Yandang Mountain-Does "Dang" Mean "Raze It to the Ground"?

The next day, as dawn barely broke, Zhang Xuan opened his eyes wearily, his eyelids so heavy they seemed weighed down by a thousand-pound boulder. His face was pale as paper, and his whole body ached, as though every bone had been crushed and pieced back together.

In the distance, the monk was doing a one-handed handstand on a patch of open ground, his eyes closed.

Hearing the movement, the monk pushed off with his left arm. His mountain-like body sprang into the air and landed steadily on his feet.

There was not a trace of fatigue on the monk's face; on the contrary, he looked positively radiant. Zhang Xuan, meanwhile, not only looked exhausted but was utterly listless. Anyone who did not know better would have thought he was the one who had kept watch last night.

The corner of Zhang Xuan's mouth twitched. He gritted his teeth inwardly and cursed, That son of a bitch, the Celestial Master's Ordination... Recalling last night's "trial"—being beheaded by the Headless Corpse Buddha, torn apart by five horses, sliced a thousand times, and even minced into pulp by blood threads—he shuddered involuntarily.

Twelve hours, five hundred and thirty-one deaths. The phantom pain still danced at his nerve endings. What sins had he committed to deserve all this?

I can't think about it anymore. Those memories of dying are attacking me. Zhang Xuan shook his head, as though trying to drive all those unbearable memories out of his mind.

"My lord, did you not sleep well last night?" Seeing Zhang Xuan's exhausted face, the monk thought something was amiss. Zhang Xuan had not so much as stirred during the first half of the night; he should have been sleeping deeply.

Zhang Xuan forced out a faint smile, his voice carrying a hint of self-mockery. "Well... very well."

Just then, a rich pine fragrance drifted over.

Ji Anning, who had risen early, held out a steaming cup of Pine Needle Tea to Zhang Xuan. "My lord, have some tea to clear your head."

Zhang Xuan took the wooden cup and drank a mouthful. The rich pine fragrance blossomed between his lips and teeth, and the warm, refreshing tea flowed down his throat, instantly clearing his mind and lifting his spirits. He closed his eyes, feeling its warmth spread from his throat all the way to his stomach, as though even his soul had been soothed by it.

Only after drinking more than half the cup did Zhang Xuan regain some sense of being alive.

Come to think of it, although he had been tormented horribly last night, the gains had been tremendous.

From being killed instantly by the Headless Corpse Buddha at the beginning to finally holding his own against that terrifying Ghost King Realm monster with a thirty-to-seventy chance, Zhang Xuan had made a qualitative leap in both combat skill and mental fortitude.

Those experiences of death had not broken him. Instead, they had brought his mastery of the four divine path forms to a realm of meticulous precision.

Every death was another tempering;

Every revival made him stronger!

If I had to train in the real world, never mind all the time I'd need to replenish my mental energy and vitality after every use of a divine path form—finding a sparring partner as powerful as the Headless Corpse Buddha would be utterly impossible, Zhang Xuan reflected. Is this what they call pain and pleasure together?

Besides, how could real battles to the death offer the convenience of unlimited revival in the Inner Landscape? Only actual combat on the brink of life and death could truly draw out a person's potential.

Now, Zhang Xuan felt that even if he faced another powerful Ghost King-level fiend, he would have a fighting chance.

After a brief rest, the group set off southwest. Following a full day's journey, they finally reached the foot of Yandang Mountain.

Zhang Xuan did not rush into the mountain. Instead, he had the monk find a secluded spot where they could rest for the night first.

Opening the trial yesterday had used up all of today's allotted questions in advance. Now, Zhang Xuan could not even activate [Nether Candle Mystic Eyes].

Although he could now wield the four divine path forms with ease, having no trump card in hand made him deeply uncomfortable, given his profound lack of a sense of security.

Yandang Mountain towered majestically, its slopes steep and treacherous. Wreathed in mist, it resembled a gigantic beast lying dormant. Ancient trees reached skyward among the mountains, and the occasional low growl of a wild beast drifted through the woods. On vine-entangled dead trees, the scarlet eyes of crows followed the group's movements, sending chills down their spines.

At the foot of the mountain lay a desolate village. Weeds grew thick among its crumbling walls, and it had clearly been abandoned long ago.

After passing through the deserted village, Zhang Xuan stopped and turned to Ji Anning. "Are you certain those three were wolf bandits from Yandang Mountain?"

Ji Anning walked at the rear of the group, his gaze icy and his fists clenched, his nails digging deep into his palms.

"My lord, there's no mistake. I happened to wake up when those beasts were leaving. As they passed the window, I saw one of them take off his fiend mask. That beast had a Wolf-Face Totem tattooed across half his face, and a wart at the corner of his mouth!"

"I heard my father say that the wolf bandits entrenched on Yandang Mountain have Wolf-Face Totems like that on their faces."

"If I see them again, I'll recognize them even if they've been burned to ashes. I have to kill those beasts with my own hands!!!"

As Ji Anning grew increasingly agitated, his thin frame trembled continuously.

The monk rested his warm, fan-sized hand on his shoulder. "Amitabha. Guard your mind. Do not let hatred devour you."

Ji Anning shook his head slightly and gave a self-mocking smile. "As long as I can kill those beasts, I won't so much as furrow my brow, even if I have to descend into Avici Hell!"

"Mother, I will avenge you," Ji Anning murmured, a glint of resolve flashing in his eyes.

On the bandit stronghold's watchtower, two drunkards were urinating over the cliff. The smell of alcohol mingled with the rank stench in the night breeze. Suddenly, the scar-faced man shuddered—he kept feeling that something was watching from the darkness, but when he looked out, there was nothing but waves of swaying pines.

"Did you hear? The third chief came back last night, and he took Mad Bull and Stone out to have some fun," a guard with a brutish face said with a grin.

"Heh-heh, those villagers were so scared when they saw the fiend masks, they didn't even dare let out a fart. What idiots," the other guard chimed in, his voice dripping with scorn.

Their so-called "fun" consisted of the Yandang Mountain Wolf Bandits putting on fiend masks and plundering the surrounding villages and towns. Exploiting the villagers' fear of fiends, they ran rampant, murdering, setting fires, and committing every imaginable evil.

Just then, that bandit walked over and said with a lecherous grin, "That brat Mad Bull really got lucky last night. I heard the prey he found was a real beauty, all full breasts and rounded hips. Too bad she was mute. Didn't make a sound. Took some of the fun out of it."

The "mute" he spoke of was Ji Anning's mother. That night, before the three bandits broke in, she had hidden the sleeping Ji Anning in a wardrobe.

What followed was just as Ji Anning had described. That strong-willed woman had gritted her teeth, enduring the three bandits' abuse without a sound. In the end, they brutally tortured her to death and dismembered her, disguising it as the work of fiends.

The bandits, meanwhile, had swaggered back to their lair on Yandang Mountain to continue their "carefree lives."

While they were laughing and chatting, a voice abruptly cut in.

"Excuse me, where is this Mad Bull you mentioned?"

The sudden voice scared the two wolf bandits nearly out of their souls. The one with his back to the voice reacted more alertly. Gritting his teeth, he drew the long saber at his waist and swept it behind him in a backhand slash...

Clang!

A flash of golden light swept past, and two fingers glowing faintly gold chipped a notch in the sharp blade.

The saber was knocked flying. The man turned in horror, only to find a young face before him.

The young man had handsome features, and the indifferent gaze in his eyes was like that of someone looking at a dead man!