The Great Song Journey in the Red Dust Realm

On the way, they passed Jiaxing South Lake, where fishing boats dotted the shore in the twilight and riverside performers strummed and recited tales of the legendary "Eastern Heretic, Western Venom, Southern Emperor, Northern Beggar." Huang Rong listened with relish, occasionally chiming in with a comment or two, her words brimming with longing for these martial arts masters.

Jiang Hanyue was captivated. Having grown up mostly within Nuwa Palace and Luo Shui City, she had rarely ventured elsewhere. She took Huang Rong's hand and asked, "Sister Huang Rong, are these people really that formidable?"

Huang Rong patted her chest and declared, "Of course! My father is the Eastern Heretic, Huang Yaoshi—his martial arts are incredible!" She swelled with pride for a moment, then her face fell. "But he never lets me go out and explore. I had to sneak away this time."

Jiang He merely smiled and said, "The martial world is vast, hiding crouching tigers and coiled dragons. Miss Huang will naturally meet many more experts in time." With a light tap of his fingertip, a faint wisp of protective power silently merged into Huang Rong's body—enough to shield her without startling her.

They traveled at a leisurely pace, stopping now and then, and after several days finally reached Suzhou. The city was crisscrossed with waterways and bridges, its gardens scattered everywhere—pavilions, towers, winding paths leading to secluded spots—each corner exuding the gentle elegance of Jiangnan.

They disembarked and strolled along the bluestone-paved streets, flanked by antique shops selling Suzhou embroidery, sandalwood fans, osmanthus wine, and other local specialties. Jiang Hanyue and Huang Rong were drawn to a cosmetics shop, chattering away by the window as they debated shades. Feng Li Yue, meanwhile, took an interest in a roadside embroidery stall, picking up a piece depicting moonlight over a lotus pond and examining it closely—the stitching was exquisite, lifelike.

Suzhou's night was even more tender than its day. The bluestone roads, soaked in the darkness, glistened faintly with moisture. Black-canopied boats on the canals hung red lanterns, their flames swaying and reflecting on the emerald waves like a flowing river of stars. Jiang He and his three companions found an inn by the river and settled in. Pushing open the window, they could see the fishing fires on the water and the weeping willows along the bank. The evening breeze carried a faint scent of lotus and moisture, refreshing the soul.

Jiang Hanyue and Huang Rong shared a top-floor room. After the day's journey, neither felt sleepy; they leaned by the window, chattering endlessly about the river view, sometimes mimicking the storytellers' tones, sometimes arguing over which shop's osmanthus cake was better. Feng Li Yue sat with Jiang He on the terrace of the adjacent room, cradling a warm cup of Pre-rain Longjing tea, her gaze fixed on the distant, staggered rooftops and the hazy moonlight. She said softly, "Suzhou's night scenery has a certain charm that Luo Shui City lacks."

Jiang He nodded, tapping the railing with his fingertip as his spiritual sense quietly unfurled, enveloping half of Suzhou City. The Red Dust Realm was rich in spiritual energy, and the interplay of Yin-Yang Qi inevitably bred ghosts and evil spirits. In a place like Suzhou, with its crisscrossing waterways and ancient mansions, stagnant yin energy easily became a haunt for such entities. He had already sensed several points of sinister aura within the city but chose not to reveal them.

As the night deepened, most of the inn's lights went out, leaving only a few corridor lanterns swaying in the wind. Just as Jiang Hanyue and Huang Rong were finally feeling drowsy and ready to sleep, a piercing scream shattered the quiet night, followed by the clang of weapons and a child's cries from the end of the street.

"What's that?" Huang Rong snapped to attention, leaping out of bed and grabbing the short sword by her pillow, ready to charge out. Jiang Hanyue hurried to the window and peered outside.

Almost simultaneously, Jiang He and Feng Li Yue appeared at their door. "Don't panic. Let's go see," Jiang He said calmly, his palm glowing with a faint red light that enveloped the four of them, concealing their presence. "Just some ghosts and evil spirits causing trouble."

They descended quietly and followed the bluestone road toward the street's end. In the darkness, dozens of martial artists in Jingzhuang stood before an old mansion, swords and sabers drawn, their expressions grim. The mansion's gate was wide open, pitch-black inside, with wisps of black mist swirling and eerie shrieks occasionally echoing out.

"Those are brothers from the Beggar's Sect! And constables from Suzhou Prefecture!" Huang Rong recognized the attire of several martial artists and whispered to Jiang Hanyue, "The Beggar's Sect always handles these ghostly affairs, and the constables know some basic exorcism techniques."

Jiang Hanyue's eyes widened with curiosity. As a Taiyi Realm cultivator, she naturally had no fear of mere ghosts. This world was still in its early stages of growth, with the highest cultivation level not even reaching Earth Immortal—she had simply never seen a ghost before!

A burly elder from the Beggar's Sect, wielding a broad-backed saber, bellowed, "Demon! How dare you harm the people of Suzhou! Today, I'll send you to oblivion!" He leaped into the air, his blade infused with dense inner strength, glowing faintly white, and slashed toward the black mist inside the mansion.

"Rip—" The blade clashed with the mist, producing a harsh sound. The black mist roiled, and several dark tentacles shot out, aiming for the elder. He reacted swiftly, twisting aside, and swept his saber horizontally, severing the tentacles. A piercing wail came from the mist.

"This ghost has absorbed the city's yin energy and grown powerful! Form a formation!" the Suzhou Prefecture constable shouted, flinging several yellow talismans into the air. They ignited with blue flames, transforming into runic symbols that flew toward the mist. The other martial artists responded, their blades and swords flashing as inner strength wove into an invisible net, trapping the black mist at the mansion's entrance.

These martial artists had cultivation levels mostly between Foundation Establishment and Golden Core. Though they couldn't channel celestial power, they pushed their inner strength to its limits, combining crude talisman arts and formations to hold their own against the ghost. Their techniques included the fierce, overwhelming power of the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms and the fluid grace of Wudang Tai Chi—clearly fused martial arts methods, amplified by spiritual energy, far stronger than in the original martial world.

Within the black mist, a vague ghostly figure gradually took shape—hunched, hideous, wrapped in dense yin energy, with green, bloodthirsty eyes. It shrieked and spat out a cloud of black fog. Where the fog passed, frost formed on the bluestone. Several weaker martial artists were touched by it, their bodies turning cold, their weapons nearly slipping from their hands.

"Damn! This ghost's yin energy can corrode inner strength!" The constable's face changed. He quickly produced a bronze mirror, channeling inner strength into it. The mirror shot out a golden light, dispersing part of the fog. "Everyone, use yang-attributed inner strength to resist!"

The martial artists adjusted their breathing, the white light on their blades intensifying, some even igniting faint flames as they pushed their inner strength to the limit, drawing on the world's yang energy. The Black Wind Stronghold's leader seized the moment, thrusting his saber through the fog and striking the ghost's chest. The ghost let out a deafening wail, its form flickering and growing translucent as the black mist began to dissipate.

But then, the ghost suddenly swelled, transforming into a massive cloud of black mist that surged toward the densest part of the crowd, clearly a desperate last stand. Several martial artists couldn't dodge in time, and just as the mist was about to engulf them, Huang Rong nearly rushed out, but Jiang He gently pressed her shoulder.

"No need to rush." Jiang He's voice was calm and flat, his eyes fixed on the black mist. "These martial artists have years of experience. They know how to handle this."

As he spoke, the constable raised his bronze mirror high and shouted, "Heaven and Earth, righteous energy! Expel evil and avoid harm!" The mirror's golden light exploded, forming a massive barrier that blocked the mist. At the same time, several martial artists swung their blades in unison, their inner strength coalescing into a golden saber aura that slammed into the heart of the mist.

"Boom!" The mist exploded, shattering into countless fragments of black energy that the night wind scattered, gradually fading into the air. The ghost let out one final shriek before vanishing completely, leaving only a faint trace of yin energy that soon dissolved in the night's yang.

The battle over, the martial artists sheathed their weapons, tired but smiling with relief. Several constables entered the mansion and rescued the trapped civilians—old and young alike, all pale and clearly terrified. One constable stepped forward to calm them, left a few men to clean up, and led the group away.

Only when the street had quieted did Jiang He lead Feng Li Yue and the others back to the inn.

The next morning, as the first light of dawn broke, Suzhou stirred from its slumber. Black-canopied boats began shuttling again on the canals, the boatmen's chants mingling with vendors' cries, breaking the night's silence. After breakfast, Jiang He and his companions planned to visit the Humble Administrator's Garden, said to be the finest of Suzhou's gardens, with scenery unmatched in Jiangnan.

As they stepped out of the inn, they saw the constable from last night, still holding his bronze mirror, patrolling the street with a few yamen runners. His face showed signs of fatigue, clearly having not rested well after the exorcism. Spotting Jiang He and the others, a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes, and he stepped forward with a cupped-fist salute. "You look like travelers from afar. Did the ghost trouble you last night?"

"Thank you for your concern, Constable. We are all well," Jiang He replied with a gentle nod, his tone even.

Huang Rong's eyes sparkled. She stepped forward with a smile. "Constable, that ghost was fierce last night! If not for your efforts, who knows how many people it would have harmed! But I noticed something—during the fight, a faint warmth seemed to envelop the street, and the black mist couldn't get near our inn. Any idea what that was?"

The constable paused, his expression turning serious. "You sensed it too? Last night, while we fought, I felt an invisible force protecting the residential areas. It was gentle yet pure, dispelling much of the yin energy, but I couldn't trace its source. In all my years, I've never seen such miraculous power—it's like the protective aura of a hidden master from legend."

Huang Rong's heart stirred, and her gaze unconsciously flicked to Jiang He. Last night, he had said he would conceal their presence, but who else could have wielded that protective force? She recalled how casually he had pressed her shoulder—seemingly effortless, yet it had momentarily stalled her inner strength. That kind of control, so light yet so absolute, was beyond any martial arts master she knew.

"Perhaps a reclusive senior happened to be passing through," Jiang He said with a noncommittal smile, gesturing for the group to move on. "We're off to the Humble Administrator's Garden, so we won't keep you from your duties."

The constable quickly returned the salute and watched them leave, his eyes full of doubt. He felt that this family was extraordinary, especially the man surnamed Jiang. Though he seemed gentle, the constable felt a sense of awe, as if facing not a mortal but an unfathomable mountain.

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