Chapter 154 – Land of Yin Fiends

The night was deep, the moonlight filtering through gaps in the trees—gloomy and hazy. Inside the crumbling temple, a small fire crackled.

Puff, puff, puff…

As the dry branches burned, they popped and sparked. A small pot of congee boiled over the flames. Toad Daoist, wearing an apron, stood atop a stone, balancing on his webbed feet. Holding a ladle, he stirred the bottom of the pot, dipped it in to taste, then fished a bit of seasoning from his apron pouch and scattered it into the soup.

“It’s time to eat.”

Rustle—

The soft sound of pages turning echoed. Firelight cast a glow across Lu Liangsheng’s face. After a moment, he closed the book, got up, and went to sit down. He called Honglian over to join the meal. The tree demoness in a black dress stood off to the side, her hands bound, head tilted back as she examined the ceiling. She blew at the cobwebs dangling down—there was no need to pay her any mind for now.

After finishing the meal, Lu Liangsheng lit the lantern once more, holding it in hand as he casually looked around the ruined temple.

This so-called Lanruo Temple was, after all, an abandoned shrine—unregistered with the authorities and never officially consecrated. To call it a “temple” was generous. Its layout was modest: a single square main hall, surrounded by a low courtyard wall, with a latrine and a few side sheds tucked in the corners.

The lantern swayed as he stepped onto the wooden stairs leading to the second floor. With each step, the wood groaned loudly, and dust rose in clouds. Lu Liangsheng waved his hand to scatter the dust. There wasn’t much of interest upstairs—besides a Buddha hall, there were four rooms on either side, each containing one or two collapsed, rotting wooden beds.

“Who knows how many years this place has stood.”

The curtain draped over the shrine was sagging to one side. A gentle tug sent a plume of dust into the air. Lu Liangsheng raised the lantern to shine light upon the altar. The deity statue inside was broken cleanly in two, the carved features worn so smooth that it was impossible to tell which Buddha it had once represented.

Then, from the narrow corridor behind the Buddha hall, a sudden gust of yin wind blew through. The lantern flame flickered wildly.

Lu Liangsheng lifted the lantern toward the passage—when suddenly, a white skull swooshed around the corner. As though it had spotted someone, its jaw opened and snapped shut, lunging straight at him.

“Honglian, stop messing around.”

The lantern turned, casting its light further out. The floating skull immediately froze in place, revealing the translucent form of the female ghost, Honglian. She tossed the skull in her hand, caught it again, and trailed along just beyond the edge of the firelight.

“Young Master, you could’ve played along, at least. So dull.”

“Haha…”

Lu Liangsheng gave a soft chuckle. He walked over, took the skull from her hand, and placed it beside the shrine. “The dead have already passed on. Don’t mock their remains—it’s disrespectful.”

As he spoke, he clasped his hands and bowed slightly to the skull.

“Apologies for the disturbance.”

Lantern in hand, Lu Liangsheng strolled off to inspect the rest of the grounds. There was little of interest. Behind the main hall, beyond a few withered trees, sat an old stone well, and beside it, a cracked and toppled Land Deity Stele.

The well was deep and dark. Lu Liangsheng furrowed his brow, picked up a pebble, and tossed it in. After a long pause, a soft plop echoed up, rippling faintly. Even under the lantern’s glow, the depths remained pitch black, without end in sight.

“The yin energy here is thick, no wonder that within a radius of over twenty li, the night is steeped in chilling gloom. This must be the source.”

Thinking back to the villagers’ talk earlier that day—how people died here every year—it was most likely connected to the baleful yin aura festering beneath this well. Unfortunately, sealing such sinister forces was the domain of Daoist masters like Sun Yingxian. Lu Liangsheng, though aware of the danger, could only sigh helplessly as he gazed at the mouth of the well.

As these thoughts turned in his mind, the tree demoness in the black dress had somehow wandered out as well, barefoot and trailing her long hem as she wandered about aimlessly. When she caught sight of Lu Liangsheng, her eyes lit up and she scampered over with a silly grin, pressing close and rubbing herself lightly against him—though she said not a word.

“You foolish tree spirit, get away!” Honglian puffed her cheeks in annoyance, waving her finger to shoo her aside.

The woman blinked her dark, shining eyes and shook her head vigorously, leaving Lu Liangsheng half exasperated, half amused. He gently pushed her away, but fortunately, the woman’s curiosity was strong—perhaps due to her nature as a thousand-year-old spirit root—and in no time, she was drawn toward the well, peering intently into its depths.

“Careful you don’t fall in.”

Lu Liangsheng pulled her back. “Come on, let’s head inside. Master is probably already asleep by now.”

At those words, Honglian gave a huff, flicked her sleeves, and floated back through the temple walls. Lu Liangsheng led the tree demoness back as well. Just as they stepped through the ruined gates, he paused, turned slightly, and glanced toward the weathered stone stele standing not far from the Lanruo Temple.

Then, with a soft chuckle, he shook his head, blew out the lantern, and stepped back into the temple.

Above, the starry night sky was slowly swallowed by encroaching clouds of shadow.

Out in the woods beyond the stele, several pairs of eyes peered from the darkness between the trees, watching the crumbling temple intently.

“…Did you see that little lady? As pretty as a flower, just like I said.”

“There were too many eyes back in town—couldn’t make a move. But now he’s all alone in that temple. Perfect time to finish him off.”

Owooooo—

A wolf’s cry echoed from the distant hills. Somewhere in the forest, an unknown night bird flapped its wings and flew off. Six figures crouched among the trees, each dressed differently, their faces twisted and vicious, weapons in hand. Their eyes locked onto the faint flickering light that still glowed from the temple gate.

“Isn’t this going a bit too far?” “What, you think that guy’s some kind of saint? Didn’t you see that woman in the black dress? Hands tied up like that? For all we know, he kidnapped her.”

“Heh heh, if that’s the case, then we’re heroes saving a damsel in distress. And then…”

A squat, fat figure chuckled lowly, “And then… she gives herself to her savior. Nothing wrong with that, eh?”

Around them, the forest mist began to churn and drift, thickening. The cries of night birds ceased all at once, leaving only the sound of wind whispering through the leaves.

Rustle—

The wind drifted in through the ruined temple, stirring the flames until they bowed low. Shadows danced and flickered across the walls. The toad had curled himself into a squat, yawning idly.

Lu Liangsheng looked up from his book, glancing around. At his fingertip, spiritual force gathered. He flicked it lightly toward the fire, and at once, the flames rose upright again, burning steadily and quietly.

“There are a few people outside. Looks like they’re in for trouble.”

“To prey on others under cover of night—they’re no decent folk.” Said Toad Daoist from within the firelight, his toad eyes half-lidded. “If it were me, I wouldn’t care if they lived or died…”

But then he recalled the feeling he had that day on Yingshi Mountain when the divine transmission had passed through. The Toad Daoist paused, cut off the rest of his words, and slowly stood up. His webbed hands folded behind his back as he looked toward the fire.

In his gaze, the toad’s eyes shone with solemnity.

“…We who walk the path of cultivation—how can we stand by and watch others perish? As for right or wrong, let the authorities judge. As your master, I will go save them.”

With that, he turned, webbed hands still behind his back, and strode toward the temple gate.

The wind whistled through the forest, mist roiling along the ground as it crept toward the six men crouched beneath three trees.

Hehehe…

…Heh…

A young woman’s soft laughter, or perhaps the rasp of an old crone’s cough, echoed faintly among the trees. The six crouched figures fell silent. The tall, thin man turned his face slightly and muttered under his breath:

“Did any of you hear something strange?”

The short, stocky one wiped the sweat from his brow. “I think I did too. Maybe… we should just go. I heard the townsfolk say this forest’s haunted.”

Up ahead, the bearded man in the lead—broad of chest and thick of arms—slapped the short one’s head with a meaty palm.

“We’re cutthroats, every last one of us—brimming with killing intent! What ghost would dare come near? That man dares spend the night in that wreck of a temple, and we six should be scared?”

Fff—

Just as he finished speaking, the bearded man suddenly felt a cold breath against the back of his neck, as if someone were exhaling right behind him. He shuddered uncontrollably and spun around. All he saw was a thick wall of white mist.

“When did the fog get so thick?”

Fff…

Whoosh…

The wind grew stronger. Only now did the six men realize the thin mist around them had become dense and choking, as if they had been plunged into a sea of cloud. A jolt of fear struck their hearts.

The mist coiled and rolled, writhing like something alive. Within it, there seemed to be hands—reaching out toward them.

Gulp…

All six swallowed hard in unison, swords and sabers clutched tight, rising to their feet with trembling knees. They looked at one another in panic, and finally all their gazes turned to the bearded man leading them.

The bearded man straightened his chest, forcing a rough bark of bravado:

“We’re villains—running into ghosts is only natural for the likes of us…”

But his eyes widened the next instant. He suddenly spun around and shouted—

“Run!”

At the gate of the ruined temple, where faint firelight flickered, a short black silhouette with webbed limbs hopped down the stone steps, heading leisurely toward the forest.

At the sound of panicked screams—

The corners of Toad Daoist’s wide mouth curved upward in a grin.

“Come now, all of you… this old man—”

Then, the smile froze.

Sha—

The underbrush parted as six figures burst out at once. With a thud, one of them seemed to kick into something, but no one stopped—they bolted madly for the temple gate.

On the ground, a dark shape tumbled and bounced several times before coming to a stop.

“Son of a—!”

Toad Daoist lay belly-up, his pale gut fully exposed, cursing as he scrambled to his feet. But just as he did, a wave of thick white mist surged out from the woods, freezing his body in place for a heartbeat.

His webbed feet slowly took one step back, then he turned to flee—planning to gain distance before casting a spell.

Behind him, the endless mist rolled forward like a flood, blanketing the sky, chasing close.

And at that moment, from within the temple, Lu Liangsheng’s voice rang out like thunder:

“Evil Demons and fiends—how dare you run wild!”

Sclang! The sword rang as it left its sheath.

The six who were dashing up to the gate saw a flash. A streak of icy light shot past them, slicing straight through the center, vanishing into the depths of the mist.

Hissssshhh-aaaah!

Within the fog, spiritual light erupted, followed by a shrill, bloodcurdling scream.