Chapter Seventy: Haunting in the Village

For the rest of the day, I practiced the Eight Trigrams formation's finger techniques, while Nangong Xi idly played with her phone out of boredom. That night, I went to bed early, and rose before dawn the following morning. My second uncle had told me last night to arrive early, and sent me the address.

Xuanfeng Mountain.

Such a peculiar name left me rather puzzled, but since my second uncle had given me the address, I had no choice but to go. After getting ready, I hauled Nangong Xi out of bed.

“What are we doing, bro?” she groaned.

“Come on, let’s go…”

Luckily, Nangong Xi wasn’t cranky upon waking, just grumbled a little before heading off to wash up. Before six o’clock, the two of us set out together.

The sky was cloudless—a perfect day, matching my cheerful mood. I checked the map and discovered that this place was actually quite far, over a hundred kilometers from us. We searched for a long while before finding a taxi driver willing to make the long trip.

As soon as we got in the car, the strong smell of smoke hit me. The driver was an older man with a kind face; seeing us board, he flicked his pipe out the window. No wonder the air was so pungent.

Nangong Xi began coughing, and only when I opened the window did the smell improve. After I gave the driver the address, I settled in and closed my eyes for a nap. Nangong Xi, still sleepy from waking up so early, fell asleep as soon as we set off.

The driver was clearly experienced—his driving was steady, and even on dirt roads, he kept the car from shaking too much.

But fate always has surprises. I thought this journey would be uneventful, but suddenly, the driver slammed on the brakes, jolting me awake.

“What’s wrong, sir?” I asked.

He pointed ahead, his face troubled, and replied in a hoarse voice, “Looks like there’s a fight up ahead. I’ll go check it out.”

I saw several men blocking the road, their bodies covered in tattoos and brandishing machetes—classic degenerates. I stopped the driver and said,

“I’ll handle this.”

I stepped out of the car.

“Kid, this mountain is ours, this tree was planted by us. If you want to pass—”

I cut them off before they finished.

“You’re demanding a toll?”

“That’s right, you’re quick on the uptake. We brothers want ten thousand. Pay up and you can pass.”

The bald ringleader was obviously up to no good, his face sagging with fat and a scruffy beard.

“I’m not paying. What are you going to do about it?”

They were just ordinary people without any spiritual energy—dealing with them was hardly a challenge. I had no intention to kill; after all, cultivators are worlds apart from regular mortals.

“Good kid, brothers, get him!”

The bald thug’s expression darkened as he charged at me. To me, it was as if he moved in slow motion. I sidestepped, using his momentum to shove him back, sending him flying. The rest I dispatched with a few punches and kicks, only knocking them unconscious.

After finishing up, I dusted off my hands and returned to the car. Nangong Xi was already awake, unfazed by my abilities. But the driver looked at me as if I were a celebrity.

“Son, are you with the national martial arts team?”

“Yes,” I replied casually, then drifted back to sleep. The driver, seeing I didn’t wish to talk, concentrated on driving.

I thought we’d finally make it there without further incident, but as we passed a small village, the lively chatter of a crowd woke me again, and the car slowed down.

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes and was instantly intrigued.

Up ahead, a crowd had gathered. In the center stood a middle-aged Daoist in yellow robes, performing some ritual amid the commotion. I could sense spiritual energy fluctuations nearby, though not from the Daoist himself.

Since it was a good opportunity to cultivate a calm mind, I got out of the car. After exchanging a few words with the driver, I squeezed through the crowd and listened to the local gossip.

“I heard Old Li’s house is haunted. Is it true?”

“Of course it is—look, they’ve hired a Daoist.”

“They say all the livestock at Old Li’s place were slaughtered. So cruel…”

Having grasped the gist of the situation, I focused on the Daoist.

He was tall and thin, with a long beard and sallow complexion. Though he had no spiritual energy, he did possess some skill.

He bit his finger, smeared blood onto his peachwood sword, and then, face grim, charged into the house.

Soon, sounds of fighting came from inside—I thought he might have succeeded. But to my surprise, the Daoist was thrown out, his face pale and shaken.

I sighed softly and called out from the back,

“You can’t defeat it—try using a talisman, that might work.”

I thought my advice might help, but the crowd turned to stare at me, whispering,

“Whose brat is that…”

“He’s not from our village, making a fuss for nothing…”

“Just ignore the kid…”

I scoffed, then saw the Daoist rush back in.

I didn’t have to guess—he was bound to be thrown out again.

Sure enough, less than five minutes later, he was hurled outside once more.

“This Daoist isn’t up to much, is he…”

“Looks hopeless…”

“Let’s get out of here before trouble comes our way…”

I was about to leave, but my conscience got the better of me. As the crowd started to disperse, I could no longer resist; I dashed forward, leaping lightly over the courtyard wall.

“Who is this kid—so impressive…”

“That’s the one who spoke up earlier. Didn’t expect him to be so bold…”

“Hmph, he’ll get thrown out just like the Daoist…”

As I ran to the Daoist’s side, I had already drawn my Snowblade.

“How are you? Can you stand?”

I helped the Daoist up. He glanced at me and said,

“It’s too powerful—I couldn’t even see what it was.”

“Let me handle it.”

I gripped the still-unawakened Snowblade confidently. The Daoist was skeptical, doubt flickering in his eyes.

“You? Kid, that stick won’t do. I was thrown out—what chance do you have?”

I smiled, glanced at the Snowblade in my hand, and whispered,

“You’re underestimating me.”

Then I looked toward the house, saying,

“Whether I can or not, just watch.”

With that, I channeled spiritual energy into the Snowblade; its blade gradually materialized, drawing a look of astonishment from the Daoist.

I entered the house.

Perhaps it was my cultivator’s intuition, but as soon as I stepped inside, I sensed a wave of dark energy.

As I surveyed the room, a fierce force suddenly struck from behind. I spun and slashed, but the evil spirit deftly dodged, revealing its true form.

Like other spirits, it had disheveled hair and a pale, ghastly face—a malicious ghost. Yet, as a second-grade spirit leaf ghost, it was no match for me.

It tried to resist, but I plunged the blade straight into its chest.