Chapter 43: Chapter Forty-Three: Kill to Silence

Gu Zhao did not slaughter indiscriminately in the Golden Wind Hall.

The two leaders—the incoming Ren Tianhe from Changping Prefecture and the local branch’s Divine General Hong Xin—had already been killed by him; the rest were merely ordinary petty thugs, killing them would be useless.

Although the Golden Wind Sect is a heretical cult, its grassroots followers are not necessarily all evil; cultivating the Dao means cultivating the heart, and wantonly killing the innocent is not the way of the Daoists—it would burden his mind and taint his soul with malevolence.

So he merely used a Wind-Thunder Talisman to turn the Golden Wind Hall into utter chaos, then calmly leapt over the wall and departed.

…

Master Lu sat calmly in his painting studio, swaying his head as he admired his own work.

“What a pity for Brother Zhang,” Master Lu sighed, gazing at the green-robed scholar in the painting.

“Indeed a pity—he’s doomed whether it’s Red You or Tian Feng,” a voice suddenly echoed from the quiet room, “a bunch of people with no artistic aspiration.”

“If it’s Red You, at least he’ll die without pain,” Master Lu mused, then shuddered involuntarily, “but if it’s Tian Feng…”

“Disgusting! Crude!” the other voice snapped, as if imagining the scene, its tone shrill, “such a handsome young man, to be defiled by that brutish oaf!”

“Exactly—we only capture his beauty and form on canvas, then lock his soul within, so he remains forever graceful, forever untouched by the mortal world,” Master Lu sighed.

“That transcendent detachment from the mundane—those lust-driven brutes and wanton women will never understand!” the other voice sneered.

“I hope the Golden Wind Sect’s opponent this time is strong—better yet, that they wipe out the entire sect,” Master Lu’s lips curled into a faint smile.

“The Golden Wind Sect’s opponent this time is likely no weakling—they say the incense statue of the Golden Wind Divine King was stolen, and the Black Absolute Guardian has vanished,” the other voice said, “I wonder how many Guardians will come this time.”

“What Guardian is Ren Tianhe?” a voice suddenly asked.

“Ren Tianhe is the Tian Feng Guardian—” Master Lu instinctively replied, then suddenly froze, whipping his head around.

“Squeak—”

The studio door opened, and the handsome young man previously taken away by Hong Xin stood at the threshold, smiling faintly as he glanced curiously around the room, “Who was speaking just now? I heard voices but saw no one.”

Master Lu stared at Gu Zhao with utter disbelief, “How did you come back?”

“He escaped from Ren Tianhe’s hands!” the other voice shrieked.

This time, Gu Zhao clearly saw—the voice came from the bamboo basket resting in the corner of the room.

Master Lu jolted in alarm, finally reacting—he flipped his palm, and the nearby table levitated instantly, hurtling toward Gu Zhao to block his view.

Gu Zhao slashed his palm downward, cleaving the table cleanly in two, then saw Master Lu hold the scroll before him, his right hand tracing invisible strokes in the air before pointing at Gu Zhao, “Blue Young Master, please act!”

The next instant, a semi-transparent figure of a green-robed man stepped out from the painting.

The man was identical to his depiction—clad in green robes, refined and elegant—but his eyes had shifted from sorrowful to monstrous, utterly devoid of reason; his paper umbrella had retracted into a sword, unleashing a storm of icy sword qi straight at Gu Zhao.

Gu Zhao ignored him entirely, forming the Thunder Seal and chanting the Thunder Incantation: “Thunder and lightning chase each other, heaven and earth are my eyes. The eight directions—”

As the green-robed man’s umbrella-sword pierced within three feet of Gu Zhao, a torrent of celestial Gang qi, infused with the radiance of sun and moon, erupted from Gu Zhao’s body and surged forward like a flood, slamming into the green-robed man.

“Boom!”

The green-robed man was blasted backward, his form growing even more translucent.

Meanwhile, Gu Zhao had already raised his palm, aimed squarely at Master Lu, who was clutching the bamboo basket.

“Boom!”

Master Lu had barely pulled a scroll from the basket before it was obliterated by a palm-thunder strike—the soul within the scroll instantly dissipated.

The scroll offered no resistance to the palm-thunder’s power; violet lightning spread over Master Lu’s body, searing through his flesh, rupturing his meridians, and devastating his spiritual sea.

“Ahh!”

Master Lu screamed, grabbing another scroll from the bamboo basket.

The next instant, a white light erupted from the scroll, instantly enveloping Master Lu—his wounds healed visibly before their eyes, his ruptured meridians and shattered spiritual sea mended.

“It’s the Grand Master! Flee!”

A voice rang from the scroll—Master Lu turned to run, but a pinpoint of fire shot from behind, striking him and instantly spreading into a net of flames, engulfing him and the scroll together.

“Aaaah!” Master Lu and the scroll screamed in unison.

“Master, spare me! Master, spare me!” Master Lu curled on the ground, writhing and begging.

White light surged from the scroll, exuding a sinister aura, trying to tear through the fire net.

Gu Zhao formed a sword finger, channeling his magic power through the air—the fire barrier held firm, compressing the scroll’s white light layer by layer until it reached the scroll’s edges, where wisps of smoke began to rise.

“No! Stop burning! I’ll die!” the scroll shrieked.

“What are you?” Gu Zhao asked curiously.

It was merely a painting scroll—if a ghost had possessed it, why did it emit demonic aura?

“I’m a Painting Demon! I’m a Painting Demon!” the scroll screamed, “Master, spare me! Don’t burn me—if you burn my body, I’ll die too!”

“So you really are a demon? Explain your origins, or I’ll burn you to ash,” Gu Zhao kept his sword finger steady, the fire barrier burning without pause.

“Yes, yes!” Master Lu nodded frantically.

…

Originally, the Painting Demon’s true form was a scroll of a man that had gained sentience, proud of its own elegance and charm; after bonding with Master Lu, they worked in tandem—Master Lu painted, the Painting Demon cast spells, trapping the souls of other handsome men onto the canvas.

In this way, the Painting Demon absorbed not only the refined aura of those men but also their soul energy to aid their joint cultivation, while refining their souls into Painting Spirits to serve as combat weapons.

“I’m fucking…,” Gu Zhao was speechless—usually, book worms and painting demons were refined literati; how did this one become so sinister?

“Master, spare me—I can make you even more elegant and handsome, peerlessly charming!” the Painting Demon pleaded while tempting him, “Then one glance from you will make women swoon.”

Gu Zhao’s eyes lit up, “Really?”

“Really!” Seeing hope, Master Lu nodded vigorously, “Then you can do whatever you want!”

Gu Zhao nodded, then his expression turned cold, “So you mean—I, with my own face, can’t attract women?”

“How dare you insult me? Your crime deserves death!”

“Huh?”

“No—”

“Boom!”