Chapter 777

Any other circumstances?

Though Li Yan was startled, his movements were swift.

He pulled the hook warrant from his robe, sank his spirit into it, and instantly thick mist enveloped the surroundings.

He was already familiar with this process.

Without wasting a moment, he surged forward at full speed, passing two Owl Lords in mere breaths, arriving before the grand plaza where the mission was assigned.

He stole a glance upward—no anomalies.

Li Yan wasn’t surprised; from past experience, Cui Pan wasn’t always present. This place was likely a treasure that bridged the spirit realm and the mortal world, capable of functioning even when unattended.

He focused again—the black water in the stone well was unmistakably a yin offender.

He pressed his hand against the well’s rim; as the black water swirled, the offender’s details became clear in his mind.

Chen Hui: nickname “Master of the Ditches.”

He was a man from the Duanping era of Emperor Lizong of the Southern Song, and the leader of the Snake Cult at the time.

Although Lin’an City was threatened by the northern Jin Wolf Kingdom, it was also the most prosperous metropolis, densely populated, with a vast, intricate, and highly sophisticated drainage system winding beneath the city like another “mirror city.”

These ditches handled sewage and flood control, but their darkness and secrecy made them breeding grounds for vagrants, criminals, and all manner of clandestine activities in Lin’an.

Though the authorities maintained some control, the deepest and most remote channels remained lawless zones. The Dream of Lianglu record of this world even mentions such matters.

Chen Hui’s identity was also complex.

He was the leader of the Snake Cult, founder of Lin’an’s largest criminal syndicate, the “Snake Eye Society,” and a key figure in the Great Song’s Ghost Cult—many horrific ghost-sacrifice rituals were presided over by him.

After the fall of the Southern Song, the demons of the ghost cult fled under Zhao Changsheng’s leadership to the Jin Wolf Kingdom, but Chen Hui was surrounded by numerous xuan masters; though his profound cultivation allowed him to escape, he was gravely wounded.

He should have died for certain, but he possessed a last-resort survival technique.

The Snake Cult had a secret art, similar to the Turtle Breathing Method, allowing temporary death. If buried in an extreme yin location and surrounded by a fengshui grand array, with secret rites performed, he shed one layer of skin every ten days.

After shedding seventy-seven times—four hundred and nine layers—he could be reborn.

Though he became half-human, half-demon, at least he could survive.

Chen Hui hid here, underwent several cycles of shedding and rebirth, regained his peak strength, and even attained the rank of earth immortal—but the mortal world had changed. The Great Xing neared collapse; the Great Xuan had just been founded.

He dared not seek refuge with the xuan sects to cultivate in celestial caves, nor dare show himself openly in the mortal world for fear of detection by Heaven and the Underworld. He could only hide in these desolate mountains and wilds, becoming a wild immortal.

This distant relative of the Zhang family was his puppet.

He falsely claimed the immortals had granted wealth, but secretly manipulated the kidnapping of children for blood sacrifices.

The Zhang family massacre was his act of silencing witnesses.

He exited the space, opened his eyes, and his chest boiled with murderous intent.

When he had joined the Yellow Spring organization, he learned the classification of these earth immortals and yin offenders.

Those hiding in famous mountains and great rivers, protected by orthodox xuan sects, were called hidden immortals.

Those hiding in deep mountains and wilds were called mountain immortals.

The Yellow Spring organization’s primary adversaries were mountain immortals.

Without xuan sect constraints, they were truly lawless—especially ghost cult demons!

Thinking of this, Li Yan became even more cautious, suppressing his qi. Using the Northern Emperor’s Dark Water Escape, he slipped soundlessly through wild grass, shrubs, withered vines, and dense forest, reaching the opposite mid-slope.

There, where flames danced, the scene was eerie.

Seven or eight Japanese men surrounded a central bonfire; the flickering light revealed their tattered clothing and exhausted, terrified faces.

The ronin’s swords still bore dried blood crusts; the ninja’s face coverings were torn, exposing half their faces with bulging veins. The sole onmyoji in a hunting robe had a face as gray as paper, his fan limp in his hand.

Clearly, that night, these Japanese pirates had suffered heavy losses.

They whispered urgently in hushed Japanese, but their eyes constantly darted with unmistakable dread toward the open ground beside the tomb.

That side was where the escaped ghost opera troupe members had fled.

These two ferocious demons now knelt reverently before a tomb mound.

Facing the black, vine-half-covered tomb entrance, they prostrated themselves, posture solemn and devout, murmuring strange, twisted syllables with rising and falling glides.

The sound resembled no known human dialect—short, stacked syllables, sometimes piercing like a night owl’s wail, sometimes low and guttural, clacking and rattling.

Li Yan had seen Lu San use it—this was “Upper Speech”!

Seeing this, Li Yan’s heart sank.

The one hiding in the tomb must be the mountain immortal Chen Hui.

At this distance, the hook warrant’s sensing was crystal clear.

But he was a human—“Upper Speech” was typically used to communicate with non-humans.

Could there be something else?

After a moment’s thought, Li Yan pulled the hook warrant from his robe and gripped it.

Whatever it was—he’d find the old demon’s location and summon the Underworld troops to take them all at once!

But when he activated his spiritual sense to probe, he froze.

The underground beneath this mountain was far more complex and twisted than he’d imagined.

The tomb wasn’t sealed—it was interconnected, riddled with branching passages, like a labyrinth.

All manner of sinister energies radiated out—surely filled with forbidden seals.

Clever old demon!

Li Yan’s eyelid twitched; he felt a headache coming.

According to intelligence, Chen Hui’s nickname was “Master of the Ditches.” In Lin’an, he had manipulated the underground tunnels to stir chaos—he must have excelled at earth Dun .

He never expected him to pull the same trick here, in these desolate mountains.

Over centuries, he’d done far more than a rabbit digging three burrows.

If he startled the snake, the old demon would flee instantly.

Helpless, Li Yan had no choice but to wait for an opening.

Outside the tomb on the other side, the two ghost opera troupe members still chanted reverently.

The eerie “Upper Speech” swirled in the night air, the atmosphere growing heavier.

At that moment, the Yellow Spring disciple on the ground abruptly stopped chanting, bowed once toward the deep tomb entrance, then barked sharply at the Japanese by the fire: “Bring them!”

Several ronin and ninja, as if granted mercy, leapt up and roughly dragged out several small figures huddled in the shadowed corner!

Four children—clothes torn, faces streaked with tears and dirt.

They trembled violently, mouths bound with cloth strips, emitting only desperate muffled whimpers.

One slightly older boy tried to struggle, but a ronin slammed him hard to the ground.

Blood sacrifice!

Li Yan’s gaze turned razor-sharp.

Hearing the Japanese shouts and the children’s cries, his murderous intent surged.

“Who’s there!”

The Yellow Spring disciple, with profound cultivation, sensed the killing intent and whirled around, barking sharply.

“Your grandpa!”

Li Yan roared, shattering the silence of the valley!

Almost as the first word left his lips, he exploded from concealment.

He pushed off with his feet, combining the Northern Emperor’s Divine Step with the martial art “Shrinking Earth to Inch,” leaving a trail of afterimages. Blade light flashed as he lunged straight toward the group of Japanese and the kidnapped children.

He’d planned to use the hook warrant—but that would surely scare off Chen Hui.

In the blink of an eye, the Japanese by the fire were petrified with terror.

One ronin instinctively drew his tachi—but before the blade cleared its sheath, Li Yan had already flashed past him with thunder and wind, his Dao-Cutting Blade slicing him cleanly in half.

Instantly, Li Yan twisted his body, dodging a nearby katana swing, raised his left hand slightly, activated the Thousand Thoughts Guard, and palm lightning crackled across his palm, slamming into a ninja’s chest.

This ninja carried heavy malevolent energy—he was clearly skilled in Dun techniques—so Li Yan used martial arts.

“Crack—!”

A sickening crunch of bone shattered the air!

The ninja didn’t even groan—his entire chest cavity collapsed instantly.

His body flew backward like a sack of rags, crashing into the rocks behind him, utterly silent.

Blood, squeezed from his seven orifices, spurted out, staining the cold rocks and the edge of the bonfire.

The stench of blood exploded instantly!

These Japanese, however, were stirred into ferocity.