Chapter 76: The Price of Losing the Dog

The clothes were torn open by the sharp sword intent.

Tang Luo lowered his head.

He saw a small, crystal-clear sword about forearm length, spinning, attempting to pierce and tear his chest.

Tang Luo reached out, grabbed the hilt of the small sword, and the crystal-clear sword struggled incessantly in his hand.

"Demon monk!" A clear rebuke came from behind.

Tang Luo slowly turned around and saw a person dressed between a knight and a Daoist standing at the door of the private room.

His appearance was peerlessly handsome.

One hand formed a sword seal, the other rested on his wrist, his face solemn, desperately urging the crystal-clear sword in Tang Luo's hand.

Undoubtedly, this was a cultivator, a practitioner.

"Dog..." Tang Luo's face darkened, "You lost the dog."

The little match-selling girl, appearing and disappearing unpredictably, so fast that Tang Luo could not catch up.

After this run, who knows when it will be lured out again.

"Demon monk! Still not surrendering, pfft—"

As the words fell, this person, as if struck by lightning, shuddered, his face suddenly turned deathly pale, and spat out a large mouthful of blood.

The small sword struggling in Tang Luo's hand had already stopped, now covered in cracks.

From a delicate artwork to an artwork about to shatter.

After vomiting blood, the cultivator very readily fainted.

Walking out of the door, Tang Luo looked.

The inn was in chaos, many people vomiting and struggling, likely affected by the leaked deadly poison mist.

The poison mist does not simply vanish the moment the time limit is up; it takes some time to dissipate.

During this time, the poison mist still exerts some effect, though its toxicity is greatly weakened.

Activating the Merit Jade Lotus, a pale golden light swept over the inn, cleansing the toxins from those people, coming and going, Tang Luo gained some merit power.

He seized the unconscious cultivator and quickly left the inn.

Returning to the Lu family, Tang Luo explained the matter to Lu Zhi.

Of course, he employed some Spring and Autumn annalistic style, concealing some unnecessary details.

But the general situation was sufficient for the Lu family and the authorities to clarify what had happened.

No one died at the inn. Only two outsiders died.

Even without the Lu family's intervention, the authorities would not bother to pursue it.

The aftermath was easily resolved.

Qing Lan awoke from unconsciousness, feeling her head split open, as if her skull were torn apart.

As the chief senior disciple of the Boundless Sect, her youthful years were enough to rival the sect leader and elders; a genius cultivator encountered once in a thousand years.

She felt this descent into the mortal world for tempering was utterly simple.

Indeed, it was so at first. Along the way, she slew many demons and monsters causing havoc, and ordinary people were grateful.

Not long after entering Anshan City, she heard that strange events had been occurring consecutively in this city.

First, people kept disappearing, forcing the Lu and Ding families, the two major clans, to shrink back.

Then came the tragedy of the painted boats on Anping Lake.

In one night, everyone on the entire boat was poisoned to death, none survived, their deaths gruesome.

Also, a white-clad monk holding a white skull, whether human or ghost unknown, wandered through Anshan City.

Day and night without rest, he frightened many night watchmen; rumors linked him to the painted boat tragedy.

Demons and monsters ran rampant, throwing the entire Anshan City into panic.

Qing Lan came to the inn to eat, and incidentally to gather more information.

Unexpectedly, as soon as she picked up her chopsticks, poison mist spread from the second-floor private room, and simultaneously, demonic energy raged.

Rushing to the second floor, Qing Lan saw the white-clad monk from the rumors—whether human, ghost, or demon unknown—with his back to her.

Demonic energy raged in the room, and the poison gas had not yet completely dissipated.

There were also two corpses!

What a demon monk!

Qing Lan, without a word, formed a sword seal, and the "Heavenly Crystal Frost" hanging at her waist was drawn directly.

This sword was bestowed by the sect leader, a treasure passed down for many years in the Boundless Sect.

Aside from a few sect-protecting treasures, the Boundless Sect considers this sword its most precious.

It is a top-tier treasure, representing the Boundless Sect.

The Boundless Sect has passed it down for many years, and only fewer than five people are qualified to wear it and walk the world.

And Qing Lan is one of them.

Moreover, the sect leader bestowing the sword signifies that this sword truly belongs to Qing Lan.

Nourished day and night, it can become her personal treasure.

Now, the Qing Lan with a splitting headache sees the "Heavenly Crystal Frost" placed on the table, covered in cracks.

Having lost its original radiant glow, and moreover, the connection she had painstakingly established with it is completely severed.

The source of her headache is precisely this.

Her personal treasure, Heavenly Crystal Frost, has been destroyed!

Qing Lan instinctively struggled a little.

Only then did she realize her current situation—

Her hands were bound behind her back, her legs bent, her hands tied together, and she was suspended in midair by a rope, like a lamb awaiting slaughter.

The difference was that she was not upside down; Qinglang was face down, back up.

The table was about half an arm's length away.

So when she opened her eyes, she could see a table, and on it lay the Heavenly Crystal Frost.

And beside the Heavenly Crystal Frost was a hand.

That hand was playing with a jade pendant.

Qinglang's eyes widened—this was the jade pendant she carried close to her body.

Its function was a simple illusion to deceive ordinary mortals.

It could make her appear as a beautiful woman or transform into a handsome man, convenient for traveling abroad.

Qinglang felt both shame and rage.

She clearly remembered that she had worn this jade pendant inside her undergarments, her most intimate possession.

Yet now it was being played with in someone's hand?!

She lowered her head, but her clothes were not disheveled.

"Don't look at it—this jade pendant is yours now," Tang Luo said.

"Demon monk!"

Qinglang jerked her head up and saw a white-haired monk in splendid monastic robes sitting cross-legged before her.

It was exactly the demon monk she had seen at the tavern.

"You made me lose my dog," Tang Luo ignored Qinglang's words, the jade pendant constantly flipping between his fingers.

"Demon monk, you bring calamity to the realm—you will surely face heavenly retribution one day!" Qinglang shouted.

Tang Luo set down the jade pendant, looked at Qinglang, and said with a tone of mild confusion: "It makes no sense—someone as brainless as you, a novice, should have long been turned into a hot weapon by now."

Having a bit of strength, yet not that strong; having a bit of background, yet not that formidable.

Yet overconfident, self-important "jianghu newcomers" like you are exactly what veteran jianghu figures love most.

Whether in the jianghu martial world or the xianxia realm, such "young heroes, heroines, immortals" and the like have the highest chance of disaster.

In the xianxia world, it's still tolerable—most have elders who leave behind a hidden safeguard, offering at least some chance to flee.

But in the wuxia world, it's tragic—once overturned, the sight is too horrid to bear.

"Your strength is weak—could it be that your sect is just outside Ansan City, and this is your first stop on your descent from the mountain for training?" Tang Luo looked at Qinglang.

His earnest expression seemed as if he were studying a serious problem.

Brainless, novice, weak in strength, and unable to comprehend—but still able to feel the intense malice of a "hot weapon."

As the chief senior disciple, could I really be described this way?

Qinglang, severely injured, couldn't catch her breath; her chest ached, and she fainted again.

When she awoke again, the outside sky had grown dark.

Candles were lit in the room, casting her shadow upon the walls.

Qinglang turned her head and saw her own shadow, feeling deeply humiliated.

"Creak."

The room door opened, and the white-haired demon monk entered, placing a small bone on the table before resuming his seat before Qinglang.

"Heaven has the virtue of good life," Tang Luo said, looking at Qinglang, "I, the poor monk, give you a chance to repent."

"Demon monk!" Qinglang obviously didn't know many insults—just saying "demon monk" was her limit.

It made Tang Luo feel like he was bullying a kindergarten child.

"You made me lose my dog—then you shall give me..."

The demon monk's killing power was truly insignificant; Tang Luo paid no heed, speaking while reaching toward Qinglang's chest.

"What are you doing?!"

Qinglang let out a scream, shaking her body.

Due to gravity, her seemingly magnificent twin peaks swayed violently, making one dizzy to watch.

"I am the chief disciple of the Wuyai Sect! Qinglang!"

As the demonic claw loomed near, unable to dodge, Qinglang cried out in tears.

She spoke words she would have once scorned to utter, did something she thought she would never do in this lifetime—she invoked her reliance.

"Oh."

Tang Luo nodded, then introduced himself: "I am the poor monk Xuanzang, Victorious Fighting Buddha of the Great Thunder Sound Temple, former second disciple beneath the Buddha's seat."

Invoking a backing—is that better than a background?

If you have business, go find the Tathagata! Tang Luo is a man who has rendered service to the Great Teaching.

Qinglang despaired.

She did not know what place the Great Thunder Sound Temple was.

But she at least knew the Buddha.

This demon monk actually claimed to be the Buddha's second disciple?

Clearly a madman, a lawless ruffian—the reputation of the Wuyai Sect could not possibly restrain him.

In despair, Qinglang closed her eyes, and two lines of clear tears fell.

In the darkness, she felt something hard forcibly stuffed into her chest—

Nearly bursting her garments apart.

"Enough."

Tang Luo shoved the skull into Qinglang's embrace, "You're lucky—if you weren't a woman, you'd already have been converted by me by now. Being able to retrieve your dog, this matter is settled; if not, you shall be my lifelong bait."

"???" Qinglang opened her eyes, completely unaware of what this demonic monk was saying or what he intended to do.

But it seemed not to be what she had imagined.

"Although you're a brainless novice, your expression suggests you're not entirely clueless about how normal developments usually unfold. Wait—you wouldn't be doing this on purpose, would you?" Tang Luo stood up and glanced sideways at Qinglang.

What a demoness, trying to pull a scam and ending up bumping into Master Xuanzang himself.

Master Xuanzang has seen all kinds of great storms and waves—do you really think you can pull a scam on someone like him?

Qinglang was so ashamed and furious she wished she could bite her tongue and die.

But unfortunately, severely wounded as she was, her whole body lacked strength, and she didn't even have the energy to bite her tongue.

The struggle just now had shaken off the last of her strength.

Tang Luo set Qinglang down, letting her sit cross-legged on the table like a duck, then tied a knot around her neck with a rope.

Given her current condition, she certainly couldn't break free.

"Demonic monk, what exactly do you want! If you're going to kill me, then kill me—don't humiliate me!" Qinglang lifted her head, declaring that a scholar may be killed but not dishonored.

"The monk wants you to find the dog you lost." Tang Luo said, "Just obey me—find it and bring it to me, and I'll let you go. Don't ask questions; even if I explained, you wouldn't understand. With your intelligence, I'd find it hard to make you grasp exactly what's going on."

The reason must be traced back to when Tang Luo caught the little matchstick girl.