Chapter 497: Old Sha

Sha Lifei was full of complaints and burning with anger.

He had come seeking the "Shituo Forest" and finally found a clue: the old monks who built the statue of Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva in that ruined temple.

These old monks spent their days in rigorous cultivation, having long since grown indifferent to life and death, and all worldly matters seemed to have lost all interest for them.

They ate only coarse tea and plain rice, just enough to sustain basic survival.

How would they die? When would they die?

They no longer cared.

But they would never commit suicide—it violated their sect's rules.

These old monks clearly knew some secrets of the "Shituo Forest," but they refused to speak under any pressure or persuasion.

Sha Lifei came up with a plan.

He spent his days staying with these monks.

Whatever the monks ate, Sha Lifei ate too.

When the monks sat in meditation, Sha Lifei sat with them.

But most of the time, he couldn't last long before falling asleep—and precisely because of this, he noticed something strange.

Every night during meditation, he would fall asleep whenever he wanted.

But those old monks were truly meditating, always keeping a thread of awareness, never allowing themselves to sleep.

They were afraid of sleeping!

When Sha Lifei discovered this secret,

he learned the reason that same night…

In his dream, he arrived at a terrifying place—absurd and eerie, watched by countless horrifying things.

Fortunately, when dawn broke, he woke up.

Only then did the old monks reveal the reason.

The "Shituo Forest" truly exists; the horror of that ancient battlefield was not merely due to the sheer number of dead, but because of the influence of the "Shituo Forest."

When the monks built the statue of Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva, they discovered this too—and instead of fearing it, they were elated.

Though terrifying, the "Shituo Forest" is also an opportunity.

Cultivating here can increase blessings and longevity, dispel calamities, ensure smooth rebirth after death, and grant cultivators the chance to attain the Dao's fruit.

Moreover, the "Shituo Forest" can protect against enemies and thieves, and drive away evil entities born from graveyards.

In short, the benefits are numerous.

But the cultivation method is extremely difficult, and few succeed.

After great hardship, the monks found the "Shilin Huzhu Method," then stayed here, day after day, year after year, practicing.

Yet they failed.

Many years passed, and not a single one succeeded.

One by one, the monks grew old and died, long since given up hope.

Some chose to leave this place, but no matter where they went, when night fell and all grew quiet, they always dreamed of entering the "Shituo Forest."

It was as if this nightmare had become bound to them.

Without exception, all of them returned here.

At least, there remained a sliver of hope.

Now, these old monks had no more grand desires.

Their only wish was to perpetually practice the "Shilin Huzhu Method," so that after death, they might be protected and reborn smoothly.

They kept silent about this for two reasons: first, to prevent others from repeating their mistake; second, to avoid inadvertently offending the taboos of the "Shituo Forest."

But to Sha Lifei, it was clear these old monks were hiding malicious intentions, just waiting to laugh at him.

He had come seeking the "Shituo Forest," yes—but he only wanted to find its entrance, prepare properly, and use it to awaken his divine ability.

He did not want to be thrown into it unprepared.

Lu San, beside him, also looked deeply worried.

He saw more clearly: over these past days, Sha Lifei's condition had worsened—his face pale, his eye sockets dark, his eyes bloodshot.

Days of relentless nightmares had already damaged his mind.

Whoosh!

At that moment, Ying Sun landed, flapping its wings.

Lu San took the bamboo tubes below, opened them one by one, read them, then exhaled in relief and said: "Young Li Yan has escaped. The first wave of assassins from the Wang Fu has been wiped out entirely. We've also found traces of the Ghost Sect—they'll join us after handling it."

"Master Dao may have caught a big fish—we must prepare and hurry to meet him. Young Li Yan also found a mechanism that needs your help to load—it's meant for Master Dao's defense…"

Hearing the news from afar, Sha Lifei's mood improved considerably.

Especially Li Yan—since the beginning, Sha Lifei had stayed by his side, watching him grow step by step, as if every problem could be solved.

This gave Sha Lifei a glimmer of hope.

"Let me see what it is."

Sha Lifei took the copper tube, opened it, examined it closely, then shook his head: "This is a Fangshi mechanism. The 'Thunderfire Classic' mentions it—the Minghuo Musket uses this device."

"We still have some white copper and xuan iron left. If we shape them into needles and soak them in cinnabar and rooster blood, they'll have the power to break curses…"

As he spoke, he suddenly froze.

Focusing on these tasks seemed to ease his inner turmoil and lessen his fear.

"Damn coward—since I can't sleep anyway, I might as well work!"

Sha Lifei stood up immediately and walked out with the copper tube.

The house they had found was originally built by a martial artist, later abandoned; because they needed to roast tea, they had also repaired the nearby forge.

Arriving at the furnace, Sha Lifei silently lit it, then took the buried metals from his luggage and began smelting them according to the method he learned from Master Lu of Jinzhou.

He focused entirely, recalling Master Lu's words.

"To forge iron needles, first hammer the iron block into thin bars, draw them into wire, then cut them into blanks. Next, file the tips, hammer flat, drill holes, shaping them into needles…"

"The needle blanks must be stir-fried to absorb carbon, steamed, then quenched to harden them. Finally, polish them meticulously…"

"Iron needles for talismans require stricter control—too much heat destroys the material; too little, and they won't form properly…"

Master Lu came from Zezhou Prefecture in Jinzhou.

There, ironwork craftsmanship was renowned far and wide; the Xuanmen artisans had many lineages, and some even forged divine and buddhist statues—majestic, exquisitely detailed, remaining rust-free for centuries.

Sha Lifei studied under him for a while and gained much benefit.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

As his hammer struck, sparks flew everywhere.

He suddenly stopped, gazing into the distance.

That was the direction of Mount Xilingxue.

He wasn't a fool—he vaguely sensed his fate was drawing near.

He had never considered such a thing before.

He had once thought he'd wander the Jianghu his whole life, but somehow, by following Li Yan, he had begun to glimpse a far broader world.

What does a man seek in his lifetime?

Sha Lifei had never dared to hope for such things.

After all, he was old, with no talent, had struggled, had dreamed—but in the end, he was just like the rest: spouting nonsense, cheating and swindling without mercy, becoming what they called an "old Jianghu hand."

His proudest moments were drinking and boasting to new recruits, telling them he'd once drunk with this one or met that one.

His most arrogant moments were laughing with fellow travelers, cursing the Emperor, gossiping about famous figures.

In the end, it was all just surviving—his life would be nothing more than this.

When old and alone, he could always just swallow poison and kick the bucket.

But he shouldn't have, he never should have—fate opened another door for him.

A far wider, more dazzling world.

He was already old, nowhere near the young geniuses like Li Yan and Lu San—but he refused to give in. Even if he had to strain every ounce of strength, he would keep pace, stir up the winds and clouds, and make his name known across the land!

And Long Yan—what was a Cultivation Sect's holy maiden? Just an old woman. Why couldn't she bear children for Old Sha's lineage?

Besides, Long Yan was now undergoing her tribulation.

One misstep, and they might never see each other again in this life.

Why?!

"Damn coward—when you die, your cock points to heaven—I'm going to fight anyway!"

A surge of rage rose in Sha Lifei's heart, his body burning hot—he ripped off his shirt, revealing his knotted muscles, and swung the hammer down hard.

Ding!

"Fucking hell—I'm going to live!"

Ding!

"Come on—I fear nothing!"

Ding!

"I'll hammer you to death!"

Flames roared; the hammer struck again and again.

Anger gave him courage—he seemed to have forgotten all fear.

!.

Gradually, he entered a strange state.

Sparks flew everywhere, slowing in his vision.

The glowing iron seemed to reveal its grain.

Lu San said nothing, simply standing by, listening to Sha Li Fei's curses and the rhythmic clang of the hammer until dawn.

After all, he was an ordinary man; this state of exhilaration drained immense physical strength.

At the very moment the first ray of morning light touched the horizon.

Sha Li Fei looked up blankly, then collapsed with a thud. Within a breath, he began snoring deeply, sleeping soundly.

Seeing this, Lu San finally exhaled in relief.

For the first time in days, Sha Li Fei had slept so peacefully.

"Get lost, I'll beat you to death!"

In his sleep, Sha Li Fei suddenly cursed, then smacked his lips, rolled over, and snored on.

"This fool…"

A long-absent smile appeared on Lu San's face.

Though he hadn't entered the dream, he could clearly see: the first step of this "Shituo Forest" was to overcome one's own fear.

His own arranged ritual was the same.

The chance of success had increased by several degrees.

As the sun rose and set, Sha Li Fei slept straight through to nightfall. When he woke, he was full of energy, picked up his hammer, and went back to work.

At dawn the next day, Ying Sun Li Dong spread his wings again, his feet bound with the crafted talisman weapons, soaring through the clouds toward the north…

………

Nanchong lies in the northeastern part of the Sichuan Basin.

During the Xia Dynasty, it was the land of the Youguo Clan; in the Shang and Zhou Dynasties, it belonged to Liangzhou.

In the Eastern Han, it first received the name Nanchong.

Now under the Sichuan Provincial Administration Commission, it administers Shunqing Prefecture, which governs Nanchong, Xichong County, Pengzhou, Yingshan, and Yilong County; Baoning Prefecture governs Physician, Nanbu, and six other counties.

The morning of Nanchong's people usually begins with a bowl of powder.

Pure rice noodles are rinsed in boiling water, topped with savory meat sauce, a spoon of red oil, a spoon of cilantro, a pinch of scallion, and an extra fried dough cake—thus begins a vibrant new day.

In the eastern village of Anping Town, a low table, three stools.

Wang Daoxuan sat down on a stool, sipped the noodles, bit into a guo kui, found the flavor lacking, added more vinegar from Baoning Prefecture, and ate until he was drenched in sweat.

Beside him, Wu Ba was too large for the small stool, so he simply sat cross-legged on the ground, slurping from a large earthen pot.

The old man squatting by the door, smoking a pipe, stared in astonishment. "My word, this kid's appetite is incredible! Wife, go make a few more guo kui!"

Across from Wang Daoxuan sat another man.

He was broad and muscular, clad in a black military robe and bamboo-fiber armor, his crossbow and long spear resting beside him; on his chest armor hung several coins inscribed with "Heavenly Official Grants Blessing," the classic attire of a demon hunter.

Before him, too, sat a bowl of noodles.

Perfect in color, aroma, and taste—but he had no appetite. He glanced at Wu Ba devouring his meal, then turned to Wang Daoxuan, his voice tinged with pleading: "Master Dao, please, help us with this."

Wang Daoxuan ignored him, slurped up every last noodle, drained the broth to the dregs, then wiped his mouth and said: "Go on, tell me how I'm supposed to help."

"I told you—the village is suspicious, we must plan carefully. But you, you took the reward behind my back and rushed in."

"Now they're trapped inside. I have no power to rescue them."

"Master Dao, you jest."

The man smiled nervously: "You're the 'You Ji'—who in all of Nanchong doesn't raise a thumb when your name is spoken?"

"Bah, fine."

Wang Daoxuan feigned reluctance. "I can try. But whether I save them depends on their fate—don't blame me if I fail."

The man bowed quickly. "Master Dao's willingness to act is already a great favor. If they cannot be saved, it is their destiny."

Wang Daoxuan nodded, rising to leave—then spotted the falcon flying in from afar. "Wait here. I'll be right back."

He strode up to the second floor of the rented stilt house, opened the window, and let the falcon fly in.

The man below watched, his expression thoughtful.

The name "You Ji" first spread from Chongqing Prefecture.

Because Li Yan's reputation had been too dominant, overshadowing others, Wang Daoxuan had disguised himself upon arriving in Nanchong, dressing as a yinyang master—no one linked him to Li Yan.

Now, Wang Daoxuan had reached the third level of Dao cultivation—the peak attainable by mortals—and excelled in feng shui, exorcisms, and spellcasting. His fame spread quickly.

Once provoked, Wu Ba had attacked outright; had Wang Daoxuan not intervened in time, he might have torn apart a veteran of Nanchong's underworld.

Wang Daoxuan didn't want to reveal his true name, so he gave Wu Ba the alias "Chou Niu."

"Chou" means "nexus," the yang energy rising but not yet descending.

Cows are usually docile and hardworking, but when enraged, nothing can stop them—perfectly matching Wu Ba's nature.

Many in Nanchong's Daoist circles speculated that there were twelve such figures: "You Ji," "Chou Niu," and ten others.

Thus, the legend of the "Twelve Zodiacs" began to circulate.

The demon hunter saw the falcon fly into the inn's second floor, and his suspicion grew firmer.

He glanced again at Wu Ba wolfing down his food, and curiosity stirred within him: if "You Ji" and "Chou Niu" were this powerful, what other divine beings remained?

Of course, he wouldn't dare ask such a forbidden question.

Nor did he truly care.

In recent years, zombies had appeared frequently in Nanchong.

They had been riding Wang Daoxuan's coattails for meals, but greed led them to take on jobs he forbade—and now trouble had struck.

Right now, rescuing the trapped men was urgent.

Inside the second-floor room, Wang Daoxuan took the secret letter, read it, then frowned inwardly: Jiangshen Dajun has been reborn—could this be connected to the Dragon Worshipers?

If so, direct confrontation must be avoided.

Better to gather intelligence indirectly.

With a plan formed, Wang Daoxuan immediately dipped his brush in ink, wrote a detailed report, then tucked the copper tube into his robe.

After releasing the falcon, he strolled down the stairs casually.

"Let's go."

"Thank you, Master Dao! I'll take you to the village right away."

"Who said we're going to the village?"

Wang Daoxuan gave him a cool glance. "You're fools—you've been used and don't even know it."

"We're going straight to the mastermind!"

(End of Chapter)