22: Holding the sword, he served as an attendant, acting as a novice disciple.

Night had fallen deep, and the mountain was enveloped in a cold silence. Yi Fan instructed Ren You to light a torch and gather more branches and dry wood, building a large bonfire that finally dispelled some of the chill.

“Master Daoist, the demon fox has fled into the tomb and refuses to come out. What should we do?” Ren You was anxious. If the demon fox remained alive, it would surely seek revenge, and the urn containing Embroideress’s ashes was still inside, posing a constant threat to their lives.

Yi Fan pondered for a moment, then came up with a plan. He acted immediately, saying, “Layperson Ren, gather more dry wood, and take Embroideress away to a safe distance.”

He intended to attack with fire, to smother the tomb with smoke. If there was no ventilation inside, the demon fox would suffocate if it refused to come out.

Soon, they had amassed a pile of dry wood. Yi Fan placed wet grass atop it at the entrance of the tomb and set it alight. In moments, thick smoke billowed, acrid and suffocating.

The silver-furred beast, sensitive to smells, quickly retreated. Yi Fan had to rely on Ren You, who used his clothes as a fan, vigorously wafting smoke towards the tomb.

Suddenly, there was a peculiar squeaking from within, followed by a soft sound—the entrance collapsed. The smoke could no longer penetrate. Ren You was dumbfounded, looking to Yi Fan for guidance.

Yi Fan sneered, “Ignore it. Let’s see how long it can last inside. We just need to keep watch outside.”

Had they brought shovels, he would have started digging the tomb already.

They waited through the night. Despite the bonfire, Ren You shivered uncontrollably, exhausted and weary. As dawn broke, Embroideress’s spirit dissipated, and Yi Fan sent Ren You back to fetch a shovel.

Descending the mountain was twice as difficult as climbing, so he returned only after the sun was well up in the sky.

“Start digging here. When I say stop, you stop.”

Ren You did not complain, focusing on his task. The shovel flew, and sweat poured off him. Though a scholar, he was a farm boy at heart, possessing considerable strength.

By noon, after intermittent rests, they finally reached the bottom, revealing a wooden coffin, half-buried and rotting, clearly from many years ago.

“Layperson Ren, stop.”

Yi Fan gripped his sword, palm down, vigilant against danger. He concentrated for a moment, saw no movement, and then had Ren You pry open the coffin. It proved effortless—the lid came off easily.

A faint black smoke wafted out, nauseating and foul, dissipating slowly under the sunlight.

The coffin’s contents were clear: a huge fox, charred and stiff, lay dead within; beside it was a pile of stark white bones, evidently victims of the demon.

“Rather suffocate than escape—how absurd.”

Yi Fan sneered, noting claw marks around the coffin, evidence of desperate struggle before death. Yet he felt no sympathy. Such a monster, if not eliminated, would continue to harm countless innocents.

“Master Daoist, Embroideress’s urn isn’t here.”

Ren You was alarmed, searching everywhere but finding no trace of the urn.

Yi Fan chuckled, pointing to a basin-sized hole beneath the coffin. “Dig along here, you’ll find it.”

The demon fox had made the coffin its palace, and for distinction, would never put the urn inside.

Without pause, Ren You took up the shovel and dug, growing increasingly disturbed as he uncovered scattered white bones throughout the tunnel—an untold number of deaths, chilling to the core.

At last, several urns of varying sizes appeared, five or six in all. One must surely belong to Embroideress.

“Layperson Ren, can you distinguish which urn belongs to Embroideress?” Yi Fan asked, noting the lack of markings.

Ren You hesitated, then carried the urns up and was about to open them, but Yi Fan stopped him: “Don’t open them in sunlight. The sun’s rays will scatter Embroideress’s soul.”

He pointed to a shaded spot beneath a tree. “Be careful. Once you open them, don’t linger. Identify the right one and close it immediately. Otherwise, the sun’s energy will harm Embroideress.”

Daytime was different from night—the sun’s yang energy was strong, and most evil spirits dared not appear directly.

After opening three or four urns, Ren You finally exclaimed with joy upon opening another, “Found it! This is Embroideress’s wooden hairpin.”

He cradled the small urn, its exterior adorned with delicate patterns, tightly in his arms, his face beaming through sweat and exhaustion.

Next, they gathered dry wood, placed the demon fox’s corpse atop, and set it alight. Soon, an unbearable stench filled the valley, thick smoke billowing.

Yi Fan and Ren You retreated far away to escape the fumes.

Half an hour later, when the wood had burned away and the smoke dissipated, Yi Fan retrieved a tailbone from the ashes, cool and sinister in his hand—surely a relic of the demon fox. Then came a prompt from the system, so he refined it.

It wasn’t much, but it yielded more than ten units of energy.

On their way back, villagers shied away, following from a distance, pointing and whispering. Yi Fan was unfazed, expressionless, but Ren You sighed, tightening his clothes, holding Embroideress’s urn close.

“Layperson Ren, the matter is settled. I must depart. If fate allows, we shall meet again.”

Yi Fan gave some instructions. Seeing Ren You’s worried face, he patted his shoulder and smiled, “Layperson Ren, do not be troubled. The road lies beneath your feet. Since you are unwelcome here, why not take your mother and settle elsewhere? Though you leave your homeland, you’ll avoid much trouble. With caution, good days will surely come.”

“Master Daoist, your words are wise. I was too attached.”

Ren You’s worries melted away, his spirit brightened. Knowing he would no longer be separated from Embroideress, a smile appeared on his face.

They bid farewell. Yi Fan returned to his lodgings, where his companions had already prepared their belongings. Without further words, the three left the village. No one came to see them off, only watching from afar.

Yi Fan sighed. Day after day, people pray to gods and worship Buddha, yet when faced with real events, they become fearful and resistant. Such is human nature.

Not far outside the village, a strange howl arose behind them. Turning, Yi Fan saw the silver-furred beast leap from the forest onto the road, kneeling and kowtowing repeatedly.

Yi Fan was taken aback. He hadn’t seen it since morning, thinking it had fled. Yet here it was, following them. Sensing its intent, he asked, “Do you wish to follow me?”

The silver-furred beast nodded vigorously, howling in its peculiar way.

Yi Fan understood and laughed, “You may follow, but you must heed my teachings—no mischief, or I won’t spare you.”

He paused, then said, “I happen to need a Daoist apprentice. Since you’re here, I’ll give you a name. You instinctively repel ghosts and possess innate abilities; let’s call you Ghostbane.”

Upon hearing this, the silver-furred beast flipped in excitement, danced about, then dashed into the forest, returning moments later carrying a large bunch of mountain bananas.

“You certainly know how to curry favor.”

Yi Fan laughed, took a few bananas, handed them to the child on his shoulder, then tossed his bundle to Ghostbane and continued onward.