The First Lackey Under The Empress

A moment later, corpses lay in pools of blood inside the ancestral hall.

A group of unarmed villagers, even fighting desperately, ultimately couldn't inflict much substantial harm on these outsiders.

“Immortal Master, a group of children ran away.” The black-armored officer leading the group wiped the blood off his blade on Song Juren's corpse, saying distastefully.

The white-robed sorcerer inhaled the heavy atmosphere of death with intoxication, squinting his eyes and saying, “Kill them all.”

“Yes.” The black-armored officer led a few men, mounted their horses, and chased out of Songjia Village.

On the country road leading to the Prefectural City, a young man named Xiao Wu lay on horseback, crying and desperately whipping the horse, biting his lip tightly, suppressing his sobs.

As the "leader" of the village children, after he and the other youths escaped from the ancestral hall, the group split into several routes, each fleeing for their lives, seeking safe places to hide nearby, while Xiao Wu, the best rider, was responsible for seeking help from the Prefectural City.

“Da da da…”

The hooves of the horse were like a storm, leaving the burning village behind. Xiao Wu gritted his teeth, with only the sound of the wind in his ears, and on both sides of the road were burned crops.

He suddenly remembered last autumn when he had also left the village to seek help, but compared to the previous close call, what was happening today was a true catastrophe.

The Prefectural City was not a short distance from the village. By the time he returned with reinforcements, would there still be any survivors in the village?

So, the old Juren's request for help was actually telling them to run as far as they could.

However, the boy deliberately ignored this answer, only holding his breath, wanting to run to the Prefectural City in one breath, and bring back the government soldiers to kill all those bandits.

But the pursuers behind him were already close.

The black-armored officer steered his warhorse, easily catching up with the fleeing boy. He clamped his legs on the horse's belly, took down his bow and arrow, and smiled, saying:

“Wanna bet how many arrows it takes me to shoot him dead?”

The soldiers riding alongside him joked:

“We know Captain Wu has good archery skills, but he’s on horseback, at least three arrows… maybe even five.”

The black-armored officer drew his bow and nocked an arrow, sneering:

“Two arrows are enough, let me teach you a trick, on the battlefield, shoot the horse before you shoot the man.”

Whoosh—

The first arrow shot through the air, the horse beneath the boy let out a mournful cry, lost its footing, and fell to the ground.

The boy was thrown out by inertia, landing on the road, rolling several times, his head already bleeding, unable to get up for a moment.

The black-armored officer slowly drew a second arrow from his quiver, aiming his bow at the boy's back as he struggled to get up, when he suddenly heard his subordinate exclaim: “There’s something ahead…”

Whoosh—

The second arrow had already flown out. Xiao Wu, slumped on the ground, struggled to turn his head, his pupils reflecting the rapidly enlarging arrowhead. The boy's face was pale, his whole body cold.

But at the moment of near death, a golden light flashed past, and the arrow was forcibly split in two by a blade, falling to the ground.

In a daze, Xiao Wu only heard the sound of hooves like thunder behind him, the sunlight was covered by shadows, and the rebel soldiers chasing him suddenly changed their expressions drastically, turning around to run.

“Raise your head.”

The boy raised his head blankly in response, and saw light cavalry covered in armor, and a brocade-robed young master blocking out the sky on horseback.

He opened his mouth, recognized the face, his throat choked, and tears welled up in his eyes:

“Imperial Envoy?”

Zhao Du'an raised his hand, retracted the flying knife into his sleeve, and examined the blood-stained boy. After a moment of recollection, he suddenly realized:

“It’s you.”

He remembered that last autumn, when he and the Princess first arrived at Songjia Village, they were provoked by this arrogant boy, and he even beat him up.

The annoying, bratty rascal seemed to have grown up because of this clan-destroying disaster, with no more ugly faces, and knelt down on both knees with a thud, kowtowing non-stop:

“I beg you, sir, to avenge my people.”

Zhao Du'an's expression changed slightly: “Where is Song Juren?”

The teenage boy's shoulders trembled, and he sobbed silently.

Zhao Du'an was silent, and the hundred or so light cavalry behind him were silent.

Suddenly, Zhao Du'an smiled, but the smile was a little cold:

“It’s said that my reputation has always been bad, and the people of your Songjia Village haven’t given me a good impression either. Song Juren even followed Zhengyang to the capital to make trouble for me…”

Disappointment surged on Xiao Wu's face, and his complexion lost color little by little.

Zhao Du'an changed the subject, slowly gripping the hilt of the Soul Suppressing Saber at his waist with his right hand:

“But that Confucian scholar Zhengyang doesn't know what string in his brain is wrong, and insists on calling me 'Master.' Your clan leader is also Zhengyang's student, so all things considered, he's half my grand-disciple. In that case, it's impossible not to repay this blood debt for both emotional and rational reasons.

Everyone listen to my orders, immediately disperse, kill the rebels, I want none left alive!”

The hundred or so light cavalrymen responded in unison!

Zhao Du'an's warhorse was like an arrow released from a bow, sweeping towards the fleeing rebel soldiers, and the Soul Suppressing Saber in his hand was unsheathed with a "clang," and a thick saber energy gathered at the tip of the blade, like a tornado.

The black-armored officer who shot the arrow had no power to resist. Blood gushed from his armor like a spring, and his corpse fell to the ground with a thud, his wide-open eyes reflecting the corpses of the rest of his men falling down.

In the blink of an eye, the light cavalry scattered, surrounding and strangling the rebel soldiers scattered throughout the village, leaving only Xiao Wu kneeling on the dirt road, stunned and speechless.

… …

Songjia Village was very large.

At a glance, Zhao Du'an saw at least a hundred rebel soldiers setting fires and killing people everywhere, which should be the main force of this sneak attack… or at least one of them.

He immediately ordered Ji Yue to summon rain to extinguish the fire and put out the burning farmland.

He and Lang Shiba split into two groups, killing towards the head and tail of the town. As for Tang Jinzhong and other enshrined experts, he left them in Yin Mine Town to guard it. Without experts guarding it, he was always worried about Tang Ping and the others staying there.

And when he followed the Qi induction, passed through the burning buildings, and arrived at the Song Clan's ancestral hall, he saw five white-robed sorcerers standing quietly outside the ancestral hall, as if… waiting for him?

The five sorcerers were all dressed in the evil ways of the White Robe Sect. The leader was a delicate-looking man in his twenties.

The corners of his mouth habitually turned up, giving people the feeling that he was smiling all the time, but there was always an arrogant sarcasm in that smile, as if he had been in a high position for a long time, developing a superior nature.

The young sorcerer seemed to have noticed the arrival of the imperial army long ago, and now smiled gently and said:

“I was wondering who was coming. If I'm not mistaken, could it be the rumored male favorite raised by the female emperor? The stallion of the White Horse Supervisor that wasn't castrated?”

Zhao Du'an stopped, holding the Soul Suppressing Saber, a line of blood gurgling down the tip of the blade.

There was no sign of being provoked on his face:

“White Robe Sect? The Mu Royal Mansion really doesn't want any face, letting you rats from the gutter dare to walk in the open.”

The young sorcerer smiled and said:

“With your wisdom, you should know the principle of 'the winner takes all.' What is a righteous god or an evil god? It's just a division set by the strong. If Prince Mu ascends the throne, why can't my White Robe Sect become a famous and upright sect admired by all?

Just like the Da Yu royal family six hundred years ago, wasn't the dynasty also created with blood on their hands? Who is more virtuous than whom?”

Zhao Du'an had no interest in arguing. The reason he didn't draw his sword was because he sensed a threat from the other party.

This White Robe Sect sorcerer had the ability to cause him great harm.

The instinctive, urgent warning made Zhao Du'an's heart sink, and a sense of unease surged within him. He began to doubt whether he had been overconfident. Could the true purpose of this war today not be to destroy the silver mine, but... himself?

Otherwise, how could the current situation be explained?

Even if Zhao Du'an disregarded everything and unleashed his full power, he could briefly possess the ability to contend with the perfected realm.

Even if he performed normally, he would still be a middle-grade warrior in the mortal realm. Even if the White Robe Sect had experts, there wouldn't be many in the mortal realm, so how could he encounter them so easily?

Suddenly, a gust of fresh wind brushed past him from behind, and a jade sleeve fluttered over, blocking Zhao Du'an's path. She calmly said:

"Leave these people to me. It is the ironclad rule of my Celestial Master Mansion's priests to kill evil heretics and demons. Lord Zhao can watch from behind."

I almost forgot about you...

Zhao Du'an was stunned for a moment, gazing at the delicate features of the female Taoist, her blue Taoist robe billowing in the wind, and the blue jade flying sword humming and vibrating at her waist.

He wanted to say, "Let's work together," but the words suddenly caught in his throat.

...

A dozen miles away from Song Family Village, there was a mass burial ground, with tombs standing among the weeds, which grew waist-high due to neglect.

The surrounding villagers avoided it, as local legends told of hauntings.

The leader of the Underworld Sect walked slowly through the sea of weeds, strolling leisurely as if returning home.

He was wrapped in a dark red robe, with a matching scarf covering half of his face. His dirty black hair was disheveled, matted into knots from lack of washing.

On his back, he carried a long sword made of copper coins. His temperament was rough, as if he were not a living person but a figure painted by an undertaker.

"Caw—"

A black crow circled once in the high sky, flapped its wings, and landed on a dead branch of a tomb's tree.

The leader of the Underworld Sect seemed tired. He sat down on the tomb, facing Song Family Village, his face full of gloom, and said:

"Why provoke anyone but someone with the surname Zhao? Even if you don't give the female emperor face, shouldn't you consider the thoughts of that old guy in the Celestial Master Mansion in the capital who hasn't come out of the mountains for decades? Young people are too young."

The crow, blacker than ink, spoke in human language:

"Is that guy Zhang Yan's illegitimate son? Even the Zhu Point Boy's training doesn't have this level of security, sending people to guard and protect him?"

The leader of the Underworld Sect glared at the foul-mouthed crow:

"If you want to show off, don't drag me along. I'm living well and don't want to participate in the schemes and struggles of those celestials. Who knows how much trouble this Zhao guy is involved in? It would be better if he were just a gigolo."

The crow showed a human-like disdain, flapping its wings and laughing loudly, "Are you afraid?"

The leader of the Underworld Sect, who verbally admitted defeat but didn't move his butt an inch, stroked the messy stubble on his chin, looked up and gazed, his vision seeming to cross several miles, watching the scene inside the Song Family Village's ancestral hall. His eyes flashed with a fierce light, and he muttered to himself:

"I stopped falling for this kind of provocation when I was three years old. My Underworld Sect is just too lazy to participate in those meaningless struggles. Life is 36,000 days, isn't it better to earn more money to buy my life? I'm just too lazy to get involved.

Besides, I have already seen the aura of death enveloping the world... If Zhang Yan doesn't come out of the mountains, then so be it, but if he does, I'll risk exhausting all my savings and send him straight to the underworld."

...

...

The Song Clan Ancestral Hall was still burning, and the ancestral tablets turned to charcoal in the flames.

Zhao Du'an heard Yu Xiu continue to speak calmly:

"This is a matter for my Celestial Master Mansion. Just as we don't interfere in the court's struggles, the court shouldn't interfere in the affairs of the cultivation world. Lord Zhao should step back a bit."

After dropping these words, Yu Xiu gazed coldly at the white-robed warlock, and uttered a name:

"Shi Luoyi, I couldn't catch you before. Today you've delivered yourself to my door."

Shi Luoyi?

Zhao Du'an's heart stirred, and the relevant files he had read in his mind triggered a response, and he remembered the information about this name.

This person was the son of the White Robe Sect Master, that is: the young master of the White Robe Sect.

He was extremely talented in the path of losing the divine, but he rarely left Yunfu, and because of the evil path, he was relatively low-key, and few people knew about him.

When Shi Luoyi saw Yu Xiu appear, the smile on his face disappeared briefly, and then became even brighter:

"Priest Yu Xiu killed many disciples of my White Robe Sect in Hundred Flower Village last time. This young master has also remembered this debt."

"Young Master, be careful!"

At this time, the other four warlocks became nervous. One Zhao Du'an was not enough to worry about, but with the addition of Priest Yu Xiu, the situation became delicate.

Shi Luoyi waved his hand, without any nervousness or apprehension, and said with some melancholy:

"Two people... it's really a bit of a headache. I originally wanted to keep Envoy Zhao, but it seems a bit difficult today. Heh, but..."

His smile suddenly became bright, and the mourning stick in his hand suddenly plunged into the earth. The surrounding world changed abruptly, and the originally sunny ancestral hall's light quickly dimmed. His voice floated in the yin wind:

"This young master really wants to try the quality of a Celestial Master disciple!"

Along with his attack, the other four warlocks also simultaneously plunged the mourning sticks in their hands into the earth. In an instant, the ground suddenly cracked, and streams of "mourning energy" spewed out from the cracks.

That was not inherent in the earth, but the mourning energy that the White Robe Sect warlocks collected and breathed out, stored in the small coffin at their waists.

Once the technique was activated, the mourning energy in the coffin would gush out from the mourning stick. In an instant, the light in the entire ancestral hall area dimmed, and pieces of paper money began to fall in the air.

Zhao Du'an's heart stirred, and he felt as if a layer of shadow had suddenly been cast over his brow, and his body felt a rising chill and yin cold aura.

This feeling was not unfamiliar to him.

Back in Jianning Prefecture, he had been cursed by a White Robe Sect warlock, becoming ill in his sleep, and at the same time, his own natal star dimmed, his luck plummeted, and he became exceptionally unlucky.

At this moment, the White Robe Sect warlock, who was proficient in the art of cursing, shrouded this ancestral hall area in the shadow of the losing divine.

The enemies in this area had their luck weakened and plummeted, their emotions deteriorated, and their fighting spirit declined.

Not only that, but along with it came the curse cast by the five warlocks simultaneously!

In just an instant, Zhao Du'an glimpsed illusory scarlet characters appearing in front of the warlocks, each character representing a curse, and layers of curses swept over, most of them enveloping Priest Yu Xiu.

Almost in the blink of an eye, the radiance on Yu Xiu's body quickly faded, visibly to the naked eye:

Her complexion became pale, her eye sockets were dark, her aura plummeted, and even the blue jade flying sword at her waist became dull.

Shi Luoyi smiled and said, "Celestial Master disciples are indeed exceptionally strong, but how much is left now?"