Chapter 234 — Taking a Life on a Night of Wind and Snow
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 1 of 4
The old man looked it over once, then nodded. "I have. They came to me asking the way."
The other Daoists in the village felt dread stir in their hearts. The old man stood right before them, yet they could not see his face.
At so close a distance his features remained utterly blurred; even when they brought every kind of heavenly eye to bear, they could not make him out, as though he were not a living man at all.
Even the Dutian Demon King held his tongue, not daring to make a sound.
This old man was a yin courier of Youdu, a deity under the command of Tubo. Such couriers could be met with in nearly every world, and the duties they bore differed one from another: some were charged with going up into the world of the living to guide wandering souls, some with ferrying the dead across, and some with seizing those great masters of divine ability who sought to escape death.
The order of Youdu and of the dead in the world of the living was in their keeping.
The Dutian world had once suffered a war of world-ending scale, one that all but destroyed it entire; in those days the land was heaped with bones, corpses lying everywhere.
The sun of the Dutian world had gone out, and nearly every place lay in gloom — yet through the boundless dark came points of light, countless points of light, and beneath each one stood an old man such as this, come to ferry the wandering souls across.
At that time the Dutian Demon King had survived the great war and become lord of Dutian. Dutian was young then, still full of hot blood; seeing these yin couriers come to ferry away the souls of Dutian's people, he charged at them at once — and was beaten half to death for it, nearly losing his own soul into the bargain.
Even now, at the sight of these yin couriers, the Dutian Demon King felt a measure of fear and did not dare speak much.
Shen Mu asked, with the utmost respect, "May I ask where they have gone?"
The old man raised a hand and pointed into the darkness. "Wuyou Land. But they will not find it; they will only be trapped there. A yin courier is waiting to collect their souls."
From the riverside came a splashing, clattering sound, and out of the Yong River men and women emerged one after another, soaked through, heads rising from the water, walking slowly toward the village, faces livid, saying nothing.
A paper boat flew out from the village; the men and women boarded it, and the paper boat drifted slowly away into the darkness.
The other Daoists in the village were badly shaken and hurried to put distance between themselves and the old man. Only then did they notice that two of their companions had not moved — they sat frozen where they were.
And on that paper boat, already gliding into the dark, there were faintly to be seen the shapes of those two.
The three remaining Daoists went cold with terror. Long Jiaonan too wore Daoist garb; her legs trembled, and she wanted to flee for her life, yet dared not, for beyond the village lay only darkness.
"Lower your heads! Do not look at that old man!"
One of the elder Daoists came to his senses and said in a fluster, "He is a yin courier! If your gaze meets his, your soul is taken!"
Long Jiaonan and the other, younger Daoist hastily bowed their heads, not daring to meet the old man's eyes.
Shen Mu's tone grew more reverent still. "May I beg you, brother of the Dao, to point out where Wuyou Land truly lies?"
The old man still pointed into the darkness and said no more.
Shen Mu frowned. The direction the old man indicated was the Living Realm of the Dead within the darkness — another underworld, the seat of Fengdu.
That time, he and the village headman had blundered into the Living Realm of the Dead and had nearly failed to come back alive!
"That is not Wuyou Land. May I ask you, brother of the Dao, where the true Wuyou Land is?"
The old man shook his head and still pointed into the darkness.
Shen Mu asked again, and the old man would speak no more.