The Monkey King was clever, and Chen Jin was cleverer still.
Although neither side could communicate through speech or writing, a round of gestures got the basic meaning across.
Chen Jin learned that the Monkey King had indeed obtained a fine sword, only to have it stolen on the way back by the weasels occupying the graveyard.
Naturally, the Monkey King refused to accept this. He returned, gathered his troop, and marched out in force to attack the weasels.
The two sides fought fiercely, trading blows for several days.
At first, the mountain monkeys held the advantage.
But just as the monkeys had their king, the weasels had an ancestor.
This ancestor had also awakened its intelligence and had learned a Law Technique somewhere that could bewitch souls.
It had originally been in seclusion, but emerged upon hearing that the mountain monkeys had attacked. During the battle, it used the Soul-Bewitching Technique, leaving the Monkey King utterly disoriented.
The mountain monkeys consequently suffered a crushing defeat.
After learning what had happened, Chen Jin pondered.
Originally, telling the Monkey King to fetch a sword had merely been an excuse to send him away so Chen Jin could concentrate on cultivating.
He had never expected complications to sprout sideways and create this whole mess.
The Monkey King had acted with complete sincerity and had done nothing wrong. The weasels who had waylaid him were the true culprits.
Weasels were sinister by nature and adept at practicing Law Techniques. In some places, they were respectfully called "Yellow Immortals."
That was precisely the problem. Anything that qualified as an immortal spirit presumably possessed some ability.
Chen Jin had no confidence that he could defeat the other party.
Now that the Monkey King had suffered a terrible loss and sought his help, if he failed to deliver, his supposed image as an "exalted immortal master" would shatter and cease to exist.
That would set off a whole chain of consequences.
From what the Monkey King meant, he wanted this immortal master to personally go to the graveyard and slay the weasels.
But Chen Jin knew his own limits. Even with today's overcast weather, he would not venture out rashly.
For now, he could only wave the Monkey King and the others away to tend to their injuries first.
With no other choice, the Monkey King led the monkeys down the slope to gather medicinal herbs for their wounds.
Looking at the wounded mountain monkeys, the Monkey King's heart filled with grief and fury. The thought that one of the females had even been killed made him angrier still.
In his understanding, this had all begun because he was helping the immortal master fetch a sword. If the immortal master stood by and did nothing after things had reached this point, he might as well stop acknowledging him as one.
The sky was gloomy with impending rain, and darkness fell quickly. Tonight would surely be a moonless night of high winds.
With no moon, Chen Jin felt vaguely uneasy. After a moment's thought, he still nimbly leaped up the tree, stood atop its crown, and raised his head to observe the heavens.
For some inexplicable reason, he actually hoped lightning would flash and thunder would rumble tonight, bringing a lightning tribulation down.
He remembered how, when he first came ashore, he had used the might of a lightning tribulation to blast some Demon Beast away.
He had been muddleheaded then and had not seen clearly what it was.
If he could repeat that old trick and have another bolt of tribulation lightning kill the weasels' ancestor, everything would be resolved.
But that was merely wishful thinking. It was not as though his family ran the lightning tribulations. Did he really think they would strike wherever he pointed?
Suddenly, he sensed something and looked west.
A swath of firelight had flared into view, forming a long dragon of flame.
Illuminated beneath the flames were not human faces, but faces with black markings, pointed snouts, and sharp fangs.
Weasels.
These weasels actually knew how to make torches and use them for light. They really were about to become spirits.
As they drew closer, they quickly spread out, as though marching to war and preparing to assume some formation.
Amid squeaks and chatter, a simple carrying chair was brought out from the center of their ranks. A cushioned seat rested on it, occupied by a tall, thin weasel dressed in floral cloth, with a blue floral kerchief wrapped around its head.
This old woman's outfit was both comical and eerie.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
The black-furred mountain monkeys had sensed danger. Led by the Monkey King, they swarmed up the old banyan tree, instinctively drawing close to Chen Jin for shelter.
Chen Jin: "..."
He had been planning to jump down from the tree if things went wrong. Now that all the mountain monkeys had come up, how was he supposed to jump?
There were far too many weasels, a dense mass numbering in the hundreds.
On his own side, every mountain monkey was wounded, their morale low.
How could they possibly fight?
"Awooo!"
The Monkey King roared in fury, thrusting out his long arm to point at the weasel ancestor's seat.
He had spotted the stolen sword, laid beside the cushioned chair and brazenly displayed as a trophy.
Enraged, the Monkey King forgot all propriety and reached out a paw to shove Chen Jin, seemingly urging him to act immediately and reclaim the sword.
Chen Jin's face remained utterly expressionless, but inwardly he tasted bitterness.
Hearing the Monkey King's roar, the weasel ancestor grew even more smug. It simply stood upright, sword in hand, and pointed it toward them.
Of course, it had spotted Chen Jin standing high above on the crown of the tree and recognized him as a corpse monster.
It had seen other corpse monsters before, lined up in rows and driven along rugged mountain paths like cattle or horses.
But the corpse monster standing in the tree was quite different. The hair covering his body was actually red, and he had a pair of bright eyes, just like a living person.
So why were the black-furred mountain monkeys mixed up with this corpse monster?
The two were not even of the same ilk.
Doubts stirred in the ancestor, and it could not help growing suspicious.
Weasels were inherently cunning and suspicious.
But having led its youngsters to the foot of the slope tonight, it could hardly let a corpse monster of unknown origin frighten it into retreat.
It intended to press its advantage and utterly crush these black-furred mountain monkeys, so that every Demon Beast and spirit would know:
The Yellow Immortal clan repaid even the smallest slight and would slay its foes however far away they might be!
It began calling out, issuing orders.
Swish, swish, swish!
The weasels split into small squads, each carrying torches, and spread out to surround the entirety of Banyan Tree Slope.
At this, the Monkey King grew agitated and restless. Things would only get worse at this rate. If they could not escape, the weasels would bite them all to death here.
As for the immortal master...
Looking at the motionless, wooden-faced Chen Jin, the Monkey King grew deeply suspicious. He felt that this fellow probably was no immortal master at all, and that he had been deceived.
Standing there, Chen Jin was honestly a little panicked too, but he soon steadied himself, knowing that fear and panic would accomplish nothing now.
His gaze surveyed the scene before finally settling on the fine sword that had caused this chain of incidents.
As he watched it, a thought stirred, and a strange sense of familiarity arose.
The feeling came abruptly and powerfully, like an unexpected reunion with an old friend, where a single greeting would make every barrier and trace of unfamiliarity vanish like smoke.
But how should he offer that greeting?
Chen Jin thought for a moment, then beckoned and silently uttered:
Sword, come!
The next instant, with a hiss, the sword flew free of the weasel ancestor's grasp. Trailing a dazzling gleam, it soared through the air and landed securely in Chen Jin's hand.
Beside him, the Monkey King witnessed the scene, his one remaining eye bulging so hard it nearly popped out.
Standing on the carrying chair's cushioned seat, the ancestor suddenly felt cold all over, then began to tremble. In that instant, a name leaped into its mind:
Sword Immortal!
Only a Sword Immortal could command a sword through the air.
In other words, Chen Jin needed only to wave his hand again, and that sword would fly down and cut off its head.
Hiss-ha!
The ancestor let out a sharp, urgent shriek, abruptly leaped off the carrying chair, and took to its heels, fleeing into the night without looking back.
At the shriek, all the weasels immediately threw down their torches and scattered like birds and beasts. In the blink of an eye, every last one had fled.