Little Grove Town lay to the northeast of Fenglin City, with Green Mountain Town standing between them and the main city. By straight-line distance, it was the town in the Fenglin domain farthest from the seat.
Under Wei Yan's lead the group rode without rest, passing Green Mountain Town without stopping, and reached the outskirts of Little Grove Town in but half a day.
Green Mountain Town had no green mountain, for that matter. The name had been passed down from no one knew how many years before; perhaps a mountain had once stood there, and later the seas shifted and the fields changed.
But there was, by Little Grove Town, a grove of Moon Cypress trees — only quite small, its far edge visible at a single glance. The Moon Cypress had a calming effect, and furniture made from its wood was much sought after.
It was said that the grove had once been immense; but because the Moon Cypress's worth was so high, the townsfolk were much given to felling it in secret, and so the grove had grown ever smaller. Had Fenglin City not issued a special decree against the theft, this little grove would long since have vanished.
The constables mustered from Green Mountain Town were camped in the grove, some sitting, some lounging, quite lax. Only when the thunder of hooves came did they gather together and come forward to greet the party.
These constables were but mortal force, and of course dared not enter the town to investigate in the present circumstances; they served only to watch and give warning.
Wei Yan reined in his horse before the grove, swept an idle glance over them, and asked: "What is the state of Little Grove Town?"
The constable-captain leading the Green Mountain Town men was a broad-faced fellow of forty-odd. He answered: "Since five days ago, fog has risen around Little Grove Town. At the time we did not think much of it, taking it for a change in the weather. Then one could still make out the town's outline, and vague men-shapes — folk from Green Mountain Town even went visiting kin. Only yesterday did we receive orders to come set up watch here; we have seen no one come out, yet the fog only grows heavier, and now nothing at all can be made out."
From among the academy disciples, Jiang Wang craned his neck toward Little Grove Town. The Fenglin domain was the land that had bred and raised him; though he had grown up in Fengxi Town, Little Grove Town was no stranger to him.
The bandits of the Western Mountains, whom he had broken single-handed and alone with his sword, had made their lair in the Western Mountains a decade of li north of Little Grove Town.
In the old days, from the Moon Cypress Grove one could see Little Grove Town — a town that did not prosper, but lived in ease and harmony. Now all that met the eye was a bank of mist.
Then Wei Yan's voice rang out: "I set you here to watch Little Grove Town, and instead you lie about unbounded and undisciplined. Worse, you take the opportunity to fell Moon Cypress trees for your own profit. Have you come to do your duty, or to line your own pockets?"
The Green Mountain Town constables had already gone pale. The leading captain, above all, bowed again and again, wanting to explain.
But Wei Yan's verdict was already out: "The Moon Cypress already felled will go to the City Guard camp. Moreover, all of you are docked a year's pay. As the captain bears the duty of leadership — dismissed from office!"
The broad-faced man went the color of death, yet he did not even dare protest, only withdrew dejectedly.
It was only upon hearing Wei Yan's verdict that Jiang Wang took note of the several Moon Cypress trees that had been felled. And Wei Yan had caught everything at a glance from the very first moment of arrival.
Jiang Wang sighed, partly at Wei Yan's sharpness of eye, and partly at how harsh the man was.
With Little Grove Town lost, this Moon Cypress Grove was temporarily without an owner. These constables had risked their lives to set up watch outside the town, and cutting a few trees on the side to supplement their own income — though a dereliction of duty, was in fact a thing that could be understood.
Green Mountain Town was not well-off. A year's docked pay meant these constables would suddenly fall on hard times for their daily lives. And for this man of forty-odd especially, the captaincy might well have been the very summit of a lifetime's striving. And with a single word from Wei Yan, he was back at where he began.
Yet this expedition was near enough to marching to war, and Wei Yan, leading, was its commander in all but name. His commands were martial orders, and no one could disobey them.
His verdict done, Wei Yan tugged the reins and, taking the lead, spurred his horse into a gallop toward Little Grove Town.
The horses were the war mounts of the camp, the riders the cultivators of the Academy. Little more than thirty of them, but they moved with perfect discipline, as swift as lightning — carrying the very momentum of a thousand-strong host.
The hooves crashed like thunder over the earth — then stopped dead!
Those battle-worn war horses, before the bank of mist that covered Little Grove Town whole, reared and neighed long, refusing, however their riders urged them, to advance a single step further.
Over thirty war horses shook with terror, neighing in a single chorus. As if within Little Grove Town lay some thing that held their utmost dread. The scene was enough to strike fear into onlookers.
Even the riders' abilities spared them the disgrace of mounts falling in the ranks, yet their morale had plunged — no longer the high spirits of the road out of the city.
Even Wang Changxiang, habitually so placid and mild, now wore a grave look.
Only Wei Yan's face did not change.
On his person that suit of armor bore many a mottled scar. The saber at his waist was narrow and straight. The war horse beneath him was tall and magnificent.
All men knew these three beloved things of Wei Yan.
But he suddenly drew his saber!
Like a bolt of lightning appearing from empty air, the saber-light was already gone. And the fine horse beneath him — its neigh cut abruptly short, its great head parting from its body and falling, then sprayed a little further by the blood-column gushing from the neck.
The horse's corpse thudded to the ground.
Wei Yan pressed hand to his saber and stared at the town within the mist, but his voice was cold: "Losing heart before battle — what use have I for you?"
"Good!" The first to respond was, of all people, Du Yehu. He was fierce by nature and liked things blunt; at once he smashed a fist down and shattered the horse's head. "Wei Yan, how do we charge next?"
Wei Yan raised his right hand slightly: "Hear my commands. Dismount and prepare for battle. Form the Arrowhead formation, with me as the point, and charge straight into Little Grove Town!"
His killing of the horse had already impressed on every man that there was no retreat. With no more room for hesitation, they all dismounted.
Wei Yan spoke again: "Draw weapons!"
There came the uniform ring of a hundred blades leaving sheaths.
Then that aide of Wei Yan's, the one with the unremarkable face, stepped forward. He raised his right hand, palm upward, worked a hand-seal with his left, muttering incantations under his breath, and at the last said: "Edge!"
Jiang Wang felt a keen edge leap out along his longsword. That blade, which could at best be called serviceable, seemed almost able to cut through anything.
"Flame!"
Ablaze of fire rose along every weapon! The cultivators raised their swords and sabers like so many torches, as if to burn their way through the mist-shrouded town before them.
"Fortify!"
Ling He felt his body grow tough and strong, with a swelling fullness that made him want to trade blows with his fists against some foe. But he only glanced at the bristling, furious-bearded Du Yehu beside him, and quietly wiped the delusion away.
What Zhao Rucheng thought was: group-buff Dao arts were at the very least Dao arts of Grade C, first rank and up. And this unremarkable aide of Wei Yan's could set off three in a row without a change of expression — the Ministry of War truly kept hidden dragons and crouching tigers.
Whatever each man thought, on the march there could be but one will. With the Dao arts boosting them, Wei Yan hefted his saber and led the way, stepping first into Little Grove Town.
They advanced, taking stock as they went. The town was so still it held only the sound of their own footsteps.
After some walking, the fog seemed to grow denser still.
It was heavy almost to the point of substance; three paces away one could no longer make out a figure, only the fire of the blades, standing stubborn amid the seeming-endless mist.
They had no choice but to tighten the formation again, the gaps between men cut from five paces to three. Any closer, and it would hamper their fighting.
Jiang Wang and his brothers took positions in the middle-back of the formation. Their realms were the lowest, and so they were given the protection by default — this needed no shame in it, and was, moreover, the fine tradition of the Academy.
Du Yehu cracked his knuckles. He was not tense, but excited, eager to leap in.
Jiang Wang had not the slightest doubt that even were one of the nine man-demons whose infamy now shook the whole world standing before him, Du Yehu would not say two words before swinging his fists at it. Whether he would win was, of course, another matter.
At just that moment, from the outer fringe of the formation came a startled cry: "What is that?!"
Another voice answered, annoyed: "They're just ghosts — what's to fear?"
But in a flash it turned to alarm: "So many?!"
Hearing it, Wei Yan whipped his head around and struck once with a horizontal cut!
A huge blade-aura flashed out across the air, splitting open the heavy fog all around for an instant!
And in that instant, everyone could see it — filling the whole street, huddling and staggering and gnashing and clawing, countless on countless, the wandering ghosts began to stir!
Bright sky, broad daylight — a hundred ghosts walk at noon!