Dao Qi Wu Zang Guan Guan: I became a Daoist Master in the 1990s

Chapter 143 The Gate of Hell

Wuyang Pass stands majestically at the strategic juncture of Yong and Liang prefectures.

The mountains on both sides are steep and the cliffs are like sheer drops. The dark rocks have been eroded by wind and rain, leaving cracks of varying depths.

The fortress is nestled at the narrowest point of the mountain ridge, with its battlements undulating along the mountain's contours, resembling a giant dragon's spine winding and coiling, exuding a magnificent aura.

A few stubborn dwarf trees grow among the cracks in the rocks, their roots deep and their branches gnarled, yet they remain evergreen all year round.

When the mountain wind passes by, it sounds like a sob, whipping up sand and gravel that rustles against the gate wall.

Looking out from the pass, one sees only layer upon layer of mountains, with clouds and mist shrouding the mountainside, making it impossible to find a decent path.

Such treacherous terrain is difficult for even birds to cross, let alone humans.

Since the great disaster in Yongzhou, the imperial court has ordered the closure of Wuyang Pass, allowing entry but not exit, in order to prevent refugees from scattering and impacting neighboring prefectures, causing even greater unrest.

The pass was heavily guarded day and night, creating a somber and tense atmosphere.

On this day, Qi Yun and the old Taoist Songfeng arrived at the pass and expressed their intention to enter Yongzhou.

The soldiers guarding the pass were all surprised when they heard this.

An old soldier couldn't help but marvel: "These days, the people of Yongzhou have tried every means to get out of this pass but have failed, yet there are still people who want to go in."
"Don't you two know that this gate is now the gates of hell? Once you enter, there's no coming out!"

Qi Yun and Song Feng exchanged a smile but said nothing more.

The door slowly opened, and the two stepped inside. The heavy door behind them slammed shut, separating the two worlds.

Stepping into Yongzhou was indeed like stepping into the gates of hell.

The world was bathed in a faded, dim yellow light.

The cracked fields stretched into the distance, merging with the gray horizon, like the earth opening countless parched mouths, silently wailing.

The wind whipped up sand and dust, swirling and sweeping past the scattered corpses lying on both sides of the official road.

The bones had long been gnawed clean by wild dogs and vultures, gleaming a pale white in the sunlight.

The air was filled with an indescribable smell—dust, decay, and a faint yet penetrating stench of death.

The scattered refugees, like withered grass devoid of its soul, lay askew on both sides of the road.

Most of them had empty eyes, staring into the void ahead, having exhausted even the strength to reach out and beg. Occasionally, a groan would rise, but it would quickly be swallowed up by the deathly silence, as if swallowed by this boundless desolation.

Qi Yun and Song Feng walked among them, their cloth shoes rustling softly as they stepped on the loose soil, the only sign of life in this land of death.

Song Feng's face was filled with sorrow, his gaze sweeping sadly over the huddled bodies awaiting death. Though he had long lived in the world and seen poverty and illness, he had never witnessed such a hellish scene.

Since entering Yongzhou, Qi Yun has been constantly chanting the Rebirth Sutra.

His face was filled with sorrow, but his eyes were unfathomable, reflecting the human tragedy without any ripples, yet chillingly cold.

Beneath his wide sleeves, his fingers unconsciously and gently caressed the cool hilt of the "Chengyun" sword.

A faint hissing sound from the roadside ahead caught their attention.

A woman was curled up under a withered tree, holding a swaddled baby tightly in her arms.

She was emaciated, her cheekbones high, her eyes sunken, and her lips cracked and bleeding. Seeing someone pass by, her cloudy eyes flickered, and she stretched out her withered hand, her voice barely a whisper: "Please...give me something...give the child a bite!"

Feeling pity, Songfeng instinctively reached for the food and water bag he carried with him.

Qi Yun stepped forward, his gaze falling on the swaddled baby in the woman's arms.

The baby was wrapped tightly in swaddling clothes, motionless and without making a sound.

Upon seeing Qi Yun's gaze, the woman trembled violently, clutching the swaddled baby even tighter, almost digging it into her withered chest. A sudden glint of extreme fear and madness flashed in her eyes as she shrieked, "Don't take my child! Don't take him! He's just asleep! Asleep!"

Songfeng also noticed something was wrong. He looked closely and saw a corner of pale, bluish-gray skin peeking out from the gap in the swaddling clothes. There was no sign of life in it.
He instantly understood something, staggered back a step, his face ashen. Qi Yun silently watched the woman who had gone mad, a faint ripple finally passing through his eyes.

Without uttering a word, he took the water pouch and a small piece of flatbread from Songfeng's hand, gently placed them on the ground in front of the woman, then turned and continued on his way.

Songfeng took a few deep breaths of the cold air, forcefully suppressing the churning in his chest, and quickly caught up.

Looking at this desolate land, one feels that every gust of wind carries the wails of wronged souls.

After traveling several more miles, the official road turned into a slightly higher, dry river valley.

The earthen walls on both sides are steep, and the wind howls as it blows through them.

Suddenly, a dozen or so figures rose up from behind the earthen slope ahead, swaying and blocking the way.

These people were also emaciated and dressed in tattered clothes, just like the refugees seen along the way.

But their eyes didn't have that lifeless numbness; instead, they gleamed with a hungry wolf-like green light as they stared intently at Qi Yun and Song Feng, especially at the long sword wrapped in cloth on Qi Yun's back and the baggage on Song Feng's back.

The leader was a tall, thin man with prominent cheekbones and cloudy, fierce-looking eyes. He licked his dry, cracked lips and spoke in a hoarse voice, like sandpaper scraping: "Two Taoist priests, do you have any food on you? Lend us some, and we'll survive."

Before he finished speaking, the dozen or so men behind him had already spread out in unison, slowly approaching in a semi-encircling formation. Although they had no decent weapons, the thick wooden sticks and sharpened bamboo poles they gripped tightly were enough to kill people in this time and place.

Song Feng's gaze swept over the group. Their hunger was real, but their ferocity was not something that could be cultivated overnight. A sense of unease settled in his heart.

What's even more chilling is that these people all had bloodshot eyes and gaping teeth, just like the cannibals described in books!
He immediately whispered to Qi Yun, "Daoist, be careful, it's a 'road-eating' creature!"

This is a slang term that emerged after the severe drought in Yongzhou. It refers to those who occupy key roads and treat passersby as lambs to be eaten, hence the name "eating the road".

He spoke calmly, his voice steady and even: "There's no food. Make way."

Upon hearing this, the tall, thin man's feigned pitifulness vanished instantly, replaced by a ferocious grin: "No? Of course not! You, Taoist priest, with your delicate skin and tender flesh, smell quite delicious!"

He waved his hand sharply: "Do it! Chop him up and drag him to the back slope!"

A dozen hungry wolves howled and pounced, hurling wooden sticks and bamboo poles at Qi Yun and Song Feng indiscriminately, their targets aimed directly at their vital points.

Their movements were slightly unsteady due to hunger, but their ruthlessness as desperate criminals remained undiminished.

Although the pine breeze was cleansed of the yin energy by Qi Yun, the true qi in the body also began to nourish the blood and qi, making the body much stronger.

But being completely unskilled in martial arts, he became flustered and began wildly swinging the longsword given to him by Qi Yun.

Qi Yun remained motionless, and just as the first stick was about to touch him, he took a half-step forward with his left foot through the mud, and his right hand shot out like lightning, striking first and accurately grabbing the wrist holding the stick, twisting and turning it!
Click!

The teeth-grinding sound of bones cracking could be clearly heard!

The man screamed in pain as the wooden stick slipped from his hand.

Qi Yun's movements were fluid and seamless.

Wrist twist, body advance, elbow strike, shoulder lean!
He brought Xingyiquan's close-quarters combat to its fullest potential.

With a few muffled thuds, the three men at the front were struck as if by a heavy hammer, spitting blood as they flew backward and crashed heavily to the ground, unable to get up.

The others' attack faltered, and their eyes widened in horror.

Qi Yun, however, moved like a tiger among sheep. With each step he took, he stepped into the gaps between the crowd. Every punch and kick was concise and sharp, with no superfluous movements.

The chopping fist is like an axe, the collapsing fist is like an arrow, the drilling fist is like a cone, the cannon fist is like thunder, and the horizontal fist is like a beam!

The Five Elements Fist intent flowed continuously, and short, sharp gusts of wind whistled through the air.

These thugs of the Hungry Wolf Gang were fierce but lacked any discipline. In front of a true master of martial arts, they were like clay chickens and earthenware dogs.

In just a few breaths, a group of people lay sprawled on the ground, groaning and screaming incessantly.

(End of this chapter)