Journey to the West: The Immortal Clan Begins by Feeding Monkeys at Five Elements Mountain

Chapter 84 The Talisman Doesn't Work
We rested in the camp for a day and ate three meals of hot yellow rice.

Jiang Liang's team soon received a new assignment.

The people were the same, but this time they no longer ventured into that eerie forest.

Instead, they were transferred to the outposts for guard and relay purposes.

The work wasn't easy, but it was still safer than scouting the enemy alone. At least I didn't have to stare at dead people or argue with the fog.

As soon as the order was given, one of the older scouts in the team grinned, his voice hoarse, carrying a hint of undisguised sarcasm:
"Aside from the first two years when I was a newbie and built up my courage, this is really the first time I've taken on this kind of job."

After speaking, he glanced at the newcomer, his voice not loud, but with a hint of sarcasm.

It's like saying that we eagles have now become chickens, called to guard doors and deliver messages, which is rather laughable.

Upon hearing this, the team leader glanced at him sideways, his gaze calm and his lips expressionless, and uttered only a faint sentence:
"Military orders are like mountains."

The scout grinned, then stopped smiling, and ultimately said nothing, simply closing his mouth.

When the military order arrived, it was accompanied by several paper talismans.

Yellow paper and cinnabar, the talismans are drawn with horizontal and slanted hooks, but they are drawn in a neat and orderly manner, with a solemn and serious air.

It is said to have been bestowed by the "Great Master Jingxie Shouyuan," and made by a high-ranking Taoist priest. It is said to be specially designed to destroy evil spirits and demons, slay evil spirits and drive away malevolent influences, and is immune to medicine and poison.

If you encounter a deceptive illusion, burn the talisman to ashes, rub some on the corner of your eye, and you will be able to see through the illusion and recognize the true form.

If one is afflicted by evil spirits or poisons, swallowing talisman ash mixed with water can expel evil, avert disaster, and prolong life.

If you really encounter a demon or monster, just raise this talisman and you can cut it down on its head; heavenly fire and earthly thunder will all obey your command.

It sounds like it has all sorts of magical powers, can cure all diseases, and can keep you safe in fire or water.

The people received the talisman; some believed it to some extent, while others just treated it as an amusing incident.

Most people thought, "It won't bother me anyway," and tucked the two talismans into their pockets, treating them as personal charms.

After getting ready, the group set off in the morning dew to relieve the outpost.

The army moved slowly like a tide, with sentry posts shifting daily, like a snake probing its tongue, testing the way inch by inch in the mountains.

Scouts take turns on duty every two days and nights. Once their shift is over, they can return to camp to rest, wash off the dust and grime, and take a nap.

Compared to the grueling job of venturing into the mountains and dealing with ghosts for half the night, this job is much more comfortable.

In recent days, the army has been advancing rapidly, and has crossed several more mountain ridges.

Jiang Liang hid on a branch of an old locust tree, his body hidden behind the leaves, only his eyes showing as he squinted and quietly observed the contours of the mountains ahead.

The job of a sentry post requires being like a weather vane, standing high above and able to hear the winds coming from all directions.

Suddenly, a commotion arose in the forest.

The footsteps were disordered and the rhythm was restless, as if someone had been frightened and was wandering aimlessly through the woods.

Jiang Liang's heart tightened, his thoughts immediately returned to normal, and he lowered his body even further, breathing so lightly that it could not be heard even through the gaps in the leaves.

As the commotion drew closer and the figure became vaguely visible, his eyes narrowed and his fingertips clenched slightly.

It's one of our own.

Dressed as a scout, his armor was tattered, covered in blood and mud, and he looked utterly wretched.

His legs felt unsteady, and he stumbled and fell, his breath coming in short gasps.

Jiang Liang listened intently, and seeing that there were no pursuers behind him, he leaped down from between the tree branches.

It landed silently, without even disturbing a single blade of grass nearby.

He took a few steps forward, grabbed the man, and half-supported, half-dragged him back to his post.

The scout was barely clinging to life; when he saw that they were one of his own, his eyes lit up for a moment.

But the light only flashed for a moment before disappearing again.

He managed to squeeze out a few words intermittently, but they were incoherent; only a few words could be clearly heard.
"...evil spirits... talismans...sometimes effective...sometimes ineffective..."

It seemed like he wanted to say something more, but he couldn't hold back.

His head tilted to the side, and he slowly fell to the ground, never to be heard again.

Just then, it was shift change time, and the task of delivering intelligence naturally fell to Jiang Liang's team. The men hastily covered the scout's remains and carefully collected all his belongings.

He brought back to the camp along with his dying words, "The talisman is sometimes effective and sometimes not."

The old scout went to report to the military commander as usual, saying little but leaving out every detail.

He had barely finished speaking when he went to the central command tent again.

When he returned, his complexion was grim, as if a dark cloud had descended upon him, and several veins on his forehead were bulging.

For once, a hint of anger appeared on that usually composed face.

Seven parts resentment, three parts barely contained anger.

The brothers in the camp sensed something was wrong, and one of them asked in a low voice.

The old scout remained silent for a moment before replying in a low voice, "The real person doesn't acknowledge this."

It turned out that the "Great Master Jingxie Shouyuan" had a darkened expression upon hearing the words "the talisman is sometimes effective and sometimes not".

With a flick of his whisk, his tone turned cold: "A mere evil spirit can be easily defeated by a mere soldier wielding a club, yet you claim my divine talismans are useless? How utterly laughable!"

He then launched into a tirade, spitting as he spoke, even bringing up accusations of "impure mind" and "possession by evil spirits."

"It must be that the scout's yang energy was weak and his mind was not firm. Who can be blamed? How can we allow such ignorant people to make presumptuous comments on the immortals' methods?"

The implication was that the scout had died an undignified death and dared to slander his golden talisman, which was extremely infuriating.

Ma Changfeng's expression immediately turned sour. He tapped the table a few times with his knuckles, but neither spoke nor made a scene, simply suppressing the matter.

As a result, no one in the tent mentioned the "talisman" again.

The scout's death was thus dismissed as "accidentally falling into a poisonous trap, a matter of fate," and glossed over with a single stroke.

These words struck Jiang Liang and his group like needles pricking their backs, making them feel uneasy.

But in the military, orders are strictly enforced. To say too much would be considered insubordination, but to remain silent would be unbearable.

I had no choice but to keep this debt to myself.

The army continued to advance, but the terrain became increasingly treacherous and the forests increasingly dense.

The scouts ahead suffered heavy losses; many were sent out, but few returned.

The daylight was no different from any other, and the road was still stretching out.

The few teams that went out to investigate disappeared without a trace; not even a carrier pigeon returned.

For an entire day, the mountain forest was eerily silent, as if someone had covered our ears and choked us.

The bugle has not sounded, the drum has not been beaten.

The army remained frozen in place, not daring to move, and the front line of the camp did not advance an inch.

Only the sound of the wind whistling through the forest remains, faint and indistinct.

As the sun began to set and the shadows of the mountains lengthened, the temperature dropped even though it wasn't dark yet, making the campsite seem as if night had fallen before the surrounding area.

Suddenly, fog rose from all directions.

The fog was an impure color; it wasn't white, but rather a murky mixture of gray and grime.

It was like miasma exhaled from an old underground cave, cold and foul, with an indescribable sense of decay.

They rose up incredibly fast, as if they were pouring up from the ground, and in less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, they had completely engulfed the entire camp.

The tents became shadows, and even after taking a few steps closer, they were not clearly visible.

A figure flickered in the fog, near and far, like a paper lantern that couldn't be tied securely, half real and half illusory.

It is unclear whose orders they were given, but some soldiers tried to venture into the fog to investigate.

As soon as a person enters the fog, their figure seems to be gently kneaded and then disappears into the gray-white.

Before they could even shout, it was erased.

(End of this chapter)