Soul Devouring and Boundary Breaking: I Embark on the Path to Immortality in the Era of Demon Chaos

As the sun passed its zenith and began to slant slightly westward, Blackstone Town finally began to recover from its lifelessness. The howls of the demonic wolves that had echoed from Canglang Mountain the previous night were sharp as steel knives scraping against bluestone, piercing the eardrums with pain. Most of the townspeople stayed awake until dawn. But life is like a millstone, heavy as it may be, it must be pushed forward—several women had gathered around the well, carrying buckets, their wooden ladles clanging against the rims; at the woodpile at the west end of the street, men chopped wood shirtless, the dull thud of axes striking wood echoing throughout; even Wang Er, the pancake seller, had set out with his load, his calls swirling in the empty streets before slowly fading into the distance.

Taking advantage of the commotion, Lin Yan and Su Qingyao slipped out of the secret passage in the cellar. Lin Yan dusted off the corner of his robe, his gaze sweeping over the children peeking out from the street corner, his brows furrowing slightly—Chen Fuhai's spies were probably already planted at the town's main thoroughfare.

The two didn't dare travel together. Su Qingyao carried a blue cloth medicine box towards the abandoned granary at the east end of town. The bottom of the box was lined with oil paper, and inside were finely crushed demon-attracting incense and berserk powder. The smell of the medicine mixed with the smell of grain chaff from the granary, so it wasn't particularly noticeable. Lin Yan, on the other hand, adjusted his clothes, turned around, and turned into a narrow alley. The walls were covered with moss, making them slippery underfoot. There were also crooked little children's drawings on the alley walls, adding a touch of everyday life to the alley.

This alley, a shortcut to the blacksmith's shop, was so narrow that only one person could pass at a time. Clotheslines hung overhead, their coarse cloth garments brushing against one's neck, causing an itch. Lin Yan walked with utmost care. The words he'd overheard under the eaves of the town mayor's mansion last night still echoed in his ears—Chen Fuhai's shrill voice saying they would "get rid of this troublesome Corporal Lin" during the sacrifice tomorrow night, Zhao Mang's gruff voice echoing, the sound of him slamming his fist on the table shaking the tiles. Old Granny Wang's identification gave them a pretext to manipulate him; though there was no concrete evidence, it was enough to make these people kill him. He touched the warm recording stone in his pocket, his fingertips tracing its cool surface. Hidden within this thing was the evidence to take these people's lives.

Emerging from the narrow alley, the air was thick with the metallic tang of metal and burning charcoal; we had arrived at Uncle Zhang's blacksmith shop. The shop door was wide open, and inside, flames roared. The clanging of hammering echoed against the stone walls, bouncing back with a lively sound. Uncle Zhang, shirtless, sweat beading on his bronze back as if coated in oil, was forging a hoe with a hammer. Sparks flew as the hammer fell, landing in the ashes at his feet and extinguishing with a hiss. Inside, two apprentices bustled about. The younger one pumped the bellows, his cheeks bulging like he was sucking on a peach, while the older one squatted in the corner, grinding farm tools, the grinding wheel spinning rapidly, splintering wood shavings all over him.

Lin Yan didn't go in directly. Instead, he went around to the small door at the back of the shop. The door was made of old wooden planks, the edges worn and frayed. Following the agreed-upon signal, he first knocked lightly three times, then knocked harder twice. The wooden planks made a dull "thump-thump" sound, like a woodpecker pecking at a tree. After a moment, the door creaked open, and Uncle Zhang's face, covered in coal dust, peeked out. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead and wrinkles. When he saw it was Lin Yan, his tense lips relaxed, and he quickly stepped aside to let him in, saying in a low voice, "You've finally come! My heart has been in my throat."

The backyard was even more chaotic than a few days ago. Sulfur and saltpeter were piled in the corner, packed in burlap sacks, next to several bundles of firewood, and some broken pottery jars and old bamboo tubes, scattered haphazardly. Clearly, Uncle Zhang had prepared everything he was told. Uncle Zhang closed the door behind him, the latch clicking shut. He grabbed a rough cloth draped over the millstone and wiped his face; coal dust mixed with sweat left several black streaks on his skin. "How was it? Did things go wrong at the mayor's mansion last night?"

Lin Yan took out the recording stone from his pocket. The stone was warm and smooth, reflecting the firelight in the backyard and giving off a faint halo. "Everything is settled." He lowered his voice to a very low level. "Chen Fuhai said it himself. The refugees who have been sacrificed over the past three years were all chosen by him and Zhao Mang. They used their lives to exchange for blood crystals. He also said that he would sacrifice me and Granny Wang together tomorrow night to 'add a dish' for the demon wolf." He picked out a few key sentences from the conversation he had overheard last night. Before he could finish speaking, he saw Uncle Zhang's hand holding the iron hammer suddenly clench, his knuckles turned white, and the veins bulged like earthworms.

"These damned beasts!" Uncle Zhang's voice trembled as the hammer slammed onto the anvil with a clang, sending sparks flying high. His chest heaved violently, and his bronze skin turned bright red, as if it were about to bleed.

"In their eyes, our lives are not even as valuable as the meat between the teeth of a demon wolf." Lin Yan's tone was calm, but there was a cold light in his eyes. "Blood crystals can be exchanged for money and can help them get promoted. Our lives are nothing more than pebbles used to pave the way for them."

Uncle Zhang took several deep breaths to suppress his anger. He grabbed the hammer from the anvil and slammed it down hard. Sparks fell to the ground, burning a few small black spots. "The original plan was to take action tonight. What do you say now?"

"The plan needs to be changed." Lin Yan walked to the corner and kicked the sack containing saltpeter. "They want to sacrifice me tomorrow night, so I'll go along with them. Then we can work together from the inside and outside to take down Chen Fuhai, Zhao Mang, and those demon wolves all at once." He explained the new plan to Uncle Zhang in detail, from how to lure the demon wolves away tonight to how to set up an ambush at the altar tomorrow night, explaining every word clearly.

Zhang Bo's eyes grew brighter as he listened. When Lin Yan finished speaking, he slapped his thigh so hard that the millstone shook. "Good! Let's do it! I've been waiting for this day for three years! My son can finally rest in peace!" he said, his voice choked with emotion, as he wiped his eyes.

"It's just that we don't have enough manpower." Lin Yan changed the subject. "The refugee camp is the main source of Chen Fuhai's sacrifices. The refugees there are either terrified or too weak from hunger, but as long as someone takes the lead, they can gather their strength. We have to take control of the refugee camp, firstly to protect those innocent people, and secondly to cut off Chen Fuhai's 'supply' so that his sacrifice tomorrow night cannot be completed."

Upon hearing this, Uncle Zhang frowned and pondered for a moment, then suddenly slapped his forehead. "I've got it! I know a refugee named Shi Hu, a tough guy. Three years ago, his brother was taken to Canglang Mountain. When he went to find his brother, he encountered a demon wolf, lost an arm, and had a large gash on his face, but he still managed to escape from the wolf's jaws. In the past few years, he has secretly gathered some spirited people in the refugee camp, all of whom have had their relatives sacrificed or were bullied by Chen Fuhai to the point of desperation. Perhaps they can help."

Lin Yan's eyes lit up; this was truly a case of finding a needle in a haystack. "Is he reliable?"

"Reliable!" Uncle Zhang nodded firmly. "This man may not talk much, but he's warm-hearted and has backbone. He often comes here to do odd jobs in exchange for food, and I see he's a real man, so I often give him a little extra. Yesterday I promised to make him a wood-chopping knife, and he should come to pick it up this afternoon."

"Then let's wait for him to come," Lin Yan said, walking to the anvil, picking up a small hammer, and helping Uncle Zhang straighten the red-hot iron bar. The sound of blacksmithing echoed in the backyard again, clanging and banging, even more powerful than before. As Lin Yan hammered, he and Uncle Zhang organized the materials—sulfur and saltpeter were mixed in the right proportions, put into a bamboo tube with holes drilled in it, and sealed; these were for starting a fire; iron nails and barbed wire were strung together with hemp rope and coiled into loops to make tripwires; kerosene was poured into a small earthenware jar, the mouth of which was plugged with strips of cloth, ready to be thrown into the jar to ignite. Sunlight shone through the holes in the courtyard wall, falling on these things, giving them a cold, eerie light.

About half an hour later, the small door to the backyard was knocked on again, with the same three light knocks followed by two heavy ones. Uncle Zhang put down his hammer, wiped his hands, and quickly went to open the door. As soon as the door opened, a figure darted in, moving as swiftly as a leopard.

Lin Yan looked up and saw that the newcomer was about thirty years old. He wasn't tall, but he was as sturdy as a rock, with broad shoulders, making him as steady as a mountain. Most striking was his left arm, which was bare from the elbow down, the coarse cloth sleeve tied in a tight knot that swayed gently with his movements. A scar ran diagonally from his forehead to his chin, splitting his left eyebrow in two, looking ferocious, yet paired with his eyes, it only conveyed a sense of fierceness. Those eyes were like those of a hawk, sharp enough to pierce the heart, full of wildness and vigilance. They swept over the things in the yard, then landed on Lin Yan, pausing for a moment.

"Uncle Zhang," he spoke, his voice hoarse as if it had been sanded, "is the wood-chopping knife finished?"

"Alright, alright, it's just been quenched, perfect for use." Uncle Zhang dragged a newly forged woodcutter's knife from the corner of the wall. The blade was thick and heavy, the edge gleaming brightly in the sunlight. "Try it on and see if it fits your hand."

Shi Hu took the wood-chopping knife, weighed it in his right hand, and with a flick of his wrist, the knife arced through the air with a whoosh, creating a gust of wind. He nodded in satisfaction, a rare smile playing on his lips: "A good knife, much better than the last one." Then, he looked at Lin Yan, his eyes instantly turning cold, his right hand unconsciously tightening its grip on the knife. "And this gentleman is?"

"This is Lin Yan, a squad leader from the Demon Suppression Division," Uncle Zhang quickly tried to smooth things over, afraid that Shi Hu might misunderstand.

Sure enough, the moment the words "Demon Suppression Division" were uttered, Shi Hu's eyes grew even colder, his hand gripping the woodcutter's knife, veins bulging, knuckles turning white. Chen Fuhai and Zhao Mang had long been in cahoots with the people in the Demon Suppression Division, and he had suffered many losses at their hands, so naturally he didn't have a good impression of them.

"Don't be nervous." Lin Yan put down the small hammer in his hand, took a step forward, and said calmly, "I'm not like Chen Fuhai and Zhao Mang. I'm going to investigate the dirty things they did."

Shi Hu remained silent, staring intently at Lin Yan, his gaze seemingly weighing the truth in his words. The courtyard fell silent, broken only by the distant clanging of blacksmiths and the rustling of the wind through the clotheslines. After a moment, Lin Yan suddenly spoke: "Shi Hu, didn't your brother disappear on the fifteenth of July three years ago?"

Upon hearing this, Shi Hu's body stiffened abruptly, as if someone had struck a sore spot. His eyes instantly changed, and he asked in a hoarse voice, "How did you know?"

"I not only know he's missing, but I also know where he went." Lin Yan looked into his eyes and said, word by word, "He was sacrificed by Chen Fuhai and Zhao Mang to the demon wolves of Canglang Mountain, on the night of the full moon, on the fifteenth of July three years ago."

"What did you say?" Shi Hu took a step forward, his woodcutter's knife pointing directly at Lin Yan's throat, the blade only an inch away from his skin, its chilling aura palpable. "Say it again!" His voice was filled with suppressed roars, his eyes bloodshot as if they were about to bleed.

"I'm telling you, your brother was sacrificed to the demon wolves by Chen Fuhai and Zhao Mang in exchange for blood crystals." Lin Yan remained motionless, looking at him calmly. "Not just your brother, but for the past three years, three people have been sacrificed every month, mostly refugees, and occasionally townspeople. Their corpses were dragged to the bone altar in the valley, some were fed to the demon wolves, and some were used to refine blood crystals."

Shi Hu's body began to tremble, not from fear, but from extreme rage. He clenched his teeth so tightly they ground together, and a trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. "Where's the evidence? Do you have any evidence?"

Lin Yan took out the copy of the sacrificial contract from his pocket and handed it to Shi Hu: "This is a copy of the sacrificial contract. It has your brother's name on it, as well as Chen Fuhai's private seal."

Shi Hu took the contract with his only remaining right hand, his fingers trembling as he opened it. When he saw that familiar name, tears streamed down his face. But he didn't cry out loud; he just bit his lip hard, swallowing his sobs until his lips were bloody and raw. Uncle Zhang walked over, patted his shoulder, and sighed, "Hu Zi, take heart. Corporal Lin is here to help us. He has evidence to avenge your brother and all those who were sacrificed."

Shi Hu took a deep breath, fiercely wiping the tears and blood from his face with his sleeve. When he looked at Lin Yan again, his eyes were incredibly resolute; his previous wariness was gone, replaced by unwavering determination. "What do you want me to do?"

"I need you to help me control the refugee camp," Lin Yan said bluntly. "Chen Fuhai and Zhao Mang will be making their final sacrifice tomorrow night. Their targets include the Zhou mother and son, Granny Wang, and me. They also need to capture another refugee. We need to take control of the refugee camp before then, protect those innocent people, and cut off their source of offerings."

Shi Hu nodded without hesitation: "I can do it. There are twenty-three brothers in the refugee camp who are willing to follow me. They are all young and strong. Their relatives were either sacrificed or bullied to death by Chen Fuhai's men. They are all courageous and willing to fight to the death. We have hidden some hoes, carrying poles, and a few sharpened kitchen knives. Although they are simple, they can come in handy if we really have to fight to the death."

"Twenty-three?" Lin Yan felt relieved; this number was more than he had expected. "That's enough. Most of the refugee camp consists of the elderly, women, and children. As long as you can keep things under control, they won't cause trouble." He paused, then added, "After midnight tonight, there will be movement on Canglang Mountain. The demon wolves will be in chaos, and Chen Fuhai and Zhao Mang's attention will be drawn to them. That will be the best time for you to act."

"What's going on?" Shi Hu pressed.

"You don't need to worry about that, just remember the code," Lin Yan said. "After midnight tonight, as soon as you hear the deafening howls of wolves coming from the direction of Canglang Mountain, you immediately take your men into action. First, control Wang Po; she's Chen Fuhai's accomplice and will identify me tomorrow night. We can't let her escape, and we can't let her say anything out of line. Second, protect Zhou Shi and her child; they are the sacrifice targets tomorrow night, and nothing can happen to them. Third, if you have the chance, set some fires at the east end of the town, bang drums and gongs, and shout 'Wolf!' to attract the attention of the Demon Suppression Division's soldiers, but remember, don't fight them head-on. Saving yourselves and your brothers' lives is the most important thing."

Shi Hu listened carefully, memorizing every detail. He nodded, "I've remembered them all. And what about you? Are you really going to the sacrifice tomorrow night? Zhao Mang is in the late stage of Body Tempering, and he has more than twenty soldiers under his command. It's too dangerous for you to go alone."

"I'm not alone." Lin Yan looked at Uncle Zhang and smiled. "Besides, I have a trump card." He didn't say what the trump card was, but the confidence in his smile reassured Shi Hu. It was a composure that came from experiencing life and death and seeing through the darkness, not something that could be faked.

"Alright, I trust you." Shi Hu didn't ask any more questions. "At midnight tonight, my men will be waiting in the dilapidated house at the west end of the refugee camp. As soon as they hear the wolf howl, they will take action."

"Be extremely careful." Lin Yan took out a cloth bag from his pocket and handed it to Shi Hu. "This contains wound medicine and hemostatic powder. Distribute them among the brothers. And this—" He then took out a specially made small bamboo tube with a small hole drilled in it. "This is a signal tube. Pull the rope at the bottom, and it will shoot out a red light that will stay lit in the air for ten breaths. If you encounter any danger that you can't handle, just send the signal, and I'll find a way to support you."

Shi Hu took the cloth bag and signal tube, gripped them tightly in his hands, and nodded solemnly: "Understood."

"There's something else," Lin Yan suddenly remembered something, "There's a mute old man in the refugee camp, surnamed Yang, who often helps people chop firewood. Do you know him?"

"Old Yang?" Shi Hu nodded, his eyes darkening. "I know him. He's a good man. He himself is always hungry, but he often shares his saved cornbread with the children in the refugee camp. A few days ago... a few days ago he went out to find food and never came back."

"He's dead." Lin Yan's voice turned somber. "I saw his body in front of the bone altar in the valley. His heart had been removed; it was used to refine blood crystals."

Shi Hu's body trembled again, the scars on his face seemed to be burning. Old Yang's smiling face appeared before his eyes again—the last time he injured his arm, it was Old Yang who helped him apply herbal medicine, and although he couldn't speak, he always gestured for him to rest more. "Beast..." he gritted his teeth, saying each word slowly and deliberately, his teeth almost breaking.

"So we must win." Lin Yan looked at him, "For your brother, for Old Yang, for all those who have died unjustly in the past three years."

"I will." Shi Hu's voice was hoarse but powerful, and the flame in his eyes burned fiercely.

The three discussed some details, such as how to communicate and how to deal with emergencies, and finalized everything. Half an hour later, Shi Hu, carrying a wood-chopping knife, a cloth bag, and a signal tube, turned and left the blacksmith's shop. His back was straight, and he walked steadily step by step without the slightest hesitation, like a warrior heading to the battlefield.

"That child, what a miserable life." Uncle Zhang sighed, watching his retreating figure. "After his brother went missing, he searched alone in the mountains for three days and three nights, without eating or drinking. He encountered a demon wolf, which bit off his left arm and slashed his face so badly. But with sheer grit, he killed the wolf with a stone and crawled back to town. But Chen Fuhai's men not only didn't care, they called him crazy and sent him to the refugee camp. For the past three years, he's survived on sheer willpower, all for the sake of avenging his brother."

Lin Yan remained silent. He had seen too many people like this, struggling at the bottom of society, trampled underfoot by fate, yet never giving up their resistance. He gripped the small hammer in his hand, the iron bar on the anvil already rammed straight. "He'll be a good helper. With him in the refugee camp, our plan is halfway to success."

"Yes." Uncle Zhang nodded, picked up the hammer again, and said, "Then I'll prepare according to plan tonight. Butcher Li and Widow Liu have both agreed to help. As soon as the wolves howl, we'll set fire to the west end of town and beat the gong to lure Zhao Mang's men there."

Lin Yan glanced at the sky; the setting sun had already dipped below the horizon, painting the sky a vibrant orange-red. Smoke from the town's chimneys rose slowly, mingling with the aroma of food and drifting into the backyard. "It's getting late. I need to go to the granary to find Qingyao. We'll need her help with tonight's operation." He put down the small hammer, patted Uncle Zhang on the shoulder, and said, "Uncle Zhang, take care. See you at the altar tomorrow night."

"Take care of yourself too." Uncle Zhang nodded vigorously. "You must come back alive."

Lin Yan smiled, turned, and walked out of the blacksmith's shop. The afternoon sun was a bit dazzling, so he squinted. The streets were gradually filling up; children were chasing and playing at the alley entrance, women were carrying vegetable baskets home, and wisps of smoke rose from chimneys—a scene of peace and tranquility. But no one knew how much evil and hatred lay hidden beneath this peace.

He took a deep breath; the air was filled with the warmth and reality of everyday life. Perhaps this was what he had to protect. Tonight's wind would disrupt the howls of the wolves on Canglang Mountain; tomorrow night's fire would burn away the sins of Blackstone Town. He tightened his robes and walked resolutely towards the abandoned granary on the east side of the town, his steps firm, without looking back.

Su Qingyao was still waiting for him there. And tonight's operation was about to begin.