Chapter Fifty-One: Blood Sacrifice

Lin Lei concocted the persona of a so-called Master Qianyuan, partly as a preparation for later joining the Righteous Harmony Society.

The old man was first startled when he saw Lin Lei in the sky, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. Then, realizing the situation, he immediately followed the surrounding soldiers, kneeling on the ground and loudly proclaiming, “This humble one, Luo Rongguang, Imperial Governor of Kashgar in the Xinjiang region of the Great Qing Empire, greets the Celestial Immortal!”

Although feudal superstition still prevailed in this era, the upper echelons of power were not fools. They chose to believe in—and even encouraged the people to believe in—whatever benefited them. If something worked against their interests, even if it was truly the descent of God, they would find a way to malign it as a devil from hell.

After all, China was home to a multitude of deities, and with the rivalry between Buddhism and Daoism, if one god failed to respond, there was always another to turn to.

But clearly, Lin Lei’s arrival was precisely the tonic Luo Rongguang desperately needed. After a moment’s thought, he immediately prostrated himself.

Luo Rongguang, now sixty-seven, had guarded the Dagu Fort for twenty-four years. The court had originally promoted him to Governor of Kashgar in Xinjiang—a respectable position for retirement. But with the Eight-Nation Alliance invading China, Luo Rongguang understood the vital importance of Dagu Fort, and since he knew the place inside out, he petitioned the court to postpone his transfer.

In history, his fate was to live and die with Dagu Fort, earning him a reputation as a renowned patriotic general.

“Now, with the crisis at Dagu, I beseech the Celestial Immortal to lend aid. Luo and the people of Tianjin would be eternally grateful, and we would build you a temple and burn incense in your honor every day!” Having bowed, Luo naturally sought a benefit in return.

“The state has its laws, the immortals their rules. China has its immortals, and the Westerners their gods. If I act rashly, would it not break the rules?” Lin Lei continued to bluff.

He truly could not act rashly—not because of any immortal law, but because of the troublesome system rules imposed upon him.

“What must I do for the Celestial Immortal to intervene?” Luo Rongguang was shrewd.

A true veteran of the bureaucracy, while the others were still lost in confusion, he immediately caught the key word: “rashly.” To have Lin Lei take action, his conditions must be met.

“It’s quite simple. There are two ways. The first: you must willingly perform a blood sacrifice, trading your lives for those of the Westerners, one for one. However, once the ritual is performed, those sacrificed will have their souls scattered. And it will require at least ten thousand people sacrificing themselves simultaneously to mask the aura of my spellcasting.” Lin Lei first laid out an almost impossible condition.

The so-called blood sacrifice was, in reality, a transaction with the system—a voluntary recycling.

Because the recycling was voluntary and performed while alive, the original energy suffered no loss, so the contribution points gained from recycling living beings were several times higher than from killing and recycling.

Lin Lei’s role was essentially mercenary; by striking this “blood sacrifice” deal with the fort’s defenders, he could reasonably join the battle. The Eight-Nation Alliance would then be considered hostile, and he could still collect their corpses after defeating them.

But the contract was based on equality—you couldn’t expect to sacrifice one person and demand the annihilation of all enemies. Such a deal would never stand.

It would be a one-sided transaction, as if devouring both parties, but Lin Lei had to propose it.

He was now an immortal; if he acted, it had to be with grandeur.

If only one or two people volunteered, was he really supposed to charge across the battlefield to assassinate a couple of enemy soldiers? That would hardly demonstrate his power.

Thus, Lin Lei stipulated that at least ten thousand able-bodied men must offer themselves. The contribution points thus gained would amount to seven or eight hundred. With that, a few dilapidated ships on the sea would be nothing—he could exchange for dozens of anti-ship missiles and teach them a lesson in no time.

“Blood sacrifice? A life for a life?” Luo Rongguang frowned deeply.

To be honest, he was tempted. When had the Qing army ever fought the Westerners to a one-to-one casualty ratio?

But sacrificing ten thousand people at once was daunting. The entire Dagu Fort garrison numbered only around three thousand, and of those, perhaps less than a fifth would truly volunteer. That meant counting civilians in the city as well, just to meet Lin Lei’s demand.

“The second method is relatively simple. To avoid violating the laws of the immortals, I must shed my immortal form and become mortal again, joining your ranks as a commoner. As a mortal, my supernatural abilities will be but a fraction of what they once were. If you all do your utmost to assist me, and I employ my immortal treasures, merely holding the enemy at bay should not be difficult.” Fearing that Luo Rongguang might resort to drastic measures, Lin Lei hurriedly presented the second option, which was his true goal.

To assimilate as a Han, quietly earning contribution points over time.

This method was also more to Luo Rongguang’s liking. His duty was to prevent the enemy from landing—he sought not glory, only to avoid blame. Truly sacrificing ten thousand lives and fighting to the death with the enemy—Luo Rongguang might dare, but his soldiers likely would not.

More importantly, Luo Rongguang especially hoped that Lin Lei would “become mortal.” Immortals were remote and hard to control, especially one who would casually demand the blood sacrifice of ten thousand. A single misstep, and he might overturn the very foundations of the Qing.

But such thoughts could not be revealed. He could only kowtow again and reply, “We shall follow the Celestial Immortal’s decision.”

Indeed, the older the wiser. Lin Lei saw through his thoughts but said nothing—after all, the second plan was mutually beneficial.

“So be it. My descent into the mortal realm was always for the salvation of the people. What fear have I of becoming mortal once more?” With a flourish, Lin Lei swiftly descended from the sky, seized Luo Rongguang by the belt, lifted him up, and soared back into the air, declaring loudly, “There’s no time to lose! Come with me into the city to find a clan for the transformation ritual!”

He said this loudly for the benefit of the soldiers below. Luo Rongguang’s personal guards were all armed with muskets—if any misfired, it would be awkward indeed.

In his sixty-seven years, Luo Rongguang had never flown in the sky before. After nearly half a minute, his mind was still reeling.

“Do you recall what I just said?” Lin Lei asked.

“Ah—pardon me, Immortal—I…” Luo Rongguang stammered, thoroughly embarrassed, not having caught a word of what Lin Lei had said.

“I asked you to help me find a clan, preferably the Lin clan, since that is my surname. Once I join their family register, the transformation ritual will be complete,” Lin Lei explained again.

“Why is it so simple?” Luo Rongguang asked curiously.

“Because I no longer belong to this world. If I wish to intervene in its affairs, I must have a legitimate identity,” Lin Lei replied—the excuse he had prepared all along.

And it was the truth: facing an old hand like Luo Rongguang, even a lie needed to be seventy percent false, thirty percent true.

The governor’s yamen was not far from Dagu Fort. With Luo Rongguang leading the way, they entered the city in less than five minutes.