Chapter 21: A Demonic Form Emerges from the Wild Grave

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Moonlight fell like a silvery ribbon over the mountain hollow, illuminating the silhouettes of several figures. Each wore delicate veils and light robes, their forms shapely and alluring—yet all were beautiful women. Together, they knelt before a small burial mound.

“Respectfully welcoming Grandmother out of the palace.”

As the words faded, a swirl of black smoke billowed forth. From its depths emerged a decrepit old woman, hunched over a dragon-headed staff, two young handmaids trailing behind her, clutching at her robes.

“Rise.”

The old woman took a few steps forward. As she lifted her gaze, a green light glimmered from her eyes. She stared at the kneeling women for a long moment before letting out a strange laugh. “Have you all made any gains lately? It’s been so long since I’ve tasted the scent of the living—my cravings grow fierce.”

One of the women bowed and replied, “Grandmother, the winter is cold, livestock do not venture out, and the villagers rarely climb the mountain. Once spring comes and the hunters return, with the skills of us sisters, we’ll surely bring you a feast.”

“So you’ve brought back nothing, then?” The old woman’s face darkened, the green light in her eyes flaring. “If the villagers do not come, do you not know how to descend the mountain? Am I keeping a handful of useless wretches just to listen to such excuses?”

The women trembled, falling to their knees in terror. Suddenly, one of them spoke up, “Grandmother, the Embroideress has had some success. She often visits a villager at the foot of the mountain and has secretly married him. Why not have her bring that young man to satisfy your hunger?”

“Sister Yin, how dare you frame me?” one woman cried, lifting her head in disbelief—it was the Embroideress. She hurried to protest, “Grandmother, I am most devoted to you, please don’t heed such slander!”

The other woman pressed on, “Grandmother, it is the truth—I witnessed it myself. If you do not believe me, allow me to take you and verify it.”

“That’s enough. No more arguing. Whether it’s true or not, I will judge for myself,” the old woman snapped. She stepped in front of the Embroideress and helped her up. “How many years have you been in my palace, Embroideress?”

“Three years, Grandmother,” the Embroideress replied with bowed head. “I am grateful for your kindness, giving me shelter from the wind and sun, sparing me the hardships of the cold and gloom.”

“Indeed, you seem to understand your blessings. But in these three years, have you brought me any living humans?” the old woman said coldly. “If I recall, not a single one, is that not so?”

The Embroideress shuddered and fell to her knees, weeping, “Forgive me, Grandmother.”

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“Forgive you?” The old woman let out a chilling laugh. “Just bring me your little husband, and I will naturally pardon you. I might even reward you.”

The Embroideress looked up in panic. “Grandmother, I have no such husband. Sister Yin is slandering me—please do not believe her.”

“You think me a fool? Stubborn and unrepentant, courting death,” the old woman roared, swinging her staff. The blows landed upon the Embroideress, who screamed in pain. After several strikes, she collapsed, unable to move.

At that moment, a young man rose from the nearby grass, his face contorted with fury. “Stop!”

Everyone started in surprise. The Embroideress raised her head in horror. “Ren, what are you doing here? Run, quickly—don’t come down!”

The old woman sneered. “So your little husband is here as well? That saves me much trouble. Since you’re here, you won’t be leaving.”

With that, she barked, “You lot, go seize him!”

The women scrambled up, drifting lightly toward Ren You. Just as they were about to grab him, a sword flashed from the grass, and a Taoist leapt out.

With a shriek, one woman fell, struck down. The others, realizing the Taoist’s strength, scattered in terror.

The Taoist pressed a hand on Ren You’s shoulder, shook his head, and sighed. To the silvery-furred beast behind him, he said, “Watch him—don’t let him go down.”

The silver-furred beast thumped its chest and nodded excitedly. It pointed at the remaining women, licked its lips, and howled.

“You greedy creature, always bargaining,” the Taoist said with a wry smile, tapping its head with his sword. Then, with a flick of his sleeve, he jumped down.

The old woman’s face was clouded with suspicion and anger. “Where did this mangy Taoist come from, daring to cause trouble in my palace?”

The Taoist was Yi Fan. He had wanted to observe a bit longer, but Ren You’s impatience forced his hand.

Yi Fan sneered, “A broken cave in a mountain hollow, an abandoned grave—how dare you call this a palace?”

The green light in the old woman’s eyes blazed. Seeing her handmaids cowering at the edge, she cursed, “You worthless sluts! Kill that Taoist, or must I do it myself?”

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The women’s faces were ashen, none daring to move forward.

“Old witch,” Yi Fan declared, “your hands are stained with countless lives, your sins are grave. Tonight, I shall act in Heaven’s stead and scatter your soul to the winds.”

Sword in hand, Yi Fan charged forward with lightning speed.

The old woman’s face twisted. She let out a shriek, hurling her staff into the air. It transformed into a large serpent, jaws wide, as she turned to flee.

“Monster, you cannot escape!” Yi Fan shouted. Knowing this was his chance, he swept his palm through the air. A bolt of lightning struck from nowhere. With a wail, a piece of clothing fell, and from within leapt a massive old fox, its fur charred, racing in panic into the burial mound.

Yi Fan showed no regret. With a swift movement, he dodged the serpent and pressed a “Lesser Talisman of Exorcism” onto its body. The serpent convulsed, black smoke pouring from its form as it collapsed, limp. With a stroke of his sword, he severed its head.

Having dispatched the serpent, Yi Fan approached the burial mound, affixed four or five talismans around it to prevent the demon fox from escaping, then turned back. He saw the Embroideress, her clothes torn and body covered in wounds. Looking away, he called, “Lay Brother Ren, it’s safe now. Come down and tend to the Embroideress.”

Ren You, overcome with anxiety, scrambled down and gathered the Embroideress into his arms. “Are you all right? It’s my fault—you’ve suffered because of me.”

Seeing she could not speak from weakness, he turned to Yi Fan in alarm. “Master, what’s wrong with her?”

“Do not worry, Lay Brother Ren,” Yi Fan reassured him. “She has only suffered injuries to her yin body. With some rest, she will recover.”

He cast a glance at the terrified women in the distance and said coolly to the silver-furred beast, “The rest of those ghosts are yours to handle.”

At this, the remaining women pleaded for mercy. “Master, have mercy! We were forced—Grandmother made us do it, or we’d be beaten and tormented!”

Yi Fan paid them no heed, turning aside to inspect the burial mound. After a few moments, he heard several screams. When he looked again, the women had vanished, the silver-furred beast contentedly rubbing its belly, baring its teeth in a fawning grin.

Indeed, it was a true spirit beast, born with strange powers and a taste for ghosts.

Yi Fan marveled inwardly. He had read about such spirit beasts in the secret texts of his temple—wondrous and rare, possessed of understanding and discernment. Though he had suspected as much before, seeing it now was still astonishing.