Chapter Nineteen: The Old Ancestor of the Yellow Wind

Cock-a-doodle-doo! The crow of the rooster rang out three times, shattering the tranquility of Zhen Family Village.

The diligent villagers rose from their beds, preparing to begin the day's labor. Soon, wisps of cooking smoke curled above the village.

The morning mist had not yet lifted when a solitary figure quietly slipped out of Zhen Family Village, heading north into Little Jing Mountain.

This unremarkable, middle-aged man moved with astonishing speed, traversing the rugged hills as if walking on flat ground. In no time, he arrived at a secluded mountain valley and stopped in front of a deep, shadowy cave.

At that moment, a yellow-furred weasel darted out from the nearby underbrush. It fixed the man with a wary gaze, bared its sharp teeth, and looked decidedly hostile.

The man clasped his hands in greeting. “I am Zhen Gang of Zhen Family Village, sent by my master Zhen Yuanliang to pay respects to Ancestor Yellow Wind.”

The yellow weasel chittered twice, then turned and vanished swiftly into the depths of the cave.

After the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea, a much larger yellow weasel emerged, standing upright on its hind legs. In a thin, piping voice, it said, “Mister Zhen, my ancestor invites you. Please, follow me.”

This weasel, long and lanky, was dressed in a coarse cotton tunic, giving it a rather human-like appearance.

Zhen Gang forced a smile and replied, “Thank you for your trouble.”

He followed the yellow weasel into the cave.

Yellow Wind Cave was vast, but not particularly dark; many holes in the ceiling allowed sunlight to spill inside. The walls were riddled with countless burrows, whose mysterious inhabitants rustled unseen, their sounds echoing through the hollows.

Zhen Gang could feel strange, chilling eyes watching him from the shadows. Though he was no ordinary man, cold sweat beaded on his back—he was under considerable pressure.

Fortunately, after only a few dozen steps, they reached their destination.

At the deepest point of the cave lay a massive stone chamber, tangled with bizarre rocks and dense vines. In its center rose a tall stone platform, around which many small yellow weasels played and frolicked.

A shaft of bright daylight pierced down from the high dome, illuminating the platform.

There, reclining on a chair woven from vines, eyes closed in apparent rest, was an elderly figure with snow-white hair.

But a closer look revealed this was no old man at all, but an ancient, white-furred weasel! Its fur was almost entirely white and so long that most of it trailed to the ground. Draped in a pale yellow robe, the creature bore a striking resemblance to a human at first glance.

Ancestor Yellow Wind!

Zhen Gang’s heart trembled. He immediately dropped to one knee and bowed respectfully. “Your humble servant Zhen Gang pays homage to the Ancestor!”

He dared not show the slightest disrespect to this venerable weasel upon the stone dais.

This was a monster of one or two centuries, after all. Even if it had only a few years left to live, it could crush him with a flick of its finger.

After a moment, Ancestor Yellow Wind slowly opened its eyes, as though just waking from a deep slumber. It cast a faint glance at Zhen Gang and asked in a thin, sharp voice, “So, what business does Zhen Yuanliang have with this old one?”

Zhen Gang quickly retrieved a letter and a jade box from his robes, presenting them with both hands. “Here is a letter from my master, and a gift for the Ancestor!”

Ancestor Yellow Wind nodded slightly.

The yellow weasel who had escorted Zhen Gang stepped forward to accept both items, then climbed the stone platform to deliver them.

Ancestor Yellow Wind broke the seal, took out the letter, and read it through.

“Hmm?”

In the next instant, fury erupted!

Its flowing robe fluttered though there was no wind; countless hairs stood on end, and a dreadful aura filled the cavern. The young weasels nearby scattered in terror, fleeing into their burrows to tremble in hiding.

Zhen Gang’s scalp prickled. His blood seemed to freeze, overwhelmed by a wave of terror. He bowed his head and dared not meet the Ancestor’s piercing gaze.

The large yellow weasel in the coarse tunic bowed. “Ancestor, please calm your anger.”

Ancestor Yellow Wind waved the letter, voice chilling. “Little Seven and Little Nine are dead, along with three grandchildren. Last night, all perished in Zhen Family Village!”

The big weasel froze, anger flaring in its eyes. “Who did this?”

Ancestor Yellow Wind snorted coldly. “Little Jing Mountain Daoist Monastery.”

“Xuan Pingzi?” The big weasel was astonished. “He would dare make an enemy of Yellow Wind Cave?”

Ancestor Yellow Wind waved its paw. “Xuan Pingzi hasn’t been at the monastery lately. The ones who killed Little Seven and Little Nine were his disciples.”

“It makes no difference!” the big weasel declared indignantly. “Ancestor, I’ll gather the brothers at once and avenge Little Seven and Little Nine!”

“Do not underestimate them,” Ancestor Yellow Wind replied darkly. “Though Xuan Pingzi is absent, he must have left precautions for his disciples. Go ask that old lame wolf from West Ridge to join us and ensure nothing goes awry!”

“The lame old wolf from West Ridge?” The big weasel hesitated. “Will he agree?”

Ancestor Yellow Wind sneered. “That mangy wolf is greedy to the bone. Tell him that if he brings back the head of Xuan Pingzi’s disciple, I’ll give him two spirit stones!”

Enlightenment dawned in the big weasel’s eyes. “Understood, Ancestor!”

“Go,” Ancestor Yellow Wind said, appearing weary after so many words. With a wave of its paw, it added, “Take this fellow out as well.”

Zhen Gang felt as though he had been pardoned from death. He quickly bowed again and hurried out with the big weasel.

Once outside Yellow Wind Cave, he could not help but wipe the sweat from his brow. The memory of what had just transpired still sent chills through him. He had truly feared being swallowed whole by Ancestor Yellow Wind.

Meanwhile, Ancestor Yellow Wind sat upon the stone platform, lost in thought. After a while, it moved a paw and lifted the cover of the jade box.

Inside lay five pieces of snowy white jade, each radiating a soft glow and exuding wisps of spiritual energy.

Ancestor Yellow Wind gave a cold laugh and closed the box again.

“Zhen Yuanliang… quite the character,” it murmured, before gathering its aura in completely and sinking into a deep sleep.

At that same moment, inside Little Jing Mountain Daoist Monastery—

Fang Xiao had just finished the latest round of buns, dumplings, and braised pork that had appeared in his three lunchboxes—barely enough to fill his belly.

Ever since achieving mastery of Dragon-Tiger Posture, he had noticed his appetite had grown significantly. Fang Xiao even suspected that, at this rate, he might one day become a bottomless pit for food.

But for now, he had more pressing concerns.

His instincts warned him that today would bring a fierce battle.

Fang Xiao made his preparations. He fetched a long bamboo pole, once used in the kitchen to hang cured meats and other provisions. Who knew how many years it had been smoked and blackened—its surface was dark brown and gleamed with a greasy sheen. Most importantly, it was extraordinarily tough and perfectly straight.

He used a hatchet to trim it down, leaving a shaft about five feet long, then affixed a three-edged spike to one end, fitting it snugly inside the hollow.

It still felt insecure, and he couldn’t find a suitable rope, so he tore a strip from his own towel and bound the spike tightly to the bamboo.

Thus, a makeshift red-tasseled spear was born.