Volume 3: Dao, Dao, Dao… Heaven’s Dao, Earth’s Dao, Human Dao, Ghost Dao— I seek only my own Dao! Chapter 149

Dust swept through the air. The lantern beneath the eaves burst open, flames licking out and devouring the roof tiles.

Amid the swirling haze, a crack had split open along the courtyard wall. Toad Daoist squeezed himself into the gap, his two stubby legs kicking furiously on the outside before finally managing to wedge himself through.

Huff…

Panting heavily, he looked toward the swirling smoke and dust, then turned his toad face and called to the little ghost girl who had slipped through the wall:

“Follow this old one, quickly!”

Nie Honglian looked in the direction Toad Daoist pointed—it was a two-story wooden building nestled against the mountain wall. She hesitated for a moment and glanced toward the smoke-filled courtyard.

“But the young master…”

“He won’t die. Move!”

One ghost and one toad crept along the wall’s corner. Taking advantage of the heavy smoke, they quietly slipped past the four-sided pavilion. Then, Toad Daoist spread his webbed feet and sprinted wildly.

…Hahaha!

My darlings, this old one has returned!

His mouth opened wide in excitement, tongue hanging out along the side. Not far ahead, in a pit trap, a shadowy figure was struggling to rise. Just as the person poked their head out, a webbed foot came smack down on it, shoving them back in. Without even glancing, Toad Daoist charged straight toward the small wooden building.

Moments later, he stood before the doors. The excitement faded from his bulging eyes. With his webbed hands tucked behind his back, he stared solemnly at the plain wooden door with its copper ring handle.

He picked up a piece of shattered stone and tossed it forward. Clang! A ripple of light shimmered outward, and the stone bounced off and flew away.

“There’s a ward…”

“Toad Master, hurry and think of something!”

Honglian paced anxiously, glancing repeatedly toward the courtyard. Beyond the artificial hill, the swirling smoke was gradually dispersing. Faintly, the sound of sword resonance began to emerge.

Buzz…

The Veiled Moon Sword was stabbed into a pile of shattered stone, its blade faintly quivering. A pale blue radiance flickered along its body like lightning, racing over the surface and scattering outward.

Lu Liangsheng braced one hand on the ground, his entire body trembling. He wiped away a smear of blood from the corner of his mouth and slowly pushed himself upright. His foot stepped on a broken tile shard, and his body swayed slightly.

From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the wooden building. Honglian was looking back at him. He forced a relieved smile.

Then he turned to face forward—

As the dust settled, within it emerged a faint crimson glow of dharma light.

“Sure enough,  a cultivator at the Golden Core realm truly is stronger than one at Foundation Establishment… I hope Master and Honglian can hurry.”

With that, he reached out to pull out Veiled Moon.

Suddenly, the sound of a bell rang out sharply. The moment Lu Liangsheng’s fingers brushed the sword hilt, he withdrew his hand with a whoosh, hastily circulating what little remained of his spiritual power to defend himself.

Ding ding ding…

The bell’s chime seemed to pierce straight into the mind, sending waves of dizziness through his head.

“He’s over there!”  “As we suspected—someone’s attacking the outpost!”

“Go! Quickly!” “Kill him!”

“I see him—he’s alone…!”

From afar, seven or eight Fire-Worship Sect cultivators who had been lying in ambush within the temple surged forth from the stele gate and the ritual grounds upon hearing the disturbance. At the same time, there was movement ahead of the scholar as well.

As the last of the dust settled, the silhouette of Qi Bingzhang emerged, the Soul-Shacking Bell in hand. His robes had been torn by the sword strike just now, streaks of blood faintly seeping through, and his Daoist topknot had come undone, hair hanging loose. His appearance was rather disheveled.

However, the wounds on his body were all superficial—left by the scattered sword qi. His spiritual power remained intact.

This middle-aged rogue cultivator, now a disciple of the Fire-Worship Sect, stared coldly at the scholar who had burned all his strength in that last sword strike, and forced each word through gritted teeth:

“What grudge does the Fire-Worship Sect bear with you? First you wreck our post in Chang’an, now you come here—death is too good for you!”

Around him, the sound of pounding footsteps drew ever nearer.

Lu Liangsheng glanced sideways toward the wooden building where his master should be. He bit down hard, inhaled deeply, and forced a smile—his teeth stained with blood.

“The rare hundred-year drought in Heliang Prefecture, it was your doing, wasn’t it? You set up the Earth Fiend Yin Fire Array all across the region… do you know how many people died?”

“In Chang’an City, your sect kidnapped women from the populace, imprisoned them, and used them to indulge your vile lusts… Tell me—when one sees such things, should they not act?”

“I know who you are now! The scholar who killed Zhu Ziyi!”

Qi Bingzhang noticed the look in the scholar’s eyes and followed it slightly toward the treasury. His expression changed. With a fierce sweep of his sleeve, he bellowed: “Kill him! Don’t let him buy any more time!”

The eight cultivators surrounding him sprang forth with a swish, soaring through the air. Lu Liangsheng reached behind his waist and pulled down the scroll he had slung there. He flung it outward—

RROOAARR!

A thunderous, beastly roar erupted. A long tail lashed through the darkness like a whip, whipping up a foul wind. A massive head surged forth from the blackness—its face bristling with coarse fur, its mouth baring gleaming fangs. With a sweep of its claws, it slashed across in a broad arc, blocking all eight attackers. Its towering body stood like a mountain behind the scholar, shielding him.

“It’s an illusion technique—destroy that painting scroll!”

Though the illusion technique was exquisitely lifelike, Qi Bingzhang saw through it at a glance, relying on his past experience. The Soul-Shaking Bell in his hand began to sway again, following a precise rhythm in tandem with the incantation he chanted under his breath.

The demonic chime rose once more.

From Lu Liangsheng’s sleeve slipped a writing brush, falling neatly into his palm. He swiftly removed the cap and traced the character ‘Zhen’ (震 – Quake) into the air. A flash of golden light shimmered and shot toward the enemy—but the figure across from him was no beast, and the light dissipated as it struck.

Still, Qi Bingzhang staggered slightly, and the bell’s eerie tone faltered for a breath.

“Haoran Qi…” [TL_Note: This is a moral-ethical force cultivated through virtue of Confucian nature, courage, and alignment with the Way]

Riiip—

The suspended scroll was torn apart mid-air. One Fire-Worship Sect cultivator had slashed it down with a magic weapon, but just as the painted Taowu was about to vanish completely, it struck out with one last swipe, sending the man flying. Another cultivator charged in, his red-headed staff aglow with spell-light. Seizing the opening while the scholar was still mid-stroke, he brought it crashing down in fury.

Bang!

Flames burst in every direction. The wolf-hair brush in Lu Liangsheng’s hand shattered under the strain of channeling his dwindling spiritual power. His body was flung more than ten zhang away, crashing over the artificial hill, scattering stone fragments, and spinning midair. Trailing a long streak of burning fragments, he hurtled straight toward the wooden building.

“Little ghost girl, don’t panic!”

“This old one is almost done—”

Just then, a thunderous crash rang out. Toad Daoist, in the middle of speaking to Honglian, instinctively turned his head. A blazing figure streaked past his field of vision, followed by a deafening boom. Flames surged high, the railing shattered into splinters and rained down, pulverized on impact.

The barrier ward bound to the wooden railing instantly dispersed.

Toad Daoist looked at the debris now scattered before him, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

“Liangsheng, to have thought it out so thoroughly… Wait, no!”

He hurriedly rammed open the wooden door and shouted, “Liangsheng—!”

“Young Master!”

With the warding spell gone, Nie Honglian darted straight through the wooden door and rushed inside. Behind her, Qi Bingzhang and his eight disciples also closed in.

Whoosh…

The second floor of the treasure vault burst open in chaos. Countless unknown items, large and small, spilled outward. Lu Liangsheng stumbled out, half of his body scorched black. As he stepped forward, his foot suddenly caught on something—he pitched forward onto the floor, his forehead bumping against something soft.

His half-lidded eyes looked down—

It was a curled-up woman. Her forehead was sealed with a talisman, surrounded by fragments of a shattered urn, as if she had fallen out from within it.

“.…..”

Gritting his teeth, the scholar struggled to his feet and turned the woman over. Her face was deathly pale, her breathing extremely faint, and her body was still wet with some kind of thick, viscous liquid.

“What were they doing, capturing women like this…”

His gaze swept around—everywhere within sight stood rows upon rows of tall ceramic urns, densely packed like a forest. A thought flashed through Lu Liangsheng’s mind. He raised his palm and shattered one of the urns with a loud crack.

Crash—!

From the broken opening, a foul stench surged forth. Thick, viscous liquid spilled out across the floor—and within, lay an infant, no more than half a year old.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Lu Liangsheng went mad, smashing urn after urn. What was revealed before his eyes were the bodies of women and children, one after another.

“All the children who went missing in Heliang Prefecture… they’re here.”

“They’re all here…”

“Snatching women and children… hehe…”

His nerves seemed to snap from the tension. The young scholar braced himself against the floor, staring at the faintly breathing women, children, and even infants surrounding him.

“Hehe… Fire-Worship Sect…”

A twisted smile spread across his lips.

“…What vile acts are left that you haven’t committed?”

“Liangsheng—!”

Plap—plap—plap—the sound of webbed feet slapping against wooden stairs rang out. As the Toad Daoist crawled up to the second floor, he was met by a scene cloaked in darkness.

In that dim space, Lu Liangsheng’s voice murmured again and again. Perhaps hearing the call, Lu Liangsheng slowly turned his head from where he was kneeling on the floor. In the darkness, his eyes glowed with a jade-green light.

“Everyone in the Fire-Worship Sect… deserves to die.”

The hoarse voice overlapped with the howl of a fox.