Duck Emperor Chronicles – Chapter 0 Prologue 3

DEMONIC TRANSLATIONS

[Author – Blurry]

[Proofreader – Samael]

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Prologue 3: Counterattack; is this the end of the Mighty Duck Ya Jiao?

“HAHAHAHAHA! Ya Jiao, your arrogance is limitless. I am not the Aotian of yesteryear, so if you treat me so lightly, you are sure to suffer. Moreover, I don’t believe the fight with Heavenly Lord Xiang Fei left you with no lingering injuries. . .” 

Ya Jiao’s slit eyes narrowed further. No wonder. The Cult Leader of the Yin Poison Sect had ambushed him just a day prior, with neither reason nor explanation. A gruesome exchange that resulted in that b*****d Xiang Fei losing both arms and running away half dead with his tail tucked between his legs.

A failed assassination attempt through and through.

However, that did not mean no harm had befallen himself either.

Ya Jiao subconsciously shifted his stance, leaning back his left arm ever so slightly. A faint cold aura congealed there. A devilish assassin’s art. Capturing this scene with his all-seeing eyes, Long Aotian could not help but smirk, his confidence raising his spirits high. A weakened Ya Jiao. . .

He longed to take a large bite out of the arrogant duck. It was a perfect opportunity.

“My fellow comrades, I’m sure you won’t mind if I act first, right? The duck and I share between us many enmity and grudges that cannot be dispelled unless blood is drawn! My Barbarian Tribe will compensate you all well, and any treasures found will be shared accordingly.”

Not one figure responded. Action by inaction. The group agreed unanimously.

The Barbarian God scoffed inwardly. These geezers were bad news, for sure. They cared not about honouring grudges or enmity; they just wanted a sacrificial pawn, someone to scout out the target. 

‘What wicked old coots. No matter.’

So what if Long Aotian became a sacrificial pawn? He’d finish this in one go. As for the treasures. . . the sword was all he wanted. He would throw it at that b***h, Bai Yunshuang’s feet, and watch in glee as she wept over it. An evil grin crept over the barbarian’s face.

Ya Jiao frowned.

“If you want to fight, let’s fight. No need to dawdle. I won’t even need any techniques to kill you.”

The Duck Lord at last took a fighting stance. Sword forward, feet firm. His plain and unadorned form contained profound laws so complex it warped the spatial-temporal fabric, as a thousand-eyed duck rose from revolving Qi lines. A towering Dharma body, looking down upon the Heavens. 

Unparalleled confidence.

Ya Jiao glared at Long Aotian provocatively. He looked itchy for a fight. 

However, the insightful leaders and ancestors present all noticed his unnatural condition. A subtle lilt of a step. A hidden hitch of a breath. Those who had previously fought the Heavenly Duck Lord noted how much more transparent his Dharma body seemed.

Xiang Fei’s demise . . . was not in vain! 

The God-Slaying Yin Fruit! How venomous a technique. Anyone struck with it is planted with a bud of the Yin attribute, which slowly spreads cold Qi around his or her body. The icy energy destroys one’s foundation and effectively cripples them over time.

The end of one afflicted by this insidious art is truly gruesome.

Of course, powerful experts like Ya Jiao could counteract the Yin bud’s effect, but only if they were in closed-door cultivation and given enough time to forcefully purge it from their system.

Right now. . . he had neither of those luxuries, so he could only suffer as his foes besieged him.

This was why Xiang Fei’s infamy rivaled that of even the Mad Duck’s.

A single unguarded blow from him spelt disaster for those with any enemies! Moreover, was it possible for any person living in the cruel and merciless Jiang Hu to have never offended anyone? Not a chance!

Long Aotian trusted in exactly this vile reputation!

“If that is the case. . . then I shan’t be courteous, Brother Duck.”

Weng!

A supreme treasure axe materialized from the empty void. The Barbarian Tribe Leader’s lifelong Dao Weapon. Its blade glinted with a peerless edge, as a nauseating bloodthirst permeated the air with a foul and dizzying stench.

The Boar-Hunting Axe.

Its name sounded innocuous enough, until you realize this is the very weapon that cut down the Ten Thousand Ancient Beast Races to near extinction! An innumerable number of living beings had fallen prey to the red-stained cleaver. Human or beast, it simply slashed everything in its path, not that the distinction mattered one bit to its iron-blooded master either way.

Numerous beastmen around the Heavenly Realm shuddered in tandem. It was an instinctual fear, a horror born at a fundamental level. If you traced back their lineages, more likely than not you would find an ancestor or forefather who had been mercilessly slaughtered by this exact weapon, hence the irrational fear no beastman could combat.

Long Aotian had placed an entire faction beneath his boot using only one axe.

Now, the Boar-Hunting Axe chopped towards Ya Jiao, a beastman in his own right. The air split as the space around them rumbled loudly. A heaven-shaking technique slammed down!

[Eight-Pointed Brutal Star!]  

Simultaneous attacks from eight points. The Barbarian God split into eight afterimages, each acting and moving of their own volition, as if they possessed separate minds. Eight clones, eight cardinal directions. Ya Jiao suddenly found himself surrounded on all sides, fighting a heated battle!

Even so, the Duck Lord remained unmoved. He swung his white sword leisurely. Every move, block, and counter rebuffed a clone and sent it tumbling, only for the next one to take its place. A nonstop cycle circulated like Yin and Yang, cause and effect, life and death.

Natural. So natural. Samsara revolved as eternity unravelled before them. The two enemies became part of a grand momentum, part of Heaven and Earth itself. A shifted step moved mountainous land. A lifted hand summoned winds and cloud. 

A sustained injury. . . sliced a terrifying rift into space-time.

Ya Jiao staggered back abruptly, spurting blood from his wounded shoulder. 

The Heavenly Duck Lord bleeds!

The tens of thousands of loose cultivators and sect disciples from all over Heavenly Realm witnessed the exchange and gasped aloud. Ever since his crowning, the Mad Duck had bled not a single drop of blood to any opponent he faced. An unprecedented feat was now making history! That said, those of a higher calibre long foresaw this occurrence before the fight even started.

Nevertheless, the hooded figures could not help but gulp in anticipation.

Ya Jiao? Death? These words repelled one another like the same ends of a magnet. How powerful of a force was required to push these incompatible forces together? No one was able to peel their eyes away from the dance-like duel to the death.

“Pathetic.” Long Aotian sneered, “Ya Jiao. Be glad that your death is near. Who knows, if you beg me for forgiveness, maybe I will send that w***e Bai Yunshuang to accompany you on the Yellow Springs Road. Haha!” 

The words were custom-made to pierce the Duck Lord’s pride, yet he spoke not a word in response. 

A silence as resounding as the loudest noise.

‘Humph. So be it.’

“I’LL SEND YOU ON YOUR WAY!”

Long Aotian slashed once more towards Ya Jiao’s injured hand, as he had done since the beginning of their bout. A shameless tactic. Nevertheless, all is fair in war. Even biting, scratching, eye gouging, and so much more. Honour? To hell with that. As long as one wins, anything counts.

His current upper hand was completely reliant on Ya Jiao’s debilitated condition, swinging towards his weak points and forcing him into defence. Exhausting his strength further in a prolonged battle. The barbarian waited for the moment the bud blossomed. . . until a true Yin Fruit bloomed.

The axe chopped down closer and closer. Ya Jiao raised his wavering sword to counter.

Cold Qi began running rampant. This was the decisive moment.

Long Aotian slashed with all his might. Once the white sword broke, his victory would be assured.

The weapons meet!

. . . . . .

‘Wait. You—!’

Ya Jiao’s blade swerved. Its trajectory changed. A curving that left his wounded shoulder unguarded and helpless as the Boar-Hunting Axe tore his flesh and crunched his bone. Past the clavicle, through the socket. It severed his arm in an instant! 

Splash. The precious blood of the Duck Lord scattered finely in the air.

The enemy was gravely hurt; yet, Long Aotian now instead felt intense fear. What was this situation? Was Ya Jiao giving up? Had he fallen prey to the Yin Fruit? No! The Barbarian knew too well what kind of man the Duck Lord was, and so he desperately retracted his axe and struck again—

“A-ah? Why am I. . . suddenly looking up at the sky. . .”

Long Aotian’s vision tumbled as he saw an illusory, dream-like scene. The blue sky. The brown earth. The open mouths of horrified spectators. The stiffened visages of those old coots, and his own body, wielding his crimson axe. It stood still while blood poured ceaselessly from the stump of its neck. 

Heavenly Duck Lord Ya Jiao, covered in red and missing an arm, locked gazes with him and uttered.

“Fool. You see the riches but forget the danger. So what if you take my arm? I’ll simply take your head as recompense. In the end, I used not a single technique. Your loss, you b*****d.”

The Barbarian God’s severed head opened its bloodied mouth to refute or curse, but the light left its eyes at that moment, and he could only succumb to his wretched fate, falling onto the soil beneath.

Year 22, Yuan Dynasty: Long Aotian died unwillingly with lingering regrets.

A scholarly, white-robed man. A brutal beast covered in the blood of its enemies and itself. Ya Jiao lifted his head towards the heavens, basking in the afterglow of the death-match. He laughed, in a sudden and self-deprecating manner, shocking the masses. It began to rain. The Heavens cried.

“Is this really to be my memorial day?”

The Mad Duck roared! An abrupt, guttural scream of effort! Ya Jiao lit himself ablaze, using up even vital Innate Qi. Every drop of life force within his being! The Dharma body at last manifested in full, becoming as real as the man himself is. The Immortal Duck of a thousand eyes screeched furiously against the world, as the hum of sword light spread across the entire Heavenly Realm.

A peerless technique burst forth. The flow of Time halted, as Space made way. Causality reversed, as Samsara stopped its infinite revolution. The Nine Firmaments trembled. Ya Jiao’s one and only sword art used tonight slashed the void, and split it right down the middle.    

If one considered the earlier fight to be in line and being one with nature, then this strike would be the antithesis to nature as a whole, its discordancy and chaos a near inverse of its predecessor’s. 

The only move that may reach those Nature’s Favourites. 

[Duck Sword, Tenth Form: One Feather to Slash the Heavens]

Ya Jiao roared aloud. His blade cut through reality itself!

Yet even that. . . was not enough.

Boom!

A simple palm, bigger than Mount Tai, shattered the attack and slammed him straight into the dirt. Five fingers put the entire region into shadow. The spectators felt pressured as if a palm of Buddha himself had descended, though that was not far from the truth at all. 

Pure white and spewing endless mantras, a lotus carriage descended to the realm. The monk seated upon it wore an embroidered kasaya and carried a water pitcher. Plain clothing and plain features that befit a man without any worldly desires. 

Heaven and Earth held no sway over those who pursued the path of Buddhism, which takes nothing from nature, instead giving their lives back to the soil. 

The reverend monks who move along the current instead of against.

Whispers flew about as the loose cultivators gossiped; while those coming from sects both large and small kept their tongues shut, trembling in apprehension. Regardless, the spectators from all orientations flinched upon seeing the gigantic palm imprint left behind as dust cleared.

Such force! As if a natural disaster had occurred here, it wiped away countless mountains and rivers with ease. Yet surprisingly, the damage did not feel like a stain, a taint on the realm. Why does no one ask a tornado or a typhoon the reason it causes destruction? It was the same logic. 

The supreme prestige of the Buddhist Sect, its glory upheld by the monk who stood now above the clouds, watching the revolving world beneath. A man unfettered by conventional rules and laws. A mighty guardian of Buddhism and its ancient beliefs.

Empty. Void. Buddha. 

“Amitabha. Benefactor, your sins are great. Please allow this old monk to cleanse them and send you off to the Eastern Pure Lands for a better life. . .”

The kindly looking monk spoke clearly and gently towards the crater center, though no signs of life had even shown themselves yet. A monster cloaked in human flesh. Ya Jiao’s fist burst through the rubble, finally revealing his current sorry state.

Broken legs. Ripped Dantian. His only arm gushing blood. Numerous fatal wounds wrapped him head to toe, no patch of skin left unharmed. Heavenly Duck Lord Ya Jiao was within an inch of death. Even his cultivation regressed as the Yin Fruit continued sapping his strength.

Nevertheless, his poisonous mouth stopped not.

“What a roundabout way of saying you want to kill me, Void geezer.”

Empty Void Buddha smiled benevolently.

“Benefactor. Those of Buddhism cut off human pleasures to seek enlightenment, yet you lay with the Head Nun of our sect. It is a grave misdeed. A mortal sin.”

Ya Jiao smiled back, lifting himself from the wreckage.

“It is my nature. Isn’t it in your Buddhist teachings to be true to oneself?”

A moment of silence. Void Buddha mused on the words.

“Then shall I take a rule from your Jiang Hu as well? The one with a bigger fist, is king.”

The Duck Lord looked amused, chuckling, before he bent down and retrieved a circular object. It was a glowing sphere layered ornately with endless repeating patterns. The runic symbols etched onto it morphed and evolved, changing like the times, yet remaining as steady as the Heavenly Dao.

Carved there were two simple words.

[Ancient Samsara]

“I will not die without a massacre.”

Ya Jiao grinned without a trace of joy. His energy flowed backwards. The meridians all over his body shattered instantly, destroying all his Qi channels, entering immediate Qi Deviation. Bones crushed to powder as arteries ruptured. The Duck Lord’s eyes burst with black blood! 

The next stage of Qi Deviation. Demonic Possession!

‘When whites of eyes turn black and the iris becomes crimson red, the demon inside will emerge and there is no more going back.’

It was a popular phrase in the Jiang Hu. However, this was the first time in history that any supreme existence had ever entered it fully! Ya Jiao’s energy reached nearly double its original maximum. An exceptional pressure congealed and exploded outwards, heralding an even greater ordeal.

Empty Void Buddha clasped his hands in prayer at once. Immortal sutras spewed out as an infinite Buddhist sea took hold over the space. A massive palm of Buddha covered the land and sky. It kept the shockwaves from reaching out towards the innocent spectators nearby.

A formless mudra manifested upon the bodies of those hapless cultivators.

Following that, he switched his attention back to the rising Devil.

“Benefactor. Why go so far? The innocent and evil, you think to kill them all in one fell swoop?”

Ya Jiao grimaced in excruciating pain. 

“A benevolent Buddha like you would let innocents die? What a load of bull. But the rest. . . those who come here in the name of righteousness yet aim to steal and plunder. I’m sure you would not waste your breath protecting those who should not be protected.”

Indeed. A lotus mudra did not form on those within the barrier. The hooded figures all realized their vulnerability, and began to panic. Many yelled and ran, using their fastest movement techniques in a desperate bid to escape. 

The eye of the storm, and the one closest to it, stared at each other. Time paused. A single moment stretched to infinity. Rain droplets froze in the still air, accentuating the Buddha’s sad expression, as he clasped his hands again in prayer.

“Do you have any remaining regrets, benefactor?”

Ya Jiao kept bleeding. Even as he slowly exploded, his wounds cried tears he could not cry himself. A second passed as he pondered the monk’s words. Regrets? Living in this cruel and brutal world, was there any room for regret? 

However. . . though he thought that, a vision suddenly passed within his mind. A location. A home. The emotions of people. Those he loved. Those he had loved. Those who had passed away. Those who awaited his return. 

And those who loved him still.

The Duck Lord’s lips pulled into a bittersweet smile, as rain trickled slowly down his face. 

‘They would be fine, even if the world fell down.’ 

Ya Jiao beamed his usual bright grin as he kept bleeding.

‘They would be fine even without me.’

“Humph! My regret. . . is that I’ll never know whether or not this kills you!” Ya Jiao laughed, a true demon, cackling to the end. A maniac in a scholarly guise. The boiling energy reaches its peak!

The monk merely smiled and nodded.

“I accept your challenge. May the Merciful Buddha grant your desire.”

The Heavenly Duck Lord screamed in anguish, while Empty Void Buddha pushed forth a heavy palm.

There was a sudden flash of light as if the world had ended. And then, the silence was all that remained.