Chapter Seventy-One: Vengeance Does Not Wait Til Dawn

After much effort, Fang Xiao completed the upgrade of his military satchel. The internal storage space of this exclusive magical artifact was ultimately increased to about five times its original capacity. The effect of the mid-grade spirit stones was undoubtedly much stronger than that of the lower-grade ones. The investment of fifteen mid-grade stones yielded a space far greater than nearly a hundred lower-grade stones, and it had not yet reached its limit. But Fang Xiao was already very satisfied.

Beside him, the Taoist Pang calculated with his fingers and exclaimed, “Impressive! The storage capacity of your bag is about half that of my Sumeru ring!” The Sumeru ring was not just a storage pouch; the two were on entirely different levels. The issue was, even with a magical artifact as advanced as the Sumeru ring, its internal space could not be expanded. Yet Fang Xiao’s military satchel could achieve this. This meant that, in the future, with continued investment of mid-grade or even high-grade spirit stones, surpassing the Sumeru ring would not be a problem!

Of course, high-grade stones were unrealistic at the moment. Pang Taoist had cultivated in the sect for decades and had never even seen a high-grade stone. He thought for a moment and added, “Whether it’s a magic tool or an artifact, using it consumes energy. So, to maintain such space and normal operation, you’ll need to supply spirit stones.” As he spoke, Pang Taoist poured out a hundred lower-grade stones from Old Yellow’s storage pouch. “Take these—they’re your electricity bill!”

Fang Xiao understood what “electricity bill” meant. He stowed the hundred lower-grade stones in the satchel’s storage space, just in case. He patted the military satchel that had always accompanied him, and a smile appeared on his face.

Pang Taoist’s attention finally returned to the corpse of the pig demon. “My goodness!” he couldn’t help but say, “This fellow is really fat!” Fang Xiao agreed, “I’d estimate it weighs over a thousand, almost two thousand pounds!” If this creature appeared in his former world, it would surely alarm the central authorities.

“Not just two thousand!” Pang Taoist’s eye was keener than Fang Xiao’s. “It’s at least twenty-three or twenty-four hundred pounds. The bones of monsters are much denser than livestock, so the weight is heavier.” As soon as he finished speaking, he flicked his robe sleeve. A long sword gleaming with cold light flew out, whistling as it circled through the air.

“Rise!” Pang Taoist waved his dust whisk forward. The pig demon’s corpse, weighing over two thousand pounds, silently floated upward. In the next moment, the sword flashed. The grotesquely large pig demon’s head was instantly separated from its body. Because the pig demon’s blood had been thoroughly drained before death, the cut was especially clean and smooth.

“Go!” Pang Taoist waved his dust whisk again. The pig’s head suspended in midair flew toward the temple hall. He said to Fang Xiao, who was watching intently, “That pig’s head will make an excellent offering to the Eastern Sage Emperor. His Majesty has suffered much in this dilapidated temple!” Fang Xiao replied, “Master, I burn incense for the Supreme Emperor every day.” This was something Pang Taoist had specifically instructed before his seclusion, and Fang Xiao hadn’t forgotten.

“Good,” Pang Taoist sighed. “His Majesty is exalted and may not notice small people like us, but we must remember him.” Fang Xiao found it odd, for in the master’s words, the Eastern Supreme Emperor worshipped in Little Jing Mountain Temple sounded more like a person than an ethereal deity. But Fang Xiao had little feeling for spirits and gods, so he didn’t ask.

Next, it was still Pang Taoist’s show. Under his control, the sharp flying sword sliced up and down, first peeling off the thick and tough pig skin, then breaking down the mountain-like pig demon’s body into eight pieces: fore shank, fore leg, hind shank, hind leg, tenderloin, ribs, rump, pork belly, and fatback. Then he took out the heart, liver, lungs, intestines, kidneys, tail, and even the pig’s… appendage. Finally, all were packed into the now-empty storage pouch.

In just a few minutes, Pang Taoist had processed the over two thousand pound pig demon cleanly and efficiently. Fang Xiao couldn’t help but praise, “Master, you’re amazing!” He gave a thumbs-up. Pang Taoist chuckled, “Practice makes perfect. But my cooking skills are lacking; we’ll need Lady Qin to help us put together a proper feast.” He sheathed the sword and said, “It’s late. You should rest early.”

Fang Xiao nodded. After hesitating, he said, “Master.” Pang Taoist replied, “Yes?” Fang Xiao scratched his head and earnestly said, “Master, I lost my father when I was young and grew up wild. I know I have many flaws. Thank you for always caring for and protecting me!” With that, Fang Xiao bowed respectfully to Pang Taoist. In his heart, the Taoist was just like Li Yuanchao—dear and admirable elder brothers. Though their personalities were worlds apart, they were both truly good men. Fang Xiao apologized for having rebuked Pang Taoist earlier, even if he didn’t think his own opinion was wrong.

Pang Taoist was bewildered. Even after Fang Xiao left for his room, he hadn’t recovered from his surprise. Some time later, Pang Taoist let out a bitter laugh. Fang Xiao certainly had his faults: young, hot-blooded, reckless, often acting without considering consequences. But were these truly his flaws? What Pang Taoist saw in Fang Xiao was more: sincerity, steadfastness, courage, kindness, diligence… Fearless in the face of heaven and earth.

And these noble qualities were exactly what Pang Taoist himself lacked. Rather than caring for Fang Xiao, it was more accurate to say he was protecting the young man he once hoped to be.

Looking up at the bright moon in the night sky, Pang Taoist knew what he ought to do. He swept his dust whisk, conjuring a whirlwind that enveloped him, and in an instant, he flew out of the temple, heading toward Zhen Family Village at the foot of the mountain.

Moments later, Pang Taoist landed in a large courtyard. In Zhen Family Village, over a hundred households lived in earthen huts and thatched houses. Only one family had built a grand mansion with front and rear courtyards, blue bricks, dark tiles, green trees, and white walls, occupying the best spot in the village. It was the home of Zhen Yuanliang, the village chief.

Deep in the night, most rooms in the mansion had extinguished their lamps. Pang Taoist’s gaze swept over the place, and he darted forward. A tightly closed door silently swung open before him. In the inner chamber, an old man sleeping soundly with a concubine suddenly opened his eyes, drenched in cold sweat. He sat up abruptly, about to call for a maid to light the lamp.

A spark suddenly pierced the darkness, instantly lighting the candle on the table.

“Zhen Yuanliang, Master Zhen,” a mocking voice reached the old man’s ears, “How have you been?”

Zhen Yuanliang was instantly struck with terror. When he recognized the visitor, his teeth chattered uncontrollably. “Xuan Pingzi!”

“That’s right—it’s me!”