Chapter Twenty-Six: The Extermination of the Cultivators

The Great Cheng Dynasty did not prohibit civilians from owning weapons, but equipment like iron armor and crossbows—heavy gear—was strictly forbidden. In the previous dynasty, when ten suits of armor were found in a prime minister's household, it was deemed a capital crime, and his entire family was executed.

In such an era, powerful bows and heavy armor were almost equivalent to tanks and machine guns in later times!

To be honest, Wang Zhenling doubted whether the county treasury of Danling County could even muster a hundred sets of armor and crossbows.

“What are they planning with such a grand display?” Wang Zhenling was inwardly shocked and surprised, but he kept his composure and said nothing.

His reaction clearly satisfied the county constable, Chen, who said, “We act at the hour of You. Rest for now.”

“But it won’t even be dark by then!” Wang Zhenling said in astonishment.

He carried the Ghost Soldier Talisman, which Chen had specifically instructed him to bring. Wang had thought these ghost soldiers would not be needed until nightfall and was puzzled by the early donning of armor.

After all, armor was heavy and uncomfortable, sapping one’s strength.

A smile flickered in Chen’s eyes; bright men always asked the crucial questions. “I possess the Governor’s Umbrella, which can shield us from the sun.”

Wang Zhenling fell silent. Clearly, Chen had prepared thoroughly—even bringing such a treasure. It seemed victory was already within grasp.

Wang sat aside to conserve his strength.

Barely half an hour passed before the sun dipped westward, beginning its descent. It was the hour when farmers returned home to light their fires and prepare supper.

Rarely would anyone choose to act at such a time.

Yet, upon reflection, the timing was clever—aligned with the art of war: strike when the enemy is weary and returning home.

Although it was not the depth of night, when all were asleep, it was still the moment after a day’s toil when people let their guard down.

If the attack was swift enough, it could exploit that psychological vulnerability.

Thus, more than a hundred men, each clad in gleaming armor, suddenly surged from the pavilion toward an estate two or three miles away.

The distance was considerable—running so far, burdened with thirty or forty pounds, would exhaust even the fittest.

But there was no choice; this was the best place to hide so many men near the estate.

Moreover, sneaking so many people in without alerting the estate was already difficult—bringing a hundred horses would have been impossible to conceal.

So, all advanced on foot, armored, toward the estate.

At that moment, County Constable Chen acted even faster than his armored warriors, having a ceremonial umbrella brought out.

This was a ritual artifact bestowed by the court upon provincial governors, symbolizing imperial authority.

There, Master Yu, hair unbound, performed a ritual step, bowing deeply to the umbrella from afar.

A shadow rose from the umbrella, expanding like a mass of dark clouds.

“Ghost soldiers, advance!” Chen waved a bronze seal. Five hundred ghost soldiers, fully armed and formed in battle array, appeared within the shadow.

Protected by the shadow, they no longer feared the lingering sunlight.

Wang Zhenling, not daring to be negligent, waved his own half-seal; ten ghost soldiers flew out, merging into the shadow.

He realized then that Chen had no need of his few ghost soldiers; he’d only been brought along to offer him a place on this formidable venture.

No sooner had he understood than the shadow surged forward like a galloping horse, racing ahead toward the estate.

Within the estate, the commotion was already visible; the residents were thrown into chaos.

At that time, rural communities resembled small fortresses, each surrounded by a wall to protect the dwellings within.

This estate’s owner was clearly wealthy or noble—the walls were taller and grander than those of ordinary hamlets, three meters high, with a watchtower above the main gate.

Such an estate was a small fortress; once the gates were closed and defenses set, it would be difficult to breach.

But it was dusk, with household retainers and guests returning from work, people coming and going in confusion.

This delayed the closing of the gate. And as the shadow arrived and hundreds of ghost soldiers charged in, there was no hope of shutting the gates now.

These were government-trained ghost soldiers, all fierce spirits, with official power manifest as armor and weaponry.

They were far more formidable than the usual underworld troops in the service of ghosts and deities.

Ordinary ghostly soldiers relied on their master’s spiritual power to conjure weapons and armor.

But what god’s power could compare to the ceaseless, inexhaustible fortune of the government?

So, when the five hundred and ten ghost soldiers stormed in, the estate’s retainers and guests crowded at the entrance were either slaughtered or fled in terror toward the inner grounds.

These ghost soldiers, fierce and equipped with government-forged armor and weapons, were a terror even to ordinary mortal troops.

The five hundred and ten ghost soldiers were about to break into the estate when suddenly a beam of light shot forth from within, slashing toward the shadow cast by the umbrella.

A cultivator had acted, recognizing the umbrella as the linchpin—if it were destroyed, the last rays of the setting sun would be enough to annihilate the ghost soldiers.

“Fools,” scoffed Master Yu, watching from miles away. “To dare attack an imperial artifact…”

He gestured in the air; the shadow twisted, sending out a stream of fire that struck the glowing beam, then surged toward the spell-casting cultivator some thirty yards away.

In an instant, the cultivator screamed and was reduced to ashes.

There were certainly more cultivators in the estate, but witnessing the fate of their rash companion, none dared target the umbrella again, instead turning their spells on the ghost soldiers.

For a moment, talismans flew in all directions, becoming balls of fire and white light that shot toward the ghost soldiers.

But the ghost soldiers responded with discipline, maintaining their formation. As the talismans rained down, the front ranks conjured shields of white mist, covering themselves.

After the barrage, only three or five ghost soldiers were dispersed. Yet, with a ripple of energy, they reformed—though gravely weakened, they were not utterly destroyed, merely retreating to the rear while others stepped forward.

The cultivators, witnessing this, were stunned and frightened, but with their lives at stake, they prepared a second volley of talismans.