Chapter 101

The big yellow chicken stretched its head and swallowed the pearl-like elixir, tucking it away in its crop. It stood on one leg, closed its eyes, and digested for a long time before finally refining the Devil-Piercing Needle.

“The Devil-Piercing Needle truly is extraordinary…” Yan Shu praised, then added: “But we still haven’t found clues to the other demonic suppression artifacts…”

“But the demons must have them,” Qian Chen interjected. “We have this ancient Lanruo Temple… Ning’s sister, Yan’s brother, Zhiqiu’s friend, and little me—how could we be missing one more: the Tree Demon Grandma?”

“Let’s go meet this Willow General!”

…………………………

Beneath Tiansha Peak, a small monk in coarse hemp robes struggled up the path.

He bent low, gripping a nearby boulder, carefully climbing along the cliffside ravine toward the towering black mountain ahead.

As he neared the cliff’s edge, the monk looked up to scout the way ahead—and saw a red shadow standing alone across the gorge.

“Miss!” the monk called out. “Do you know any path leading to the Tiansha Peak ahead?”

The red silhouette turned her head; even through the mist, her stunning beauty could not be concealed.

She glanced at the monk, said nothing, and turned back, her figure solitary and faint.

“Spit, spit, spit… I called her wrong again!” The monk spat several times, then quickly clasped his hands together, feigning solemnity: “Female layperson… is the path to Tiansha Peak just ahead?”

The red silhouette flickered and vanished into the mist.

“Gone?”

The monk froze, clutching his prayer beads tightly around his neck.

“Could she be a mountain ghost? In this barren, cruel land, there are still such beautiful mountain spirits?”

The monk drifted into fantasy, then sharply slapped his own head twice: “Shifang! Shifang… what did Master tell me before descending the mountain? Women below are tigers—avoid them at all costs!”

The mountain path grew steeper.

At the mid-slope, winds from all directions had blown away the mist from the valley floor.

Strong gales howled, hurling loose stones down the mountainside.

Seeing this, Shifang swallowed hard. Falling from here would mean more than shattered bones—he tightened his thin monk’s robe. The high-altitude cold was biting; though he had slight cultivation, even he could not withstand the piercing wind.

He looked around and spotted a wind-sheltered mountain pass ahead.

He hurried over and indeed found a recess between two stone walls, forming a sheltered spot. Someone already occupied it, but the space was large enough to accommodate him too.

“Elder, may this humble monk briefly take shelter here?”

At this, the old man before the rock wall lifted his head. He stared blankly at the monk, his expression hazy and vacant.

The monk ventured again: “Elder?”

“Oh!” The old man stirred from his daze, shifting slightly aside. “No trouble… no trouble at all!”

Shifang exhaled in relief. He noticed dry branches and leaves blown into the cave, gathered them, struck flint to light a small fire, then stretched out his hands to warm them, letting out a sigh of comfort.

He invited the old man beside him: “Elder, come warm yourself by the fire!”

“This path is rugged, the wind is cold. Where are you from, Elder? Why are you climbing so late?”

“I’m a hunter from here…”

The old man spoke slowly, paused a long while, then continued: “My son went hunting. I came up to check the traps.”

“Since you’re from here… do you know any shortcut up the mountain?”

Shifang pointed to the towering Tiansha Peak ahead.

“The path up?” The old man slowly raised his head. His eyes, deep-set and clouded with wrinkles, made Shifang worry whether he could even find his way—and why was such a confused old man climbing alone? Shifang was burdened with a sacred mission; he had no time to escort him home.

The old man pointed rightward beyond the pass, whispering: “There’s a path… you can take it.”

“Thank you, Elder…”

Now warmer, Shifang should continue his journey.

He followed the direction indicated, walking for two incense sticks’ time—sure enough, a desolate narrow trail appeared, leading deeper into the mountain.

…………………………

The path became much easier. Shifang didn’t know how long he’d walked when the sky gradually darkened, and silence settled around him.

He decided not to climb in darkness; he’d find a suitable spot and rest for the night.

Suddenly, a brilliant red shadow appeared on the dimming mountain path ahead.

“Female ghost!” Shifang panicked, squeezed his eyes shut, and held the Buddha amulet his master gave him before his chest: “Amitabha! Amitabha! Buddha before me, all evils retreat…”

“Why did you come?” the ‘female ghost’ asked. Her voice was cold, yet pleasing.

The monk cautiously opened one eye. Seeing her vivid beauty, he answered: “You’re not a ghost… I’m Shifang. My master sent me to Black Mountain to inspect whether the carved Buddha statues remain intact.”

“There are many demons near Tiansha Peak. And you? Did your master treat you poorly? Do you often anger him? Are you too dull to be trained?” The red-clad woman smiled with amusement, studying him.

Shifang waved his hands frantically: “No, no… my master treats me well. He’s like a father to me…”

“Sometimes, you never truly know a man’s heart. If I had a disciple as foolish as you, I’d trick him into walking to his death!” the woman said gravely.

Shifang’s face flushed red.

“My master only seeks to aid fellow cultivators and eradicate a band of demons. That’s why he sent me ahead alone. With his prayer beads, no demon or ghost dares disturb me.” He raised the beads.

The red-clad woman glanced at the beads: “This low-grade artifact? Only good for warding off minor mountain ghosts and petty demons. The demons here aren’t trifles. Carrying this trash is suicide. How many foolish monks like you has your master taken in? Does he still have enough beads?”

Shifang, ashamed and angry, snapped: “I’m not foolish!”

The woman tilted her head: “You mistook a living woman for a ghost, asked a ghost for directions, and never suspected a thing. You’re not foolish—who is?”

She made a comically grotesque face, eyebrows scrunched together—yet this shattered the image of the aloof goddess in Shifang’s heart.

Only then did Shifang cry out: “You mean that old man was a ghost?”

“Of course! I saw you from afar, pestering it to death. I heard it tell you its son went hunting, and it waited on the mountain for fools like you to walk into its trap.” The woman laughed until she bent over. “And a real rabbit actually ran into it! Hahaha…”

Shifang was about to ask more, but suddenly noticed the trembling, snow-white flesh beneath her chest. He immediately lowered his head, flustered.

“You’re a bit lecherous,” the woman prodded his shoulder.

“I’m not!” Shifang kept his head down, Bugantaitou .

“At first meeting, you called me ‘Miss.’ Then you changed to ‘female layperson.’ Little monk, your six senses are unclean!” The woman shook her head, then slapped his shoulder. “Enough teasing. Go! I came here to stop you—you’re about to walk into the jaws of something far worse. If you go forward, you still have a chance. Backward is death. That old demon hasn’t eaten a fresh monk like you in ages…”

Shifang obediently turned back. Before leaving, he asked: “I owe you my life, fair lady. May I know your name?”

“I’m Si Qingguo…”

The red-clad woman arched her willow-brow.

At that moment, a voice only she could hear whispered in her ear: “Main Quest Two activated: Gain recognition from the Righteous (Blood Demon) faction…”

“Circumambulator has gained recognition from Righteous NPC Shifang. Progress: (1/7).”

“Heh… still denying you’re lecherous!” Si Qingguo teased. “A little monk who lies with his mouth but tells the truth with his heart.”

Shifang turned to retrace his steps—then saw dozens of shadowy figures looming ahead. The old man who had spoken to him stood at the front, his face blank: “Why turn back?”

Behind him, countless voices echoed: “Why turn back?”

“Why turn back?”

“Fake spirits!” A sharp cry rang out like thunder. The dozens of shadows shuddered, revealing their true forms.

The once kindly old man’s face withered into a desiccated skull, white hair sprouting across his body, fangs protruding from his lips.

Shifang spun and ran. A red shadow flashed past, grabbing him and dragging him straight into the horde of corpses. Si Qingguo’s voice hissed in his ear: “Forward, you live. Backward, you die. Such a tender monk—how long has that old demon gone without a meal?”

As the grotesque zombies drew closer, Shifang panicked and raised his beads…

“Put away that trash!” Si Qingguo snapped. “Watch my power…”

She flung open her red sleeve. A yellow talisman fluttered out—then another, then another, thousands upon thousands. Each was inscribed in cinnabar, but Shifang panicked: “How can there be so many talismans in the world?”

Not even the energy to draw them—just the cinnabar and paper alone could buy his entire temple, master and all.

Countless talismans surged like a tidal wave, crashing down upon the zombies.

These zombies, no weaker than the wolf demons who attacked Qian Chen, felt utterly powerless against the talisman tide. One talisman stuck to the zombie-form of the old man—where it touched, white smoke erupted. The talisman ignited without fire, burning the zombie with a sizzling sound.

The zombie elder’s face twisted in agony. Then a second, then a third talisman—soon the white-haired zombie was buried under the talisman sea, dissolving into a pool of yellow fluid in an instant.

The endless sea of talismans swept over the horde in a single strike. Before the Golden Money Method, even ferocious demons stirred no ripple.

Si Qingguo retracted the talisman sea, circling herself and Shifang. Her brow arched—yet not a bead of sweat marred her forehead. The power of wealth was terrifying.

At that moment, a green willow branch, glowing with eerie emerald light, pierced through the talisman sea with a *pop*.

The slender, supple branch felt unnervingly like living flesh. Si Qingguo’s red aura surged; her red robes and ribbons fluttered, trailing sparks of flame, halting the branch’s advance.

The flexible willow branch coiled swiftly, snatching up Shifang beside her.

A short flying dagger shot from her sleeve, blade flashing to sever the branch and rescue the monk—but a second, third, fourth willow branch erupted from the darkness beyond, flicking rapidly, deflecting the dagger. Shifang’s scream echoed as he was dragged into the dark.

Si Qingguo bit her lower lip, gritted her teeth, and followed.

Beneath Black Mountain, a colossal tree towered, its trunk dozens of zhang wide, piercing the heavens. Ten thousand emerald willow branches hung from its crown, glowing with green aura, swaying gently in the mountain wind.

At its roots, countless skeletons formed a mound like a hill of white bones.

Shifang’s screams faded as he was dragged here. He looked up at the tree—towering like a divine pillar—and his eyes rolled back, nearly fainting. In the distance, a red figure was leaping toward them.