Chapter Sixty-Nine: I Have a Sword

Pang the Daoist brought Fang Xiao back to the temple.

No sooner had they landed in the courtyard than Pang pulled out a storage pouch and waved it in front of Fang Xiao. “Everything that old yellow weasel owned is in here. This time, not only did we get back what was ours, but we got interest too!”

“Haha!” Pang Daoist laughed heartily. “You should have seen that fellow nearly spitting blood—it was so satisfying!”

But in contrast to his exuberance, Fang Xiao’s response was calm and indifferent. “Mm.”

Pang’s laughter froze on his face, as though someone had poured a bucket of cold water over his excitement, dousing his joy in an instant. He couldn’t help but rub his broad forehead, looking puzzled. “Fang Xiao, what’s wrong? Aren’t you happy?”

He had originally intended to offer Fang Xiao half of what was in the old yellow weasel’s pouch. But then it struck him—Fang Xiao had the Absolute Lawless Constitution; no matter how many spirit stones he got, they’d be useless to him. Could that be what was troubling Fang Xiao?

Fang Xiao stared at him, making Pang feel suddenly guilty for reasons he couldn’t name.

“Daoist Sir,” Fang Xiao said solemnly, “after all they did to you, why didn’t you wipe out that whole den of yellow weasels?”

Though Fang Xiao had kept watch at the cave entrance, he had clearly heard every word exchanged between Pang and the old yellow weasel inside.

“Fang Xiao,” Pang replied with a bitter smile, “it’s not that I didn’t want to, but some things aren’t that simple.”

He explained, “The old yellow weasel doesn’t have many years left. Killing him wouldn’t make much difference. Besides, one of his daughters is married to a great demon in the Great Jing Mountains.”

“That demon and I go back a ways.”

Three years ago, when Pang was banished by his sect to Little Jing Mountain, he had been at the lowest point of his life. At that time, the great demon had come to visit, and they sat together, discussing the Dao. Man and demon forged a bond.

“Though he’s a demon, he eats only vegetables, never harms people, and has never caused trouble for the local folk.” Pang’s gaze grew misty with memory. “Back then, he called himself Pig Seven. I thought it sounded awful, so I renamed him Zhu Ganglie. He was delighted and even gifted me a century-old lingzhi mushroom.”

“Though we haven’t met often in the past three years,” Pang looked at Fang Xiao with a helpless expression, “I still owe him some respect. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Fang Xiao nodded. “You once said there are good demons and bad people; you can’t judge them all the same.”

“But…” With a wave of his hand, a massive pig demon’s corpse appeared instantly on the ground.

Fang Xiao had by now mastered the new functions of his military satchel.

Pang Daoist was so startled he nearly jumped. “That’s Zhu Ganglie’s subordinate!”

Fang Xiao briefly recounted his experience exorcising the demon at Gao Village. “Daoist Sir, this pig demon killed three people in Gao Village and nearly ruined the entire household. Do you think I was right to kill it?”

“If you were in my shoes, would you have spared it, just like you spared the yellow weasels?”

“Or would you let them go, as you did with the old yellow weasel?”

“Daoist Sir, I don’t believe that den of yellow weasels has never harmed anyone, never preyed on pilgrims who came up the mountain!”

Pang Daoist unconsciously took two steps back. Fang Xiao’s barrage of questions landed like heavy blows to his chest.

“Daoist Sir, you must be clear about who our friends are—and who our enemies are!”

“Are you certain that Zhu Ganglie hasn’t colluded with the old yellow weasel or with the Clear Breeze Temple?”

Fang Xiao spoke earnestly, “Daoist Sir, you are a good man. But I think you’re too—too kind!”

To Fang Xiao, Pang Daoist always seemed to have the weakness and tendency to compromise of a petty bourgeois. His cultivation was restored, his strength greatly increased, yet he still hesitated, worrying over every step!

Pang Daoist’s face turned ashen and he stood rooted in place. In all his decades—this life and the last—he had never expected to be schooled by a sixteen-year-old boy.

The thing was, Fang Xiao was right. Painfully, damnably right!

Seeing Pang so dejected, Fang Xiao said apologetically, “Daoist Sir…”

He worried he’d gone too far—after all, Pang really was a good man.

“You don’t need to say any more,” Pang Daoist came to his senses and waved off Fang’s words. “Go about your business. I need to think.”

He pushed open the temple door, slumped onto the steps beneath the lanterns, and pulled a cigarette from his sleeve, lighting it with trembling fingers. He took a deep drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke that veiled his eyes.

Pang Daoist thought back on his past and present lives. In his previous life, people online called him Captain Beep, then he became known as a seasoned original fan. Only he knew that, at heart, he had always been an anime nerd.

He’d never had a girlfriend, loved anime, and spent his years holed up at home watching shows and gaming, living off his parents until he became a wizard. He hated trouble and never left bad reviews for delivery men. If he saw an elderly woman fall in the street, he’d steer clear. He avoided crowded subways and libraries, and would rather suffer losses than argue with anyone in real life.

Crossing into this world of cultivation, he’d thought he could live differently, defy fate and seek immortality. But he never understood—

He had talent, and his starting point wasn’t bad. Why had he ended up in such a state?

Fang Xiao’s words just now had cut deep, but like a great bell, they resounded in his soul, forcing him to see himself clearly for the first time.

“Damn it!”

He sprang to his feet, the cigarette turning instantly to ash. In the next moment, a howling whirlwind arose, enveloping him.

“Fang Xiao, I’ll be back soon!”

With that, Pang Daoist vanished, swallowed by the vastness of the night.

…

At the same moment, in Yellow Wind Cave, a large yellow weasel stood upright, supporting the elder yellow weasel as they made their way toward the entrance. Behind them trailed a line of yellow weasels, big and small, burdened with bags and packs. A few of the young ones wept softly along the way.

“Children!” The elder yellow weasel paused, gripping its cane, and rasped, “Don’t worry. Your ancestor will bring you all home again!”

It had already made up its mind. Once they settled elsewhere, it would go straight to Clear Breeze Temple to find those old fools.

The elder yellow weasel did not believe that, knowing Xuan Pingzi had restored his cultivation, those old men would still huddle in the county town, playing at chess!

Then it would have its chance to wash away today’s humiliation, to flay and dismember its enemies!

Teeth clenched in hatred, the old yellow weasel reached the cave entrance without realizing it.

Suddenly, a chill crept over its skin. Looking up, it saw Pang Daoist standing not far ahead on the grass, hands folded behind his back, bathed in pale moonlight that lent him an otherworldly air.

The Foundation Establishment cultivator had returned!

Terror seized the elder yellow weasel as it gripped its cane, shouting, “Xuan Pingzi, what do you want now?”

Pang Daoist smiled faintly. A radiant longsword appeared behind him, silent and gleaming.

His gaze fixed on the elder yellow weasel, Pang intoned, “I have a sword—will you not sample its edge?”

In his eyes, the intent to kill was almost tangible.

As soon as the words left his lips, the sword behind him burst into dazzling light, rending the endless darkness.