Between the Anhe Kingdom and the Shan Kingdom, where the Liuyang region met the Great Wind Plains, stood an ancient White Poplar Forest, the landmark that marked the border between the two kingdoms.
Hou Niao did not hesitate. He rode straight in. Judging by the map, the White Poplar Forest was only a few dozen li across. There was no need to falter.
Only a few hundred paces into the forest, he found that the fallen leaves underfoot lay very deep, greatly hampering his horse's pace. It slowed without his urging; even the method Daoist Chongling had taught him could not keep its strength from rapidly draining away in the forest.
He had no choice but to slow down, or the poor horse would probably be exhausted before it could get out of the White Poplar Forest.
The forest was terrifyingly quiet. There was none of the birdsong or insect chatter there should normally have been, nor any sign of the rabbits and squirrels that should have lived there. Years of accumulated fallen leaves gave off a nauseating, pungent smell, and the tall white poplars stood so densely packed that the forest was as dark as dusk.
This damned place!
Hou Niao cautiously drew his Wild Goose Feather Saber and kept watch from horseback. For the first time, he gained some initial understanding of territory controlled by the Demonic Sect. No wonder they were called demonic. This was a world apart from the bright, sunny scenery along his route through the Anhe Kingdom.
He did not know what might lurk here. His only thought was to get through quickly, and he dared not stop or linger.
Several li farther on, the forest grew darker still. Suddenly, he looked back and swept the Wild Goose Feather Saber upward behind him. A faint light flowed along its edge: the Gang qi unique to cultivators. Though still very weak, it was beyond anything an ordinary weapon could match.
The saber flashed past, cleaving a fist-sized spider in two, but he felt considerable resistance through the blade. He had unleashed that stroke after gathering his strength, which meant the spider was no ordinary creature either.
It was his first time seeing a fist-sized spider. Hanging among the trees by its silk, it came without a shadow and vanished without a trace, making it extremely dangerous. Fortunately, its level was low. It was probably among the lowest ranks of demonic creatures-or perhaps it could not yet be called one at all, but was still evolving into one.
Water demons in the south, mountain monsters aplenty in the north. Nowhere was peaceful.
Even more wary now, he opened his eyes wide. There were spiders in the trees; who knew what lay beneath that thick layer of rotting leaves?
Before he had gone another hundred paces, he felt the horse's hind legs buckle, and it dropped straight to its knees. Already prepared, he avoided being thrown and leaped aside. Looking again, he saw a spider clinging to the horse's hind leg, sucking its blood. Its belly swelled, glistening red, until it was twice the size of a fist, roughly as wide as a bowl. Having drunk so much blood, its abdomen was almost transparent, as though it might burst at any moment.
Anger surged through him. He sprang forward, and his saber flashed again, striking the bloated spider squarely as it struggled to move after drinking too much. Bloody mist sprayed everywhere, and a rank stench assailed him, enough to make him vomit.
Clearly, two spiders had pounced at the time. He had spotted only the one coming for him, not the other one biting the horse's leg.
He scanned his surroundings and found no other immediate danger. Then he examined the horse's injured leg. It was already swollen black and bruised purple. The spider was plainly venomous. There was no saving the horse.
He felt sorry. It had been a perfectly healthy life; anyone else who bought it would merely have used it for riding or plowing, yet now it had suffered here with him. Watching its limbs twitch and pain show in its large eyes, he could not bear it. His saber flashed, putting the horse out of its misery.
As the scent of fresh blood rose, he knew that any number of monsters drawn by blood would soon gather here. Without hesitation, he turned and ran onward.
He was already beginning to regret it. He should have stayed in Liuyang for a while. Surely the locals at least knew something about this White Poplar Forest.
Stumbling over the uneven footing, he soon discovered that his light boots were unsuited to running in this environment. Everything had been too rushed. This was an entirely new world, and his years of criminal investigation experience were no help. Even though he had thought himself extremely cautious, he had still been far too rash.
The only good news was that the forest was not very deep. Once the light began to brighten, it would be a sign that he was nearly out.
He encountered danger several more times along the way: a large snake, a small beast, and a swarm of hornets... He no longer used his saber lightly. At the sight of the hornets' nest, he simply took a detour. The snake did not pursue him after missing its first lunge. Only the small beast exchanged a blow with his saber. Each was wary of the other, and he did not know whether the little thing had fled or was hiding in the shadows, waiting to bite again.
Not a single animal showed any goodwill. Well, these things could no longer really be called animals. Monsters was closer to the mark.
He ran onward with his heart in his throat, no longer able to worry whether the noise he made might attract something vicious. He could not linger here. For someone unfamiliar with the White Poplar Forest, getting out first was the right course.
After running for two hours, he could see daylight just ahead. He judged that another few li would take him out of this sickening poplar forest, but his good fortune ended there.
As he ran, he suddenly sensed something wrong behind him. With no time for a closer look, he instinctively threw himself forward and swept his saber backhanded, only to feel a tremendous force strike his buttocks. It was so powerful that he lost all control of his body and landed facedown in the disgusting, sticky mass of rotting leaves, getting a mouthful.
At the same time, an immense weight pinned his back, leaving him unable to move.
Just as he cried inwardly, My life is over, a voice reached his ears. "A Daoist Sect lackey, daring to run wild on our Shan Kingdom's territory?"
Hou Niao managed to turn his head. A burly man stood before him with one foot planted on his back, pressing down harder and harder, until he was almost buried in the rotting leaves.
"What are you looking back for? Planning to burn incense for your grandpa once you reach the underworld?"
The man clearly meant to kill him. He could have done it with a single blow, yet insisted on this slow torture instead. The pressure from his foot kept increasing. It seemed he intended to bury Hou Niao alive in the leafy muck.
Hou Niao offered no explanation-not because he was particularly unyielding, but because he had no chance. His face and mouth were now completely buried in filth. How was he supposed to speak?
I didn't come here to go undercover. I came here to become fertilizer. The thought of dying here, not even knowing which monsters would benefit-whether they would drink his blood and eat his flesh or suck out his marrow-left him utterly miserable.
The distinction he had imagined achieving was a joke. Only after coming to the Demonic Sect's domain did he realize how good the Daoist Sect was.
Cultivators could hold their breath far longer than ordinary mortals, making this manner of death particularly cruel. His supposed cultivation was a joke now. However he stirred his power throughout his body, he had no room to resist. Before a higher-level cultivator, he was a lamb awaiting slaughter.
From lack of air, his mind had begun to grow hazy. His limbs had long since lost their strength. There was no sudden awakening of primordial might at life's final moment...
Just then, a soft chuckle sounded beside him. "Junior Brother Liang, he's just a little Qi Gathering Daoist. Why torment him? Pull him out. I have questions for him!"
Hou Niao felt the pressure on his back ease. Then he was hauled bodily up and flung into the thick muck. Dry coughs scraped his throat, and tears and snot streamed down his face, though it was already so covered in filth that little difference showed.
His heart chilled. Speak not of demonic deeds abounding in the deep woods; count on your fingers, and the human world held troubles aplenty.