Chapter 186: The Old Monk Suppresses the Void

“Not going to the capital?”

The evening breeze whispered sha sha sha, the sound of leaves gently swaying. Amid the bookshelves and hanging scrolls, Hong Lian peeked out half her face to glance toward the master and disciple, then hurriedly withdrew again.

The old donkey flicked its tail, chewing on grass by the roadside not far away, occasionally glancing back. The scholar, dry flatbread clenched in his hand, suddenly smiled and casually sat down nearby.

“Master, why bring this up all of a sudden?”

Having passed Fulin Prefecture and traveled another hundred li ahead, the capital was already close. For Toad Daoist to say such words now meant he had been hesitating over them for many days.

Propping himself up on his knees, he slowly rose from the ground.

“I want to tell you this: even if you possess a treasure capable of restraining his Soul-Seizing Brahma Chant, your chances of victory are still far too slim. The path of cultivation that the National Protector Venerable Master walks is not something ordinary demons can compare to. With your current cultivation, trying to force him to reveal his true form and alert the City God and other cultivators is almost impossible!”

Lu Liangsheng, standing to the side, was momentarily stunned. He pressed his lips together and nodded. “True. But Master, my karmic ties with the Chen Dynasty have already ended—yet the countless common folk within the city remain. If we ignore this and let him transform into a dragon and ascend, he would become a baleful dragon ruling one region, another great demon upon this world. If he isn’t eliminated today, it will only be harder in the future.”

The scholar broke the dry flatbread in half and took a bite.

“I also know how difficult this is. Even exerting myself once is worthwhile. To act only for one’s family and friends does not count as cultivation; to act only for the common people under Heaven does not count as cultivation either. Only when the two are joined as one is it truly what we cultivators ought to do. Moreover, what kind of person that National Protector Venerable Master truly is—only by going there can we know whether he can be dealt with.”

Toad Daoist shook his head. “You cannot deal with him. This master does not wish to see you throw your life away.”

“One must still try…”

“You cannot try. This master is a demon myself—would I not know clearly?!”

Toad Daoist’s bulging toad-eyes flared in anger, his voice abruptly rising. Lu Liangsheng turned his head to look at him. After a moment, the toad’s tone softened, his gaze shifting forward to the donkey lowering its head and chewing grass.

“I never told you… But your master is actually a demon—one on par with a Demon King. I understand that centipede demon better than anyone.”

The evening breeze drifted softly. Within the crimson glow of the sunset clouds, the leaves rustled gently.

Beside him, Lu Liangsheng smiled, edging a little closer to his master, the two of them looking together toward the old donkey.

“Actually, Master, I’ve long known you’re a demon—known it for a very long time.”

“Eh?!”

Toad Daoist lifted his toad-like face, staring at his disciple’s profile. His eyelids blinked twice. Damn it all, he had thought he’d hidden it perfectly.

But after shaking his head, he continued speaking all the same:

“Good that you know. That’s why you absolutely must not go to the capital. Stay properly at Qixia Mountain and cultivate your Dao. When one day you’ve nurtured a sword embryo and your cultivation has risen again, then go eliminate demons and uphold the Dao! Do you remember what I once told you—the wisdom of ‘staying alive’? Only by staying alive can everything be resolved!!”

“Master…”

Lu Liangsheng brushed a birch leaf from the hem of his robe, rose from the ground, and beckoned toward the old donkey not far away.

“‘Staying alive’ indeed requires wisdom, but in the end, humans are different. Human cultivation lies in the Dao—if one cannot even uphold the Dao, how can one speak of cultivation? What meaning is there in training a body full of Daoist arts and cultivation? Surely it cannot be that when the human world faces calamity, and countless lives hang by a thread, one turns a blind eye—only to reappear once peace returns, roaming the world, playing at being an exalted master or immortal, showing off before others?”

The scholar placed the book rack from the ground onto the old donkey’s back, his voice continuing steadily.

“If that is such cultivation, I disdain it—better not to cultivate at all. Likewise, if one cultivates Daoist arts and cultivation and can do some real good for the people, that also accords with what my mentor spoke of in upholding the Dao. This is my Dao, Lu Liangsheng’s Dao. From the day I began cultivating, what you taught me about walking the righteous path, and what my mentor taught me about the common people under Heaven… my Dao can no longer be changed.”

At this point, Lu Liangsheng turned his face to look at the puffed-up toad over there, a smile still on his face.

“Master is a demon. For demons, staying alive is instinct. Liangsheng understands that.”

“Understand my ass!”

Toad Daoist’s cheeks puffed up with circles. He bent down and picked up his smoking pipe, then stomped over in a huff, his webbed feet slapping the ground as he climbed up beneath the book rack. From inside, he slung the purple-gold gourd patterned with black veins onto his back. With a thud he jumped down, turned around, and strode off in another direction.

“This old man is returning to the stone grottoes of Qixia Mountain. If you insist on going to your death, then go! Stubborn to the core—go keep company with that dead mentor of yours! When this master’s cultivation recovers, I’ll come back and avenge you!”

Watching his master’s retreating figure, the scholar still wore a smile. From within the book rack came Hong Lian’s worried voice: “Young Master…”

Lu Liangsheng turned around, his thin lips moving slightly, a voice so soft only he himself could hear:

“This is fine too.”

Then, taking hold of the reins, he headed off toward Tianzhi in the glow of the setting sun.

“Infuriating, absolutely infuriating!”

“That stubborn donkey of a disciple! What’s so bad about staying alive? He can’t even protect his own life, yet he wants to worry about whether others live or die!”

“He deserves to die! This old man will go back and burn you plenty of spirit money!”

In the direction opposite the scholar, Toad Daoist carried the gourd on his back, cheeks puffed, his smoking pipe swinging out from time to time as he stomped along, webbed feet slapping angrily against the ground as he headed toward Fulin Prefecture.

“Back then, this old man even devoured countless humans. If you knew that, would you also want to eliminate this old man as well…?”

The smoking pipe whooshed as it swept aside the bushes. Passing through to the open, his footsteps halted—only then did he realize there was a sheer cliff ahead. He cursed a few times under his breath, then turned, intending to follow the cliff eastward to find the path he had come from.

Ahead, the forest and shrubs swayed gently in the mountain wind. He suddenly stopped, a familiar sensation welling up unbidden.

“Amitābha…”

An aged Buddhist invocation echoed through the mountain ravine, as though it were surging in from all directions.

Within the crimson glow of the sunset clouds, a gaunt figure stood before Toad Daoist, one hand raised in a Buddhist seal, bowing in reverence. His monk’s robe was old yet clean, and in his hand he held a nine-ringed staff, the iron rings clanging—dang, dang, dang—as they swayed.

“…Daoist Zixing(Purple Star). It has been many years.”

On the other side, the toad’s small frame stiffened, his bulging eyes shrinking sharply. The crimson radiance around the old monk was like a great sun shining down, stabbing painfully at his vision.

…Not that bald bastard Zhenhai.

How does he know this old man?

Still, he must be here for me. Fine then. There’s no escaping from this place anyway. Better to fight it out first—so as not to tarnish this old man’s former reputation!

Seeing the old monk advance slowly with his staff, Toad Daoist held his breath and focused his spirit, his body hunching slightly.

‘This old man can still use one breath of cultivation power. I can’t say for certain I can defeat this bald monk, but seriously wounding him should be possible. Besides, I still have the Fate Dice artifact in hand. As long as my luck isn’t too terrible, that single breath of power can at least bring out two or three tenths of its might.’

As the old monk drew closer, the toad’s narrowed. Dense bumps rose along his back, turning dark purple, demonic qi spreading outward.

‘Judging by this bald monk’s pace and his distance from me, as long as I strike first and keep the fight within five or six zhang, even if I can’t win, I’ll still be able to advance or retreat at will…’

The webbed hand tightened around the dice. Distances and timing flashed through his mind in a lightning-fast calculation. His slightly hunched body whooshed as he stepped forward with his webbed feet—

The very next second.

Pa~

The foot he had just lifted caught on a stone jutting from the ground. With a loud pa-ji sound, his body sprawled flat on the earth, falling in the most undignified way possible. The die rolled out of his grasp and tumbled a short distance away.

His face pressed to the mud, he forced out a strained voice:

“Damn it all… miscalculated the ground underfoot… it’s over.”

“Amitābha!”

The Buddhist invocation boomed above the toad’s head. The old monk stopped in front of him, his white beard gently stirring in the glow of the sunset.