Young Friend, Wait A Moment

"Daoist friend! Quickly, block this fiend for me!"

Before the words faded, that severed tail suddenly sprang up, shooting straight toward the Old Man.

Shen Hui frowned. Without time to think, he opened his mouth and spat out a stream of Sharp Gold Qi.

But the tail twisted midair as nimbly as a snake, barely dodging the strike.

Just as Shen Hui prepared to use a fire technique, he saw the Old Man had already withdrawn his gaze, no longer looking at him.

His withered left hand swiftly formed a seal. A Green-Gourd flew out from his sleeve, hovering in midair, spinning rapidly.

The gourd spun a few times, then suddenly shot out a beam of green light, precisely enveloping the severed tail.

The tail struggled fiercely but could not break free from the green light's grip.

It writhed, it bounced, until at last the green light coiled around it and sucked it into the gourd.

The gourd spun a few more times before falling back into the Old Man's palm.

The Old Man let out a long breath, the taut expression on his face finally relaxing.

Only then did Shen Hui get a clear look at the Old Man.

He wore a dusty gray tunic, thin as a bundle of bones, his face etched with deep wrinkles, his eyes sunken. Before him hung a White Banner, fluttering without wind.

Below the cliff, a patch of pink mist seemed drawn by something, drifting up strand by strand, threading into the White Banner.

With each strand that entered, a flash of red light flickered across the banner's surface, then faded into stillness.

The Old Man now sighed in relief, wiped the sweat from his brow, turned to Shen Hui, and offered a grateful smile.

"Many thanks to this young friend for lending a hand."

Shen Hui dismissed his technique. He did not approach, only stood at the edge of the clearing, his gaze sweeping over the pile of bones.

"These are...?"

The Old Man glanced at the heap of bones, a sorrowful expression crossing his face. He let out a long sigh. "Pitiful, pitiful..."

He remained seated, one hand still controlling the White Banner as it absorbed the red mist.

"This poor Daoist is called Dark Yin Hermit, wandering here from afar. I heard there was a fiend in these mountains, preying on herb gatherers, so I brought my disciple and a few hired porters to rid this place of the scourge. But who could have known that demon was so vicious—it wiped out our entire party..."

His voice choked as he spoke, his eyes reddening.

"My poor disciple, who followed me for over ten years. Clever and obedient, filial and attentive. Just yesterday, he was pouring tea for me. Who would have thought that today he would end up like this... like this..."

He could not continue. He raised his sleeve to cover his face, sobbing openly.

Shen Hui watched him, saying nothing.

The Old Man went on. "And those dozen or so porters—simple, honest farmers, just trying to earn a few hard coins to feed their families. Who could have guessed they'd lose their lives in this deep mountain forest..."

Shen Hui waited a moment, until the sobbing subsided, before asking, "What kind of fiend?"

"A Flying Serpent that has cultivated for many years. Cunning as can be, able to drive miasma to kill."

Shen Hui nodded, then asked, "Where is that fiend now?"

The Old Man raised his tearful eyes and pointed at the White Banner hanging in midair.

"This poor Daoist has already taken it into this Demon-Subduing Banner. It is being refined."

Shen Hui looked at the White Banner.

The banner's surface fluttered without wind. The four large characters—Subdue Demons, Vanquish Evil—seemed to writhe, as if something inside was struggling.

But looking closer, beneath the ink characters, a layer of black qi squirmed like a living thing, seeping out strand by strand.

"Senior," Shen Hui said, pointing at the banner, "this Demon-Subduing Banner of yours—why is it leaking black qi?"

The Old Man glanced at it and waved a hand. "No matter, no matter. That fiend is ferocious, struggling hard. Once I refine it for a while, all will be well."

As he spoke, his emotions gradually calmed, and he forced a faint smile onto his face. "Young friend, so young yet so skilled. That white qi just now pierced metal and stone, clean and sharp. Truly, the younger generation inspires awe. Might I ask which immortal mountain's high disciple you are?"

Shen Hui did not answer. He only looked again at the pile of bones.

A woodcutter's knife, a machete, ropes, a carrying pole.

All ordinary items, clearly belonging to hired porters.

Beside the bones, a bundle lay scattered on the ground, with a few hard, dry flatbreads rolling out.

He looked at the Old Man again.

The Old Man's face still bore tear stains, his eyes red. He truly seemed like a grieving man who had lost his beloved disciple.

But...

Shen Hui lowered his eyes and took a step back.

"Senior, please accept my condolences. Since the fiend has been captured, this junior will take his leave."

"Young friend, wait!"

The Old Man quickly called out to stop Shen Hui, his face showing an earnest plea. "Young friend, this old man expended much of his vitality capturing that fiend. At this critical moment of refining it, the last thing I need is disturbance. Would you be willing to stand guard for me for a short while? Once the deed is done, I will surely reward you handsomely."

Shen Hui paused mid-step, turned back, and let a hesitant expression cross his face.

He glanced at the sky.

The sun had already tilted westward, casting long shadows through the forest. In another hour or two, darkness would fall.

"Senior," he clasped his hands, "it's not that I'm making excuses, but it's getting late. If I don't return soon, my master will surely worry."

Hearing this, the Old Man's face grew even more earnest. He sighed. "Since your master is concerned, I dare not insist you stay. But may I ask which esteemed master you study under? If fate allows, I would like to visit and thank them in person."

Shen Hui hesitated for a moment, a flicker of reserve crossing his face.

"This humble one studies under Azure Sun True Person of Green City Mountain."

The Old Man's eyes widened slightly.

"True Person?"

The words slipped out, tinged with surprise and doubt.

"A Golden Core True Person?"

Shen Hui did not reply, but the corners of his mouth lifted slightly, a hint of pride showing on his face.

That expression held both undisguised smugness and an attempt to maintain humility.

The Old Man's gaze lingered on his face for a moment.

Damn it!

Golden Core True Person.

Green City Mountain.

These two words weighed down on him, making his heart skip a beat.

If this kid wasn't lying, then he truly couldn't be touched—unless he made it clean...

His face betrayed nothing, but his mind was already calculating.

Just then, a breeze blew from behind him.

The wind came abruptly, soft and gentle, yet carrying a chill. It brushed against the Old Man's nape, sending a faint tingle through his scalp.

At the same time, Shen Hui's gaze passed over his shoulder, landing behind him, his face lighting up with delight.

"Master!"

The Old Man's heart jolted. He turned around instinctively—

A streak of white light shot toward the back of his head.

So fast it left no visible trace.

Sharp Gold Qi was the fastest-casting and swiftest offensive technique among Shen Hui's spells.

He had practiced it for days and was now thoroughly proficient.

This strike had been building for a long time, aimed precisely at the moment when the Old Man's mind was shaken and he turned to look.

A sure hit.

But that sure hit missed.

Or rather, it only struck halfway.

The Old Man's head, in that critical instant, abruptly retracted into his chest cavity.

The white light grazed his scalp, slicing off a patch of flesh and sending a spray of blood mist into the air.

Shen Hui watched as that head slowly emerged from the chest again. The pride on his face had vanished completely, replaced by nothing but icy coldness.