Chapter 99

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“Honored guests, please head upstairs.”

The shop assistant hurried over, quickly wiping down the table next to the scholar before inviting Sun Yingxian and the four people behind him to take their seats upstairs.

“There isn’t much to eat in the shop right now. I hope you esteemed guests won’t mind making do.”

Beside the Daoist, a middle-aged man—seemingly the leader of the four—waved his hand slightly, signaling the waiter to leave. Then, he turned his gaze toward the scholar opposite him and cupped his hands with a smile.

“Zhu Ziyi of Longtou Mountain.”

The other three followed suit, cupping their hands and reporting their names.

Sun Yingxian, holding a chopstick between his fingers, sat down across from Lu Liangsheng. He leaned slightly to the side, glancing at the four people he had brought along out of the corner of his eye.

“Old Lu, these four are fellow cultivators!”

The scholar let out a soft acknowledgment while observing the four men. As his robe sleeve swayed, he rose and cupped his hands in return.

“Lu Liangsheng of Qixia Mountain. I pay my respects to you, esteemed seniors.”

The group nodded, seemingly quite pleased with the term “seniors”. The leader, Zhu Ziyi, stroked his beard and smiled, raising his hand in a slight pressing motion.

“Since we are fellow cultivators, there is no need to adhere too strictly to worldly formalities.”

Amidst the faint tapping of chopsticks scraping against a bowl of thin porridge, Lu Liangsheng exchanged pleasantries with them before finally broaching the topic of summoning rain.

The middle-aged cultivator curled his fingers and tapped the edge of the table twice, sighing deeply.

“The heavens are blind. We have attempted to summon rain more than thirty times, yet not a single drop has fallen. It was all a waste of our spiritual power, as we watched countless living beings perish before our very eyes… A world plunged into suffering and ruin…”

The cultivation of these four had all surpassed the Foundation Establishment stage. When they spoke such words, Lu Liangsheng could feel the weight behind them. Along his journey, he had seen refugees fleeing disaster, corpses strewn across the land, and good-hearted people turning into vengeful ghosts.

After a brief silence, Lu Liangsheng furrowed his brows. His fingertips lightly rubbed together as he considered a possibility. Hesitating for a moment, he spoke.

“What if… one forcibly drives the rain with spiritual power?”

At these words, the cultivator named Zhu Ziyi was momentarily stunned. Then, he let out a laugh, stood up, and walked to the railing, gazing outside.

“The great drought in the northwest is a natural calamity, one that cannot be avoided. We can only pray for rain. If one were to forcibly command the clouds and rain with spiritual power, that would be an act of defying the heavens. When that happens, heavenly lightning will descend—at best, one’s cultivation will be completely destroyed, turning them into a cripple. At worst, their soul will be scattered, and their body shattered into countless pieces.”

His words came to a halt as he turned back to look at the scholar. Then, with a smile, he continued:

“The matter of summoning rain will continue, but for now, there is something even more pressing that needs to be done.”

Lu Liangsheng also stood up and cupped his hands toward the four.

“May I ask what it is? If there is anything I can do to help, I will give my utmost effort.”

As soon as he said this, the four men all smiled. One of them stepped forward and spoke: “Recently, people among the disaster victims have been going missing…”

“Children and women?” Lu Liangsheng suddenly interjected. “Could it be a large monk?”

“Exactly! It seems Fellow Daoist Lu has already encountered him.”

Zhu Ziyi shifted his gaze away from the scholar, looking out at the street with his hands clasped behind his back.

“For several months now, children and women from the refugee camps outside the city have been disappearing. No one has seen them alive, and no bodies have been found. One of us is skilled in the art of summoning souls and searching for spirits, yet no matter what we try, we cannot find any trace of the missing people’s souls…”

As the story unfolded, Lu Liangsheng gradually understood the situation. The fat monk had first appeared alone. At first, they thought he had also come to the northwest to pray for rain or to aid the refugees. But unexpectedly, he repeatedly abducted children and even women from among them.

Upon discovering this, the gathered cultivators fought him, managing to drive him away, but they failed to seriously wound him. Afterward, the fat monk became even more cautious. The moment they let their guard down, another child would go missing.

As they were speaking, Zhu Ziyi suddenly extended his hand outside. A paper crane descended from the sky, landing in his palm.

Did something happen?

Lu Liangsheng and Sun Yingxian exchanged glances. Out of the corner of his eye, Lu Liangsheng noticed that the expressions of the three cultivators at the next table were darkening.

Over there, Zhu Ziyi crushed the paper crane in his hand and turned back.

“Let’s go—outside the city!”

Without another word, he leaped from the second floor and landed on the rooftop across the street. The other three cupped their hands toward the scholar before swiftly following him.

Something had indeed happened.

Lu Liangsheng left a few copper coins for the meal and immediately gave chase with the Daoist. Their steps rang out as they traversed rooftops covered in blue tiles. While leaping through the air, he called out: “Seniors, what exactly has happened?”

“That wicked monk has appeared again!”

Zhu Ziyi’s voice came from ahead. His silhouette, suspended mid-air, suddenly turned into a black streak, vanishing above the city wall. In an instant, he arrived outside the city. At this moment, Lu Liangsheng stopped asking further questions. His qinggong and illusion techniques flowed seamlessly together as he leaped over the city wall, following the four ahead toward a hill. From a distance, chaos had erupted at the edge of the refugee camp. People were wailing loudly.

“Injustice… Return my child!”

“I just saw the child, but in the blink of an eye, they were gone!”

“Everyone, help look for them!!”

Cries filled the air. Amidst the chaos, two or three figures broke away from the crowd and rushed toward the hillside. In just a few steps, they had arrived nearby. When they saw Lu Liangsheng and the Daoist, they paused briefly, seemingly about to clasp their hands in greeting, but quickly lowered them and spoke in hushed voices.

“Our companion, who was hiding among the refugees, managed to injure that monk. But still, he managed to snatch two children and escape.”

“Hmph, he won’t get far!”

Zhu Ziyi extended his palm from his sleeve, quickly tracing symbols with his fingertip. With a flick of his hand, a faint red aura shot forward in pursuit.

“Quick, after him!”

“Please wait a moment.”

Lu Liangsheng couldn’t help but interject, cupping his hands toward Zhu Ziyi.

“Since my companion and I are already here, why don’t we join you? That way, we can lend a hand as well.”

The middle-aged man on the other side nodded at the scholar, then exchanged glances with his companions before a faint smile appeared on his face.

“That would be good—an extra hand means extra strength. May I ask if the two of you are skilled in travel techniques?”

Seeing Lu Liangsheng nod, Zhu Ziyi no longer objected. After giving a few instructions to his people, he turned back to the scholar and the Daoist.

“We’ll split into two groups to intercept that monk. If possible, capture him alive. Once his cultivation is crippled, we’ll hand him over to the authorities for judgment.”

“That is the right course of action!”

The scholar cupped his hands in agreement.

With that, they divided into groups. Lu Liangsheng and three others followed the faint red aura southeast of Liyang, traversing mountains and ridges. With their qinggong and techniques like “Shrinking the Earth into an Inch”, they were no slower than the Daoist’s “Divine Travel Technique”. Forests and hills blurred in their vision, disappearing behind them in an instant.

Tap, tap, tap…

Falling leaves scattered as their swift steps stirred the forest floor. Just as they passed through the woods ahead, Lu Liangsheng suddenly halted sideways, his ears attuned to the surroundings. A deafening roar, as if from a great bronze bell, tore through the twilight.

The Daoist and the three cultivators sent by Zhu Ziyi approached from the side.

“You heard that?”

“Over there!” Lu Liangsheng lowered his voice.

Their gazes turned toward a mountain hollow where fierce winds howled. Thunderous explosions, like dry lightning under a clear sky, erupted one after another in an unbroken chain.

Dust and dirt billowed in all directions.

Boom!

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Several figures, swift as specters, flitted through the swirling dust and debris, their palms ablaze with ghostly flames that flickered between illusion and reality. They converged toward the front.

Amid the whistling wind and drifting dust, a towering and corpulent figure clad in yellow monk robes loomed like a Maitreya Buddha. Holding a fearless mudra with one hand, he released the large yellow cloth sack in his other.

“Om!”

At dusk, the monk’s Buddhist chant rang out like a thunderous bell, rolling outward in waves.

In an instant, his massive frame radiated a faint golden glow. The earth beneath his feet cracked open, and he shot forward like a massive boulder, slamming into the foremost cultivator. The other two, merely grazed at the sides, were still sent hurtling away.

One figure crashed into a tree, splitting it in half as it toppled. Another struck the mountainside, leaving a crimson human-shaped stain as his body slid down, reduced to a lifeless, pulpy mass.

The last of the three, struck directly, was seized by the neck. The monk lifted him into the air—then slammed him down with force.

Bang!

The ground caved in, forming a deep crater. The man, still alive, gasped for breath and struggled to utter half a sentence:

“The Qi Huo will not let this go…”

Before he could finish, his ankle was wrenched tight. His words cut off as the monk hoisted him again, swinging his body through the air before smashing him down on the opposite side.

Dirt and rocks flew. The crushed figure was dragged up once more and flung back to the previous spot with brutal force.

“Begone!”

Boom! Boom! Boom!

After several vicious slams, the monk delivered a final kick, sending the cultivator tumbling across the ground, rolling several times before finally coming to a stop. His robe was in tatters, his mouth spewing blood—his body twisted beyond recognition.

The fat monk clutched his bleeding shoulder wound, spat disdainfully, and turned back to retrieve the writhing cloth sack. Just then, the sound of pebbles skittering echoed behind him.

His fleshy face twitched, and he slowly turned his head. A scholar, a Daoist, and two cultivators had arrived. In his narrow eyes, a murderous gleam flared.

“That fat monk… is this savage?!”

The Daoist glanced at the corpses on the ground. Even with his usual indifferent demeanor, he couldn’t help but feel a chill run down his spine.

Then, he looked at the Demon-Subduing Mirror in his hand and felt a headache coming on.

“Old Lu, I’m good at exorcising demons, but when it comes to fighting, I rely on my fists and palms. That fat monk’s punches and kicks are terrifying—I can’t beat him. Maybe we should just run…Old Lu?”

As the two cultivators encircled the monk, the Daoist turned to look at the scholar. But instead of responding, Lu Liangsheng crouched down and carefully moved aside a torn fragment of the corpse’s chest.

His gaze sharpened.

The mangled corpse before him bore a mark on its chest—a ring of flame-shaped patterns resembling petals, partially obscured by blood.

A sudden memory surfaced. Back at the Zhou Residence, Zuo Zhengyang had told him something.

“That Daoist’s body had vibrant patterns, and the fireball’s color was bright red, forming a ring. Based on this, I suspect it’s the insignia of a cultivation sect…”

Lu Liangsheng furrowed his brows.

These people were connected to the Daoist Yangming in He Valley Prefecture.

“Old Lu?!”

“Refined Scholar?!”

“Great Master Lu?”

“Lu Lang!!!”

To the side, Sun Yingxian called out repeatedly, but all he saw was the scholar standing up, his brows knitted tightly as he stared toward the two cultivators.

“Hey, hey, what’s with that look? What are we supposed to—”

Before he could finish, Lu Liangsheng ignored him. At his waist, Veiled Moon Sword trembled faintly, as if sensing its master’s hostility.

“Old Sun, the enemy isn’t that monk.”

The Daoist froze.

In his vision, the sword let out a crisp clang as it was drawn, its blade singing softly in the air.
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