Old Mr. Bolton fumbled for a bit, turning the already dim oil lamp even lower. Only then did he dare to speak: “Of course I’ve seen that brute. Not only is he more than twice my height, with immense strength, but he also possesses countless abilities. From ten paces away, he can kill a yellow ox with a single palm—truly... like a demon or a god!”

At this point, Old Mr. Bolton shuddered. He kept shaking his head and fell silent.

William Carter, after hearing Old Mr. Bolton’s account, immediately began to calculate in his mind. This Old Mr. Bolton had never seen a true martial arts master before, yet described someone who could kill a plowing ox from ten paces away with a single strike. Clearly, this so-called general, claiming to be the Hegemon-King of Western Chu, was the real deal. Not only was his internal strength formidable, but his martial arts had also reached the pinnacle. Although William Carter had practiced some martial arts from the Wuji Palace, he knew his own skills were far from comparable to this general’s. The ability to shout and make birds fall from the sky might seem unbelievable to ordinary people, but to martial arts experts, it was not impossible. Many external hard skills included methods for expelling energy with force; William Carter had once heard his master say he personally witnessed a wandering monk roar so loudly that a fierce tiger blocking the road was knocked unconscious.

Such things, in fact, had little to do with sinister or secret arts.

Old Mr. Bolton was clearly very hospitable, and as William Carter was about to ask more questions, Old Mr. Bolton had already gone to the kitchen to fetch some coarse rice, earnestly inviting William Carter to have a simple meal. William Carter was indeed hungry, and also wanted to hear more from Old Mr. Bolton about the village, so he did not refuse. He thought to himself, “I’ll leave some money for this old man later, to make up for the tea, meal, and a night’s lodging.”

As the two chatted idly, Old Mr. Bolton seemed to grow fond of William Carter, and continued to speak of strange happenings in the village.

After listening for a while, William Carter was slightly taken aback, catching a flaw in the story, but could hardly believe it. He asked Old Mr. Bolton, “Since those soldiers can’t be found during the day, how did you see that general kill the yellow ox?”

Old Mr. Bolton blushed slightly and said, “I didn’t actually see it with my own eyes. It was Old Wang next door—he lost his ox in the middle of the night, and when he got up to look for it, he happened upon a battle between two armies. His yellow ox wandered into the battlefield, and he saw with his own eyes that general strike from a distance. The grass and trees around flew up, and Old Wang’s ox, weighing over a thousand jin, was blown back four or five steps as if it were made of straw, and fell dead.”

Only then did William Carter recall the possibility he had just considered. He asked coldly, “When you mentioned birds falling from the sky, was it that the next day, birds were found dead all around, with no wounds on their bodies? And if someone took them home to eat, they’d get sick?”

Old Mr. Bolton was startled by this. He replied in astonishment, “That’s exactly right. Even Old Wang’s yellow ox—when they went to fetch it the next day, they found it untouched, so they brought it back to eat. Unexpectedly, the whole family fell ill, and they still haven’t fully recovered.”

To convince William Carter, Old Mr. Bolton hurriedly added, “That general’s roar really shook the heavens. If those birds weren’t killed by the shock, they’d at least have some wounds. In less than half an hour, little Daoist, you’ll hear it for yourself!”

After hearing Old Mr. Bolton’s words, William Carter fell silent, pondering the matter twice over, then said to Old Mr. Bolton, “Old sir, I’d like to borrow your home to perform a little ritual, if that’s alright?”

Only then did Old Mr. Bolton notice that William Carter carried no luggage, only a sheathed longsword. After a slight hesitation, Old Mr. Bolton said, “Little Daoist, I don’t know what kind of ritual you want to perform, but if it’s nothing serious, it can wait until daylight tomorrow.”

William Carter smiled and said to Old Mr. Bolton, “I only wish to pray for your fortune and ward off evil, to protect your home. It’s just a way to thank you for your hospitality, nothing like a real ritual, and it won’t cause any commotion—just drawing a couple of talismans for you.”

Only then did Old Mr. Bolton breathe a sigh of relief. Hosting a stranger in the middle of the night already made the old man anxious; he certainly didn’t want any big commotion at midnight, for fear of inviting trouble. The nearby armies fought every night, and any travelers or animals passing through the battlefield at night would be caught up in it, dying without a breath left. But they never disturbed this village. Otherwise, Old Mr. Bolton would have fled with his sons long ago, instead of staying here.

Since it wouldn’t attract any attention, and drawing a couple of talismans could only help, Old Mr. Bolton gladly agreed.

Seeing Old Mr. Bolton agree, William Carter took off his pack, pulled out a small writing brush, mixed cinnabar, and wrote seven “World-Purifying, Heart-Calming” talismans on yellow paper. With a flick of his hand, the seven talismans floated around William Carter, not falling to the ground.

Old Mr. Bolton hadn’t really believed this little Daoist had any real ability, thinking it was just for peace of mind and letting William Carter do as he pleased. But unexpectedly, William Carter truly had such skills—his magic seemed extraordinary. These talismans looked quite mysterious.

The “World-Purifying, Heart-Calming” talismans hovered in the air for a moment, then all pointed northwest, and their pale yellow color gradually changed. Starting from the northwest, they slowly turned a dark, dusky blue-black. William Carter’s expression changed at once, and he asked Old Mr. Bolton, “Who in this village has gone to watch the battles, and how did they feel afterward?”

Old Mr. Bolton was slightly taken aback and said, “Almost everyone in the village has gone to watch. Some said they felt a bit dizzy afterward, but when I went myself, I didn’t feel anything.”