53: Xiaoqian (Part One)

The Zhang family’s guards were well-trained and skilled in martial arts, forming a tight phalanx. Their blades and swords left nothing behind, cutting down without hesitation. The mob, driven to desperation, charged forward as if possessed, some even reaching the grain carts.

Yi Fan stood up and kicked away a rioter who lunged at him. He turned to Qin Zhifeng beside him and said, “Qin, things are chaotic now. The guards won’t be able to watch you. Leave quickly.”

Given the Zhang family’s usual methods, Qin Zhifeng knew too much of their secrets and would surely be killed. Last night, only by calling himself Yi Fan’s friend was he spared. On today’s journey, as soon as he strayed from the group, he would undoubtedly be hunted down.

Qin Zhifeng understood and, without hesitation, clasped his hands in farewell: “Taoist, until we meet again.”

Taking advantage of the confusion, he pretended to fight, cut down two rioters, then slipped away into the crowd and vanished, leaving the nearby guards stunned and at a loss.

The captain of the guards noticed, glanced coldly at Yi Fan, snorted, and shouted to his men, “Don’t stand there gaping. Take care of these wretches first.”

The slaughter lasted nearly half an hour. Three guards were lost; the rest were all wounded, but the mob, cowed by the violence, finally withdrew.

After hurriedly bandaging their wounds, the group pressed on. Over an hour later, a low mountain range came into view, and the guards’ faces grew uneasy, hesitation in their eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Yi Fan reassured, seeing their fear. “With me here, no demons or monsters will dare show themselves.”

At the mountain’s foot, the guard captain gritted his teeth, ordered everyone to shoulder the grain, and followed Yi Fan up the mountain, tense all the way. When they finally spotted a dilapidated Daoist temple, they relaxed a little.

Chen Lan and her daughter, Chen Nier, heard the commotion and came out. Seeing Yi Fan, their faces lit up with joy as they quickly came forward to help. Once the grain was stored, Yi Fan escorted the guards back down the mountain.

By the time all this was done, the sun was sinking west.

That night, they feasted on freshly cooked rice, fried some preserved meats, and warmed a jug of wine—an uncommon moment of comfort in recent days.

After the meal, Yi Fan drank tea outside. Yan Gui returned, covered in dust and weeds. Spotting Yi Fan, she tossed a handful of wild fruit aside and excitedly pounded her chest, screeching and pointing outside.

Yi Fan frowned, stepped back to avoid the dust, and scolded, “I told you to guard the temple, but you’ve been running wild all day!”

Yan Gui drooped her head, looking innocent, but then screeched again, leapt onto the wall, and pointed eagerly into the distance.

Yi Fan stepped out of the temple and looked where she was pointing. In the darkness, faint firelight could be seen from the direction of Lanruo Temple.

“Come, let’s have a look.”

He moved lightly, covering dozens of feet in a flash, then vanished into the night, Yan Gui following swiftly, leaping among the branches with equal speed.

Soon they reached the ruins of Lanruo Temple. From a high vantage point, Yi Fan looked down to see a bonfire burning outside a ruined main hall, surrounded by a dozen or so rough men with clubs, roasting meat and laughing raucously.

Yi Fan dropped down, Yan Gui at his side. Before they approached, they were spotted, and the clattering of drawn blades silenced the camp; the crackling of the fire only deepened the tension.

“Hey, Daoist, who are you? What are you doing here?”

One of the men called out.

Yi Fan ignored him and asked in return, “Gentlemen, what brings you here at this hour? Are you not aware this place is shrouded in dark energy, haunted by ghosts and monsters that kill without warning?”

The men exchanged glances before bursting into laughter. One pointed at Yi Fan, “We’ve been in these mountains for days, eating well, sleeping well, but we’re bored stiff. If there are ghosts and monsters, why don’t you call one out for us?”

At this, Yi Fan guessed their identity. Since his return to the mountain, he had swept away the vengeful spirits and frightened off the monsters and demons. Occasionally, some bold peasants or even ruthless bandits, finding the mountain no longer deadly, had made it their base.

Seeing the murderous look in their eyes and the weapons always at hand, Yi Fan judged them to be bandits, not hunters.

His face grew cold, and with a flick of his sleeve, he declared, “In that case, I’ll say no more. See to your own fates.”

With that, he turned to leave with Yan Gui, the men behind him laughing brazenly, someone even suggesting they capture Yi Fan for their amusement.

Yi Fan paused, shook his head, and vanished with a display of lightness skill.

The moon rose high, and the mountain air grew cold.

At the ruins of Lanruo Temple, one man, shivering in the wind, pulled his coat tighter. Needing to relieve himself, he glanced around—the others slept soundly, the bonfire nearly out. He tossed on a few planks, then slipped away.

Outside, under the cold moonlight, he found a spot, but just as he was about to relieve himself, a clear, melodious woman’s voice reached his ears. He shivered and listened more closely—somewhere nearby, a woman was singing.

At this hour, who would be singing? Could it really be a ghost?

Puzzled, he thought it over, returned to the hall to fetch a knife, and followed the voice, winding through the ruins. Soon, he saw a faint light in a broken hut; the singing came from within.

His heart settled—if there was a light, it must be a person, not a ghost. Feeling relieved, he crept closer, the sweet, flirtatious singing making his heart itch. He quickened his steps, reached the window, and peeked through a crack.

Inside, by the yellow glow of an oil lamp, a little distance from the table, a woman bathed in a tub with her back to the window, singing softly.

Swallowing, excitement rising, he accidentally bumped the window. The woman inside screamed and turned, “Who’s there? Who’s outside?”

“It’s me, it’s me. Don’t be afraid, beauty, I’m not a bad man.”

He didn’t bother to hide, pushing the door open, rubbing his hands, his eyes glued to the woman. “Pretty girl, bathing so late—is it loneliness? No worries, I’ll keep you company and make you feel wonderful.”

“Who are you? Leave quickly! My husband will be back soon. If he finds you, he’ll kill you!” The woman’s features were delicate, her eyes misty with fear, making her all the more pitiable.

“Your husband will kill me? Ha! All the better—if he comes, I’ll kill him, and you’ll be mine.” The man grinned wickedly, tossed his knife aside, and began stripping as he stepped forward.

The woman recoiled in terror, clutching her chest. “Don’t come any closer, or I’ll scream!”

“Go ahead, scream as loud as you can. I’ve got more than a dozen brothers outside—we’ll all join in the fun!” With excitement, the man lunged at her.

There was a shrill scream, then the man grabbed her, but before he could do anything else, his face went deathly pale, his eyes widened, his mouth opened—and he collapsed.

“Well, who would have thought I’d run into a group of living men at Lanruo Temple? Perfect—I’ll dig out their hearts and livers, drain their life force, and present it as a gift to Granny.”

The woman giggled, picked up her clothes, draped them over her shoulders, and stepped out of the tub. Glancing at the man on the ground, who still clung to consciousness and stared at her in terror, she arched a delicate brow and sneered, “Weren’t you acting so tough just now? What, scared out of your wits already?”