[To Become a River of Stars] Dong Xiange - Chapter 4

“Little Shiliu!” A voice cried out in the darkness, but it was drowned by the chilling command that followed.

“Kill them.” His fingertip traced a light, dismissive arc as he spoke coldly.

Behind him, crossbows were drawn taut with mechanical precision. Torches formed a sea of dancing light, their flickering flames casting long, distorted shadows from the fully drawn bows. The sound of strained bowstrings created an eerily harmonious yet unsettling chorus that raised hairs on the back of every neck.

Though the Zhenyi disciples had trained since childhood and were skilled in close combat, they stood like trapped animals against the overwhelming advantage of the dense volley of crossbows.A wall of certain death poised to unleash its deadly rain. The metallic scent of fear mixed with the smoky air as the disciples instinctively closed ranks, their training overcoming their terror even as their fate seemed sealed.

“I am an official! You cannot kill me!” the Deputy Director cried out, panting as he squeezed through the crowd of disciples, seemingly trying to distinguish himself from these “lowly Taoists.”

But as he stepped forward, he saw the youth on the towering horse, whose brow showed not a ripple of surprise. The youth tossed his crow-feather bow to a guard beside him, then casually propped one foot on the saddle and let the other dangle—a posture of utmost arrogance.

His elbow rested on his knee, the sleek riding attire revealing subtle patterns under the torchlight. The pale hand that had just issued a death order now supported his chin as the youth tilted his head slightly, his hair brushing his shoulder.

“What rank?” he asked indifferently.

Even a fool could sense the threat of the fully drawn crossbows behind the youth, unwavering and relentless. The Deputy Director slowly retreated, stammering, “S-sixth rank Official! Sixth rank!”

A faint smile touched the youth’s thin lips. In the next instant, the snow-hoofed black horse charged forward. In the gloom, its white hooves flashed like fleeting embers, followed by a blade colder and brighter than them.

Sssk— A tight, subtle sound cut the air. A spray of blood arced mysteriously through the air, several droplets landing on Wang Jie’s face where he stood not far behind. His eyes widened, disbelief freezing him at the suddenness of it all.

The youth’s sword was too fast. It took a moment for the Deputy Director to realize what had happened, and he clutched his slashed belly, howling in pain. Blood seeped steadily from the thin, curved wound.

“Why the fuss?” The youth reined in his horse, smiling as he surveyed the panicked crowd, “Someone like you isn’t worth killing.”

His sword tip pointed at the Deputy Director’s round, protruding belly. With a tone of amusement, he said, “I merely wondered—if such a bloated belly were lightly slit, would it spill oil or blood?”

Wang Jie trembled uncontrollably. Is… is this even human? Just then, the moon rose, but Wang Jie blinked and rubbed his eyes vigorously. Was it blood in his eyes?

The once-clear moonlight now glowed with a bloody hue, as if drawn by some force, hanging oppressively close over the mountain. The silver disk resembled dark wine, murky and crimson.

Backlit by the blood moon, the youth’s silhouette stood outlined. His black hair stirred faintly in the halo of light, creating the illusion of fangs ready to emerge.

Without turning, he seemed to sense something. He raised a hand, examining his jade-like fingers tinged with a faint bloody glow. For a moment, excitement finally ignited in his eyes.

It was as if a horn for slaughter had been blown.

His sword lifted, poised to fall.

“You cannot kill us!” He Chong stepped forward boldly, shouting. Behind him stood Shiliu, who had quietly moved closer at some point.

The youth didn’t even raise an eyebrow, utterly unmoved.

“If you kill us, even if you lure out what you seek, you won’t be able to capture it,” He Chong continued, steadying himself.

This time, it worked. The youth’s sword halted mid-air, and he turned his gaze toward them, interest piqued, “Oh? Who told you I’m luring something out?”

Hidden in the shadows, Shiliu breathed a silent sigh of relief.

They’d bet correctly.

Her lips didn’t move, her expression remained calm, but only He Chong, standing extremely close, could hear her ventriloquism.

He Chong said, “Earlier, this forest was clearly haunted—wherever it passed, strange fog arose, tangible enough to trap people. Yet your burning arrow pierced through that fog, and the entity vanished. Clearly, you are not allied with it but are pursuing it.”

“Secondly, you slit the Deputy Director’s belly. His blood flowed into the grass, and you watched its path intently. When the blood moon rose, your excitement became obvious. You intended to use blood as bait to lure the entity out.”

“This entity has no physical form, craves blood, and has the ability to trap and hallucinate—clearly no ordinary evil. You must have been tracking it for some time. Though you have the talent to break its illusions, it likely only flees repeatedly. To truly capture it, our group of Taoists may be of assistance.”

Shiliu nodded inwardly. Senior Brother is indeed diplomatic. What she’d actually thought was, “Since you can’t handle it anyway, rather than wasting us as blood bait, let us do our job as Taoists—we’re definitely better at this than you,” but He Chong had polished it into something respectful and firm.

The youth looked down at them from his horse as if surveying ants. He was weighing their value, “And if you fail?”

His voice wasn’t loud or heavy—it was the clear voice of a youth—but the rising inflection carried a disdainful, dangerous edge.

Shiliu felt a pang of fear. Her face remained cold, but her heart raced. Having grown up on the mountain, most people she’d met were warm-hearted and bold. This eerie, unsettling presence wasn’t a monster but a living person—it made her skin crawl.

He Chong, ever the leader among the younger disciples, replied calmly, “If we fail, I will submit to your punishment.”

How cunning of Senior Brother! They were already at his mercy, yet now it had become a bargaining chip. Shiliu inwardly praised her senior brother’s slickness.

“If you fail,” the youth said with a slight smile, “I will hang that little Taoist behind you upside down and drain his blood.”

His sword tip swung pointedly toward the figure behind He Chong.

Shiliu.

His smile was faint, breathtakingly beautiful at first glance, but the subtly revealed sharp canines sent a chill straight to Shiliu’s bones.

It was a primal instinct—a warning of lethal danger.

He Chong’s composure finally cracked. He subtly stepped forward, shielding Shiliu, but said, “Deal!”

Shiliu’s face remained impressively stoic, but inwardly she was weeping and screaming, Save me, Senior Brother!

The youth studied Shiliu’s cold expression and slightly parted his lips, “Step forward. Stop hiding behind your senior brother and speaking through him.”

So, he had noticed. Shiliu sighed inwardly. Even the junior brothers standing close hadn’t detected it—how many eyes does this person have?

Gathering her courage, Shiliu refused to lose face for her master and senior brothers. She stepped out steadily.

Simultaneously, the youth’s sword flashed forward faster than the wind it sliced through, gleaming coldly under the dim blood moon.

Shiliu’s pupils dilated to their limit—the sword tip halted just an inch from her eye. A slight tremble would pierce her eyeball.

“Not bad. Some spine after all,” the youth said idly, withdrawing his sword. “Then it’s you. Lure the creature out.” He paused, leaving the threat hanging.

If you fail…

Expressionless, Shiliu swallowed hard. She’d always relied on a cold facade—the more nervous she was, the more convincing it became. But when it came to talismans, sword skills, or capturing demons, she was good at nothing except eating!

Heavens! Earth! Queen Mother of the West! Taishang Laojun! Ancestral Masters! Master and Senior Brothers! Someone save poor Little Shiliu!