Backlash of malevolent energy
Thick smoke, carrying the stench of charred flesh, permeated the filthy alleys of Beishuo City, like the embers of Gongxi's indomitable spirit. Xiao Yuxuan and Sheng Guo, like two wounded and trapped beasts, rolled to their feet in the cold mud and garbage heap, clutching the cold, heavy bronze box tightly in their arms. The verdigris on the box's surface was stained with mud, but the ancient, engraved character "工" seemed to gleam with a deeper, eerie light under the blazing fire.
"Go!" Xiao Yuxuan's voice was hoarse, his chest burning with pain from the thick smoke and grief. Sheng Guo's only remaining right hand gripped the short knife tightly, the numbness from the assassin's dagger piercing his arm shield in his left arm had not yet completely subsided. He roared and used his burly body to shield Xiao Yuxuan's back, the two staggering as they rushed into the deeper, darker, labyrinthine alleyways.
The shouts and chaotic footsteps of the pursuers rose behind them, mixed with curses in the Di Rong language. It was clear that the scarred-face man had mobilized the patrol forces infiltrated by the "Hanging Blade." Xiao Yuxuan forced himself to calm down, his mind racing: the chance to survive that Gong Xi had risked his life for must not be lost here! Relying on his memory of the previous reconnaissance, he led Sheng Guo through dead ends, deliberately choosing places where sewage flowed freely, garbage piled up, and even wild dogs wouldn't linger. He used the complex terrain and the pungent stench to shake off the pursuers.
Finally, they slid like two lumps of mud onto the edge of a vast refugee settlement—a huge shack area built against the collapsed city wall. It was more chaotic, filthy, and hopeless than the West Market. Frozen filth floated in the sewers, and the stench of rotting food scraps and excrement mingled with the groans of the sick, creating a nauseating atmosphere. Countless numb or wary eyes, in the dim light, watched the two intruders like ghosts.
They found a corner of a half-collapsed mud wall and barely managed to cover themselves with tattered straw mats and broken planks. Xiao Yuxuan immediately checked the bronze box, confirming that it was tightly wrapped in oilcloth; the heavy "工" (gong) mark on it silently testified to its immense weight. Sheng Guo tore open the lining of her left arm. Although the wound from the dagger hadn't reached the bone, the edges of the skin had an ominous bluish-gray hue, and a numbing sensation spread along her arm. "That bluish stuff... it's poisonous!" Sheng Guo gritted her teeth and cursed under her breath, cold sweat trickling down her forehead.
Xiao Yuxuan's heart sank. There was no medicine, no clean water, only the ancient box in his arms—a box that held the fate of the world but couldn't solve the immediate crisis. He carefully hid the box under the loose soil in the corner of the wall, covering it with garbage. Just then, a violent cough came from not far away, followed by vomiting and desperate cries. An even stronger, sweet-smelling stench of decay permeated the air.
Plague! Like sharks that have caught the scent of blood, it has long lurked, bred, and grown stronger on this land utterly ravaged by war, famine, and filth. The flames of Gong Xi's sacrifice have not yet cooled, and another, more invisible and indiscriminate slaughter has already quietly descended.
The initial symptoms were a low-grade fever and a dry cough, which quickly turned into a high fever, coughing up blood, and the appearance of purplish-black patches or festering sores on the skin. Death, like a reaping sickle, swung silently and efficiently in the crowded and filthy shacks. A man who yesterday could fight over a bowl of sour porridge was today a stiff, lifeless shell. Despair, like the plague itself, spread rapidly. The cries, curses, and prayers to the gods gradually faded, leaving only the wheezing of the dying and the numb silence of the living.
Xiao Yuxuan and Sheng Guo were not spared either. The long journey, their still-healing injuries, and their utter exhaustion, coupled with the extremely harsh environment, quickly broke through their fragile defenses. Xiao Yuxuan felt a chill run down his spine, followed by a burning fever; his throat felt like it was being rubbed with sandpaper, and every breath tasted bloody. Sheng Guo's condition was even worse; the wound on his left arm began to swell and fester under the combined attack of toxins and the plague. The high fever made him somewhat delirious, and his burly body resembled a mountain about to collapse.
"General...I...I'm afraid..." Sheng Guo leaned against the cold earthen wall, his voice hoarse and weak, his eyes beginning to glaze over.
"Shut up! Hold on!" Xiao Yuxuan shouted sharply, but he couldn't help coughing violently, the phlegm streaked with blood. He looked at the dazed Sheng Guo in his arms, at the hellish scene outside the shack, and a despair deeper than facing the swords and crossbows gripped him. Ceasefire? Protect the legacy? Before this all-consuming plague, all grand ambitions seemed so laughable and fragile. Was this the end? To die in this filthy corner, letting Gong Xi's blood flow in vain, letting the *Gongzheng Legacy* be buried forever?
In this abyss of despair, a figure, like a ghost or a rock, appeared outside the half-collapsed earthen wall where they were hiding.
He still wore the same faded old Taoist robe and the worn-smooth bamboo staff. Yun Youzi stood there quietly, seemingly out of place with the surrounding filth and despair, yet strangely blending into the backdrop of suffering. He didn't look at Xiao Yuxuan, nor at Sheng Guo; his deep gaze slowly swept over the entire vast refugee camp: filthy, frozen puddles, mountains of filth, ground trampled like a black swamp, distant mountain ridges leveled by war, and the thick, heavy, gray-yellow "sky" above the camp, seemingly a mixture of resentment and illness.
His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, then returned to a calm as still as an ancient well. He closed his eyes slightly, as if sensing the invisible yet surging flow of "qi" across this land—chaotic, stagnant, full of violence and decay.
Xiao Yuxuan struggled to get up, but he was too weak and could only hoarsely call out, "Daoist Master... save me..."
Yun Youzi opened his eyes, his gaze falling on Xiao Yuxuan. His eyes seemed to pierce through Xiao Yuxuan's fever and despair, and even through the loose soil concealing the bronze box, revealing something deeper. His voice, though not loud, strangely pierced the deathly silence and groans of the camp, ringing out clearly:
"This calamity is beyond human control; it is the result of the backlash of malevolent energy."
He lightly tapped the filthy, frozen earth beneath his bamboo staff: “Human violence, slaughter fills the fields, bones cover the plains, resentment soars to the heavens, souls are twisted, like piled-up firewood forming a mountain, its flames scorching the sky.” He pointed towards the distant battlefield, and also towards the numb or crazed eyes in the camp. The bamboo staff pointed to the filthy ditches, the rotting garbage heaps, the hardened, blackened ground: “Earth violence, life is cut off, the soil and water are corrupted, filth and stagnation, like a blocked river, its poison seeping into the bones.” “Human violence triggers earth violence, earth violence accumulates, unable to be channeled. Heaven and earth have their own order of self-purification, just as the human body has its own righteous energy. However, when violence is excessive, it becomes difficult to reverse, and the 'righteous energy' of heaven and earth, in order to cleanse the filth, must undergo a violent change—this is the backlash of violent energy! Plague is merely the pain of heaven and earth's self-purification, vented through the human body.”
His words were like ice water, poured onto Xiao Yuxuan's anxious and chaotic mind, bringing a near-cruel clarity. This plague was not a calamity from heaven, but the painful lament and fierce resistance of this land beneath his feet, repeatedly ravaged by war, after its vitality had been completely drained! It was the destructive fruit born from the resentment of countless innocent deaths (human vengeance) and the utterly destroyed environment (earthly vengeance)! The pursuit by the Hanging Blade was the open attack, but this plague, a backlash of vengeful energy, was a more deadly and merciless reckoning lurking in the shadows!
"Is... all we can do is wait to die?!" A struggling refugee nearby heard this and let out a desperate roar.
Yun Youzi turned his gaze to him, calm and unwavering: "The way of Heaven is ever vigorous, and its momentum is difficult to reverse. Forcing a quick recovery is like adding fuel to the fire to stop boiling water. However, if we understand its source, follow its nature, and clear the blockage, we may be able to slow down its violence and leave a glimmer of hope."
He said no more and began to act:
1. Directing Relocation: "The earth's energy here is stagnant, and the foul air sinks to the ground. Those who can move should go three miles east, find a sheltered, sunny, high, and dry place near a source of flowing water. The flowing water will carry away the foulness, and the earth's energy will become slightly more vibrant." He pointed in a direction.
2. Cut off the source of water and purify the water: "Bury the remains far away from water sources and the place of rest, the deeper the better. Drinking water must be taken from upstream where there is running water and boiled! If it is turbid, filter it with multiple clean cloths and boil it again. Do not drink stagnant water or sewage."
3. Dredging and Cleansing: "Stay away from water sources and human dwellings, dig deep pits to collect filth. Find mugwort, atractylodes, and calamus, in any quantity, and burn them daily. The pungent smoke can dispel filth and clear away stagnant qi." He saw withered wild grass at the edge of the camp and indicated that it could be used.
4. The Properties of Herbs: "Find houttuynia cordata, plantain, and wild chrysanthemum, boil them in large quantities to make a soup, and share it with everyone. Not for treating illness, but for their cooling and soothing properties to relieve internal heat and toxins." He paused, glancing at the corner of Xiao Yuxuan's box, his eyes narrowing slightly. "If you can find three or five slices of ginger and a few jujubes, boil them into a soup to warm the body; that would be even better." This seemed to be implying something.
5. Guiding the Mind and Harmonizing Vicious Qi: Yun Youzi walked to a relatively open (and relatively clean) place and sat down cross-legged. He did not ask the seriously ill to get up, but faced those eyes that still retained a trace of clarity, his voice carrying a peculiar soothing rhythm: "Fear and resentment are all fuel for vicious qi. Everyone, please calm your minds, whether sitting or lying down, and follow my breath." He demonstrated: close your eyes, and gently place your hands on your lower abdomen (dantian). "When inhaling, visualize the remaining pure and harmonious qi in the world slowly entering from the Baihui point on the top of your head and sinking into the dantian, like a gentle rain nourishing parched earth." "When exhaling, slightly open your lips and teeth, and silently recite the word 'Xu' in your heart, expelling all the stagnant fear, resentment, and turbid qi of illness in your body with this long 'Xu' and dispersing it into the void." "The 'Xu' technique is long, slow, deep, and even, focusing on releasing the stagnant qi of the liver and gallbladder, calming the mind, and harmonizing the internal and external."
At first, only a handful of displaced people on the verge of collapse grasped at straws, emitting weak, intermittent "shh..." sounds. Gradually, this simple sound, imbued with some ancient wisdom, spread like a faint spark in the darkness of despair. More and more people, regardless of their illness, began to join this slow and deep collective breathing. The groans and coughs in the camp did not cease, but in this area, a somber and mournful collective "shh—" sound formed a peculiar resonance, like countless weary streams washing over a silted riverbed, attempting to dilute the omnipresent hostility.
Xiao Yuxuan struggled to sit cross-legged and closed his eyes. As he followed the long, drawn-out "sigh," trying to expel the pent-up murderous intent, anger towards the hanging blade, grief over Gong Xi's sacrifice, and despair at his own powerlessness, deep within his consciousness, the cold, heavy bronze box seemed to tremble slightly. The ancient character "Gong" on the box faintly overlapped with the image in his mind of the locust tree on the bank of the Wei River, its roots stubbornly stretching out from the scorched earth. Wasn't the "Life-Giving Technique" recorded in the *Records of Gongzheng* precisely meant to sever this terrifying cycle of "human violence - land violence," allowing the earth to regain its vitality? This "sigh" incantation expelled not only illness but also the war-induced violence accumulated in people's hearts!
No miracle occurred. Moving the camp was a luxury for most of the dying, burying the corpses was a heavy and dangerous task, the available herbs were scarce, and breathing exercises could not dispel the high fever and ulceration.
However, subtle changes stubbornly emerge against the backdrop of despair:
A few people who were able to move to the higher ground upstream of the creek found that the air there didn't seem to be as polluted and suffocating as they thought.
The boiled and filtered stream water, though bland, seemed to alleviate the abdominal cramps slightly after drinking it.
The bitter smoke from burning withered mugwort tore a tiny opening in the polluted air, seemingly restoring a sliver of clarity to a numb sense of smell.
More importantly, the resounding, long, and somber collective "hiss" formed an invisible support. Extreme panic was partially replaced by a collective outpouring imbued with immense compassion. People were no longer merely individuals awaiting death, but rather, in this shared breath, felt a faint connection in the face of adversity.
Yun Youzi did not use any divine magic; he merely revealed that the root of this calamity lay in the imbalance between people's hearts and the earth (humanity and the earth were in conflict), and pointed out the direction of adjustment and guidance in accordance with the principles of nature. He was more like a lighthouse keeper who pointed out the hidden patterns of ocean currents amidst raging waves.
Coughing up blood, Xiao Yuxuan gazed at Yun Youzi, who stood silently at the edge of the shantytown, seemingly one with this land of suffering. The Taoist priest's figure appeared small against the gray sky, yet seemed to embody some grand and cruel law of the universe. The cold touch of the bronze box in his arms seeped through his clothes, and the image of Gong Xi Yu Huo flashed through his mind. This plague, this "backlash of malevolent energy," was the ultimate evil created by the combined forces of the imperial court, the government, and the war machine! They not only reaped lives but also poisoned the very foundation upon which all things are born!
“Stop the war…” Xiao Yuxuan murmured to himself, his voice hoarse yet hardened by the fires of hell, “Not just about weapons… but also about… calming the anger in people’s hearts and on earth…” The embers of his heart, which were on the verge of being extinguished, did not die out after he understood the cruel cause and effect of this “heavenly way”. Instead, they sank into the deeper soil, becoming tightly intertwined with the ancient “people’s” will carried by the bronze box and the unyielding roots of the locust tree by the Wei River.
Ahead, the shadow of the sword loomed like a leech, and the fangs of plague continued to rage. But at this moment, the land beneath his feet, soaked in malevolence and emitting painful cries, and the mournful yet resilient collective "hiss" in the air, burdened Xiao Yuxuan's path to "stopping the war" with an unprecedented weight, pointing to a more fundamental redemption that transcends life-and-death struggles—to quell the flames of anger in people's hearts and repair the wounded land.
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