Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Master of the Dao Has Returned

Evening had fallen.

By the time Fang Xiao arrived at Little Jing Mountain riding his big blue donkey, night had already descended.

With autumn deepening, darkness claimed the sky ever earlier. The lantern hanging before the temple’s gate lit itself, its dim yellow glow guiding him home.

He dismounted, opened the door, and led the donkey into the small courtyard. Everything unfolded as usual.

The first thing Fang Xiao did upon returning was to offer a stick of incense to the Eastern Supreme Emperor enshrined in the main hall. This daily ritual, morning and night, had long become a habit—though it was Master Pang who had insisted on it.

Settling himself in the courtyard, Fang Xiao did not rush to his dinner. Instead, he pulled from his military satchel a thick tome and a long, jet-black whip.

The book, “Essentials of Whip Techniques,” had been given to him by Chen Feihuan, who claimed its cost was included in his tuition. Yet Fang Xiao doubted that—his instructor was likely being generous.

Within, the “Essentials of Whip Techniques” contained the accumulated insights and experience of generations past, all devoted to the art of the whip. These written records were invaluable to Fang Xiao.

The book’s material was special, too. Though it looked worn and well-read, there was not a single mark or tear upon it. Even with his limited understanding of this world, Fang Xiao could tell it was no ordinary item.

As for the jet-black whip, it too was a gift from Chen Feihuan. Its body was woven with strands of black gold wire, greatly increasing its toughness and lethality. It weighed three times as much as an ordinary whip, making each swing vastly more powerful.

Though it was unlikely Fang Xiao would use such a whip in real combat, it was a superb tool for practice.

He toyed with it for a moment before stowing both whip and book back into his satchel. Taking up his bamboo basket, he began his evening meal.

Once sated, Fang Xiao unfastened his military belt. He wished to test whether this item could be used to perform the “Soul-Stealing Ghost Whip”—a technique he had only just mastered that very day.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Soon, the sound of air being split echoed through the temple courtyard.

After a few moves, Fang Xiao clearly felt that the belt did not handle as smoothly as the long whip. This was only natural.

After all, there was a marked difference between the two. The main problem was the belt’s length; it was much shorter than a supple whip, and the steel buckle at the end further limited his movements. His whip techniques simply did not land right.

If only the belt could be lengthened...

A thought struck Fang Xiao.

He summoned a surge of Yang Dragon and Tiger Qi from within, sending it instantly to his right arm, and finally, into the belt itself.

Whoosh!

In the next instant, he lashed out with his weapon.

The belt, originally a mere three feet, suddenly stretched out five or six more, like a rubber band pulled taut.

The shiny five-pointed steel buckle snapped through the air, exploding in a wave of sound and force.

Bang!

It was as if a gunshot had shattered the stillness of the night, echoing across the desolate mountains. Hidden spirits and creatures hiding in the bushes scattered in panic.

This was just right!

In the courtyard, Fang Xiao rediscovered the feel of practicing whip techniques earlier that day. Wielding the now-extended belt, he whipped up a fierce wind, the sound of splitting air and thunderous crashes ringing out again and again!

[Soul-Stealing Ghost Whip +1]

The experience for this whip art rose once more.

In truth, there were still many experience points left in his Scarlet Sun Manual, earned from slaying the boar demon. He could easily elevate the “Soul-Stealing Ghost Whip” to a higher level.

But these precious points—Fang Xiao had yet to decide whether to invest them in the Lin Family Spear or the Demon-Subduing Fist. The whip art was a secondary choice.

Bang!

Just then, the temple’s main gate burst open.

A rotund figure strode into the courtyard, chest thrust out and belly leading the way, laughing heartily: “Hu Hansan is back again!”

Fang Xiao blinked in surprise, then was overjoyed. “Master!”

It was none other than Master Pang!

Fang Xiao had never expected his master’s return so soon. He had thought it would be at least a month or more before they would meet again.

“That’s right, it's me!” Master Pang’s face was aglow, his expression full of pride. “Fang Xiao, from today on, you may address me as Master Pang, the Foundation Establishment Master!”

Fang Xiao knew that cultivators ranked through the stages of Qi Training, Foundation Establishment, Golden Core, Nascent Soul, and so forth.

The freshly returned Master Pang was evidently far more vigorous and imposing than when he’d entered seclusion.

He quickly gathered up his belt and spoke with heartfelt sincerity, “Congratulations, Master!”

Catching sight of the weapon in Fang Xiao’s hand, Master Pang couldn’t help but recall the time he’d been struck by it. An ache stirred at his ample backside, and his smile nearly faltered.

He was puzzled. In truth, Master Pang had just narrowly avoided another round of pain. Fang Xiao, not knowing who “Hu Hansan” was, might have lashed out if he’d instead declared, “I, Nan Batian,” or “I, Han Old Six, have returned!” Old memories of pain would have been freshly relived.

Fang Xiao, oblivious to his master’s expression, fastened his belt back around his waist and asked curiously, “Master, didn’t you say you’d be in seclusion for two or three months? Why are you back so soon?”

“Don’t mention it,” Master Pang grumbled, dropping into a rattan chair. “The spiritual veins in that Golden Core cave residence dried up far too quickly. I’d barely begun to enjoy myself when it was already finished!”

In truth, with the aid of the cave and the pills left behind by its former owner, Master Pang had not only restored his former cultivation but advanced even further.

But people are ever greedy, and cultivators are no exception. If he’d been able to stay in the Golden Core cave for a while longer, drawing upon its spiritual veins for another month or so, Master Pang was confident he could have broken through yet again.

Three years had passed. Who could know what those years had cost him?

Reflecting on the past, a trace of ferocity flashed in Master Pang’s eyes. He sprang to his feet and declared, “Fang Xiao, now that my strength is restored, will you accompany me to Yellow Wind Cave to settle accounts with that old yellow weasel?”

In the past, he’d had no choice but to lay low, time and again. But now, Xuan Pingzi was done with hiding!

“Yes!” Fang Xiao replied without hesitation, reaching into his military satchel for his refined black iron spear.

A fight? That was his favorite thing!

Especially when it meant going after the yellow weasel with his master. Delight surged within him.

“Haha!” Master Pang threw back his head and laughed. With a flick of his horsetail whisk, the countless silken strands instantly wrapped around Fang Xiao’s waist. A whirlwind rose from the ground, sweeping them both from the temple in the blink of an eye, vanishing into the boundless night.

In the corner of the courtyard, the big blue donkey opened its innocent eyes wide and let out a plaintive bray, as if to say: Don’t leave the donkey behind!