Chapter Twenty-Nine: Exorcising Demons at Peach Blossom Manor

For his first journey with the Daoist master, Fang Xiao deliberately changed into a clean set of clothes. He slung his army satchel, packed full of supplies, diagonally across his body, secured it with a military belt, and pinned his commemorative medal inside his shirt, pressing it close to the Red Sun Manual he always carried. This medal was not something meant for outsiders to see, yet Fang Xiao wore it at all times, for it gave him courage and confidence in battle.

The two of them descended the mountain, one after the other, skirted around Zhen Family Village, and continued northeast. Along the way, Daoist Pang’s pace was astonishingly swift. Though his body appeared heavy and unwieldy, he moved with surprising lightness and agility, making it difficult for Fang Xiao to keep up. Yet Fang Xiao never once asked to rest. Whenever his legs felt leaden and numb with fatigue, a gentle warmth would rise in the soles of his feet, relieving the exhaustion in his muscles. This warmth came from his Liberation Shoes. Not only that, but the farther they walked, the lighter Fang Xiao’s steps became.

It was instead Daoist Pang who would occasionally pause, bowing in return to the respectful villagers greeting him by the roadside. From this, Fang Xiao realized that the common folk of this world held Daoist cultivators like Pang in the highest reverence and awe.

As they traveled, Fang Xiao took in many rustic sights: crisscrossing fields, farmers laboring diligently, winding streams, and villages scattered like stars, all painting a gentle, harmonious scene.

After half a day’s journey, Daoist Pang led Fang Xiao to a manor nestled beside a mountain and a river—a place with a fine location, encircled on three sides by tall stone walls, giving it an air of strict defense. Two burly guards stood at the gate, arms crossed.

“Boundless Celestial Venerability!” Daoist Pang flicked his horsetail whisk, bowed his head, and said with calm detachment, “This poor Daoist, Xuan Pingzi, has come at the invitation of your master to exorcise evil.”

The phrase “boundless” signified infinity, while “Celestial Venerable” referred to the supreme sovereign of the East—an honorific customary among Daoist cultivators.

The two guards exchanged glances. One of them quickly cupped his fists in salute. “Please wait, Daoist Master. Allow me to report to the manor lord.”

Daoist Pang nodded. “Very well.”

At his side, Fang Xiao could not help but study him. In the temple, Daoist Pang was always irreverent and often spoke in ways Fang Xiao could not understand. He had grown used to the master’s eccentric ways. But today, though dressed as usual, Pang’s manner was altogether different—his speech and bearing exuded the poise of a true sage.

The guards wasted no time in reporting within. Soon, the manor gates swung open, and a middle-aged man in a brocade robe hurried across the threshold. Bowing deeply to Daoist Pang, he said, “Master Pang, forgive me for not coming out to welcome you sooner. Please pardon my neglect!”

His expression was one of anxious respect. Those following behind him also bowed in unison.

Daoist Pang smiled warmly. “Manor Lord Zhao, you’re too courteous—no need for such formality.”

The robed man relaxed, straightening up as his gaze fell on Fang Xiao. “And this young gentleman is?”

“My eldest nephew,” Daoist Pang replied carelessly. “He’s also my first disciple. I brought him today to broaden his horizons.”

Fang Xiao awkwardly cupped his hands. “Fang Xiao, greetings, Manor Lord.”

Though he had been coached by Daoist Pang, he was still unfamiliar with local etiquette, and remained in the learning stage. As for the identities of “eldest nephew” and “first disciple,” both were roles that Pang had assigned him.

“So this is Young Daoist Fang!” Manor Lord Zhao exclaimed, his realization dawning. “A fine young man indeed. Clearly, a worthy student taught by a great master!”

Fang Xiao felt his skin crawl at such insincere flattery—it was rather uncomfortable.

Fortunately, Daoist Pang had little patience for such hollow courtesies. Raising his whisk, he said, “Enough talk. Let’s find this demon and deal with it swiftly.”

Though his enthusiasm was met with indifference, Manor Lord Zhao took no offense and smiled obsequiously. “As you say, Master.”

Led by the manor lord, Daoist Pang and Fang Xiao entered the grand estate, known as Zhao Manor, or Peach Blossom Manor. The previous owner had planted vast numbers of peach trees, making the blossoms famed for miles when spring arrived. The brocade-robed man had only recently inherited Peach Blossom Manor, renaming it after himself. The former master had died in a sudden calamity.

At first, Zhao had lived peacefully in the manor without trouble. But in recent months, strange hauntings began—servants and maids reported seeing apparitions and hearing ghostly music at night, terrifying many. In desperation, Zhao sought out talismanic wards from the Clear Breeze Daoist Temple in Liuhe County and affixed them around the manor. The apparitions ceased, the music vanished, but then servants began disappearing without a trace—gone without a body left behind, throwing the household into panic.

Having no other choice, Zhao returned to the temple for more help. After taking his offerings, the temple sent two Daoists to investigate, but they found nothing. That very night, another maid vanished.

With the situation unresolved and his offerings wasted, Zhao was left at a loss—until a guest advised him to contact Daoist Pang. Thus, Pang and Fang Xiao had come to Peach Blossom Manor.

After recounting these events, Manor Lord Zhao bowed deeply. “Master Pang, please use your powers to rid us of this evil and restore peace to our home!”

He gestured, and two graceful maids stepped forward, offering silver trays piled high with gleaming gold leaves.

“No trouble at all,” Pang said, sweeping his sleeve over the trays. Instantly, all the gold disappeared.

At last, Fang Xiao understood: Daoist Pang earned a handsome living by exorcising demons, which explained his calmness when preparing medicinal baths worth five thousand taels of silver.

Having accepted Zhao’s offering, Daoist Pang led Fang Xiao through the halls and rooms, searching the estate. He formed hand seals, flicked his whisk, and sought out traces of evil—but found nothing, just as the Daoists from Clear Breeze Temple had before.

Manor Lord Zhao’s forced smile was growing harder to maintain.

Daoist Pang, however, was unbothered. Eventually, he reached the peach orchard at the back of the manor—ten acres of densely planted trees, their branches laden with ripening red and green fruit.

“Another half month and these peaches will be ready,” Zhao said respectfully. “I’ll send a selection to Little Jing Mountain for you to enjoy, Master Pang.”

“Very good,” Pang replied with a nod.

Suddenly, he raised his right hand, a yellow talisman pinched between his fingers.

“Go!” With a sharp command, the talisman shot forward like lightning.

A streak of golden light darted through the peach trees, swift as an arrow. Daoist Pang’s eyes followed its flight, a chilling gleam in their depths.

With a snap, the talisman struck a thick peach tree and clung to the bark, smoke curling up in white wisps.

To everyone’s shock, the surface of the tree bulged, forming a twisted human face.