Chapter 161: Offering to the Qilin Lord (2)
“The Qilin Lord?” Nie Zhao said in disbelief.
“Mm, something of a mountain god around here.”
The fat beggar prattled on: “Legend has it that sixty years ago, an auspicious omen descended from the heavens, and a qilin beast of unknown origin alighted upon the Tanjiang Mountains west of Pinghu Village.”
In these lands where tales of divine beasts abounded, every rumor concerning the qilin had always been one of good fortune.
It represented luck and blessing.
“The Qilin Lord protects this land, ensuring favorable winds and timely rains. The villagers offer sacrifices for its enjoyment.”
“A small offering each year, a grand offering every three years.”
“Fish, rice, livestock—and boys and girls.”
The fat beggar sat up from the ground: “I only arrived here not long ago myself, but I hear this custom has been going on for nearly fifty years.”
“Boys and girls?”
Nie Zhao was aghast: “And no one… does anything about it?”
“About what?”
The fat beggar gestured at him dismissively: “My friend, you are quite the character.”
“These villagers are grateful beyond measure.”
Nie Zhao fell silent.
A divine beast that embodied auspicious fortune, one that could bless the people with prosperity—but when that blessing demanded human lives in exchange…
Was it still fortune at all?
The swordsman’s fists clenched tight.
…
No one knew who had struck the first gong.
“The Qilin Lord bestows his grace…”
“May divine benevolence endure…”
In the twilight, the village thronged with people.
The procession from Pinghu Village, vast and imposing, began its ascent up the mountain.
“Once all the offerings have been carried up and the children presented at the Qilin Lord’s hall, these villagers will turn back and descend.”
“The cooked food—the Qilin Lord won’t touch it, so it all comes back. We can eat and take as we go, then slip away halfway.”
“That way we get a feast out of it… Hey, brother, I can tell we’re meant to cross paths. I wouldn’t tell just anyone about this.”
Nie Zhao and the fat beggar, dressed in common villager garb of uncertain origin, lingered at the tail end of the procession.
Nie Zhao’s sword on his back was wrapped in a bundle of gray cloth.
“…”
Listening to the fat beggar’s words, a growing vexation churned within Nie Zhao’s chest.
The villagers carried two unconscious children toward a vast platform known as the Qilin Lord’s Hall.
At its center stood a statue of wondrous form.
It was the very image of the legendary qilin.
But Nie Zhao’s gaze was not drawn to it.
For the true Qilin Lord at this very moment coiled beneath the statue.
“Ah!”
A sheep’s head, wolf’s hooves, a round crown, its body adorned with five colors, standing twelve feet tall.
A deer’s body, a single horn, an ox’s tail.
Covered in scales, devoid of fur, its hue a mottled blue and gold.
Nie Zhao’s mind reeled—the Qilin Lord was truly a qilin beast!
Only, its eyes now glowed with an eerie violet light.
“Bow. Favorable winds and rains.”
“Bow. Abundant harvests…”
The village elder led the assembled villagers in prostration, worshipping the Qilin Lord.
Four burly men, trembling, carried the children before the Qilin Lord.
The great beast languidly opened its eyes, extended its claws, and slowly reached toward the two children.
In the crowd, Nie Zhao’s eyes blazed with fury. He moved to draw his sword at once.
But the fat beggar clamped down on him with crushing force.
“Are you seeking death?!”
The fat beggar hissed under his breath: “One breath of its fire and you’ll be reduced to ash!”
Nie Zhao wrenched free in an instant: “Am I to stand by and watch it devour them?!”
His inner energy surged, and he hurled the sword in his hand with all his might.
The Qilin Lord raised its head—only to be struck by an ordinary iron blade.
Nie Zhao sprang forward, leaping into the air, caught the sword, and brought it cleaving down upon the Qilin Lord with savage force.
But how could a mortal body possibly contend with a demon beast?
A single casual swipe—as though brushing away an irksome fly—and the great beast sent Nie Zhao hurtling several yards.
“Cough…”
Under the staggering force, he crashed through a tree trunk before at last coming to a stop.
Blood trickled from his lips. He struggled to prop himself up from the ground.
The sudden upheaval sent all the villagers of Pinghu Village into panic, scattering in every direction.
The evil qilin was about to lunge for the kill when it paused, lifting its head.
Then, without warning, it turned and fled up the mountain.
“Are you mad?!”
The fat beggar seized Nie Zhao and made to flee downhill, but Nie Zhao clutched at his sleeve.
“Cough… I can manage. Go—get the children down the mountain.”
“Now of all times?!”
Unable to sway him, the fat beggar had no choice but to carry one child and cradle the other, following the limping Nie Zhao down the slope.
To their surprise, the villagers had gathered at the foot of the mountain.
“You outsiders! You’ve ruined the offering!”
“You’ve angered the Qilin Lord—Pinghu Village is doomed!”
“To show disrespect to the Qilin Lord—surely they are demons!”
A glance revealed the villagers brandishing fish spears and sickles.
“Kill them!”
“Kill them!”
Fortunately, the fat beggar set down the two children, then seized the wounded Nie Zhao and fled from the small village.
…
When Nie Zhao came to once more, he lay in the ruined temple.
The fat beggar sighed softly: “The ignorant cannot be enlightened. You cannot save them.”
“Go back to wherever you came from.”
Nie Zhao slowly recovered from his injuries and shook his head.
“My friend—he must have fallen to that evil qilin’s vicious claws!”
He seized his sword and strode toward the temple’s entrance.
“Where are you going?”
“Up the mountain!”
“You’re going back?! Do you want to die?!”
“We who carry the sword know no fear of death!”
Nie Zhao’s voice was resolute: “Since I am here, I will avenge my wronged friend and exact justice for the innocent children!”
He did not believe he stood without a chance.
In their earlier clash, he had noticed the horn upon the Qilin Lord’s brow appeared fractured, with cracks along its edge.
It had to be a flaw. If he could find the right moment, he might yet stand a fighting chance!
“Utterly foolish!”
The fat beggar stamped his feet in exasperation: “Why throw your life away?!”
…
Nie Zhao climbed the sword in hand, only to find the plaza before the Qilin Lord’s statue utterly empty.
He followed the mountain path upward.
Before him loomed a colossal cavern.
Before he could steady himself, a wild, furious beast’s roar erupted.
“Hrrr—”
“I let you go once before. Why do you come seeking death again…”
“Could it be you think this lord is to be trifled with?!”
A demonic shadow shot forth—it was the Qilin Lord.
Nie Zhao feinted with his sword, his body nimble, dodging a claw swipe with his movement technique. He then kicked off a great tree, twisting in midair to vault straight toward the Qilin Lord’s brow.
But it was not enough.
He had underestimated the demon beast.
His sword thrust true—but he was still swatted aside by a single claw.
Every rib shattered.
“Pfft…”
Blood gushed from Nie Zhao’s mouth.
The Qilin Lord sauntered to his side, its voice mocking: “Heh heh… foolish mortal.”
“Now do you see how small you are?”
It gazed down upon him from on high: “This lord is merciful. I shall give you a chance.”
“Kneel and submit to me. Lure flesh-and-blood martial cultivators to this place for my sustenance.”
“In doing so, I may spare your life.”
“Well?”
Nie Zhao slowly raised his head, his lips trembling.
He spat a mouthful of blood at the beast.
“To serve as a tiger’s lackey?”
“Not in your wildest dreams!”