go back. In a few days, the cultivators from the outside will arrive at the palace, and then everything will be settled."

Ning Changjiu asked, "What if it's you tomorrow, Lord Song?"

Ning Xiaoling was startled, looking at her senior with fear, thinking, "How dare you speak like that in the palace?"

Song Ce glared at him, "Why are you so concerned? What do you want?"

Ning Changjiu didn't answer, and the tense atmosphere was broken by a voice from outside.

"The Emperor has arrived!"

Song Ce's expression changed slightly, and the other officials accompanying him had already gone out to kneel and welcome the Emperor.

At the luxurious carriage at the entrance, a man in a bright yellow robe got out. Though young, he already had the air of a ruler.

He stood at the entrance, gesturing for the officials and guards to rise, then looked into the hall from a distance.

A nearby guard was bowing, speaking to him.

The young Emperor listened, his face showing a hint of sorrow, and he spoke generously, praising the father and son for their past achievements and lamenting their mysterious deaths.

Then, he lifted the front of his robe, preparing to step over the threshold. The officials quickly dissuaded him, their faces showing deep concern, saying that though the Emperor was of noble blood, the current state of the Zhao Kingdom was precarious, and he should take care of himself and not take such risks.

The young Emperor stopped his steps amidst the persuasion.

As he spoke, the young Emperor vaguely saw the young man and woman standing in the hall, his expression turning slightly displeased, but seeing their Taoist robes, he didn't react. He spoke sorrowfully to the surrounding officials and then, seemingly reassured, got back into his carriage and returned to the palace.

Ning Xiaoling quietly withdrew her gaze and whispered, "Such hypocrisy... and he's the ruler of a nation?"

Ning Changjiu smiled and asked, "If you were the Emperor, would you go in?"

Ning Xiaoling whispered, "There's no such thing as a woman being the Emperor."

The young ruler returned to the palace, and the officials dispersed. When Song Ce came back, he saw the master and disciple still standing there, his displeasure growing.

Just now, the Emperor himself came, and you didn't kneel to welcome him. The Emperor is kind and didn't blame you, but what are you still doing here?

He didn't want to argue with the young man anymore and said to the guards, "Arrange for the coroner to examine the body and send these two young Taoists out of the city."

Ning Changjiu seemed not to hear him, still standing there, his gaze now on the depths of the hall.

"Who's there?" Ning Changjiu asked.

From the depths of the hall, an old, hoarse voice replied with surprise, "The boy has good eyesight. Who is your master?"

In the dimly lit hall, a heavily grained wooden cane tapped the ground, and then, following the cane, an image seemed to coalesce from fine sand, revealing an old, hunched man. However, he seemed to be separated from the others by a mist, making it impossible to see his true face.

Ning Changjiu watched him silently, not answering.

Song Ce was startled, then his expression turned respectful, as if genuinely reverent, "Lord Shaman, why have you left your seclusion?"

The old man, called the Lord Shaman, laughed dryly, "I got tired of reading and decided to take a walk."

Song Ce, who had heard about the book he was studying, became even more respectful, "Congratulations, Lord Shaman. You must be very close to the Way of Heaven."

The old man waved his hand, not answering, but instead looked at the body kneeling before the statue. He slowly raised his hand, and the air around him seemed to freeze.

Song Ce felt reassured and smiled, "Now that Lord Shaman has emerged, such evil will have no place to hide."

The old man's sleeve billowed, and the shadow behind the mist moved. A withered, charred finger extended from the mist and pointed at the body.

No one spoke, all holding their breath.

Ning Changjiu's expression changed slightly.

Before the old man's finger touched the body, an extremely foul smell suddenly spread, followed by a scream. Flames suddenly erupted beneath the body, spreading instantly and covering the entire corpse. The fire seemed to come from hell, spreading a chill everywhere.

As the flames rose, the mysterious Lord Shaman withdrew his hand. Behind the mist, his breath deepened, and his voice seemed angry, "Blood Feather Lord?"

After saying these three words, the mist dissipated like sand blown by the wind, and the Lord Shaman disappeared.

On the cliff north of the imperial city, in a gray, withered forest, stood an ancient, towering tower.

The ancient bronze platform was held by several huge iron chains, buried deep in the dead forest. Below the large, altar-like circular platform, a spire-like tip of the ancient tower emerged, a place where light rarely reached. Following the slope of the ancient tower, each window was pitch black, not letting in a single ray of light.

Inside the ancient tower connected to the altar, an old man with white hair sat cross-legged. His forehead was narrow, his chin wide and pointed, his skin the color of dead wood, and his eyes, hidden under wrinkled eyelids, like the eyes of a dead fish in murky water.

The old man was wrapped in a white linen robe, his thin body visible through the dim light. Only a beam of light from the central tower tip fell on his hunched back.

Snap.

The old man suddenly opened his eyes, and the ancient scroll in his hand closed with a sound.

"Coming back again... and at this time, seeking death!"

He caressed the jagged, broken pages, his expression unreadable, and the pages seemed to lick his fingers like flames.

It was a bit hot.

...

The mysterious Lord Shaman, who had appeared and disappeared without a sound, left behind only a charred corpse.

After the shock, people remembered the word the Lord Shaman said before he disappeared, and they were even more frightened, whispering to each other.

Ning Xiaoling asked in a low voice, "What is the Blood Feather Lord?"

Ning Changjiu replied, "A legendary demonic bird, said to be a red-feathered falcon that transformed after being tainted by the blood of the Vermilion Bird deity. It is half-demon, half-deity, hidden in the world, very powerful, but rarely appears, with few records about it."

Ning Xiaoling's eyes widened, full of questions, but she didn't speak.

Song Ce stood there, his hands trembling in his official robes. His eyes darted around, his expression changing, and he muttered, "Blood Feather Lord? How could it be... shouldn't it be her..."

Ning Changjiu asked, "Who is she?"

Song Ce's expression was already deranged, not answering him. The person next to him sighed and said, "She is..."

But before he could continue, a voice from outside the hall interrupted him.

A young servant knelt at the entrance, his face showing fear, "Your Highness... Your Highness has arrived!"

In the drizzling autumn rain, in front of the Young General's Mansion, a dark red, ancient umbrella opened silently, its fine ribs supporting the canopy.