Volume Two: The Sages Illuminate the Present, What a Brilliant Age Chapter Three: Ancient and Modern Coexist, The Massacre of the Village

In the days that followed, Zhao Tiansheng’s small residence welcomed a frequent visitor. Li Taibai took up lodging there, and from then on, the two drank and discussed the sword every day, reveling in their camaraderie.

Meanwhile, more and more figures from antiquity appeared in the present world, emerging gradually from the Han dynasty onwards, each era represented by its own. Curiously, however, no one from the Yuan dynasty had yet been found among them.

All these ancients shared a common trait: each was recorded in historical texts. In other words, the nameless had no right to manifest in the present.

Without exception, those who had crossed into this era were guided by some great power. These ancients lived by the rules, never overstepping their bounds. The authorities called upon the people to coexist peacefully with these visitors from the past, treating each other with courtesy.

The strange gloom that had hovered over the land seemed to dissipate with the arrival of these ancients. Sharing the world with them, people moved from shock to acceptance, the inclusiveness of the Chinese nation laid bare for all to see.

The ancients, too, began to adapt to modern life. Some entered schools to become classical literature teachers; others, being masters of military strategy, were recruited by the military. There were even those who stepped onto the silver screen to play themselves—a phenomenon that stunned audiences.

Their presence added countless colors to the lives of the people, making the present era seem like an age of peace and prosperity, vibrant and flourishing.

As for Mo Wen, after visiting several of these ancients, his interest gradually waned. He shut himself away in Ziyuan in the magic capital, spending his days in quiet intimacy with Lin Xi, enjoying the serenity of time.

But one day, a piece of official news struck like thunder out of a clear sky, awakening the cultivators from their dream of coexistence with the ancients.

On September 6, 2024, a coastal fishing village in Minnan Province was brutally slaughtered.

On the morning of September 10—Teacher’s Day—Lin Xi was still lost in dreams while Mo Wen rose early, pondering what gift to send to Granny Huang and Zhao Tiansheng in celebration.

But a call from Zhao Tiansheng brought news that shocked Mo Wen to his core. Fury burned within him, his face dark as iron. Without hesitation, he set out for Minnan.

Such large-scale slaughter had not been seen since the founding of China; words failed to capture the horror.

A private plane of the Lin family quietly departed from the magic capital, reaching Minnan in just an hour. Throughout the journey, Lin Xi held Mo Wen’s hand tightly, sensing his rage, and wisely chose to remain silent.

During the year Mo Wen was imprisoned, Lin Xi’s cultivation had progressed rapidly—she had reached the Divine Pivot stage, no longer the delicate girl she once was.

After another hour by car, they arrived at the remote fishing village. A young member of the Yu family acted as their guide. Mo Wen’s only impression of the Yu family was a young man who had attended the Wudang Spring Gathering and had not emerged from the place of beginnings.

The small fishing village lay tucked away, hidden beyond mountains and ravines. From a distance, it seemed lifeless, the air thick with the stench of blood.

The young member of the Yu family explained, “Last night, a villager returning from work found the carnage and hurriedly called the police. The Minnan authorities responded immediately and discovered 604 bodies. Aside from those who were away, no one survived.”

“Have they caught the killer?” Mo Wen asked, his voice hoarse.

“No. From what we can tell, it’s unlikely to have been the work of a single person. The killings were swift and ruthless, the handiwork of trained professionals,” the young man replied. “At the scene, a brown bone token was found and has been handed over to the Minnan authorities.”

A bone token? Could this massacre be the work of the uncanny?

They entered the village, the smell of blood overwhelming. Inside a random house, axe and knife marks stood out on the walls. Mo Wen ran his fingers over the scars, lost in thought. The young guide reported that all the bodies had been cremated, and the authorities would properly handle the ashes.

Mo Wen silently sent a message to Sword Dog, instructing him to watch for any trace of the uncanny. Sword Dog replied that there was no sign of such presence.

Mo Wen pondered this. The killings had been done with blades—uncharacteristic of the uncanny, who loved flesh and blood above all and would never have left so many bodies untouched. There was something off about this.

Maintaining a calm facade, Mo Wen saw that there was little more to be learned here and suggested resting at the Yu family estate before making further plans.

The young man hesitated briefly but agreed, making arrangements for Mo Wen and Lin Xi to stay with the family.

The saying goes, “The mountains are high and the emperor is far away,” and in Minnan, the Yu family held sway like local lords. Their vast estate rivaled the grandeur of the Lin family’s Yanshan Villa in the northern capital, displaying wealth at every turn.

Yu Shiyi, the family patriarch, was well past seventy, his body frail and wan, his energy seemingly drained, a shadow of death lingering around him despite his cultivation in the art of breaking illusions.

He coughed violently, barely able to catch his breath, and finally managed to say, “These past years, my health has declined by the day. I fear I have little time left. Yet you, Young Master Mo, are in your prime.”

While exchanging pleasantries with the patriarch, Mo Wen’s thoughts wandered. He recalled something and asked, “Didn’t the Yu family take in several ancients recently? I am quite interested in meeting them—could you invite them out?”

But the patriarch shook his head apologetically. “They are not fond of meeting outsiders—perhaps they are not yet accustomed to this world. The authorities have instructed us to coexist peacefully with the ancients; I can hardly insist.”

Mo Wen had asked casually, but the response only piqued his curiosity. Now he felt he must see them, but for the moment, he let it go with a show of regret. “In that case, let us leave it be.”

The patriarch ordered his kin to treat Mo Wen and Lin Xi with every courtesy and excused himself on the grounds of ill health.

Sword Dog sent a message: “The patriarch of the Yu family carries the same aura as the scene of the fishing village massacre.”

Mo Wen was startled but kept his suspicions to himself.

The Yu family’s hospitality was impeccable—every need was anticipated, every comfort provided. Mo Wen accepted it without reservation, settling in with Lin Xi.

Deep into the night, as they lay in their guest room, Mo Wen closed his eyes to meditate, sensing several hidden sentries keeping watch. Lin Xi, too, felt uneasy and complained about the discomfort.

Mo Wen signaled her to be quiet with a smile. Perceptive as ever, Lin Xi immediately understood, and the two began chatting about trivial matters, their voices gradually fading as if they had fallen asleep.

But Mo Wen, lying on the bed, gathered his divine sense within his consciousness. Quietly, he extended his awareness outward, probing through the window into the night.

The layout of the Yu family estate was labyrinthine; though the buildings seemed scattered, they formed a secret array. Security was tight, with sentries obvious and hidden, especially near their own quarters.

Mo Wen’s divine sense roamed the estate, finding nothing unusual at the periphery, so he delved deeper. From one tall building, the main residence rising ten stories high, came sounds that caught his attention. The top floor was brightly lit, the windows shrouded by heavy curtains. As his awareness swept past, he overheard voices within.

“Sir, this has become troublesome. I thought only the authorities would take an interest, but who expected that fiend to come?”

It was the voice of the patriarch.

A second, unfamiliar voice replied with disdain, “What’s there to fear? Stall him as best you can. If it comes to it, just make sure he never leaves.”