Chapter 176: Gratitude Rewarded

Zhang Zixiang was examining the corpse, searching for clues on it.

Pan Yun pointed to his shoe soles and said, "Brother, look—his soles are caked in reddish-brown mud. We haven't walked through soil this color yet."

After a moment's thought, Zhang Zixiang said, "I know where there's some. Take the corpse—we're going there."

Pan Yun couldn't carry it.

Zhang Zixiang glanced at her height and didn't expect her to help; he called out loudly, successfully summoning two nearby squads.

Perfect—now we have four more helpers.

They lifted the corpse and moved deeper into the dense forest.

Zhang Zixiang said, "I know a place—near the riverbank at the foot of the mountain, the soil is exactly like this. I remember there were several cracked caves there."

Long Hushan doesn't have much else, but it has an abundance of cracked caves.

Perfect for hiding people.

Fireballs lit their path; they turned a corner and a great river appeared before them, then another turn revealed the mountain's other side.

Pan Yun instantly extinguished the fireballs; darkness swallowed them, for faint flickers of light glowed from a cave just ahead.

The group exchanged glances and crept forward silently.

Inside the cave, a clean-cut young man was washing his hands, carefully slipping on a pair of gloves, while beside him lay a white-bearded Daoist, bound tightly with ropes.

The young man opened a bundle and pulled out a small jar, smiling at the white-bearded Daoist: "Brother Daoist, don't rush—you'll be free soon. I have something wonderful to share with you."

He placed the jar beside the white-bearded Daoist, then removed his gloves and stepped aside, drawing a bamboo flute and beginning to play softly.

The jar trembled; the white-bearded Daoist's eyes widened, his mouth full of cloth, he could only whimper helplessly.

He collapsed backward in despair, tears sliding down his cheeks—and in his anguish, he caught a flash of swordlight outside the cave.

The white-bearded Daoist blinked, struggling even harder, thrashing and emitting loud "wuuu" sounds.

His violent thrashing made the young man's flute melody grow frantic; the jar shook more violently.

A worm's head emerged from the jar's mouth, then another, then another—soon the entire rim was packed with worm heads, which paused briefly before crawling out.

They scurried straight toward the white-bearded Daoist.

Tears streamed down the white-bearded Daoist's face as he stared desperately toward the cave entrance.

Those outside saw this—and suddenly felt the corpse they were carrying twitch.

They looked down: the charred corpse abruptly opened its eyes—its irises were entirely white.

Its fingers twitched, its feet moved—and worse, their sharp eyes clearly saw worms writhing beneath the rotting wounds on its cheeks.

"Holy shit!"

Pan Yun could no longer bear it; she kicked the corpse hard, sending it flying toward the young Daoist.

The corpse shot into the cave; Pan Yun followed, leaping in and slapping a fire talisman onto the jar—the moment it touched, it burst into flames, sealing the worms still inside and burning those crawling on the jar's surface.

Simultaneously, her hands moved swiftly—she formed a hand seal, and a bolt of lightning crashed from the sky, striking the young man who had already dodged the corpse.

Though lagging a step behind, Zhang Zixiang and the others reacted instantly, drawing their swords and charging into the cave.

The corpse, perhaps activated by the flute's melody, slammed to the ground, then sprang up instantly, charging toward Zhang Zixiang and the others.

Pan Yun was about to join the fray when the immobilized white-bearded Daoist let out two muffled "wuuu" sounds.

Pan Yun turned—saw him weeping, his eyes darting sideways, "wuuuuu…"

Her gaze followed—he was tied to a massive stone, the ropes binding him to it, impossible to lift.

Pan Yun saw this, formed a finger-sword, and slashed with spiritual energy, severing the ropes. Seeing worms crawling toward his hand, she kicked him hard, sending him flying.

The white-bearded Daoist crashed into the wall and slid down, bruised and swollen; he sat up, struggled to free himself, and looked at Pan Yun with deep gratitude.

Pan Yun barely glanced at him before summoning lightning to strike and kill every worm on the ground and inside the jar.

Indeed, fire wasn't enough—only lightning would do.

At the moment lightning struck the jar, the young man trapped in the melee screamed and spat out a mouthful of blood.

He glared at Pan Yun with hatred, shouting, "You killed my treasures—I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"

He went berserk, breaking through the circle, ignoring all attacks from Zhang Zixiang and the others.

Pan Yun saw this, retreated swiftly, unleashed her qinggong, and vanished from the cave in an instant.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Spiritual energy balls followed her footsteps—each time she stepped, the young Daoist left a crater half a football's depth in the ground where she'd stood.

Had she delayed even a second, her head would've been blown open that wide.

Pan Yun leapt out, tossing talismans behind her one after another, detonating them.

A dense hail of lightning talismans exploded with crackling fury—he hesitated, leapt into the air to dodge, and his sword twisted like a living serpent, stabbing downward straight at Pan Yun.

The black cat darted beside her, yowling, "You have no weapon!"

Pan Yun wasn't fazed. His sword reached her face in an instant—she shifted her qinggong, vanished from her spot, reappeared behind him, and punched hard. The young Daoist had no time to dodge—he took the blow head-on, ignoring injury, twisting his sword backward in a suicidal counterattack.

Pan Yun retracted her fist, leapt away, evading the sword.

The young Daoist laughed wildly: "You fear death—I don't! You're dead!"

Pan Yun: "You've lived how many years? You survive only by feeding on worms—of course you don't fear death. But I'm young, in my prime. To die for a monster like you? Not worth it."

"I'm not dying," Pan Yun shouted as she ran, "Even if your whole family perishes, I won't."

"Aaaah…" The young Daoist chased her, sword in hand.

Pan Yun sprinted a distance, then as he lunged to stab, she leapt upward, scaling the cliff face with her qinggong, dodging the strike.

His sword scraped the cliff where she'd been; Pan Yun laughed loudly, "Come kill me! You can't catch me!"

Her voice was brazen, mocking—more arrogant than his.

He'd already gone mad from tending worms; now, provoked by her, he descended into full frenzy, screaming "Aaaah!" and lunging again, sword raised, chasing her.

At this moment, he saw only Pan Yun.

Pan Yun scaled the cliff, then turned sharply and leapt down, landing squarely before Zhang Zixiang and the others.

The young Daoist plunged vertically after her; Zhang Zixiang and the others dodged and counterattacked.

Pan Yun circled around Zhang Zixiang and the others, shouting, "Brother, save me!"

The young Daoist's gaze shifted slightly—he finally saw Zhang Zixiang and the others. He screamed, "You all deserve to die! All of you deserve to die!" He stopped focusing solely on Pan Yun—he now intended to kill everyone equally.

He killed everyone equally.

Zhang Zixiang and the others weren't defenseless—they fought back fiercely.

Though the young Daoist was powerful and his techniques bizarre, Zhang Zixiang's group outnumbered him—he slowly fell into disadvantage.

He swept his sword, briefly repelling them, then formed a spiritual energy shield around himself to block attacks, pulled out his flute, and blew a single note.

The corpse, rendered motionless by lightning, stirred again—its movements grew faster; its flesh was eaten away, appearing ragged, rotting even worse.

But this seemed to grant it temporary energy—it shot forward into the crowd, attacking Zhang Zixiang and the others on his behalf.

Pan Yun turned and dashed back to the white-bearded Daoist, who was leaning against the cliff wall.

The white-bearded Daoist stared wide-eyed: "You—you're not going to save your brothers?"

Pan Yun: "They won't die yet. Let's wait and see."

!. ead

She said, "Didn't your brothers watch a long show just now?"

The white-bearded Daoist: "... ou're truly vengeful."

Pan Yun: "I'm not just vengeful—I repay every kindness. That's how I hold myself accountable—and how I expect others to behave."

Pan Yun extended her hand, wiggling her fingers: "Come on—repay your debt, Elder Chen Ziwu."

Chen Ziwu touched his face: "I've changed my face again—how did you recognize me?"

Pan Yun didn't answer—she wiggled her fingers again, urging him to repay her.

Chen Ziwu reached into his sleeve, pulled out something, and asked, "How much money do you want?"

"How much do you think your life is worth?"

Chen Ziwu replied instantly: "My life's worthless—I'd say one tael."

Pan Yun's eyes widened—she hadn't thought anyone could be more shameless than herself.

After thinking a moment, she said, "Oh, I was just asking. Repaying a debt isn't about your price—it's about mine. In my eyes, your life is worth a hundred taels."

Chen Ziwu smirked: "So in your eyes, I'm quite important."

"Of course. If I didn't think you mattered, I'd have left long ago. Would I have spent the whole night gathering people to rescue you?"

Chen Ziwu stared at her outstretched hand—his fingers fumbled in his sleeve, unable to pull out any money.

"Actually… my life isn't worth that much…"

Pan Yun: "Pay with your disguise technique."

Chen Ziwu immediately rummaged in his sleeve, pulled out many items, then finally produced a parchment-like sheet and handed it to her: "Here."

Pan Yun took it, glanced once, then tucked it into her sleeve—actually tossing it into her spiritual realm space. "Can you learn this just from the formula? Won't you teach me personally? I can arrange for you to stay at the Academy—it's perfect for lying low. Aren't you terrified? You nearly had worms crawling all over your body."

Chen Ziwu shuddered: "Don't… don't say any more. I just want to bathe. No—I need to strip naked and roast myself with fire."

Pan Yun nodded understandingly: "I get it. Those worms made my skin crawl too."

Chen Ziwu: "Fine—I'll teach you. Let me hide in your Academy for two days."

He glanced at the battlefield: "If you don't go now, they might really get hurt."

As the corpse's rotting flesh vanished, its strength grew stronger—it felt no pain. A sword pierced its body, it paused only briefly before continuing its relentless slaughter.

Those who struck it pulled their blades out only to find them crawling with worms—so horrified they nearly dropped their swords.

Finally, Zhang Zixiang shouted a reminder: he drew his blade, and flames instantly engulfed it, burning every worm off.

In the end, Zhang Zixiang and another senior brother maintained flame on their blades throughout, finally restraining the rotting corpse.

But the young Daoist did something—he put down his flute, and the corpse retained its vigor; he himself drew his sword and joined the fray.

After watching for a while, Pan Yun confirmed her combat strength among Zhang Zi and the others, curled her lips slightly, and began forming hand seals to summon lightning.

It was already night, and tonight the clouds were thick, leaving only a faint glimmer of moonlight—no one noticed Pan Yun had been charging a massive strike.

"I invoke the Heavenly Lord of Thunder, the Universal Proclaimer of the Nine Heavens, to purge evil and cleanse corruption, bring forth the lightning!"

Dark clouds obscured their heads, blocking all moonlight; as Pan Yun raised her hands, she shouted, "Brother, get out of the way—!"

Zhang Zi and the others felt unease, swept out a sword slash to block the young Daoist's attack, then retreated swiftly.

Just as they stepped back three paces, a crack—lightning struck, hitting the rotting corpse dead center.

Another bolt of lightning slashed toward the young Daoist.

The young Daoist leapt aside, but the lightning seemed to have eyes—it carved a deep crater, missed him, then kept striking, crack after crack, until finally a bolt split down from directly above his head, at which point the storm clouds above seemed satisfied and dispersed.

Pan Yun's face was pale, but her hands moved swiftly; seizing the moment, she pulled out a handful of thunder talismans to hurl at him, but Chen Ziwu and Zhang Zi blocked her.

Chen Ziwu: "If you smash him with that, he'll truly die."

Zhang Zi: "We haven't uncovered the truth yet—we can't kill him."

Pan Yun: "It's just a few thunder talismans—he'll lose mobility, that's all. He won't die."

Zhang Zi: "Sister, he's already lost mobility."

The brother who stepped forward to check kicked him lightly, then pried open his eyelids and said, "Sister, he's truly out cold. Your lightning is terrifying—it's nearly indistinguishable from real thunder."

Even Daoists would be killed by such lightning.

Oh, many Daoists are killed by lightning—so they wield it, yet are also the most terrified of it.

Pan Yun stepped forward and kicked him again, confirmed he was truly unconscious, then let him be. "Where's the rotting corpse?"

Everyone froze in place.

Pan Yun, hiding behind Zhang Zi, spoke timidly: "Brother, don't you think those insects might crawl out of the corpse and eventually cover the whole mountain?"

Zhang Zi and the others turned pale, forgetting to dwell on Pan Yun's sudden shift, and launched fireballs to illuminate the path ahead and inspect the corpse.

His entire body was charred black; one brother, gritting his teeth against nausea, pried open the wounds with a stick—inside, every inch was filled with insect-shaped charcoal, clearly, the insects had been incinerated by the lightning.

He exhaled deeply and laughed: "Of course—lightning can char a man's body, turn his organs to charcoal; these insects had no chance."

(End of Chapter)