The Blade-Wielding Legend

The icy strait, with the sea churning white foam.

A Western-style twin-masted schooner tilted adrift in the waves.

The hull bore the scars of knife and axe, several charred breaches suggested scorch marks from cannon fire, and the tattered skull flag on the mainmast drooped lifelessly.

Scattered across the deck lay a dozen or so red-haired barbarian sailors, their faces ashen and lips purple, bodies curled in pain, emitting anguished groans, fingers unconsciously scratching at their throats and chests, as if countless invisible insects burrowed beneath their skin.

The smell of fishiness and the stench of vomit permeated the sea breeze.

Li Yan, Wang Daoxuan, Sha Lifei, and others dripping wet climbed onto the ship’s side, cold saltwater dripping from their clothes.

Long Yan’er was the last to nimbly leap onboard, with a wave of her delicate hand, a few rice-sized, dark-colored Gu worms silently emerged from the mouths and noses of the writhing pirates, returning to her sleeve pouch.

The pirates’ groans weakened instantly, leaving only the heavy gasps of those who narrowly survived and their unmistakable fear.

These inconspicuous "sesame gu" brought the seasoned killers at sea a taste of a fate worse than death.

"A bunch of cowards, the whole ship’s nothing but rotten garlic!"

Sha Lifei spat, wiping seawater from his face, cautiously surveying the surroundings.

Wu Ba and Lv San quickly spread out, one blocking the ladder to the lower deck, the other climbing the mast’s lookout, scanning the vast sea with hawk-like eyes.

Language became the greatest barrier.

Li Yan attempted to communicate in official language with a few pirate leaders who struggled to sit up, but they merely shook their heads blankly, babbling in an incoherent Rakshasa tongue, their eyes furtively glancing at Long Yan’er.

A bearded, burly figure who seemed to be the leader gestured towards the cabin, then mimed a tying motion, a pleading expression on his face.

Li Yan frowned slightly, signaling Kuai Dayou and the Night Crying Man to keep an eye on the pirates on deck, while he, along with Sha Lifei and Wang Daoxuan, followed the bearded man cautiously down to the dimly lit lower deck.

Inside the cabin, the smell of mold, sweat, and blood intermingled, with stolen furs and rough foreign currencies piled in the corners.

In the deepest part, a figure chained to a wooden post drew their attention.

The man wore a tattered mandarin jacket, with a cotton armor over it long torn, revealing the frost-bitten purple skin beneath, hair tangled, face dirty, yet his features unmistakably those of the Han people.

He seemed to be awakened by the commotion outside, struggling to lift his head, his murky eyes initially filled with fear, but upon seeing the attire and faces of Li Yan and the others, suddenly flashed with incredible brilliance.

"Are you... are you Han people?!"

His voice was hoarse and dry, with a thick Liaodong accent, the clinking of chains resonating with his excitement.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" Li Yan asked in a deep voice, signaling Sha Lifei to check the chains.

"I... I’m Wang Shuazhu, a soldier of the Kuerka Guard Station under the Nuerhan Governorate, in the lands of the Wild Jurchen!"

Wang Shuazhu, as if grasping a lifeline, shouted rapidly, "Officers, save me! The garrison... the garrison was plagued by Evil Spirits! It’s all over! Everything’s over!"

"Nuerhan Governorate?"

Li Yan and Sha Lifei exchanged a glance, both feeling a sense of dread.

The Great Xuan Dynasty’s highest military governance in the bitter cold of the extreme east, overseeing the vast snowfields from the Onon River in the west to Kuye Island in the east, (Vladivostok) being just a small port at its southern end.

The soldiers of this garrison were all men who defended the borders for generations in the bitter cold.

Sha Lifei slashed the rusty chain open with a few strikes of his short knife, and Wang Shuazhu collapsed to the ground, only to be lifted by Sha Lifei.

He panted heavily, face still shaken: "Half a month ago... just half a month ago! It was my turn to guard the latter half of the night, just changed shifts, when I felt something was amiss... too quiet, eerily quiet! Even the dogs weren’t barking!"

He swallowed hard, eyes filled with fear: "I... I carried a lantern, wanting to check over by the stables."

"Just rounding the granary corner, I saw... saw Liu the Sixth standing there! He was the sentry for the first half of the night, should’ve gone back to rest. I called to him, no answer. Under the lantern light... dear heavens!"

Wang Shuazhu’s voice suddenly rose, with a sobbing tone, "His face... had a smile! Not a real smile, a skin smile without smiling eyes, staring straight ahead without blinking! Like those paper-made boys in the temple!"

"I was so scared my legs went limp, tried to run, but turning my head... over by the stables, Zhang who feeds the horses, and Old Wang of the Fire Head Army, they too stood stiffly, with the same fake smile on their faces!"

Wang Shuazhu started trembling all over, as if reliving that terrifying cold night, "Then I saw above the granary... floating... floating shadows! Black, faces indistinguishable, like torn burlap bags blown by the wind, no sound at all, just floating... circling the garrison!"

"Wherever they floated, people standing there... their faces would... bear that fake smile!"

"I saw with my own eyes, they floated past the cookhouse, inside Xiao Lizi, sneaking a snack, just took a bite, then froze there, his face also... also like that!"

"I crawled and hid in the firewood pile, not daring to breathe. Endured until dawn, then those shadows vanished. But in the garrison... everyone got up, those sweeping the yard swept, those feeding horses fed, however..."

"But they walked as if floating, didn’t speak, faces all wore that fake smile! Eyes... eyes were vacant! The entire garrison, like a... like a large graveyard!"

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