Chapter One: The Soulbound Wood

Page 1 of 3

At sunset, just outside Huaiyuan Town.

By now, the country road was nearly deserted, with only a few figures in sight. Oddly, at the road’s end stood a group of children, clearly divided into two rival factions.

One of the boys, half a head taller than his companions and with striking, well-defined features, was shouting at another boy across from him:

“Zhang Daniu, a bet is a bet. You already lost the last round, and if we win this one too, from now on whenever you see me in town, you’ll have to call me ‘Big Brother’! And you can’t pester Xiaocui anymore!”

The boy called Daniu, burly and thickset even at his young age, snorted in response. “All right, Liang the Mutt, you only won last time with a sneaky trick. This round, I won’t go easy on you!”

Liang, quick-witted, replied at once, “You set the test last round, so it’s my turn now.”

“How do we compete?”

“Let’s see who can climb to the top of Wenliang Hill first!”

“It’s a deal!”

Barely had the words left his mouth when Liang shot off like an arrow, leaving Daniu momentarily stunned before he cursed and took off after him.

…

As dusk deepened, the mountain path grew ever more silent. A boy darted through the woods, his nose straight, lips thin, with sword-like brows and bright, lively eyes. For one so young, he had an impish, clever air. This was none other than Liang Yan, the boy who had wagered with Daniu earlier.

He suddenly stopped to glance at the sky.

“I can’t believe our contest has gone on so long. If I don’t head home now, Father will start nagging again…”

But then he thought, “The path near the summit has been tampered with by someone—I don’t know when. If you just rush up, you’ll get stuck wandering in circles. This must be the formation the town teacher talked about. That day, I was lucky enough to find a secret tunnel straight to the top. Daniu doesn’t know about it, so this time, victory is mine for sure!”

The thought of soon being acknowledged as the leader among the town’s children filled Liang Yan with excitement.

“Forget it, I’ll hurry up and come back quickly. Once I reach the summit and teach Daniu a lesson, I’ll rush home. At worst, I’ll get a scolding.”

His mind made up, Liang Yan shot off, head down and legs pumping, the mountain paths as familiar to him as the back of his hand.

But as he ran, a gentle force suddenly stopped him in his tracks. Caught off guard, his foot slipped, and he landed on his backside. Looking up, he found a tall figure standing before him.

The newcomer wore a tall hat, a long robe of coarse cloth, boots on his feet, and a hemp rope at his waist from which hung a worn cloth pouch. His eyes were tightly shut, and he leaned on a stick—it was an old blind man.

Liang Yan steadied himself and climbed to his feet, apologizing, “I’m sorry, sir, I was reckless and didn’t see you.”

The old man smiled, not angry in the least, and replied kindly, “Huaiyuan Town must be just ahead. Are you a child from there?”

Though his voice was gentle, for some reason it filled Liang Yan with a sense of reassurance. He answered respectfully, “You guessed right, sir, I live in the town.”

The old man stroked his chin. “It’s so late, yet you’re heading up the mountain. Must be something important? Don’t mind this old man, go on with your business.”

Liang Yan glanced hesitantly at the stick in the old man’s hand. Sensing his concern, the old man said, “No need to worry, boy. I’ve traveled with this stick for years and never lost my way.”

Hearing this, Liang Yan looked at him with growing suspicion. From the start, he felt as if, though the old man’s eyes remained closed, he was being seen through entirely—a strange and unsettling sensation.

“In that case, I’ll go ahead. The mountain paths are rough, so please take care.” Liang Yan mimicked the traveling merchants in town by cupping his fists in salute, then turned and sped toward the summit.

Wenliang Hill was not high, barely more than a mound. But delayed by the old man and now feeling inexplicably uneasy, by the time Liang Yan reached the secret tunnel he remembered, the moon was already high.

“This should be it.”

He pulled aside the plants covering the entrance—and froze. The tunnel was completely blocked by a heap of stones.

“What happened? This is a disaster. All my effort for nothing?”

After a day spent thinking of nothing but this contest, certain he would win, Liang Yan was overwhelmed by disappointment. He wandered aimlessly, not knowing how long he walked, until he realized he had reached the summit.

Page 2 of 3

“Huh? Why isn’t the formation blocking the summit tonight? How did I get up here so easily?”

Perplexed, Liang Yan circled the summit, then looked up at the sky.

“It’s late, and Daniu still hasn’t arrived. He must have given up. Looks like I won after all! I’d better hurry home or Father will scold me for ages.”

The thought of his hard-fought victory banished all the gloom from his heart. He strode down the mountain, light of foot.

…

Under a sparse, starry moon, Huaiyuan Town was eerily quiet that night.

The empty streets were utterly silent. Normally, the townsfolk would not sleep so early. Yet not a soul stirred—not even a single animal or horse.

On the roof of an ordinary house, a soft sigh sounded:

“Hmph, it’s been years, but to think Junior Brother He’s methods have grown even more despicable.”

The words hung in the air, unanswered. The speaker, an old man in a tall hat, sat cross-legged on the rooftop, eyes shut as if in deep meditation. Had Liang Yan been there, he would have recognized him as the old man from the mountain path.

Just then, a burly man emerged from the end of the street. He wore a short hemp tunic and carried a shovel on his back, the picture of a country laborer. Most bizarre was his vacant eyes, whites showing, his mouth twisted—a look of utter idiocy.

Despite his appearance, he moved with astonishing speed, and in the blink of an eye was at the house beneath the old man. With a leap, he drew his shovel and struck straight for the old man’s face.

Yet the old man did not budge, remaining seated. With a flick of his right middle finger, a spark shot through the night toward the attacker.

A wet pop sounded. Though the burly man kept running, a muffled explosion tore open three holes in his body. Strangely, not a drop of blood flowed. Instead, green vines sprouted from each wound, creeping up the walls toward the rooftop.

The old man frowned, waving his sleeve. A faint wall of fire spread around him. The vines sizzled and vanished in mist.

Suddenly, the roof beneath him exploded. Two sword-like beams shot upward at him. From the neighboring houses, more laborers burst forth, some wielding swords, others iron rods. All wore vacant, idiotic expressions, yet moved with uncanny speed.

The old man’s brow furrowed deeper as he soared skyward, his right hand forming seals while chanting. Dozens of short knives shot from his sleeve, each finding its mark on the attackers.

As before, no blood flowed from their wounds, but writhing vines shot from the gashes straight at the old man.

He grew grim, drawing a circle with his left hand and forming seals with his right. A flaming bell appeared around him, covered in ancient inscriptions, exuding an aura of immense power.

The bell enclosed the old man, and the attacking vines evaporated into black smoke upon contact with the flames.

A soft laugh rang out: “The Fire God Bell—one of the Eight Secret Arts of the sect. When mastered, all evil retreats, demons are scattered. I wonder, Senior Brother Yan, how far you’ve come in your cultivation?”

“Hmph! If you wish to test my abilities, Junior Brother He, you are welcome. I never thought you, He Muqing, would stoop to setting the Soul-Binding Wood Array just to evade capture. Though created by our sect’s elders, this formation requires living people as anchors—a grave sin. The new sect master has forbidden its use. For you to go this far, you must have slaughtered all three hundred innocent souls in this town!”

His words were righteous, but the unseen foe replied with mad laughter.

“Blind Yan! Still playing this game with me? Let’s speak plainly—if I die tonight and you take what you seek, do you really think you’d let anyone here live? You’d kill every last one to cover your tracks. So why not let them serve my purpose instead?”

Yan’s brow creased as his spiritual sense spread, searching for something.

“Enough nonsense, Junior Brother. Surrender and return to the sect to beg forgiveness. The sect master may yet spare your life.”

“Hah! Others may not know you, but I do!” came the cold reply. “Our Senior Brother and Sister Liu—outstanding talents—were both driven to their deaths by you!”

Yan snorted, “They were arrogant and befriended the wrong people, falling into the demonic path. I had no choice.”

“Ha! ‘No choice’—how convenient. You killed for treasure, nothing more. Just as you’re doing now! You’ve been lurking around Wenliang Hill for days, using the Heart-Mirror to track me, thinking I wouldn’t notice? But you never guessed that I’d set the Soul-Binding Wood Array here to trap and kill you! Hahaha!”

Yan sighed, “So there’s no room for negotiation…”

Page 3 of 3

He had barely finished the word “negotiation” when Blind Yan struck like lightning. A crimson flash shot toward a large water jar in an old house at the street’s end. With a crash, a middle-aged man in blue staggered out, flames licking at his body, his face twisted in terror.

This was He Muqing, the infamous “Junior Brother He.” Tall and thin, with hawk-like eyes and broad nose, his skin now flickered with green light and ancient inscriptions as he frantically formed seals to ward off the flames.

Yet the fire clung to him like a leech, impossible to extinguish.

Yan now floated above him, chanting, before spitting out four ancient fire nails that pinned He Muqing’s limbs to the ground.

Yan smiled faintly, “You overestimated yourself, Junior Brother. Your Bull-Wood Armor is only at the initial stage—how can you withstand my Fire-Wolf Poison?” He stroked his chin, a trace of pride in his expression.

With victory in hand, he prepared to search He Muqing’s soul for the sect’s lost treasure—but suddenly, disaster struck.

He Muqing’s body shriveled like a punctured bladder, collapsing until only a withered skin remained. Thick vines as wide as a child’s arm erupted from him, forming a wooden cage that trapped Yan inside.

In that instant, Yan felt his spiritual power bog down as if mired in mud. All his spells and abilities were useless. Worse, his consciousness grew sluggish, his thoughts slowing to a crawl.

At that moment, the ground rumbled, and eight massive wooden stakes as thick as water jars rose from eight points around the town, forming a mysterious barrier.

Then, every rooftop exploded, and all three hundred townsfolk floated into the sky. With vacant expressions, each formed strange seals before spitting out black, foul-smelling vines aimed at the trapped Yan.

As the vines flew, the people’s bodies shriveled into mummified husks and fell from the sky, lifeless.

Yan, surrounded, felt the corrosive aura devour his flesh and spirit, powerless to resist. In his last conscious moment, his left hand brushed his ragged waist pouch. Then he moved no more, falling limply to the ground.

A flash of green light, and He Muqing emerged from the earth, grinning down at Yan’s corpse.

“Senior Brother, you tried to trick me into revealing my hiding place within the array. Too bad you never realized I’d crafted an external avatar, hiding it here to lure you to your death! Hahaha!”

Elated to be free of pursuit, he reached for Yan’s storage pouch—only to feel his spiritual power drain uncontrollably into the ground.

Startled, he tried to leap away, but his feet felt rooted in lead.

Scanning below, he saw fiery red spiders burrowing into his feet, linked in a line to Yan’s body.

His spiritual power vanished in an instant, followed by his life force. Eyes wide, he could only mutter, “Netherfire Spiders…” before collapsing.

As his vitality drained away, the dying Yan’s face flushed with life. Gradually, he revived and slowly rose to his feet.

Though the battle had lasted only moments, the treachery and danger had been immense. In the end, the blind old man was the one left standing.

He dusted himself off, glanced at He Muqing’s corpse, and said wryly, “I always kept the Netherfire Spiders as my last resort. Who would have thought their first use would be against my own junior brother? Fate is strange indeed.”

He placed his hand on He Muqing’s head, black light swirling as he began a soul search. In a moment, his eyes flashed as he gazed toward a humble house at the town’s edge.

“So, that’s where it is…”