Chapter 284: What a Deceitful Daoist!

Change is the best way to illustrate the passage of time.

Even Daoist Qingxuan Daoist, standing beside him, was momentarily dazed by this sight.

I still remember the first time I saw them—brother and sister—they had just entered the path of cultivation, able only to spit a mundane flame, needing their brother to escort them down the mountain, unable even to handle a tiny Luoshai bird.

But when we met them again in Lichun Village, they could already slay the Pear Ancestor and fight the countless corpse ghosts. Now, seeing them again in the capital, even this Yecha is no match for Lin Jue's spells.

Such transformation…

It's only been a few years.

"Lin Daofriend…"

Daoist Qingxuan Daoist, filled with emotion, pondered long before sighing: "No wonder you slew the Tu Long Wang!"

Jiang Daoist said nothing, only lowered his head, silently gazing at the glossy paper skin on the grass dozens of paces away, and the flowers blooming upon it, lost in thought.

"Dao brother flatters me."

"Dao friend, no need for modesty. Though we dwell in a temple outside the city, your name has spread—we've heard of you even here."

"This is not the time for such talk!"

In Lin Jue's hand, he held a bean; his five fingers loosened slightly, and instantly the bean grew larger, elongating—by the time his fingers were fully stretched open, a simple, ancient longsword now rested in his grasp.

The fox across the distance leapt toward him.

Mid-air, it grew with the wind; by the time it landed beside Lin Jue, it had transformed into a four-tailed white fox, larger than an ordinary mountain tiger, stirring a gale, its tails swaying behind it.

Daoist Qingxuan Daoist was startled again.

His mind recalled the small fox he'd seen in Xiaochuan Village and Lichun Village—compared to this massive, majestic four-tailed white fox, it was like comparing those two young Daoists of old to Lin Jue and Liu Qingyao Daoist today.

Ma Ma Shidi was suddenly startled.

And he couldn't be blamed—anyone seeing such a colossal creature appear beside them would be shocked.

Only Jiang Daoist remained calm, unsurprised.

The fox lifted its head, gazing into the distance.

The bean soldiers nearby had just sheathed their weapons, the archers had just retrieved their bows, and all turned their heads toward that direction.

A gentle breeze seemed to sweep across the land; spring grass, fine as silk, bent in unison, tracing the path of its movement.

A voice of anger carried on the wind:

"You've some skill indeed! You've slain my two Yecha Generals and a host of wolf soldiers! I underestimated you!"

"Huu…"

The wind reached them.

All their robes and hair were lifted.

The morning mist parted, and sunlight poured down unimpeded; within the rays, a figure suddenly appeared atop the mountain peak—indistinct.

"Huh? A Daoist of Zhenjian Palace? Has Zhenjian Palace also meddled in this? A four-tailed white fox? Whose descendant? Bean soldiers? You can summon bean soldiers too?" The voice on the mountaintop spoke rapidly, surprised—this contradicted what he'd seen earlier through his talisman.

His tone grew increasingly intense.

Whether it was the arrival of a Zhenjian Palace Daoist or the four-tailed white fox, neither surprised him as much as this bean soldier technique.

Lin Jue felt him watching.

Then he shook his head, muttering to himself: "Pity, pity—your cultivation isn't deep enough, your numbers too few."

Lin Jue said nothing.

The man was right.

Twelve bean soldiers were indeed few—even compared to before he descended with his third master, they were far fewer.

Though I've carved bean soldiers whenever I could, making a few, first, my focus lately has been elsewhere; second, carving them is time-consuming. I plan to finish all twenty-eight before consecrating them together—maximum efficiency. So they're not ready yet.

But they will be soon.

"Are you the master behind this temple? The one who helps people lose weight in the mountains?"

"So what if I am? What if I'm not?"

"Recently, many women in the capital have been murdered—all came here. We've been commissioned to investigate." Lin Jue paused, "Also, may I ask—do you know a certain short, wiry Jianghu rogue named Wan? Also from Ju Xian Fu? He came to see you a few days ago."

The moment he finished that last sentence, the figure on the mountain seemed enraged.

"So you're here to cause trouble too? Then let's see your skill!" The voice boomed, then added, "Zhenjian Palace Daoist, listen well—this is my personal feud with these worthless Ju Xian Fu fools. Stay out of it, or even if you summon gods, they won't save you!"

As his words ended, he swept his robe.

A long strip of paper shot toward Lin Jue like a chain, flashing against the light, moving at blinding speed.

Before Lin Jue could react, Luo Gong had already stepped forward, single sword in hand—no magic, no flashy techniques—just a single upward slash—

"Zi!"

The blade, sharp enough to sever demons and ghosts, clashed with the paper strip—and rang like metal, harsh and grating, piercing the eardrums.

But the paper strip was split.

Seeing this, the fox didn't hesitate—it leapt skyward, its massive body soaring over two zhang high, then twisted mid-air and plunged downward like an arrow.

A thud—there appeared a mark on the ground.

And the fox vanished.

When it reappeared, it was beneath the mountain peak, ready to leap and strike down the demon—but suddenly, dozens of towering wolf-headed Tengjia soldiers surrounded it, along with seven or eight ferocious Yecha; some farther off had turned to glare at it, some closer had already raised their steel tridents to stab.

"Retreat!"

Lin Jue's voice came from afar.

Danger!

The fox acted instantly—dove downward again, vanishing completely.

In the next instant, two steel tridents pierced the earth with tremendous force.

When it reappeared, it was back beside Lin Jue.

The forest erupted in chaos—countless wolf-headed soldiers charged out, Yecha stomping heavily behind them.

Lin Jue's bean soldiers surged forward, avoiding the Yecha, crashing into the dozens of towering wolf-headed soldiers, engaging in fierce combat.

"Why so quick to anger? Won't you even speak two words?" Lin Jue said. "These paper soldiers and Yecha weren't easy to obtain—if wasted needlessly, wouldn't that be a pity?"

"What's there to say? Your Ju Xian Fu people keep intruding on my cultivation. If I don't teach you a lesson, where's my face?"

As they spoke, two Yecha had already rushed to the group.

Luo Gong immediately stepped forward with his blade.

The Yecha glared at him, swinging its steel trident.

The massive trident swept sideways—the air itself groaned—but the warrior ducked low, perfectly evading it, then leapt into the air, slashing his longsword.

A crescent of cold light bloomed in midair.

The Yecha, equally ferocious, opened its bloody maw and lunged forward to bite.

Alas, the sword was just a fraction faster.

"Chi!"

The Yecha avoided vital spots but had its cheek sliced open; yet it showed no pain, still lunging to bite the warrior—when the warrior shoved its chest with his left hand and flew backward.

The Yecha moved to advance—but the warrior was gone.

It glanced left and right, seeing no trace of the warrior; as it lowered its head to look beneath, suddenly its nape grew cold—then its neck could no longer support its massive head, which slumped forward.

The warrior had severed half its neck from behind—now only half the neck remained, its head dangling against its chest.

"Zi!"—like air escaping—the Yecha rapidly flattened into a sheet of paper.

The fox charged at the other Yecha.

Now larger than a mountain tiger, nearly as big as the Yecha, it dodged the trident with agile movements, then lunged—normally light as air, now exploding with crushing force, pinning the Yecha to the ground.

What followed should have been a brutal beastly struggle—claws, bites, raw strength, entangled combat.

But this fox was no ordinary beast—

After only a moment of grappling, it stood atop the Yecha, one paw pressing its chest, lowered its head, and spat—

A roaring dragon of solar spirit fire surged forth, slamming into the Yecha's face, blinding all with flame, obscuring even its grotesque features.

No matter how immune to fire the Yecha was, it couldn't withstand such searing heat.

Before the flames faded, the Yecha rapidly shriveled; the fox, still standing on it, sank lower—until Bai Yu realized it was nearly standing on the ground, then ceased its fire, tilted its head—and saw a giant sheet of oily paper shaped like a Yecha, its features clearly visible, its head completely burned away, edges glowing with red sparks.

In the blink of an eye, two Yecha were destroyed.

The figure on the slope watched, pained and furious.

But a glance aside revealed the Daoist below scattering a handful of beans—before they hit the ground, they transformed into a dozen flying swords in the wind.

The Daoist chanted a spell, and the swords flew toward him.

"Weapons forged by the bean soldier technique?"

"Spell-binding method?"

The robed figure was even more astonished—but no time to ponder—he spun his body, turning into a gentle breeze, instantly flying from one mountain peak to another.

Yet the Daoist's gaze clung to him without letting go.

The flying swords followed him relentlessly.

The breeze flattened the spring grass, tracing its path; behind it, the swords, gleaming in sunlight, howled past.

The breeze swept through the treetops, shaking leaves—yet the swords still followed, slicing through countless dead branches and shattered leaves, slightly hindered.

In moments, the breeze twisted across several peaks.

The robed figure seized his chance and materialized within the dense forest.

Only then did Lin Jue see his true face—

The demon was short, clad in a patchwork robe of brown, yellow, and white, stitched from scraps like a Buddhist patched robe—or the desperate patching of a destitute family. But when his gaze rose, he saw a dog's head atop the neck—and suddenly it made perfect sense.

"A mere spell-binding technique? How dare you be so audacious?"

The flower-robed man, face flushed with anger, shouted again:

"I urge you to relax!"

"Hm?"

Without warning, Lin Jue felt a sudden surge of joy rise in his heart—as if he had just remembered something hilarious, or as if someone had plucked a sensitive, amusing nerve in his mind, compelling him to burst out laughing.

Though he managed to stifle the laugh, he could no longer chant the spell.

Swish, swish, swish…

Dozens of flying swords clattered to the ground.

"Now see how you command your swords!" the flower-robed man said, waving his hand again. "Boys, fall back! Use your bows!"

The wolf-headed soldiers below naturally answered his call.

In an instant, the twang of bowstrings and the whistle of arrows filled the air; far above, a swarm of bees seemed to rise and swiftly dart toward them.

This volley of arrows was far denser than before.

Lin Jue acted instantly, turning into a stone statue.

The fox immediately burrowed underground.

Luo Luo Gongceng couldn't help but use a tree for cover.

Even Daoist Qingxuan Daoist, protected by golden light, and Jiang Daoist could not resist pulling Master Jiang aside to find shelter.

Arrows struck the stone statue, clanging loudly.

Yet no one noticed that, deep within the woods and thickets, two flying swords were stealthily moving.

"You've got some skill!"

"Enough to save your lives!"

"But it's only because I didn't want to kill you!"

"Remember this: never again disturb my quiet cultivation on this mountain. You should be in Jingcheng collecting wealth or snatching incense offerings—I only wish to cultivate peacefully atop Fengshan. We…"

As he spoke, he suddenly bent sharply forward.

"Shu!"

A flying sword shot from behind him, piercing straight for his back. Though he bent low, the blade still sliced across his back, tearing through his Daoist robe.

The flower-robed man did not pause—he immediately twisted his body and dodged sideways.

Another flying sword spun through the air toward him. Though he dodged swiftly, the sword's momentum was too swift and fierce; its tip still slashed across his waist, leaving a bloody gash.

"What? What's going on?"

The flower-robed dog-headed man thought for a moment, then understood. He reached back, touched his waist, and found his hand covered in blood—he gasped in shock:

"What a treacherous Daoist!"

Yet as he looked down sharply—

Below, the warriors and the fox were still fighting the night demons. Though the night demons held a numerical advantage, they were no match for the fox and the warriors in combat. The wolf-headed soldiers and the bean soldiers clashed in a chaotic melee, holding their own through sheer numbers—but as the Daoist chanted, the earth trembled, rocks rolled and piled up, coalescing into a stone giant over ten feet tall that joined the battle.

At the same time, the dozen flying swords had all risen into the air, and now the Daoist had stopped chanting, his gaze fixed directly on him.

Cold sweat broke out on the flower-robed man's back.

How could this man wield so many powerful spells?

This wasn't some worthless from Ju Xian Mansion!

And there were three Daoists from Zhen Yu Jian Palace, talismans clutched in hand, waiting to strike.

"This…"

The flower-robed man's eyes flickered uncertainly.

Today's game had gotten too big.

But he'd come this far—if he kept fighting, victory seemed unlikely; if he retreated, he'd lose face.

"Lose face…"

That was worse than death.