Chapter 2293: Resting Foot Pavilion

If the enemy were an individual, they would be surrounded and beaten during battle.

However, Elder Xu had already suffered severe injuries—his chest cavity had been torn open by himself, and the monster inside his lungs had not yet been burned to death, so he had no mental capacity to control the phantom spirit.

By this point, Liu Qingdao also realized that proper negotiation was useless, so he waved his hand:

"Up, capture this group of demons!"

We can only talk after the fight.

As the words fell, the Angry Sea Yaksha King encountered a siege by the immortals. Because its master was severely wounded, the Angry Sea Yaksha King's attack power was far weaker than usual; it barely blocked a few strikes but was hit over ten times, and finally the Giant of Mao Ridge smashed an axe into its lower back. Though not cleaved in two, its form became insubstantial, and its size greatly diminished.

Although phantom spirits can materialize, they are ultimately different from flesh-and-blood beings and do not bleed when injured, but harm consumes their strength. The weaker the strength, the more insubstantial the body becomes.

When they can no longer maintain materialization, phantom spirits are forced into dormancy, slowly accumulating strength.

Elder Xu, meanwhile, had no will to fight and only wished to flee quickly, so the phantom spirit he summoned was a great-antlered deer, meant to carry him and others away from the scene.

However, before the deer could leap, a large net sprayed down from ahead—still a double-layered hooked net.

How could Zhu Xiuer let them leave so easily?

Xu Elder on the deer's back was gravely wounded and drained of spirit, could no longer endure, and suddenly coughed violently, spitting out fragments threaded with white fungal filaments; when rained upon, they still writhed and moved.

What exactly is the monster invading the body, and why cannot true fire burn it to death?

……

Weian City, northeastern suburbs.

Twenty-five li from the city, on the mountain highway, there is an inn; according to locals, it is called Resting Foot Pavilion.

Once you cross this mountain, you leave Weian City's territory.

This highway was originally bustling, with constant traffic of travelers, but the abnormality of the Luo River suddenly disrupted the city's normal rhythm, and with the rainy weather, only two tables of guests remained in the inn.

One table had five customers, chatting around the table, but they had only ordered a few bowls of clear water.

The other table held a red-robed, white-clad handsome man, his face like a jade cap, skin fair, his brocade robe embroidered with plum blossom patterns, and beneath his phoenix eyes a red tear-shaped mole.

The coarse bowl on the table held half a cup of tea, and the dish still contained a few red-shelled peanuts and dried fruits.

He kept gazing blankly at the raindrops beneath the eaves for a long while before picking up a peanut; the tea-drinkers nearby were somewhat noisy, but he pretended not to hear.

From behind the kitchen came a woman's voice: "Little Fish?"

Another man said: "Uh, he was just here a moment ago."

Hearing the tone carried guilt, the red-robed man knew this was the innkeeper.

"I just went out to fetch a barrel of water—how did she disappear again?" the woman shouted loudly, "You as a father don't pay attention to your child—sooner or later, wild wolf demons will drag him away!"

"Pah!" the innkeeper also displeased, "You as a mother—can't you say a couple of kind words about your daughter?"

The red-robed man raised his eyebrows, then suddenly lowered his head to look under the table.

Under the table lay a little girl, at most three or four years old, grinning at him with her mouth open, teeth very white, but missing one.

The gap was uneven, likely knocked out by a fall.

The girl's ten fingers were black, her body also smeared with mud; seeing him lower his head, she raised her hand to offer him a small purple flower:

"Here, take this!"

The petals were wet, the roots still had dirt—undoubtedly freshly picked.

The red-robed man took it casually and asked her: "Why are you giving this to me?"

"You're handsome! Handsomer than Take-Take."

The red-robed man smiled.

When he smiled, it was like a spring breeze sweeping through a peach forest.

Behind them, the innkeeper and his wife continued their bickering: "You can't even raise the child properly, nor do your work well. Officials have come to notify us several times already—our back mountain geology is unstable; if another heavy rain comes, it might collapse, yet you refuse to move. You yourself said, how many times have you nearly been crushed by falling rocks?"

"Oh, they're just alarmist—this isn't the first time." The innkeeper boomed, "I've lived half my life in the mountains and wilderness—what experience could they have compared to mine? Whether this mountain will collapse or not, I can tell—do they need to point it out?"

"Stubborn! If your eyeballs were useful, why is one blind?" his wife scolded him, "We few following you will surely meet bloody misfortune sooner or later!"

The innkeeper could bear it no longer and fled in panic. He lifted the curtain to the outer yard and immediately saw his daughter where she was.

He hurried over, dragged the child from under the red-robed guest's table, pressed her onto the bench beside him, and spanked her hard—so hard it rang loudly.

The girl did not cry; bright, crystal-like tears rolled in her eye sockets.

The red-robed guest then gave her two dried apricots; she took them, one eye tearing up as she nibbled.

The innkeeper laughed and scolded: "Stupid girl, just this greedy!"

After carrying her back to the backstage, the innkeeper finally came out holding a large teapot, refilling tea for the red-robed guest:

"I forgot to ask earlier—on such stormy weather, where are you headed?"

The red-robed guest casually replied: "Xunyang Mountain."

"Are you also going to find the entrance of Qixia Sect?" The innkeeper startled, looked him up and down several times, "Doesn't seem like it."

"Why not?"

"Those who dare to seek the mountain gate of the Xian Sect are either foolishly bold or have their heads stuck in their waistbands." The innkeeper said, "You resemble neither."

The red-robed guest casually asked: "Then what do I resemble?"

"Either an official's son or a talented youth from a noble family." The innkeeper grinned, showing his teeth—this gesture resembled his daughter's—"I've wandered the wilderness for most of my life; I won't misjudge."

At that moment, the nearby customers left, throwing down silver coins and departing the shop.

Before leaving, they still glanced at the red-robed guest.

After they had walked out more than ten zhang, the innkeeper immediately said: "These people are no good—they've taken you for a fat sheep, though they dare not act in my inn; most likely they'll ambush you at a mountain path fork or crossroads within one and a half li. These days, inside and outside the city are somewhat chaotic; the riffraff just want to fish in troubled waters."

The red-robed guest glanced again out the window—this place faced directly toward the back mountain.

"What should we do?"

"Either you return the way you came, letting them search in vain; or if you trust me, you can stay here overnight—I'll charge only twenty-five wen, and include tomorrow's breakfast."

"That affordable?"

The shopkeeper grinned again: "Just making friends."

The red-robed guest's gaze shifted back to the shopkeeper:

"If judging by appearance alone, you look more like a bandit than they do."

This shopkeeper is a one-eyed dragon, rough and dark, with an eye patch over his left eye—originally of some unknown color—and a scar on his neck. Customers who enter and look up at him always feel they've stumbled into a black shop.

"I was always like that—I could tell at a glance what sort of people they were." The shopkeeper didn't hide it: "I used to be a bandit on Mount Tu, then was pacified by the Dragon God Army. After the Dragon God War ended, I didn't want to farm or return to my old trade, so I opened this little shop—just enough to get by."

The red-robed guest sipped his tea: "Opening a rest stop here hardly counts as a commoner's livelihood."

Doing business beside the official highway, with steady customer flow, isn't something just anyone can manage.