Xue Cuo slapped Yin Feixue’s tiger claw away. Yin Feixue found his angry expression amusing; after teasing him until he was exhausted, he put the claw back again.
Xue Cuo’s eyes widened slightly, which only made Yin Feixue want to laugh more. He had worried that Xue Cuo might be injured, but seeing that his complexion was normal, he decided it was nothing serious and continued teasing him.
Xue Cuo pushed his paw away, and Yin Feixue put it back. After repeating this several times, Xue Cuo finally realised what he was doing, and laughed in exasperation. He brought his five fingers together into a claw and struck out with a move of Tiger Fist.
Yin Feixue laughed, casually parrying the blow, and mocked, “Yinbing-xiong, your Tiger Fist isn’t very orthodox. It’s more like a cat’s scratch.”
This tiger really had a wicked mouth!
Xue Cuo raised a brow, but he was still injured… his strength faltering, his reaction a beat too slow. Both of his hands were easily caught in the fluffy tiger claws, held firmly in one large paw, leaving him no chance to fight back.
“You—” Xue Cuo struggled, but to no avail. His hair was slightly dishevelled, his eyes faintly red. Gritting his teeth, he said stubbornly, “Fine. You win.”
So let go already!
Yin Feixue narrowed his eyes, as if pondering something. But he didn’t make things difficult. He released his grip and helped Xue Cuo to his feet, asking casually, “Did you hurt yourself anywhere?”
Xue Cuo replied, “No. But this village is more trouble than it seems.”
Yin Feixue said, “Come on, let’s have a look together.”
Xue Cuo felt slightly dizzy. His duel earlier with Bo Jinling, and the incense ritual he had burned, had drained his spiritual strength. He stumbled forward a few steps and nearly fell.
A strong, fur-covered arm silently circled his waist, steadying him.
Xue Cuo looked up at the big tiger. The tiger’s expression was calm as he lowered his head to meet his gaze, twitching his ears innocently. Yin Feixue’s demonic body was tall, his snow-white fur soft and warm as clouds, comfortably pressed against Xue Cuo… though there was something strangely disconcerting about it.
Yin Feixue was nothing if not forthright. His tiger claw brushed the cold silver chain at Xue Cuo’s waist, and he boldly gave it a curious stroke.
Xue Cuo stared at him, appalled. What on earth was wrong with this tiger!
He smacked the paw away. “Your Majesty, if you touch the artefact at my waist, don’t blame me if something comes after you.”
Yin Feixue twitched his ears, then hooked the silver chain lightly with a claw and tugged. “And what exactly would come after me?”
Xue Cuo’s waist tightened, pressed close to the warm fur. He was just about to retaliate when a faint whimper reached his ears. It was Shen Qingsang waking up.
Xue Cuo stepped forward, but Yin Feixue calmly said, “Let me.”
He crouched down. The talismans on Shen Qingsang’s face had all been wiped away; she could no longer see or hear. She had allowed the Red Cloth Silkworm God to inhabit her body. And as the price, her human form could never return.
Yin Feixue didn’t know the full story, but her condition was clearly unnatural. He examined her briefly: her spirit altar had collapsed, her divine seat was empty… but curiously, her soul remained intact. He looked up at Xue Cuo.
Xue Cuo asked, “How is she?”
Yin Feixue replied, “She’ll live.”
He said nothing more, and Xue Cuo was clearly aware of the truth, so he didn’t seem surprised.
Yin Feixue looked up at the sky. As a white tiger, he was sensitive to malignant energies, and he could tell this place was far from ordinary.
A heavy stench of blood and death.
A thick taint of Xianghuo Divine Dao corruption.
Cultivators and demons of weak will, driven by desire, had become accomplices to these clay idols… cruel, callous, and hard to destroy. By the time they were discovered, they had already taken root. Bo Jinling was not the first Xianghuo-corrupted heretic Yin Feixue had met, nor the first he had slain.
But he was the first to create a mass grave… and the first to nurture such a monstrous blood fiend.
Xue Cuo said, “Miss Shen was captured by Bo Jinling. There are still many innocent women here.”
Yin Feixue said, “The thing in her body her?”
Xue Cuo replied, “An evil god.”
Yin Feixue’s expression darkened thoughtfully. After Xue Cuo explained the details, he lifted Shen Qingsang and followed him to a small courtyard.
Inside, the women heard the knock and hesitated for a long time before opening the door a crack. A large, furry paw reached in, prised the gap wider, and pushed the door open.
The women screamed in fright. When Yin Feixue entered, they all huddled together, not daring to raise their heads.
Xue Cuo followed him in. He was handsome, and he had saved them earlier; instinctively, they crowded behind him like a living wall.
Yin Feixue rubbed his ears, set Shen Qingsang down, and deliberately bared his teeth, frightening them further.
Xue Cuo said, “What are you scaring them for?”
Yin Feixue folded his arms, ears flicking. “I’ve not done a thing. Xue-xiong, you truly do cherish the fairer sex.”
Xue Cuo ignored him, kneeling to redraw talismans for Shen Qingsang. But when the golden ink touched her face, it refused to take form.
He frowned, trying twice more. Then he realised that the deity within her had seized full control of the body and no longer tolerated his interference.
In time, this girl would likely become a great white silkworm. When her vitality ran out, she would be discarded by the Silkworm God… who by then would have already found a new devotee.
Xue Cuo whispered quickly into Shen Qingsang’s ear, words too soft and rapid for Yin Feixue to understand.
Xue Cuo’s expression grew darker and darker. He drew out a small incense burner from his sleeve and lit three sticks. The smoke rose straight and steady as he lit a summoning talisman. “Venerable Deity, I will forge you a new statue. Come out from Shen Qingsang’s body. How about that?”
The incense sticks snapped sharply inside the burner, as though in warning.
Shen Qingsang had given up her body of her own accord; he hadn’t taken it from her. No matter how one argued it, he would not yield.
Seeing this, Xue Cuo took another stick of incense from his storage ring. This one was different from the earlier kind. It was rougher, with a faint lotus fragrance when lit.
He took out a handful of talismans and affixed them in a circle around Shen Qingsang. The Red Cloth Silkworm God seemed faintly puzzled.
After a moment’s thought, Xue Cuo drew another talisman slip, gently wiped Shen Qingsang’s face, then pressed a vermilion talisman to her forehead, folding it into the shape of a lotus.
He wiped carefully until it was spotlessly clean.
Her Ladyship shouldn’t nitpick if it’s like this.
He pressed his palms together devoutly and recited the Goddess’s Dao title.
Far across a thousand mountains, in the divine kingdom of black heavens and white earth, a vast and ancient statue slumbered beneath countless Daoist chains. Hearing the earnest prayer of her disciple, she stirred and cast forth a sliver of divine thought.
That gaze pierced layer upon layer of mist, falling upon her disciple’s spiritual domain.
Within that domain, the incarnation of her sole lineage disciple’s true spirit was beating drums and clanging cymbals in celebration: “Your Ladyship! Your Ladyship! The delicious Dao has arrived. I’ve washed it clean for you!”
The goddess’ clay statue’s expression changed ever so slightly. To put it simply, the corner of its mouth twitched.
Yin Feixue, who had been watching with his arms folded, suddenly noticed Xue Cuo twitch slightly with his eyes still closed, as though something had patted his head. On instinct, the white tiger rolled out of the way.
“Xue-xiong?”
Xue Cuo sprang to his feet, retreating several paces from Shen Qingsang. He said to Yin Feixue, “You Majesty, let’s step outside for a moment. Oh, right…”
He hadn’t forgotten the women in the courtyard. He took several by the hand, and together with Yin Feixue, guided them out. They shut the gate, pasted talismans upon it, and soothed the women, who were as skittish as frightened squirrels. Then, leaning against the door, Xue Cuo let out a quiet sigh of relief. “All right. We wait here.”
Wait for what?
Xue Cuo only smiled mysteriously, leaving Yin Feixue completely baffled, though he didn’t ask. Suddenly, a strange sound rose within the courtyard.
As if a violent wind had burst loose, slamming and rattling the doorframe.
Yin Feixue’s instincts prickled; part of him longed to peek, yet his beast’s intuition warned: best not to look.
He pricked up his ears and pressed them against the door. Seeing this, Xue Cuo joined him. Then, on a sudden impulse, produced a small paper effigy from his sleeve. The paper man, Xiao Jia, fluttered up and plastered itself to the wood, listening intently to the noises within.
Gods devouring gods, consuming and absorbing each other. This, too, was written in the [Book of Divine Advent], the scripture of Her Ladyship.
Yet unlike other deities, She held little obsession with resurrection; thus, Xue Cuo could not be sure of Her intention.
He could hear rustling within, followed by the faint, brittle crack of insect bones crushed underfoot.
Within the courtyard.
Golden lotuses bloomed across Shen Qingsang’s body. The Red Cloth Silkworm God struggled amid the petals, crying out in terror.
[Goddess, Goddess…]
He must have recognised the Goddess of the Great Loch, but he realised too late. At first, he had not known who She was, and by the time regret came, there was nowhere left to flee.
He had devoured many believers; his karmic debt was immense. Thus the golden lotus devoured him with effortless ease, as though slicing through melons and bamboo shoots.
The Red Cloth Silkworm God wailed and sobbed, yet the golden lotus opened and closed in calm succession. When it at last withered, only a few strands of silken thread remained upon the ground.
When all fell silent, Xue Cuo opened the gate. The courtyard lay in ruin; Shen Qingsang’s talismans were torn, and she lay motionless upon the earth, her fate uncertain.
Xue Cuo exhaled in relief. This time, when he raised his brush to draw, the talisman came easily.
Shen Qingsang did not remain unconscious for long. She blinked awake, dazed, murmuring, “Am I dead?”
Yin Feixue leaned in at once. “Dead.”
Shen Qingsang yelped in fright. The great tiger was promptly smacked aside by a hand, revealing a familiar face… one that looked distinctly unimpressed.
“Your Majesty!”
Then: “Miss Shen, how do you feel?”
Shen Qingsang, upon seeing Xue Cuo and touching the cool, golden moisture on her face, instantly understood what had happened.
She had intended to perish together with Bo Jinling; in her fury, she had yielded her body. Yet Xue Cuo had saved her once more. Overcome with shame, she rose and bowed in apology.
Xue Cuo did not reproach her. Seeing she was unhurt, he set his talisman brush away.
At that moment, Yin Feixue spoke: “This village can no longer be lived in. The baleful energy is suffocating. Mortals cannot withstand it.”
Shen Qingsang, newly awakened, looked around. The formation protecting the village was gone, but the heart’s demons of its people remained.
Not only the mortal women. Even she, for a fleeting instant, had been tempted to die, unwilling to continue in her half-human, half-ghost state.
After some thought, she said to Xue Cuo, “Mr. Xue, my body is ruined, my cultivation destroyed. I have nowhere to return to in the mortal realm… I wish to remain here, with these women and children.”
The strange afflictions that marked those women would stay with them all their lives; they could no longer blend into the human world.
Xue Cuo understood her meaning but did not answer at once. “Miss Shen, you’re not returning to Taolin?”
Shen Qingsang shook her head and smiled wistfully. “If I return, I’ll only be mocked by those fools. Since I can no longer ascend, I may as well wander the mountains and live as I please.”
Yin Feixue remarked suddenly, “This place isn’t far from Tiandu City.”
Xue Cuo took out a brocade pouch and offered another path. “My surname is Xue. If you’re not afraid, plant this lotus here in the village. The pond should be three feet and three wide; use pure earth if possible, and draw living water to fill it. On the seventeenth of every month, when the moon hides, offer millet. It will guard against misfortune.”
Shen Qingsang received the pouch, glancing between Xue Cuo and Yin Feixue. After a while, she no longer found the man-bodied, tiger-headed figure so strange or frightening. Indeed, he looked rather majestic.
She tightened her grip on the pouch, smiled faintly, and said, “Then I shall plant the lotus.”
…
Far across a thousand mountains, in the divine realm.
The red-haired ghost polishing Her Ladyship’s statue in the Judgment Hall suddenly let out a hiss. He crawled beside the withered wishing pool, wiped his eyes, and tugged at the green-haired ghost. “Look! Look! Isn’t it sprouting?”
…
Deep within Dragon God Mountain.
Bo Jinling opened his eyes. The statue of his deity was trembling inexplicably. He quickly offered several sticks of incense to steady it. The god’s voice rang out, sharp and urgent: [Disciple, we can wait no longer! Complete the blood sacrifice at once! My resurrection is but one step away!]
Bo Jinling’s brows creased with worry, yet his resolve held firm. He summoned the golden dragon and spoke gently: “Ah-Mu, don’t be afraid. Once the god revives, you too shall ascend. Immortal, undying, and eternal.”
At that same moment.
In Fangzhou’s Temple of Civil and Martial Deities, incense smoke drifted like clouds. The clay statue of the deity upon the altar suddenly opened its eyes, leapt down, and after looking about, found a young Daoist reading while sipping tea.
“Mr. Qiushui, the time is near. You may go and gather some merit.”
The Daoist, absorbed in his book, raised his cup, downed a mouthful, and spat a few melon-seed husks. “Eh, no rush, no rush. Let that fiend commit a few more evils to earn me some extra merit points first. Then I’ll slay him, no hurry at all. Come now, Divine Lord, have a melon seed.”
