Chapter 70: When It

Lin Jue stepped back a few paces and looked up at an angle.

Beside him, a house had a tall fire wall; a man was repairing the roof tiles, seemingly delighted, smiling as he sang an incomprehensible tune, occasionally shouting out a phrase or two.

As if sensing Lin Jue’s gaze, the man looked down, curiously studying Lin Jue.

His singing did not stop.

He spoke in a language Lin Jue could not understand.

Suddenly, a whistling sound pierced the air!

Lin Jue shifted his gaze instantly and saw two more blades flying toward him from the courtyard ahead—having circled over the gate, spinning as they raced toward him where he stood.

Lin Jue remained calm, stepping forward one pace.

His vision blurred, and he was already inside the courtyard.

In the courtyard stood a large tree; beneath it, two archers stood ready, and upon seeing him, they walked over.

Thwip! Thwip!

Lin Jue turned around—

Behind him was the courtyard gate, two blades embedded in it, their tips protruding from the outside.

Lin Jue swiftly reached out and touched them, immediately sensing the magical energy clinging to the blades.

This must be the spell that made the blades and sticks fly and strike people.

The magical energy was not refined at all; Third Master must have judged the man’s cultivation level from this. Too bad Lin Jue’s own spiritual energy had not yet reached the point where he could forcibly break through another’s spell, nor had he trained the Fire-elemental technique to the point of spitting spiritual fire; otherwise, he could have burned off the magic with spiritual flame—a valid way to dispel this spell.

The thought flashed through his mind in an instant; he turned his head again, looking up at the roof.

His eyes flickered with thought.

Just moments ago, when they were still in the merchant’s house, the flying sticks and blades had been “half-blind”—only aware of his and Third Master’s general location, not their exact positions—but just now…

“Gentlemen.”

Lin Jue pointed upward: “Shoot the man’s legs up there!”

The Bean Soldiers could not speak, but their silence was reliable; they swiftly nocked arrows and turned to fire.

Whoosh… whoosh…

Two arrows shot toward the rooftop.

Unexpectedly, the man on the roof first pulled his legs up, then flipped over the roof, skillfully dodging both arrows in succession!

“As I thought!”

Realizing he had been spotted, the man dropped his pretense, pulled a dagger from behind his back, and leapt down from the wall.

He landed lightly atop the tall horse-head wall.

“Gentlemen!”

Before Lin Jue could speak, the two Bean Soldiers had already sensed the threat. To Lin Jue’s surprise, they displayed human-like tactical coordination: one archer stepped back, increasing distance, while the other discarded his bow, drew a long knife from his waist, and advanced with heavy steps.

Lin Jue paid them no mind.

At the same time, he heard faint chanting—coming from the room behind him.

“Demon!”

The two blades on the gate trembled, then flew out in a flash, streaking toward him.

Lin Jue merely sidestepped, slipping into the courtyard’s large tree and reappearing on the other side; the blades, though fast, only embedded themselves in the trunk.

“Tree Brother, my apologies!”

Lin Jue did not pause his steps.

Boom!

He kicked open a door.

Inside was the main hall—a sizable room; seated cross-legged near the back was a bald man in gray robes, chanting urgently.

When he saw Lin Jue standing at the door with his broadsword, his eyes widened, and a flicker of visible panic crossed his face.

Yet his chanting did not stop.

Beside the gray-robed man lay many blades; two instantly rose and shot straight at Lin Jue.

The blades flew swiftly, spinning continuously, covering a wide killing radius; yet the young Daoist kept his eyes wide open, refusing to blink, swung his broadsword with a clang, cleaving one blade away, then twisted nimbly to dodge the other—his Daoist robe and hair each sliced by a sliver.

The gray-robed man’s eyes widened further in shock—he realized the man was still closing in, even while dodging.

That broadsword looked terrifying!

His chanting abruptly halted.

The blades, which had missed and changed direction toward Lin Jue, fell to the ground as the chant ceased.

The gray-robed man raised a finger—

The syllables of his chant changed form.

Simultaneously, Lin Jue’s hands grew suddenly limp, the sword’s grip turning light, soft, and slippery.

He looked down quickly—his broadsword had turned into two bamboo pit vipers, writhing wildly, one even twisting back as if to bite him.

What kind of spell was this?

The thought flashed through Lin Jue’s mind, but his movement did not stop; he tossed the two snakes aside and closed the distance in two steps.

The man never expected this slight, unimposing young Daoist to charge him without his broadsword; he had intended to continue chanting to command the blades, but suddenly, blinding light surged forward—a wall of flame roared toward him, accompanied by a gale.

In an instant, he was engulfed in fire.

His body and face burned fiercely.

“Aaaah!!”

Before the flames had fully subsided and he had even reacted, he felt a hand seize his collar, and a fist slammed into his face.

Still reeling from the searing pain, he was nearly stunned.

“Is that all you’ve got?”

Before he could recover, another vase smashed into his head.

The magical duel ended this way.

Lin Jue remained vigilant, gripping the bald gray-robed man by the collar, stuffing cloth into his mouth, and turned back—on the ground, there were no venomous snakes; his broadsword lay undisturbed.

He picked it up and stepped outside.

Several spots of blood stained the courtyard; both Bean Soldiers bore cuts from blades, and the warrior was gone.

Boom!

The courtyard gate was smashed open.

The first to rush in was the fox he had rescued; Third Master stood at the threshold, locking eyes with him. Outside, many frightened yet curious townsfolk gathered, several merchants among them, holding sticks and brooms as if ready to fight alongside the two Daoists.

The bald gray-robed man was already flushed red, covered in blood.

The young Daoist stood beside him, sword in hand.

…

The group escorted the gray-robed man toward the county yamen; behind them, many townsfolk stared wide-eyed, following, their numbers growing as they whispered among themselves.

When Lin Jue trained atop Fuxiu Peak, spells and magical arts seemed commonplace; but down the mountain, even in places like Shu Village, most people had only heard of magic and cultivators, never seen them firsthand.

Naturally, they found it astonishing.

“I thought about it—he must be using incantations to control the sticks and blades, but he has no X-ray vision, so he hid in this abandoned house. A warrior pretended to repair the wall and sing, actually reporting our position to him in a language only they understood.” Lin Jue told Third Master, “He used those reports to command the blades and sticks to fly.”

“Very likely.”

“That’s my guess.”

“This man also carries death energy!” Third Master glanced down at him.

“Does he cultivate death energy?”

“Not necessarily tied to his cultivation method, nor necessarily to this spell—it might just be his level of cultivation. His death energy is faint, like something he picked up elsewhere.”

“I see…”

“Troublesome…” Third Master groaned.

“Yes,” Lin Jue said. “But this spell is quite effective. Too bad it requires constant chanting.”

“I don’t know what spell it is.”

“Don’t you know either, Master?”

“There are countless spells in the world. When Fuxiu Monastery was first founded, we had seven—considered many then. All these years of hard collecting haven’t added much.” Third Master said, “Besides, back when the world was peaceful, there weren’t so many incidents.”

“True.”

Lin Jue nodded, then glanced back at the rooftops on either side: “Too bad that warrior got away.”

“He was hit by an arrow—he won’t get far. Let the city constables chase him. We Daoists aren’t good at this.” Third Master was adept at passing off responsibilities. “If the constables can’t find him, it’s not our problem—just proof they’re incompetent.”

“Hmm…”

Lin Jue now understood Third Master’s nature roughly—

This man craved comfort and pleasure, loved fine wine, yet carried half a hero’s spirit, free and unrestrained; if injustice or evil went unaddressed, he would step in—but if someone else was handling it, or someone more capable appeared, he’d immediately shrug it off, valuing peace and ease above all.

Such a man must live quite freely.

As they spoke, they neared the county yamen.

Suddenly, a group of Daoists approached from ahead.

They too seemed headed for the yamen—about a dozen, some carrying packs or baskets, each holding a long sword.

One of them Lin Jue and Third Master recognized.

It was Daoist Qingxuan.

As they saw him, Daoist Qingxuan saw them too; they locked eyes, both surprised.

Soon after, the two sides met at the county magistrate’s gate.

One side consisted of a dozen Daoists, mostly in their twenties or thirties; the other side originally had only two people and a fox, yet behind them stood countless merchants and townsfolk.

Both sides exchanged names.

“Fellow Daoist, what is this…?”

“We were invited by the merchants of the city to rid it of demons—we worked all night, and this morning, this demon used magic to warn us off. We ignored him, so he tried to kill us, and we finally captured him. He’s likely connected to the spirit stealing money in the city.” Lin Jue glanced at them. “What about you, Daoist Qingxuan?”

“To be honest, it’s much the same,” said Daoist Qingxuan. “Earlier, your temple sent word about the affairs in Yixian. Then others came seeking help, but our temple was always busy—only a few days ago did we finally have time to come to Yixian. Along the way, we passed through several mountain villages and encountered strange incidents. What should have taken two days took us five.”

As he spoke, he bowed to the merchants beside Lin Jue.

The merchants bowed back.

Both sides seemed to know each other, and both looked somewhat ashamed.

Lin Jue, seeing this, had a hunch: these merchants had likely visited the more famous Qiyun Mountain before ascending Fuxiang Peak. One side suspected the other had sought them out and agreed to meet, yet they never arrived; the other side believed they had been invited first, then turned to Yishan to seek higher masters—both sides felt uneasy.

“Perfect!” Third Senior Brother seized the opening. “Such matters are meant for immortals to handle. Now that our fellow Daoists from Qiyun Mountain have arrived, we can finally rest easy.”

“Er…”

But Daoist Qingxuan turned back, seeking counsel.

Lin Jue noticed his gaze sweeping over the men behind him—mostly lingering on Daoists older than himself—but the longest pause was on a female Daoist who looked no older than twenty.

The woman wore a Daoist robe, her features regular and strikingly beautiful. What struck Lin Jue most was her unnaturally pale skin. He had just heard she was called Jiang Ning.

The female Daoist gave a barely perceptible nod.

“Of course, of course,” Daoist Qingxuan finally said. “Our Xuantian Temple came to Yixian specifically to purge this land of demons. Moreover, the townsfolk plan to invite our Divine Lord’s statue here. When we received your temple’s report, we took it seriously—but, Heihei , you know how difficult it is to communicate with our Divine Lord, and these past years, demonic and ghostly disturbances have been rampant…”

“Of course, of course…”

Third Senior Brother echoed the same, but while Daoist Qingxuan spoke solemnly, he was far more cheerful. He then pointed to the gray-robed man beside Lin Jue. “These rat demons all carry death qi. This demon man carries death qi too, but his cultivation is low—there’s likely a true mastermind behind this.”

“Leave it to us.”

The words came from the woman. Her voice was calm and sincere:

“Your warning has been of great help to us—we owe you thanks. Once our investigation and purification are complete, we will send a formal letter to your temple detailing the results. We will also report your contributions to our Divine Lord and record them in the Merit Ledger.”

“Huh? This is…”

“This is my junior sister Jiang Ning. Though young, she has won the Divine Lord’s favor and has been granted the talisman of a Fa Shi,” Daoist Qingxuan smiled. “Perhaps we’ll meet again.”

This was, in fact, saying that the woman’s words carried authority.

Third Senior Brother was surprised—he hadn’t expected her to be in charge—but since they were so formal, he smoothed his grin and bowed respectfully.

The two sides bowed to each other.