57: Soul Snatching (Part One)

Yifan did not conceal the matter and recounted in detail the events he had encountered half a month ago. “This is definitely connected to the ghost woman,” he said. “As for the grandmother she mentioned, if my guess is correct, it must be the tree demon’s avatar causing trouble.”

“What puzzles me,” he continued, “is that the tree demon’s avatar was wounded by Master Yan Chixia. It shouldn’t dare show itself again without years of recuperation, yet it has reappeared. There must be something odd at work, and we must remain vigilant.”

Daoist Zhao’s face was aghast. He had not expected the ruin of Lanruo Temple to have such origins. Though there had been rumors, hearing Yifan’s account was still astonishing.

“Are these demons trying to help the tree demon’s true body escape its confinement?” Daoist Zhao pondered for a moment and said, “In the Buddhist tradition, relics are sacred objects, formed only after eminent monks with great merit pass away. They possess immense power, but their sole weakness is contamination. Once defiled, they lose their effectiveness. Human blood, especially blood from the heart, can have such an effect.”

Yifan’s expression changed. “Your speculation is very likely,” he said. “We must act quickly. Let us descend the mountain at once and find the missing villagers before the demons succeed.”

The battle at Lanruo Temple two years ago remained vivid in his memory. Several eminent monks had willingly endured the flames of karma to forge relics that suppressed the tree demon’s true body. Yan Chixia’s soul had fled to the underworld, yet the tree demon managed to escape with a fragment of its consciousness.

If its true body were to break free, the land for miles around would become a living hell. With his current strength, Yifan knew he could not suppress the tree demon again; he could only prevent disaster.

Yifan gathered his belongings and instructed the ghost-repelling spirit to guard the temple. He affixed ‘Minor Exorcism Talismans’ around the temple; so long as one remained within the grounds, ordinary demons and ghosts would not dare venture inside.

Once preparations were complete, the group descended the mountain, traveling swiftly. They arrived outside Guobei County as night fell. Daoist Zhao led Yifan to a secluded villa guarded by four or five armed men.

Seeing Daoist Zhao, one of the guards stepped forward respectfully, then opened the gate to let them in.

Noticing Yifan’s curiosity, Daoist Zhao smiled. “Forgive the caution, young friend. Times are unstable, bandits abound. Though we possess some Daoist arts, they cannot guarantee our safety. Hiring martial guards is a necessary measure.”

Yifan understood. Not everyone had the advantage of a system, allowing him to achieve martial prowess that others could not reach in decades. Daoist Zhao possessed some spells, but when faced with a band of outlaws, he would still be at risk.

Such was the helplessness of those without power or backing. Daoist Zhao was a wandering cultivator, unable to train dedicated guardians, and so had to rely on outsiders.

Inside, the villa was brightly lit. Several people sat in the main hall. Upon seeing Yifan and Daoist Zhao enter, they hurried to their feet.

“You must be Daoist Yifan, famed throughout Guobei County! Truly, youth of talent, we envy you.”

---

The speaker was also an elder, but dressed in fine robes, more a wealthy gentleman than a cultivator. Yifan did not dare be disrespectful and returned the bow.

After introductions, Yifan learned that this elder was Xing Ren, the abbot of Fallen Immortal Temple on the outskirts. Known as Daoist Fallen Immortal, he had some reputation in Guobei County, mingling with the powerful and living comfortably.

Yifan knew that cultivators who chased wealth and luxury were either solitary wanderers or lacked the skill to further their cultivation, spending their remaining time indulging in pleasures.

Daoist Fallen Immortal was both.

Among the others, one was a monk Yifan recognized from two years ago at the county office: Yuan Lin of Dharma Guardian Temple. The two exchanged greetings.

“Master Yuan Lin, why are Masters Yuan Zhen and Yuan Xing absent?”

“To be frank, Daoist friend, Senior Yuan Zhen was gravely injured a year ago while trying to stop rioters, and has since passed away. Yuan Xing is traveling abroad and has not returned. I alone now guard Dharma Guardian Temple.”

Yifan sighed. This was why cultivators rarely involved themselves in worldly affairs. Yuan Zhen had acted out of kindness, but the rabble did not appreciate it, and he lost his life. Truly not worth it.

The mortal world is a vast web—no one can unravel its mysteries.

After some polite conversation, servants brought tea. Daoist Zhao did not hide their suspicions and explained the situation. “We must act swiftly,” he said. “Let us organize our people and search separately for the missing villagers, before things get out of hand.”

“Indeed,” another agreed. “I have lived in the mountains, occasionally suppressing demons, but rarely seeing living people. The culprit must be hiding somewhere. If we search carefully, we will surely find something.”

Yifan set his teacup down and added, “Fellow Daoists, take care not to act rashly. The ghost woman is strong and has helpers. Once you find clues, let us act together and root out their lair completely.”

He kept half the truth to himself, concealing the tree demon’s true strength. Even its avatar was beyond the abilities of most present. Only Daoist Zhao had slightly higher power; the others could at best deal with lesser demons and ghosts.

He did so to avoid frightening the group and causing them to flee.

The group split into two teams. Yifan and Daoist Zhao headed to the southern part of the city, where most villagers had disappeared, hoping for clues. Master Yuan Lin and the others went to investigate the villages outside the city.

They agreed on timing, had the servants prepare a meal, and after eating, ventured out into the night.

The city was restless after dark. Idlers wandered the streets, and suspicious figures trailed them. Yet, seeing Yifan and Daoist Zhao dressed as Daoists, most cursed and left, deciding there was nothing to gain.

---

The southern district was home to the poor, a place teeming with all sorts, including countless beggars. As Yifan and his companions entered, they drew many eyes—some curious, some malicious.

Yifan, skilled and fearless, remained calm. Daoist Zhao, seasoned and experienced, was likewise unafraid. Only the guards were tense, dreading a gang of bandits leaping out from some corner.

“There’s a family ahead,” Daoist Zhao explained. “Five members, now only a widow and orphan remain. The two men—one old, one young—have vanished. Without their pillars, the family is left in tears day after day.”

Daoist Zhao led Yifan through several twists and turns, entering a muddy alley. Suddenly, several men with swords and knives appeared ahead, while four or five more surrounded them from behind.

One of the guards stepped forward and called out, “Good sirs, these two Daoists carry little of value. They’re here to investigate the recent disappearances. The authorities can’t be trusted, so these compassionate masters are looking into the matter. Surely you wouldn’t block their path?”

The leader of the group sneered, “Ha! Who do you take us for? These two scrawny fellows—if I use just one hand, they couldn't best me, and you say they’re here to investigate? Brothers, grab them and take their money. If they resist, kill them and sell their flesh to the taverns for extra wine money.”

With that, he charged forward.

The guards’ faces changed. After exchanging glances, they retreated, ignoring Yifan and Daoist Zhao, and soon the two groups were fighting.

Daoist Zhao tugged at his beard, his face pale but calm. He drew a bronze gong from his sleeve, its surface glimmering faintly green in the moonlight.

Yifan glanced at it in surprise. The bronze gong radiated spiritual energy—clearly a magical instrument. No wonder Daoist Zhao was not overly frightened. Sure enough, Daoist Zhao said, “Young friend, steady your mind. Do not let my ‘Soul-Shocking Gong’ harm you.”

He was about to strike it when Yifan stopped him. “These bandits don’t warrant the use of magical instruments. Let me handle them.”

As he spoke, Yifan moved forward. Several screams echoed, and the bandits collapsed, convulsed briefly, then lay still. Those fighting nearby were stunned, exchanged fearful looks, and promptly fled without another word.