Chapter Thirty-Three: The Earth God

In the depth of night, darkness reigned. Overhead, a somber cloud quietly veiled the moon. The Zhaos’ estate, after a day of turmoil and noise, had returned to tranquility; only a handful of rooms still glimmered with light.

In the rear garden, the peach grove was a scene of devastation. Branches once lush and verdant had been severed at the base and lay scattered, felled in every direction, with only a few trees spared. By tomorrow, even those survivors would not escape their fate.

The pit left behind by the old tree demon’s flight had been entirely filled in. Deep within the manor, the distant barking of guard dogs echoed faintly.

Suddenly, a pale, spectral shape appeared in the peach orchard, gliding soundlessly over the collapsed walls. In a blink, it soared up the nearby hill.

Behind the Zhaos’ estate, the hill was merely a dozen yards tall, its slopes covered with tangled grass and vines, sparsely dotted with trees.

At that very moment, clouds parted and the moon emerged, casting its cold, clear light upon the earth—and upon a portly Daoist standing atop the hill. This rotund Daoist’s robe was in disarray, his chest and belly exposed, and he held a horsetail whisk in his hand.

Facing the graceful white shadow that had just darted out of the peach grove, he smiled faintly and said, “The night is long and sleepless. I thought I was the only one awake, but it seems Miss Taoyao, you too have found no rest!”

The white shadow recoiled in shock. In terror, its face twisted into a hideous visage, and it suddenly raised its ten clawed fingers.

In the next instant, a yellow talisman shot through the air and landed precisely upon the specter’s forehead. Wisps of gray smoke sizzled forth.

The white shadow opened its mouth in a silent scream, as if begging desperately, its limbs flailing, body convulsing.

Next, a second and third talisman flew in, adhering tightly to its chest and lower abdomen.

With a rush, both talismans erupted in searing flames, engulfing the spectral figure in an instant.

A shrill, wretched cry echoed in all directions.

Moments later, the graceful white shadow was reduced to ashes, scattered by the wind.

The Daoist waved his whisk and laughed coldly.

The ghost he had just exorcised was named Taoyao.

Taoyao belonged to the ranks of spirits, akin to the vengeful ghosts who aid demons. They attached themselves to tree demons, serving as their minions.

The old tree demon lurking in the peach grove behind the Zhaos’ estate was usually immobile, and so it used Taoyao to beguile the villagers, luring them to its lair to be devoured.

Earlier, the Daoist had tracked down the tree demon’s true form, but had not found Taoyao. Thus, he returned tonight for a second sweep—and, as expected, caught this elusive spirit.

In doing so, he had purged the estate of a hidden threat, fully earning the generous reward from Master Zhao.

For the Daoist, dispatching Taoyao meant little; his eyes turned toward the distant, undulating mountains.

Beneath the night’s veil, the range resembled a slumbering black dragon, its claws and fangs buried deep and unfathomable.

A glimmer flashed in the Daoist’s gaze.

A fresh breeze swept over the hill, and his figure vanished without a trace.

Miles away, at Ten-Mile Slope near Little Jing Mountain.

Sharp “crack” sounds rang out, having continued for some time.

[Experience +1]

Having slain the last little grass demon within sight, Fang Xiao wrapped his weapon belt around his forearm.

Tonight, he had returned to Ten-Mile Slope, harvesting a wealth of precious experience.

The Daoist’s recommendation of this place proved to be a true blessing; each night, numerous grass demons would “spawn.”

Though each offered only a single point of experience, their numbers made up for it.

Fang Xiao, satisfied, pressed his hand to the booklet at his chest.

[Red Sun Manual]

[No confusion by myriad weapons, impervious to myriad techniques, immune to myriad evils]

[Dragon-Tiger Posture (Mastery): 0/80]

[Demon-Subduing Fist (Expert): 0/40]

[Experience: 196]

[…]

His experience had accumulated to nearly two hundred points.

In fact, he already had enough to advance the Dragon-Tiger Posture to a higher level, but he suppressed the impulse to upgrade.

During his practice, Fang Xiao had developed a subtle intuition: advancing too quickly was not always wise. The optimal path was to fully adapt to each breakthrough before pushing onward.

He trusted this intuition.

Now, he sensed he was ready.

Of course, Fang Xiao would never attempt an upgrade in these wilds.

Just as he was about to return to the Daoist temple, an evil wind stirred the grass ahead. Dust whirled upward.

Moments later, the whirlwind faded, and a hunched, diminutive figure appeared.

By moonlight, Fang Xiao scrutinized the newcomer.

It was an elderly man in dark yellow homespun, hair and beard white, face deeply wrinkled, leaning on a cane made of vinewood.

He was stooped and bent, barely four feet tall, frail and delicate.

“Cough, cough!”

The old man in homespun coughed twice, then clasped his hands in greeting. “This humble old one greets your honored self.”

His voice was hoarse, and as he spoke, his two wispy mustaches curled upward, making his mouth appear pointed.

Fang Xiao hesitated, returning the salute. “May I ask, sir, what brings you here?”

Though Fang Xiao knew nothing of the old man’s origins, his bizarre appearance in these wild hills set him on alert.

A faint wariness stirred in Fang Xiao’s heart.

“This old one is the earth god of these parts. For days I have watched your honored self slaughter grass demons, and my heart is troubled.”

The old man spoke gently, “You are young and destined for greatness, yet these little grass demons have done you no harm. As the saying goes, heaven cherishes life…”

He spoke at length, his voice shifting from raspy to shrill, like soft yet piercing needles boring into Fang Xiao’s ears.

Moreover, the old man stared fixedly at Fang Xiao, a pale yellow gleam flickering in his narrow eyes, radiating a strange, unsettling aura.

At that moment, Fang Xiao felt impatient.

The old man’s endless rambling was in one ear and out the other—nothing but noise.

All that talk about heaven’s virtue, and urging the young to show mercy… utterly baffling!

Earth god?

Fang Xiao did not believe a word of the old man’s claim. The fellow seemed anything but benevolent.

His vigilance peaked, right hand gripping the weapon belt.

Seeing his lengthy speech had no effect on Fang Xiao, the old man grew both incredulous and irritable.

A sudden murderous gleam flashed in his eyes.

He flipped his left hand and produced a rustic bronze bell.

Jingling it fiercely, he shrieked, “Fall before me!”

But not only did Fang Xiao remain standing, he was furious.

So the old man was indeed a villain!

Without hesitation, Fang Xiao swung his right arm, hurling the weapon belt with lightning speed toward his adversary.