Chapter Eight: Dragons and Tigers Subdue the Demons

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Pang Daoist finally returned to the temple, muttering curses under his breath.

He saw Fang Xiao reviewing his “lessons” in the courtyard and reached into his robe sleeve, pulling out a scroll and a bronze plaque. The scroll was Fang Xiao’s registration contract. Though it appeared flimsy and light, it signified that Fang Xiao was no longer a shadowy existence in this world; he now possessed a legitimate civilian identity and could walk openly under the sunlight.

The bronze plaque was a travel permit. The Immortal Dynasty of Dayong managed its commoners with strict discipline. If ordinary people wanted to travel afar, they had to apply for a travel pass from the local office; otherwise, if caught, they would be treated as vagrant criminals and thrown into prison to suffer. The plaque was an upgraded version of the pass, allowing Fang Xiao to roam freely throughout Liuhe County and its surrounding regions—even to Jingyuan Prefecture if he wished.

“Thank you, Master!” Fang Xiao solemnly placed the contract and the plaque into his satchel, at last feeling the heavy stone in his heart drop. The events of the past two days had been overwhelming for a sixteen-year-old. Thankfully, his will was strong enough that the sudden upheaval in his life did not break him, though it would be impossible not to feel some confusion and fear. Now, with Pang Daoist’s help, he had settled and registered himself, and his heart was much steadier.

“No need for thanks when you’re with me,” Pang Daoist waved dismissively, as if it were nothing. He asked, “While I was gone, nothing happened at the temple, right?”

Something had indeed happened! Fang Xiao hurriedly grabbed the bamboo basket and recounted how the girl named Sophora had brought steamed buns to the door, and he had nearly been dragged into the woods by a little grass demon.

“Damn it!” Pang Daoist erupted in anger. “Those little brats must have been emboldened by wild beasts—how dare they cause trouble here in broad daylight? I’ll round them all up and throw them into the furnace!”

The little grass demons were weak and usually only active at night. While they occasionally ventured out during the day, they rarely dared approach the temple on Little Jing Mountain. Fang Xiao’s story infuriated him, as if someone had stroked a tiger’s whiskers. If the Daoist master did not show his authority, he’d be taken for a fat, docile cat!

Pang Daoist patted the bamboo basket to calm himself and continued, “Sophora is the daughter of Widow Qin from Zhenjia Village at the foot of the mountain. If she brings things in the future, just accept them.” When he mentioned “Widow Qin,” his eyes took on a suggestive gleam.

Fang Xiao didn’t notice. He reached into his pocket and pulled out those sparkling, beautiful stones.

“Holy—!” Pang Daoist’s eyes widened in shock. “So many demon crystals? Where did you find these?”

Fang Xiao scratched his head, “They must have dropped from those little grass demons.” He recounted how he had picked up these “stones.”

Pang Daoist listened, a storm of envy and jealousy brewing in his heart. Demon crystals, demon cores, and demon pills were the condensed essence or power sources of monsters. In the world of cultivation, they were as useful as spirit stones: for making talismans, refining weapons and pills, setting formations, casting spells, and even as currency. Though demon crystals were of lesser value, that too was relative—not every small demon dropped a crystal upon defeat; in fact, their drop rate was very low.

When Pang Daoist first took over Little Jing Mountain Temple, he had cleared out the nearby monsters, but the demon crystals he acquired could be counted on one hand. Afterwards, he found nothing more. Who would have imagined that the newly arrived Fang Xiao, neither versed in martial arts nor possessing magical power, could wipe out dozens of little grass monsters and bring back eight demon crystals? Such luck was simply extraordinary!

Pang Daoist muttered in his heart, “This must be beginner’s luck,” “Just a newbie’s gift pack,” “Nothing remarkable,” and other sour phrases, forcing himself to swallow his envy.

“Master,” Fang Xiao noticed Pang Daoist staring intently at these so-called demon crystals and thought he must be interested, so he said, “If you like them, you can have them all. They’re no use to me anyway.”

Fang Xiao actually wanted to ask about “experience,” but remembered Pang Daoist’s earlier warning: never reveal anything about his life-bound treasure to anyone, including the master himself. So he swallowed his words.

Pang Daoist laughed helplessly. “You think I need those?” Though he had fallen on hard times, a rotten ship still has thousands of nails, and even a dying camel is bigger than a horse. Pang Daoist really didn’t care for a handful of demon crystals. Still, Fang Xiao’s generosity and spirit moved the old veteran, stirring a sense of nostalgia.

Flowers may bloom again, but youth never returns.

Pang Daoist shook his head, melancholy, and once again reached into his sleeve.

He drew out two books and handed them to Fang Xiao. Fang Xiao received them with both hands and saw that one cover bore the title “Dragon-Tiger Stance,” and the other, “Demon-Subduing Fist.” His eyes immediately sparkled. “Master, are these martial arts manuals?”

“Yes,” Pang Daoist explained, “The Dragon-Tiger Stance and Demon-Subduing Fist are foundational techniques for the Qianyang Dragon-Tiger Art.”

The Qianyang Dragon-Tiger Art had been passed down for a thousand years, regarded as one of the most orthodox Qianyang methods, leading directly to the Innate and Spirit Sea realms. Many immortal sects and martial schools considered it a true martial tradition.

“Three years!” Pang Daoist raised three carrot-like fingers, speaking solemnly, “If you can refine a trace of dragon-tiger energy within three years, you’ll have a chance to step into the Innate realm.”

Martial artists progress through seven major realms: Tempering Body, Condensing Essence, Opening Meridians, Innate, Spirit Sea, Yin Spirit, and Yang Spirit. Each realm has nine levels, each step arduous. Across the entire Immortal Dynasty of Dayong, those who achieve the Innate realm are already rare. Even so, reaching Innate only allows one to contend with Foundation Establishment cultivators—unable to withstand even a casual strike from a Golden Core master!

Martial artists are inherently weaker than cultivators in this world.

Fang Xiao was already in his teens, his bones set. Even with good talent, breaking into the Innate realm was nearly impossible. Pang Daoist honestly did not hold much hope for Fang Xiao’s future. Of course, he did not wish to dampen the boy’s confidence and enthusiasm, so he kept his doubts to himself, letting Fang Xiao discover the truth in time.

Right now, Fang Xiao did not understand Pang Daoist’s well-intentioned reservations. With martial arts manuals in hand, his heart brimmed with joy, eager to begin training and become a martial expert. Next time he encountered little grass demons or yellow foxes, he would not be afraid!

“Let’s eat first,” Pang Daoist smacked his lips, saying, “I haven’t eaten my fill today, but I’m full of anger!” His mood was clearly sour, yet when Fang Xiao asked, Pang Daoist refused to say more.