Chapter 812

Shu Wanjuan was caught off guard by Yan Zhi Zao Zao and cut several times by Li Qi.

He was astonished by Li Qi’s abilities; after having his contract stolen silently last time, Shu Wanjuan had gritted his teeth, vowing that next time he encountered Li Qi, he would not let him escape.

Yet this time, despite repeated ambushes from Li Qi, Shu Wanjuan still failed to detect him.

Li Qi was equally astonished by the Blood Fang Monster’s abilities; she had been severely wounded by Murong Gui, her neck bearing only the character “Shui,” yet she had regenerated—and after regenerating, she had still detected Li Banfeng.

The reasons behind this could be pondered later; Li Banfeng vanished, and Shu Wanjuan immediately prepared his Tianhe Technique.

Murong Gui snapped off the brush’s tip, and each bristle flew toward the Blood Fang Monster.

The Blood Fang Monster dodged frantically, muttering: “How can a scholar like you lack compassion? You’ve got a fine old scribe right there, yet you ignore him—why target me alone?”

Boom!

The Blood Fang Monster shuddered, her chest exploding open.

“You’re using Zou Ma Guan Hua on me?” the Blood Fang Monster looked at Li Qi with a mournful expression.

Li Banfeng comforted the Blood Fang Monster: “Shu Wanjuan has Tianhe Technique; it doesn’t hurt him, so it can only hurt you.”

“I’m not targeting you intentionally.”

Boom!

Before the words were even out, the Blood Fang Monster exploded again, her heart, liver, intestines, and stomach spilling across the ground.

The Blood Fang Monster wept: “Second King, you don’t care how they bully me? When Lao Dan gets the contract, we’ll keep the territory for ourselves and not give you a share!”

Shu Wanjuan was stunned.

How can this woman say anything at all?

Li Banfeng glanced at Murong Gui; Murong Gui’s expression was calm, but sweat poured down his face.

He sensed danger to his contract, but dared not reveal it—Shu Wanjuan and the Blood Fang Monster were both formidable foes; he absolutely could not divert his attention now.

Li Banfeng suddenly appeared and used Wu Ma Fen Shi on the Blood Fang Monster: “Was what you just said true?”

From right shoulder to right leg, the Blood Fang Monster was torn apart by Li Banfeng; she gasped weakly: “False—I was just lying, you mustn’t take it seriously.”

“Cheng Jun didn’t go for the contract—he doesn’t know it’s hidden in the Willow Garden, nor that there’s no Earth Lord there, only a sentient brush watching over it—”

Shu Wanjuan truly wished he could help and just kill the Blood Fang Monster.

Li Banfeng couldn’t immediately discern the Blood Fang Monster’s intent and prepared to take her into his Suishenju for thorough questioning.

A sudden surge of danger struck; whether illusion or something else, Li Banfeng thought he saw the Blood Fang Monster smile at him.

Her body was shattered—how could she still smile?

Had he imagined it?

He couldn’t take her into Suishenju—that would cause disaster. The safest course was to kill her outright.

Li Banfeng stomped with Tapo Wanchuan, crushing the Blood Fang Monster into pulp.

Shu Wanjuan watched the entire scene without any intention of saving the Blood Fang Monster.

Li Banfeng hurled his sickle at Shu Wanjuan.

This move was meaningless; the sickle was not a powerful magic treasure—how could it possibly harm Shu Wanjuan?

Shu Wanjuan ignored the sickle entirely and prepared to counterattack Li Banfeng.

Murong Gui raised his judge’s brush and swept it: “Dodge!”

Shu Wanjuan’s feet left the ground, avoiding the sickle.

But this was disastrous—it meant he had accepted Murong Gui’s help.

Murong Gui shouted: “Give me back my capital!”

Shu Wanjuan’s gaze slackened, growing lethargic.

Li Banfeng rushed forward, ready to use Wu Ma Fen Hu, only to find Shu Wanjuan had turned into ink, scattered across the ground.

The ink flowed lazily on the ground; Shu Wanjuan had broken free of the Lanxiu Technique and still watched quietly nearby.

Today’s Shu Wanjuan was vastly different from before; his previous severe injuries seemed fully healed.

He held back his attacks, buying time for Cheng Jun.

Li Qi closed in swiftly; Shu Wanjuan’s body was covered in characters. No matter what technique Li Qi used, his strategy remained unchanged: defend first, then seek an opening to counter.

As long as Tianhe Technique remained active, Shu Wanjuan could guarantee his survival; whether his counterattack succeeded depended on luck.

Li Banfeng suddenly vanished; Shu Wanjuan stood still.

He deduced Li Qi would use Zou Ma Guan Hua.

Li Qi’s Zou Ma Guan Hua was indeed unusual: one strike, two consecutive hits, with unpredictable intervals—absolute vigilance was required, no slackening allowed.

After waiting a moment, Shu Wanjuan did not explode.

He activated his characters to sense carefully—Li Qi seemed nowhere nearby.

He manipulated the characters to sense carefully; Li Qi didn’t seem to be nearby.

Where had he gone?

Had he gone to the Willow Garden?

Cheng Jun was searching for the contract in the Willow Garden of Moxiang Shop—if Li Qi went there, Cheng Jun’s mission would be ruined.

The Blood Fang Monster cried: “Why aren’t you chasing him?”

How is this woman still alive?

Wasn’t she crushed into pulp by Li Qi?

Shu Wanjuan flew into a rage—this Blood Fang Monster had ruined everything.

He had no time to deal with her now; he was about to chase Li Qi when suddenly a figure appeared before him, a faint scent of rouge passing by in a flash.

He had no time to deal with her now—Shu Wanjuan was about to chase Li Qi when suddenly a figure flashed past before him, carrying a hint of rouge fragrance.

Shu Wanjuan exploded.

This was Zou Ma Guan Hua.

Had Li Qi come back?

No—this Zou Ma Guan Hua was different; though it exploded only once, Shu Wanjuan’s character decoy was shattered into fragments, not a single intact ink mark visible.

Wrong—this version of Horse-Galloping-Flower was different; though it had exploded only once, Shu Wanjuan’s textual double had been blown into a pile of shredded fragments, not a single intact ink stroke visible.

Had he just been hit by a runaway train?

As Shu Wanjuan pondered, the figure appeared again—this time, Shu Wanjuan clearly saw the face.

It was a woman, agile and lithe, with a slender face, refined features, sharp contours, and a high topknot.

She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place her.

He had no time to think—she stepped forward with Tapo Wanchuan.

Shu Wanjuan couldn’t even think—he faced a foot crushing through ten thousand rivers toward him.

Shu Wanjuan’s body shattered, but he rose again using Tianhe Technique.

Shu Wanjuan’s body shattered, yet he rose using the Technique of Heaven’s Union.

She stepped again; Shu Wanjuan barely blocked it, rising with his body drenched in blood—her strikes were too fast, Tianhe Technique too slow to switch.

The opponent stepped forward again; Shu Wanjuan barely blocked it, and after rising, his body was drenched in blood—the opponent’s strikes were too fast, the Technique of Heaven’s Union too slow to shift in time.

She stepped again; Shu Wanjuan hurled two books, pushing Tianhe Technique to its limit, barely holding off the blow.

Shu Wanjuan staggered to his feet, but the residual force of Tapo Wanchuan still struck him—he lost balance and fell again.

Not only him—the Blood Fang Monster also fell.

Even Murong Gui on the pavilion above was affected, nearly tumbling off.

Could Tapo Wanchuan be used like this?

The Blood Fang Monster shrieked: “What kind of monster is this!”

“Monster?” the woman turned to look at the Blood Fang Monster.

The Blood Fang Monster trembled violently: “Miss, I didn’t say anything—I said Shu Wanjuan is the monster! Look at that old thing—he looks just like a monster! I meant him, truly!”

Though she pleaded, she didn’t move—she knew this woman was a top-tier Traveler Cultivator; escape would be impossible.

Shu Wanjuan also realized the truth: Tapo Wanchuan drained immense stamina; ordinary cultivators needed long rest after one use.

Yet this woman had used it three times in succession—in Shu Wanjuan’s memory, only one person could use Tapo Wanchuan like this.

Now this woman had used it three times—in Shu Wanjuan’s memory, only one person could use Crushing Ten Thousand Rivers like this.

How many years had she been dead? When had she come back to life?

Why had she come to Xiaoji Mountain?

Hong Ying appeared beside the Blood Fang Monster; the Blood Fang Monster tried to plead, but Hong Ying used Duan Jing Kai Lu, tearing her cleanly in half.

Hong Ying’s strike succeeded—but gave Shu Wanjuan an opening; the scattered ink on the ground rose into the air, surging at Hong Ying from all directions.

Continuous use of Tianhe Technique drained Shu Wanjuan severely; these scattered ink fragments were his only compensation.

As the leader of Traveler Cultivators, Shu Wanjuan anticipated Hong Ying would use Xiaoyao Zizai, so he did not concentrate the ink into one mass.

The ink moved at varying speeds—some fast, some slow, some straight, some winding—attacking chaotically, to see how Hong Ying would evade.

Hong Ying sensed danger and prepared to use Changxing Wuai, but the ink was too dense; Changxing Wuai would inevitably leave gaps—if even one drop touched her, she risked grave injury.

Neither Bu nor Xiaoyao Zizai was safe; using Duan Jing Kai Lu to split all the ink seemed the best option.

But if she used Duan Jing Kai Lu, Shu Wanjuan would see her path—and then he would unleash a vicious counter.

Hong Ying didn’t overthink—she was about to use Duan Jing Kai Lu when a low hum echoed, and the flying ink trembled violently, instantly losing all control.

Someone had dissolved the ink array for Hong Ying.

The hum continued; Shu Wanjuan’s chest seized with agony—he remembered the general whose name once struck terror into all.

The low chant still echoed; Shu Wanjuan’s chest seized with sharp pain as he remembered the general whose name had once struck fear into all who heard it.

“General Zhao, you’re here too!” Shu Wanjuan looked around, the characters on the ground shifting as his gaze moved.

Zhao Xiaowan did not appear, but her voice echoed beside Shu Wanjuan’s ear: “Master Shu, it’s been many years. I trust you’re well.”

Hong Ying raised her long spear and pointed it at Shu Wanjuan: “Old villain, do you want me to take your life, or will you surrender?”

Shu Wanjuan laughed: “General Hong, that’s a bold claim. We’ve clashed many times before—you two spared no effort trying to kill me, yet never succeeded. Let’s speak of the Battle of Hui Cao Valley.”

Krrrkkkkk~*!

“Let’s not dredge up old history,” Zhao Xiaowan cut in. “Yingying, chat a little longer with Master Shu.”

“He’s already set up his battle formation.”

Shu Wanjuan had indeed been secretly arranging a magic array—he’d completed three-tenths of it.

Hong Ying charged at Shu Wanjuan with her spear. Shu Wanjuan roared: “You attack with numbers—that’s not honorable!”

Shu Wanjuan activated Tongwen Gonggui.

Li Banfeng’s earlier deduction was correct: after resting for so long on Xueya Mountain, Shu Wanjuan’s injuries had fully healed. In a one-on-one duel with Hong Ying, he was confident he could win.

Zhao Xiaowan did not rush to break Tongwen Gonggui. Shu Wanjuan’s strength was evident—forcibly dismantling his technique would demand a heavy cost.

“Yingying, fight him one-on-one. We won’t gang up on him.”

Zhao Xiaowan knew exactly what she was doing. First, fight under the rules. As long as she didn’t suffer a major setback, an opportunity would soon arise. Tongwen Gonggui had a time limit. Shu Wanjuan had to maintain the technique while fighting Hong Ying—he couldn’t hold it long.

Shu Wanjuan threw out two books. Their pages scattered midair, swirling and fluttering around Hong Ying.

Hong Ying used Duanjing Kailu to carve a path, splitting the pages to either side, and kept charging toward Shu Wanjuan.

Shu Wanjuan had been waiting for this. Characters detached from the pages and lined up densely along the path Duanjing Kailu had cleared.

Hong Ying intensified Duanjing Kailu, keeping the characters at bay—but after a moment, she felt her legs growing weak.

The technique was draining her heavily—an unusual occurrence for her. Sweat drenched her face, proving her stamina was nearly gone.

Zhao Xiaowan watched closely from hiding: the surrounding characters were thirty percent “steal,” fifty percent “take,” and twenty percent “borrow.”

Shu Wanjuan had identified Hong Ying’s weakness: she thought little, treating the characters merely as weapons, never considering their meaning.

And these characters were siphoning power from Hong Ying’s technique.

Hong Ying was also someone who never retreated—even with weak legs, she kept charging forward.

Shu Wanjuan was confident. He’d calculated she’d exhaust her strength before reaching him. Then he’d kill her, and turn his full attention to Zhao Xiaowan and Murong Gui.

Zhao Xiaowan shouted loudly: “Stand still!”

A whirlwind swept in, drawing all the characters surrounding Hong Ying into her trumpet’s mouth.

This revealed Zhao Xiaowan’s position.

Shu Wanjuan roared into the courtyard: “You attack with numbers!”

Zhao Xiaowan stepped out from the courtyard: “Master Shu, Hong Ying fights you one-on-one. I fight you one-on-one too. When I act, Hong Ying stands still—how is that attacking with numbers?”

Hong Ying had indeed stopped. Zhao Xiaowan told her to stand still—she obeyed. Military orders were absolute.

Shu Wanjuan sneered: “General Zhao, you’ve dominated the battlefield with few defeats. Now you resort to such underhanded tactics—don’t you fear tarnishing your reputation?”

Zhao Xiaowan smiled: “Master, you flatter me. My reputation was earned precisely through these underhanded tactics.”

Shu Wanjuan nodded: “General Zhao, if we fight one-on-one, will General Hong no longer interfere?”

Zhao Xiaowan shook her head: “Hard to say. Yingying, rest well. When I tire, you step in.”

“Abi, don’t sit idle—gather your strength and give your ancestral master a grand gift!”

“This isn’t proper,” Shu Wanjuan tried to impose new rules with Tongwen Gonggui—but Zhao Xiaowan, singing Xipi Liushui, cut in first.

“Flags flutter, blotting out the sun’s light, strange birds dare not land in the thickets. The mountain’s shape, treacherous as a tiger’s den; the ravine’s depth, like a dragon’s pool swaying.”

“Sword and spear gleam bright amid the grass; enemy troops lie hidden on the ridge!”

Zhao Xiaowan’s singing was piercing, brimming with killing intent—and drowned out Shu Wanjuan’s voice.

As her pitch shifted, soldiers hidden on the slopes and in the woods lost control, charging in formation toward Zhao Xiaowan.

These soldiers were all characters Shu Wanjuan had written: axes, bows, spears, chariots.

Shu Wanjuan had been locked in a struggle with Zhao Xiaowan: she sought to make the soldiers collapse with her opera, while he held them in place, waiting for the right moment.

Neither succeeded. The soldiers didn’t collapse, nor did they strike at the optimal moment. But at least they recognized friend from foe and still fought Zhao Xiaowan fiercely. For Shu Wanjuan, this outcome was acceptable.

Facing the encircling troops, Zhao Xiaowan remained calm. First, she used Baiwei Linglong to sniff the air.

The soldiers emitted a strong ink scent—proof these characters were freshly written.

On the Thirteen New Lands, Shu Wanjuan had stored countless books. Those characters, steeped over years, could be drawn out for battle immediately.

But on Qunying Mountain, he had no time for such preparation. He kept his books on his person for survival. These soldiers were merely ink marks he’d recently written on rocks and tree bark.

Zhao Xiaowan spat out her trumpet and sang Xipi Erliu: “You’ve laid a heavenly net—I’ll break through it anyway! Watch me, my steed trampling the camp, sweeping the ridges flat! My eight-foot snake spear pierces the slanting sun!”

“Foolish prisoner, meet your death—Waaahhh!”

Her song spread with steam, and beneath the thick fog, each word and phrase made the singer’s heart tremble.

Shu Wanjuan carefully guarded against every line of Zhao Xiaowan’s opera. In past battles, he’d suffered too many losses.

He had to guard not only against pitch changes, but also against the opera’s content. As a storyteller, he often listened to operas—why had he never heard this one before?

What would she sing next? Was this opera her own creation?

She’d guessed right. This opera was indeed Zhao Xiaowan’s own composition. Shu Wanjuan feared this—dreaded her suddenly singing something unexpected, catching him off guard.

After a moment, Shu Wanjuan sensed something was wrong. Though the opera was terrifying, it seemed to lack real lethal power.

Then why was she singing?

Shu Wanjuan noticed the mist growing thicker—so thick he could no longer see Zhao Xiaowan or the charging soldiers.

He pulled out a folding fan and tossed it into the air.

The fan whirled, dispersing some mist. Seeing the soldiers charging toward Zhao Xiaowan, Shu Wanjuan’s expression turned grim.

The chariots moved slowly forward—their wheels had warped.

Archers drew their bows—the arrows nocked on the strings dripped water.

Shield-bearers marched forward, their knees and below dissolved into ink, leaving two long trails on the ground.

Zhao Xiaowan’s true method wasn’t in the opera—it was merely meant to intimidate Shu Wanjuan.

The real power lay in the steam: freshly written characters were slowly dissolving into ink under its heat.

These soldiers were useless. Shu Wanjuan had to act himself. He surrounded his body with characters and advanced straight toward Zhao Xiaowan.

He knew: fighting Zhao Xiaowan meant never just defending—otherwise, she’d toy him to death.

But his strike missed. Zhao Xiaowan vanished into the mist.

Shu Wanjuan released characters to search for Zhao Xiaowan’s location. After a brief struggle, Zhao Xiaowan sensed the technique weakening.

Under the dual interference of singing and steam, Shu Wanjuan’s Tongwen Gonggui was about to collapse.

At this moment, Zhao Xiaowan stood beside Hong Ying, gripping her wrist and sketching lightly on her palm.

She drew a military cipher. Hong Ying instantly understood Zhao Xiaowan’s intent.

Zhao Xiaowan opened Dongxi Lingyin, judging Shu Wanjuan’s condition by his breath. When the timing was right, Hong Ying, carrying Zhao Xiaowan, charged at Shu Wanjuan.

Shu Wanjuan sensed someone approaching and immediately activated Tianhe Zhi Ji for defense.

Zhao Xiaowan shifted pitch, changing over a dozen tones. Each shift was a fierce assault—Shu Wanjuan had to use Tianhe Zhi Ji to block each one.

After each block, he couldn’t recover. Zhao Xiaowan was close. The steam kept scalding him, denying him time to adjust his technique.

Meanwhile, Hong Ying struck repeatedly, targeting the gaps in Tianhe Zhi Ji’s transitions.

Shu Wanjuan was hit once by Tapowanchuan, once by Duanjing Kailu.

He tried to retreat from Hong Ying—but failed to block Zhao Xiaowan, and was half-cooked by the steam.

While resisting the steam, his will wavered. Zhao Xiaowan roared—a sonic wave shattered Shu Wanjuan’s skull.

Shu Wanjuan reeled in daze, then took a dozen more spear thrusts from Hong Ying.

“Can’t… attack with numbers—” Shu Wanjuan, wounded, couldn’t even muster strength to speak, let alone maintain Tongwen Gonggui.

He still held one book that could save him—he’d planned to use it now—but Zhao Xiaowan gave him no chance.

Her pitch shifted faster and faster. Hong Ying’s strikes matched the rhythm, growing ever quicker.

Shu Wanjuan pulled out the book several times—but couldn’t find the page he needed.

He finally found it once—but had no time to activate the technique. The book was knocked from his hand by Hong Ying.

This was Zhao Xiaowan’s greatest strength: once she seized the upper hand, her assault never ceased. The opponent had no chance to counter.

Zhao Xiaowan wrote on Hong Ying’s back, signaling her to use Tapowanchuan to finish Shu Wanjuan off.

She wasn’t rushing without cause. Zhao Xiaowan realized Xueya Monster was a uniquely dangerous opponent. If she and Shu Wanjuan attacked together,

the battle’s outcome was hard to predict.

She intensified her Shengxiu Ji, forcing Shu Wanjuan to switch Tianhe Zhi Ji.

Hong Ying waited for the moment—when Shu Wanjuan switched Tianhe Zhi Ji, Tapowanchuan would strike instantly.

Nearly cornered, Shu Wanjuan flung a brush washer from his sleeve.

The washer contained ink-black water, which splashed directly onto Hong Ying.

Hong Ying roared: “Disgusting!”

Shu Wanjuan’s body went limp, collapsing to the ground.

Hong Ying stepped forward—but didn’t use Tapowanchuan. Instead, she flung Zhao Xiaowan away.

After hurling Zhao Xiaowan, Hong Ying herself retreated rapidly, vanishing in an instant.

Shu Wanjuan sat on the ground, breathing heavily for a long while—then smiled.

Wenxiu Ji: Brush-Washing the Heart.

Though it consumed immense energy, the technique’s effect was astonishing.

The water in the inkstone is meant for washing brushes; after washing brushes, that water can erase an opponent’s mind in an instant.

Hong Ying intended to use Tread Through Ten Thousand Rivers to kill Shu Wanjuan, but under Shu Wanjuan’s interference, she instead unleashed Parting From Ten Thousand Li, sending both Zhao Xiaowan and herself away.

Zhao Xiaowan was completely unprepared, for she had never seen this technique before.

Not only had she never seen it—no one on earth had, including Dan Chengjun.

This is the strength of a Star Cultivator: this technique was created by Shu Wanjuan himself, developed during his recovery on Blood Fang Mountain, tested only on his own written beings, never on living humans.

The Ink-Washing Mind technique is still incomplete; Shu Wanjuan cannot perform it alone—he must use the inkstone hidden in his sleeve.

If the water from the inkstone had splashed onto Zhao Xiaowan just now, the chance of success would have been negligible, for Zhao Xiaowan is too clever; erasing her mind would be far too difficult.

But Hong Ying’s condition is different—altering her mind would be much easier.

Shu Wanjuan was glad he had not misstepped once, not made a single error—but now another troublesome enemy awaited disposal.

Murong Gui was still in the courtyard.

Shu Wanjuan picked up the book that had saved his life, stroked its illustration, and out stepped a man and a woman from the pages.

The man was Ai Yeqing; the woman was Mu Yuejuan.

Both wore blank expressions, their eyes hollow, now mere tools of Shu Wanjuan.

Exhausted, Shu Wanjuan directed Ai Yeqing and Mu Yuejuan toward the courtyard of the Wisdom-Industry Literati, where he saw Murong Gui, teeth clenched, still standing atop the pavilion.

Murong Gui’s soul had just returned to his body; his cultivation base might still be intact, but how much combat power remained? Even without facing Shu Wanjuan, could he withstand Ai Yeqing and Mu Yuejuan before him?

Shu Wanjuan thought he could not: “Child, I ask you once more—will you come with me?”

After a long silence, Murong Gui gave no reply from the pavilion.

Ai Yeqing seized a handful of copper coins and hurled them at Murong Gui—the coins passed through his body without drawing a single drop of blood.

Is this Murong Gui?

Mu Yuejuan turned her face, expressionless: “This is a painting.”

Shu Wanjuan stared in stunned silence.

He was a master of both calligraphy and painting, yet he had not recognized it as a painting.

When was this painted?

Murong Gui had stood motionless atop the pavilion; no brushwork had been seen.

Mu Yuejuan brought the painting closer; Shu Wanjuan examined it briefly, then slapped the “painting” against Mu Yuejuan’s face: “This is called a photograph. Haven’t you seen one?”

This was a photograph taken by the projector of Murong Gui—the image showed him lifelike, capable of blinking and opening his mouth, yet unable to speak.

Shu Wanjuan was puzzled—could Mu Yuejuan not even recognize a photograph? Had her mind degraded to this extent?

Now was not the time to investigate this—where had Murong Gui gone?

On the ground lay the two halves of the Blood Fang Monster’s corpse. Shu Wanjuan asked: “Can you stand?”

The two halves merged together; the Blood Fang Monster rose: “Are you looking for Murong Gui—or are you going to help Dan Chengjun?”

“Do you know where Murong Gui went?”

The Blood Fang Monster said: “When he fled, I noticed his steps were unsteady—he couldn’t have gone far. He’s still on Qunying Mountain.”

Shu Wanjuan nodded: “I’ll take people to pursue him.”

The Blood Fang Monster added: “Second King, why did you capture the Wisdom-Industry Literati? To make a deal with Qiao Yi—or to secure yourself a good puppet?”

This was no longer Blood Fang Mountain; Shu Wanjuan spoke without restraint: “I act with integrity—I have no hidden motives.”

The Blood Fang Monster said: “I trust you. Since you have no hidden motives, let’s forget Murong Gui—let’s go find Dan Chengjun.”

Shu Wanjuan gave no reply; instead he asked: “What is your cultivation realm? Why do I feel I’ve met you before?”

The Blood Fang Monster smiled: “My cultivation is certainly high—would I dare be Dan Chengjun’s wife otherwise?”

PS: Why can’t the Blood Fang Monster be killed?