The Record of Exterminating Evil from Ashes

Winter of the twenty-seventh year of Jinghe in the Dayong Dynasty.

The north wind swept across the land, and snow fell, sealing off the mountains.

The Cangshan Mountains, stretching for hundreds of miles, have long lost their evergreen hues, now completely covered in boundless white. A cold wind sweeps through the layered forests, across the icy cliffs, swirling up snowflakes that howl and whistle, their sound like the low murmur of a wild ghost. The wind freezes the vegetation stiff, and even ordinary birds and beasts have vanished. Between heaven and earth, only a desolate, pale white remains, pressing down on the stillness of the mountains and rivers, and on the slowing pace of human life.

The world praised the Great Yong Dynasty for its century of peace and prosperity, with a stable court, no wars across the land, bustling markets, and bountiful harvests in the countryside year after year—a golden age unseen in a thousand years. The powerful and wealthy resided in the prosperous capital, while the common people lived peacefully in their rural homes, all immersed in a dream of tranquility and peace, believing that this bright and clear world was free from any gloom or calamity.

Only those living deep within the mountains know that in the corners of this prosperous and splendid world, there is a shadow that never sees the light of day. It lies dormant in the deep mountains and thick fog, in the dark nights of the desolate forests, hidden in the remote countryside where no one cares, never dissipating for thousands of years, waiting for its chance to strike. But it has never disturbed the prosperity of the imperial court, so it has been completely ignored and forgotten by the world.

Deep in the Cangshan Mountains, Qingzhu Village is nestled among these snow-covered peaks.

The village is built along the stream and nestled against the mountain. It has more than a hundred households, and the houses are all made of bamboo and wood, which are used locally. They are scattered in a simple and quiet manner. Outside the village, there are patches of green bamboo that are not afraid of the cold winter. They stand out against the white snow and are the only vitality in this mountain village in winter. Hence, the village is named Green Bamboo Village.

This place is high in the mountains and far away, difficult to reach by carriage or horse, thus isolating itself from the power struggles of the capital, the killings of the martial arts world, and the hustle and bustle of the city. In this chaotic world where evil lurks beneath the surface, it is like a secluded paradise, peaceful and tranquil year after year, with the warmth of everyday life lingering.

At the easternmost edge of the village, beside the stream, stands a simple thatched cottage, surrounded by a bamboo fence and paved with bluestone. It is the ancestral home of the Cen family. Poor and simple, yet clean and tidy, it holds the gentlest warmth of human life in the entire mountain village.

As dawn broke, the morning mist, carrying a biting frost, blanketed the mountains and fields. The light was dim, not yet fully breaking through the darkness. Seventeen-year-old Cen Jin had already risen early.

The boy was slender and upright, his back as straight as a bamboo shoot in the mountains, having shed the immaturity and mischievousness of his peers. Years of climbing cliffs to collect herbs and braving wind and rain had cultivated in him a calm and reserved demeanor. His skin was a healthy light tan, his eyebrows and eyes were gentle and clean, and his pupils were clear and bright. Only in his eyes did he hide a maturity and resilience far beyond his years.

He lost his father at a young age, his parents died early, and he had to shoulder the burden of his crumbling family at a young age. The only family members were his elderly and frail grandparents who were chronically ill, and his youngest sister, Cen Wantang, who was only ten years old and innocent. The eldest brother is like a father to him; these four words are the heaviest yet tenderest shackle in his seventeen years of life.

Most village boys are playful and lazy, spending their days playing at sunrise and resting at sunset, just getting by. Only Cen Jin, year after year, day after day, never stopped, never slacking off in the slightest.

He raised his hand to pull his faded coarse cotton coat tighter around himself. The thin fabric offered little protection against the biting cold of a mountain winter; the chill seeped through the seams, penetrating to his very bones. Yet, his expression remained calm; he had long since grown accustomed to this harshness, and there was not a trace of shivering or complaint on his face.

Pushing open the creaking bamboo door, a biting wind and snow rushed in, swirling fine snowflakes that stung my cheeks slightly. In the courtyard, dozens of bundles of dried herbs were neatly laid out on wooden racks: Achyranthes bidentata was perfectly formed, Saposhnikovia divaricata was perfectly dry, Poria cocos was plump, and Ophiopogon japonicus was clean; they were all sorted and arranged in an orderly fashion, with not a single one damaged or moldy.

These are all the fruits he harvested and processed day and night, braving the mountain winds and cold fog, climbing cliffs and entering deep valleys.

The Cangshan Mountains are rich in medicinal herbs, but also fraught with danger. Deep valleys are shrouded in poisonous miasma, ferocious beasts lurk in the forests, and the cliffs are slippery and steep—one wrong step and you're crushed to pieces. The able-bodied men of the village dare not venture into these perilous places lightly. Only Cen Jin, year after year, has become intimately familiar with the mountains' characteristics throughout the four seasons, knows the locations where medicinal herbs grow, and is proficient in the entire process of identifying poisons, cleaning, drying, and processing them. He has made gathering and selling medicinal herbs the sole means of livelihood for the Cen family.

Elder brother.

A soft, childlike voice drifted gently from inside the house, delicate and sweet, piercing the chilly morning air.

The little girl, wearing a slightly oversized thin cotton-padded jacket, rubbed her sleepy eyes and tiptoed out of the room. Cen Wantang was extremely pretty, with fair skin like snow, gentle and obedient eyebrows, and a soft temperament like spring water in the mountains. She had always been most attached to her older brother.

She was the only warmth and the only hope in Cen Jin's dull and arduous years; she was a gentle little flower that bloomed in impoverished days.

Cen Jin turned around at the sound, and the coldness in his eyes as he looked at the snowy mountains and fields instantly softened, all the weariness from the wind and frost melting away. He raised his hand and gently brushed away the fine snowflakes clinging to his sister's hair with his fingertips, his movements extremely tender.

"Why didn't you sleep a little longer? It's cold and the dew is heavy, it's still early." His voice was deep and gentle, slightly hoarse from the morning, yet warm and comforting.

Cen Wantang looked up at him with her fair face and bright eyes, and obediently shook her head: "I can't sleep, so I wanted to come out and help my brother dry the herbs and sort the medicinal plants."

After saying that, she took small steps to the medicine shelf, and with her slender little hands, carefully tidied up some of the herbs and leaves that had been blown about by the wind. Her movements were childish and clumsy, but she was exceptionally earnest and meticulous.

Cen Jin looked at her quietly, his heart filled with tenderness and peace.

His family lived a simple and frugal life. They ate coarse tea and simple meals, wore plain clothes and lived in a humble dwelling. They rarely ate meat, let alone had extra money to buy new clothes. But the three of them depended on each other for survival, cared for and comforted one another, and lived peacefully year after year without strife or disturbance. This was the most precious and fulfilling scene in a chaotic world.

Throughout Qingzhu Village, everyone respected Cen Jin.

The boy was pure of heart, gentle and kind, and never harbored any selfish or malicious thoughts. Whenever his neighbors were in trouble—whether it was an elderly person struggling to chop firewood, a child lost in the mountains, or a woman or child carrying a heavy load—he would always lend a helping hand without hesitation or laziness. He would often give away common herbs he gathered from the mountains to poor and sick villagers who couldn't afford medicine, without taking a penny, only wishing for the well-being of his neighbors.

  

At the age of seventeen, he was not fond of playing or seeking worldly pleasures. He devoted himself to protecting his ancestors and his younger sister, living a peaceful life, treating others with gentleness, and making the difficult days feel warm and fulfilling.

The snow gradually thickened, and the heavy, low-hanging clouds pressed down on the mountains. The cold wind grew even more biting, swirling with large, fluffy snowflakes as they fell in a downpour. It seemed that before long, the heavy snow would completely block the mountains and cut off all mountain roads.

Cen Jin looked up at the dark sky, secretly making plans in his heart.

As the year draws to a close, medicine prices in the capital and surrounding counties have skyrocketed in recent days, especially for medicinal herbs used to ward off the cold, warm the body, and strengthen the body in winter, which are now priced several times higher, making it the most expensive time of year. The family's food reserves are dwindling, and the elderly are frail and susceptible to the cold in winter, requiring warming and nourishing herbs to maintain their health. Wan Tang's cotton-padded coat is already old and thin, offering little protection against the harsh winter cold, and new clothes are urgently needed.

If they miss these few days of high prices, the heavy snow will completely block the mountain roads, leaving them without money to buy New Year's goods. The three of them will have to endure a hard life during the New Year, and may even suffer from cold and hunger.

He crouched down, looking directly at the young girl before him, his tone earnest yet gentle: "Wantang, although the snow is heavy today, your brother must go into the city tonight to sell medicine and earn some money. When I return, I'll make you a new cotton-padded coat and buy you your favorite osmanthus sweet cakes, and we'll have a proper New Year together."

Upon hearing this, Cen Wantang's eyes brightened instantly, but then she gently furrowed her brows, her small hands tightly gripping her brother's sleeve, her eyes filled with worry: "The wind and snow are so heavy, the mountain road is so slippery, will brother be cold? Will he be in danger?"

Children's thoughts are pure and straightforward; they don't crave new clothes or sweet cakes, but only worry about their elder brothers' safety.

Cen Jin felt a warmth in his heart, raised his hand to gently stroke her soft hair, and reassured her in a gentle voice, "It's alright, your brother has been walking these mountain paths for years and knows them very well. Nothing will happen. We'll definitely be home safely before dark."

"Then I'll stay home obediently, keep Grandpa company, lock the doors and windows, and not run around." Cen Wantang nodded emphatically, showing exceptional understanding.

After comforting his younger sister, Cen Jin didn't linger and quickly got to work.

He meticulously sorted out the finest medicinal herbs, which he had carefully prepared over the past few days, removing any broken branches, leaves, mold, or impurities, and neatly bundled them into categories. Each bundle of herbs was arranged carefully and placed into a sturdy bamboo basket. He also made sure to line the bottom and sides of the basket with clean coarse cloth to prevent the herbs from getting wet and freezing, which could damage their medicinal properties.

After a flurry of activity, a bamboo basket full of the finest medicinal herbs was ready, its weight pressing heavily on the shoulders—the hope for the whole family's New Year celebrations.

He carefully instructed his sister to stay at home and not go out, and bowed to tell the elders in the house to rest and recuperate. After confirming that the doors and windows were locked and the house was safe, he picked up his bamboo basket, tightened the belt of his cotton coat, and resolutely stepped into the snowstorm.

The wind and snow were biting, and the cold was penetrating to the bone.

The boy's figure gradually disappeared at the end of the vast mountain path, his steps steady as he headed towards Yunxi Town at the foot of the mountain.

At that time, he was filled with warm expectations and simple wishes for family reunion and a peaceful New Year. He thought this was just an ordinary trip to the city to sell medicine, just another ordinary journey year after year.

He was completely unaware that this devastating winter snowstorm sweeping across Cangshan Mountain would ultimately shatter all his peace and tenderness.

This seemingly ordinary farewell marked the beginning of an eternal separation between the living and the dead.

On this day, the wind and snow raged, and the road ahead seemed ordinary and peaceful, but the journey home was a bloody hell.

A thousand-year-old ominous shadow is quietly descending upon this tranquil Green Bamboo Village, waiting for the night's fiercest snowstorm to overturn everything and shatter all the youth's hopes and ordinary life.