Su Yan stood alone in the street of Jiangjia Village. Panicked villagers scattered around him. At the corner, the black-and-white snake yao pointed its tail at him, screaming at fleeing villagers, tongue flicking.
The villagers had long since fled — some crawling to report to the authorities, others bolting doors and shivering inside. The bolder ones peeped through windows.
Su Yan stood over the green-robed god's body. After a long moment, awareness returned.
The same villagers who had joked with him, called him Little Yan, A-Yan, even teased him as Soft Su — now feared him as they feared the gods.
"I'm the one who stood up for you," he thought. "You shouldn't fear me..."
We endure the magistrates' oppression. But this wooden god — he eats our food, drinks our wine, enjoys our offerings, and still crushes us.
They treat us like livestock. But we are not livestock.
We are human. We resist. We avenge.
"So why do you fear me?" Su Yan did not understand.
After a while, he stepped over the god's corpse, walked to the altar, and sat. Without a word, he tore into the roasted chicken and duck.
He ate slowly, carefully — a snake catcher's habit.
Snake catching demanded patience, courage, and above all, a full stomach. Hunger meant weakness. Weakness meant mistakes. Mistakes meant death.
He had started a catastrophe. He would not leave hungry.
He finished one chicken, half a duck, and stuffed the rest in his robe. He pocketed fruit, too.
Then he dipped his finger in Landlord Jiang's blood and wrote on the wall:
"The God-Slayer, Su Yan."
He wiped his hands on the dead man's clothes and left.
His home held little — no wealth, barely any rice, only some roasted grain powder for travel rations. Snake catchers didn't need rice; they needed dry food for the mountains.
He packed three days' worth, glanced at his scripture collection, and left it. Too heavy, too late.
At the village edge, his eyes stung. He turned, knelt toward Jiangjia, and kowtowed.
"These years, thank you for your care. Little Yan has... caused you trouble."
He stood, turned, and walked away.
"A-Yan—" a girl's voice called.
He turned. The bride sat at the hall door, Jiang Lu's body in her arms.
"A-Yan, thank you!"
She shouted, "You must live well!"
"Take care!" Su Yan waved and walked on.
I was an orphan, he thought. My father raised me as his own. The village treated me well.
I killed a god to repay them.
I leave to keep them safe.
This departure...
I will not return.
"Hey—"
A voice stopped him. Su Yan looked. A black-and-white serpent hung from a willow by the road — the snake yao he had caught.
Su Yan glanced at it and kept walking.
"Su Yan, wait!" The snake dropped from the tree and slithered after him, laughing. "You killed a god! You're finished! Every god near Lingling answers to the City God. When he learns what you did, he won't spare you! There's nowhere in the world you can hide!"
Su Yan ignored him and kept walking.
The snake had once raced him for three days and nights through the mountains before Su Yan ran it down. Shaking the serpent off was no easier now.
"And you killed Landlord Jiang! The authorities won't forgive that either! You know what hides in government offices? The most dangerous people in the world — they're called nuo. These nuo masters... heh, not just you and me, even the gods fear them..."
Su Yan frowned at the word.
The Rites of Zhou spoke of them: open the secret vaults, communicate with heaven and earth, command ghosts and gods, drive away plague and demons. They were called nuo.
Every dynasty employed them. The best became officials.
For common folk, a nuo official was more terrifying than any demon or god.
Better to provoke a demon than a government nuo.
Provoke a demon, and you die once. Provoke a nuo, and you die twice — even as a ghost.
"The government will send a nuo master. You've offended gods and nuo both. You're dead!" the snake chattered.
Su Yan snapped, "Follow me again and I'll cure you into dried snake meat."
The snake laughed, "Cure me into snake jerky — what'll you pay your taxes with? You're a wanted man. Walk into a yamen and you're walking into a noose."
Su Yan walked faster, couldn't shake the snake, and finally gritted, "What do you want?"
The snake's face lit up — though he had no eyebrows to lift. "I want you to teach me the Titan-Ox Demon Fist."
Su Yan didn't stop. "I just started practicing it. You have a proper family lineage. Why would you need me to teach you?"
The snake fell silent. After a moment: "I've cultivated for a hundred and twenty years. I'm at the third level. I've never reached the fourth. My father, my grandfather — none of them reached the fourth."
Su Yan snorted, "You have no arms, no legs. Of course you can't master a fist art. Stop following me!"
The snake smiled, "Is there anywhere in the world for you to go? My Qinyan Cave is a fine hiding spot."
Su Yan's eyes lit up. "Snake Brother, Snake Elder — how do I get to Qinyan Cave?"
* * *
On the first day of the month, Lingling's City God Temple bustled with worshippers.
The City God, Xue Lingfu, had awakened from his statue form and now sat in flesh, enjoying incense and offerings.
Suddenly, green smoke curled from the earth. A two-foot-tall earth god scurried out, leaped onto Xue Lingfu's shoulder, and whispered.
Xue Lingfu's face darkened. "He killed my underworld officer and offended heaven! This cannot stand! Su Yan deserves ten thousand deaths! Spread my word — all gods of the eight hundred mountains, five hundred rivers, twelve hundred villages in Lingling — find Su Yan, kill him where he stands, and warn the world!"
"Wait!"
A voice from outside. Magistrate Zhou Yang strode in with his clerks.
A clerk stepped forward. "Su Yan is alive. He committed murder. The living are judged by living law. This case belongs to the Lingling magistrate! Lord City God, withdraw your order."
Xue Lingfu sneered. "Su Yan killed my underworld officer. Underworld law governs underworld crimes. Magistrate Zhou, you may leave."
Zhou Yang laughed, turned, and walked to the temple gate. He stopped, half-turned, and said, "Since the Dongping Prince's rebellion, the underworld has crept further and further into the living world. But in Lingling, this is Zhou territory. The underworld will not touch it. Men!"
His clerks straightened.
Zhou Yang's face went cold. "Arrest Su Yan. If he resists, or if anyone interferes — god or man, kill them all."
"Yes!" The clerks dispersed.
Xue Lingfu snorted and waved. The earth god on his shoulder understood, dropped to the ground, and vanished into smoke, trailing Zhou Yang.
* * *
Soon after, Magistrate Zhou arrived at Jiangjia. The villagers knelt in terror, heads bowed.
Zhou walked through them, studied the wooden god's corpse with interest, and measured the hole in its forehead.
"Body-enlarging demonic technique. A martial art." He smiled. "This Su Yan is a commoner cultivating yao arts. Interesting."
He waved his men to work and sat on a villager's back, speaking kindly, "Village Head Jiang, how was this year's harvest?"
Jiang Yubo, the village head, answered carefully, "Not bad, sir. Three extra bushels."
Zhou Yang nodded, smiling. "And the crops?"
"Very well, sir."
Zhou Yang's face darkened. "Good harvest, good crops — so why are your taxes so hard to collect? Don't you want me to live well?"
Jiang Yubo kowtowed, speechless.
Zhou Yang snorted. "I collect taxes for the court, not myself! My salary comes from the throne! I never take a grain from common folk!"
Jiang Yubo kowtowed again, "The magistrate is upright and incorruptible!"
Then a clerk approached, arms full of scrolls. "Sir, Su Yan has fled. We found these in his home."
These were the Daoyin arts Su Yan had collected. In his haste, he had left them.
Zhou Yang picked one up, flipped through it idly — then his face changed.
He snatched the other scrolls, flipping faster and faster.
Annotations. Su Yan's handwriting. Critiques of every yao cultivation method, insights into their flaws and strengths — precise, deep, brilliant.
"The more I look at this Su Yan, the more he surprises me," Zhou Yang murmured. "Not just a god-killer, but a scholar of yao arts. This creature harbors chaos in his heart. He must die. Find him. Kill on sight."
The clerks left at speed.
The villagers exchanged glances. Was this the Soft Su they knew?
* * *
Zhou Yang carried the scrolls back to the yamen.
In the rear courtyard, an old man sat drinking tea. Zhou Yang placed the annotated scrolls beside him and stood respectfully.
The old man — Zhou Yihang — picked up a scroll, glanced at it, and smiled. "These are only Qi-Gathering yao arts. No follow-up methods. Why show me, Yang?"
"Father, look at the annotations."
Zhou Yihang turned to the back pages. His expression slowly hardened. He flipped through one scroll, then another, then another.
In moments, he had scanned them all. His face was grave. "The annotator's understanding of yao arts is profound. Our own clan elders might not match it! Where did you get these? Who wrote them?"
"A fourteen-year-old boy. A snake catcher."
Zhou Yihang looked up, disbelieving. "Fourteen?"
"He's from Jiangjia. Called Su Yan. Somehow cultivated yao arts and killed the village god. Fled. I found these in his home."
Zhou Yihang stood, face shifting between shock and calculation. "Our clan elders have ventured into forbidden zones, excavated ancient grottos, suffered terrible casualties to study yao arts — and their insights may not match this snake catcher's! Yang, you must find him. Alive."
"But the City God hunts him too. I feared he would fall into underworld hands, so I ordered him killed."
"City God Xue Lingfu?" Zhou Yihang's face changed. He pondered. "If Xue captures him... then death is better. A pity, such talent... Since the City God is involved, I will go myself. Capture him alive if possible. If not, I will kill him personally. His body must not fall into underworld hands!"
Zhou Yang bowed.
Zhou Yihang drifted away.
Zhou Yang straightened, frowning. "Are yao arts truly that important? Why do our elders care so much?"
In ancient times, history was lost. The modern world knew this: humans cultivated the Six Secret Vaults. Open one, become a nuo master, wield unimaginable power.
The Zhou clan was such a nuo lineage — one of the mightiest in the world.
But Zhou Yang had heard whispers. The clan's ancestors used yao arts for secret research. Some said it held the secret to ascension.
He was peripheral Zhou blood. He knew little.
* * *
Back in Jiangjia, the villagers cleaned the streets. From Su Yan's home, thin smoke curled from the floor.
An earth god, two feet tall with a tall hat and deer-head staff, emerged from the ground. He clutched a scroll — one he had snatched during the search and hidden until the clerks left.
He unrolled it, stroked his beard, and sneered. "Nonsense! Su Yan's annotations are trash! I'll show the City God!"
He dove into the earth and vanished.
At the Lingling City God Temple, Xue Lingfu opened the annotated scroll. His face shifted. He read carefully, snapped the scroll shut.
"Su Yan wrote this? Such depth!"
He ordered the earth god: "Spread word to every god near Lingling — capture Su Yan alive. Do not kill him."
"But most gods have already left their shrines to hunt him! And Magistrate Zhou's nuo masters hunt him too!"
Xue Lingfu frowned, rose from his altar, and walked out.
"Very well. I go myself. Su Yan is too important. If the Zhou clan wants him, I must ensure that even his corpse does not fall into their hands."