Chapter Five: Thunder Shatters the Mountain (Part One)

In just that brief moment, Hu Hai and Motuo had also leapt onto the platform, standing shoulder to shoulder with Shi Jun. The Blue Souls, having fulfilled their purpose, transformed into shimmering ribbons of cerulean flame, whirling and leaping through the air around the trio.

Seeing someone emerge from the Soul-Pacifying Bureau, Shi Jun initially thought the Raksha sect had sent reinforcements to break the siege. He stepped forward to greet them, but upon seeing the newcomer’s appearance and attire, he couldn’t help but pause in astonishment.

This man, though not tall, wore a suit of orange-yellow battle armor and fiery red boots, projecting an air of imposing might at first glance. Yet a closer look left one with an inexplicable sense of discomfort—beneath his jet-black helmet spilled several strands of brown hair, his thick neck nearly as wide as his head, giving the impression that his jaw had simply extended directly onto his shoulders. His square face was laden with excess flesh, yet not plump, for it was marked by numerous pitted grooves, and an oversized nose jutted out disproportionately, crowding his eyes and mouth into the corners of his face in a most jarring manner. His fleshy nostrils twitched incessantly, as though constantly probing for some hidden scent.

Swaggering, the man strode to the guards, bulged his tiny, goldfish-like eyes, tugged at the sash of his sagging armor, and finally approached Shi Jun, adopting an official’s tone: “Who dares make a ruckus before the Soul-Pacifying Bureau? Stand down at once!”

Shi Jun was about to reply when Hu Hai nudged him and whispered, “My god, it’s as if Guang Linzi has been reborn—no, wait! Guang Linzi is far more handsome. This guy must be a mutant…”

Shi Jun almost burst out laughing, but felt it impolite to mock another’s appearance behind their back, and worried the man might overhear, so he hurriedly waved his hand to stop Hu Hai from speaking further.

Motuo, however, had no such qualms. Though he didn’t know who this “Guang Linzi” was, he could tell Hu Hai was making fun of the newcomer, and immediately broke into unrestrained laughter.

Who would have thought that laughter would bring trouble? The mutant Guang Linzi had paid Motuo little mind at first, but now his gaze locked onto Motuo, his nostrils flaring even more violently. Suddenly, with a loud “Ha ha!” to the sky, he shouted, “Well, well! I never imagined a pack of spies would dare run wild at the very gates of the Soul-Pacifying Bureau. Today, you’ll find no escape from me, Duan Yue, vice captain of the Thunder Court!” With a wave of his hand at the guards, he bellowed, “These are spies of the Demon Realm! Seize them!”

Shi Jun, intent on finding news of his father and wishing to avoid complications, tried to reason with him: “Sir, there must be some mistake. We are companions of the Raksha sect, here to investigate matters in the Bureau. Whatever offense my friend has given, I beg your forgiveness…” But before he could finish, the guards charged forward, halberds flashing coldly, thrusting at them without a word. Shi Jun had to break off and pull Hu Hai aside to dodge the attack, thinking only of survival.

Motuo’s temper flared. He had already taken a dislike to this blustering fellow, and now, seeing him order his minions to attack, Motuo could restrain himself no longer. With a leap, he intercepted the four guards, blocking their path.

* * * * * * * *

Motuo’s cultivation was not high, but handling a few ordinary guards posed no difficulty. Shi Jun and Hu Hai, seeing that a fight had broken out, knew explanations would do no good, and stood by to watch the spectacle.

The moment they moved, the front of the Bureau erupted in a flurry of halberd flashes and dancing blades. The blue-armored warriors, armored and resolute, wielded their weapons with dazzling skill, weaving a giant net of white light around their foe. Yet their spiritual power was shallow and their movements lacked Motuo’s agility. Though their strikes were powerful, they could not touch even the hem of Motuo’s robe, as he slipped away like an eel.

Witnessing this seemingly one-sided battle, Duan Yue, the vice captain, showed no concern. He stood with arms folded, exuding calm confidence. Hu Hai, recalling their fight with the Soul Hunters upon their first arrival in the Inferno, suddenly had a flash of insight and shouted, “Motuo, beware their formation!”

But his warning came a moment too late. Even as he spoke, the four blue-armored warriors abruptly stepped back, forming the four corners of a square, halberds pointed at Motuo. They began to perform “The Slaughter Formation,” a close-combat array unique to the Underworld. This formation, mandatory study for all Underworld law enforcers, drew on Daoist principles of the Four Symbols and Two Forms, and was said to birth the killing intent of clashing armies—“All who enter, perish.” Once invoked, it would not end until one side lay dead.

Motuo, however, was unfazed. He had held back earlier, and now, seeing the guards prepare their formation, he made no move to interrupt, instead standing with a faint smile, observing their every action.

The blue-armored warriors each held a halberd in one hand, while their other hand formed rapid, intricate seals before their chests, chanting incantations under their breath. As they did so, wisps of crimson vapor gathered from the air, swirling around their bodies. Soon, the vapor thickened, enveloping them completely, and then the four warriors simultaneously opened their mouths, inhaling the vapor in one deep draught…

Shi Jun and Hu Hai stood transfixed. Upon swallowing the crimson mist, the warriors were instantly shrouded in a bloody light—their skin and eyes turned a congested red, and their armor glowed with sinister red lines. With guttural cries, they charged at Motuo, weapons flailing madly, forsaking all technique in a frenzy of attack. Strangely, their speed and agility had increased tremendously, and they fought with no regard for their own lives, every strike aimed at perishing together with the enemy.

Motuo remained nonchalant. Though the transformed warriors were stronger and faster, they still posed little real threat to him—their suicidal tactics, however, were troublesome. Impulsive as he was, Motuo was no fool. This was enemy territory; if he seriously injured these guards and provoked the Underworld’s true experts, he would be in real danger. So he kept his hands empty, weaving through the storm of blades, planning to give them only a small lesson once they exhausted themselves.

But soon, Motuo found himself in peril. The berserk warriors, seeming to have lost all reason, hacked wildly at the empty air around him. With each strike, their halberds left a blood-red mark in the air, these marks forming a peculiar pattern all around Motuo’s body. At first he noticed nothing, but as time passed, he realized his movements were gradually slowing, his agility decreasing. Looking down, he saw the blood-red marks had congealed into thick, sticky patches clinging to his body, like blobs of glue hindering his every move. As his speed dropped, the warriors’ attacks became more dangerous, and several times he narrowly avoided being pierced by the eerie red halberds. He secretly regretted underestimating them.

But Motuo was, after all, a young demon soon to face his tribulation. Though the formation suppressed his magic, his skills were not limited to brute force. Enraged, he finally decided to unleash his full strength.