Chapter 236: There Is Always a Mountain Beyond a Mountain
In the desolate wilderness, under a dark and windy night, it was a suitable time for murder and robbery, as well as for slaying demons and vanquishing evil. It all depended on whether the Way was a foot high and the demon ten feet tall, or vice versa.
Outside the dilapidated ancient temple of the Shushui Kingdom, the sounds of women's laughter and chatter drifted over, eventually accompanied by a series of knocking on the door. The big-bearded man glanced at Chen Ping'an, then at Zhang Shanfeng, and quipped, "Which of you two is going to welcome the guests? If I go open the door, I might scare off the female demons, and they'll turn and run without a word. Then what?"
The Daoist Zhang Shanfeng patted his chest. "This humble Daoist is a bit more handsome than Chen Ping'an..."
Liu Chicheng, awakened by the Listening Demon Bell, was still groggy. The moment he heard "female demons," his mind immediately conjured images of fox spirits and beautiful ghosts from supernatural tales. Courage surging, he scrambled up from his bedding and shouted, "I'll go, I'll go! According to the books, those supernatural beings favor frail scholars like me. You three are all carrying knives and swords, so I'm the best fit. But let me make it clear beforehand: if we encounter good demons, we'll talk things out nicely. If they're willing to spend a night of passion with me, don't stop me. But if we run into evil spirits that eat people's hearts and livers, you have to save me!"
Liu Chicheng scurried over and pulled open the door. A sudden gust of wind howled in, making the impoverished scholar squint. Then he felt a fragrant breeze brush past, and two silvery, coquettish voices sounded beside him. A silken sleeve swept across his face—smooth and delicate—leaving Liu Chicheng a bit intoxicated. He quickly closed the door, and once the mountain wind subsided, he turned to look. He saw three women of captivating beauty. Two of them, with voluptuous figures, laughed and dashed toward the fire where the big-bearded man and the others sat. Even their backs swayed seductively, stirring Liu Chicheng's heart. The third was a young girl in a pale pink dress and embroidered shoes, standing timidly not far from Liu Chicheng, twisting her fingers nervously in her skirt. Compared to her two bold and beautiful sisters, she appeared to Liu Chicheng like a modest maiden, exceptionally charming.
The big-bearded man was sitting cross-legged, drinking wine. The two "generously dressed" women displayed a large expanse of snowy white cleavage, a sight that made the young Daoist, who was thin-skinned, blush a little. Chen Ping'an was tending to the campfire, adding dry branches. The branches crackled and popped as they burned.
These two beauties, "with valleys in their bosoms," cast seductive glances and quickly selected their preferred targets. One sat down beside the young Daoist, the other next to Chen Ping'an. The big-bearded man had already spread his arms, but the gesture froze mid-motion. He paused, then had to drink by himself to cover up his embarrassment.
The bewitching woman sitting beside Zhang Shanfeng pressed one hand to her collar, ostensibly out of modesty to conceal her charms, but in reality she pushed down slightly, tightening the fabric over her heaving bosom. She nudged the young Daoist with her shoulder and cooed, "Oh, little Daoist, you're carrying a wooden sword—is it a legendary peachwood sword? Why don't you draw it and let your big sister see how long or short it is?"
Zhang Shanfeng's ears turned bright red, and he dared not respond.
The woman leaning against Chen Ping'an had a delicate oval face, her brows and eyes brimming with springtime allure. She extended slender, pale fingers and said in a soft, syrupy voice, "This young master, my sisters and I were traveling by night, and the mountain wind on the ridges was so fierce. It left my little hands ice-cold. Won't you feel for yourself?"
Chen Ping'an pointed at the fire and said with a smile, "Miss, if your hands are cold, warm them by the fire. You'll soon feel better."
The young girl in the pink dress and embroidered shoes didn't join the fun. She crouched alone by the campfire, head lowered, reaching out her hands. Liu Chicheng sat down beside her and tried to strike up a conversation, asking with a grin, "Little girl, are you from the Shushui Kingdom?"
The girl nodded gently, then looked up, her lashes fluttering as if she wanted to speak but hesitated.
The big-bearded man glanced sideways at the edges of the girl's embroidered shoes, then looked at the two seductive women and said with a laugh, "Besides this little girl having some dirt on her shoes, why are you two big sisters so spotless after walking such a long mountain road? Could you be ghosts and spirits born from the wilds? If so, the four of us are in for trouble. We only ask that you two big sisters give us brothers a quick death—dying under peony flowers, I'd be a romantic ghost even in death. What do you think, sisters?"
Liu Chicheng chuckled, "These two sisters are so stunningly beautiful, how could they be demons? The face reflects the heart—impossible! And even if they were ghosts, they'd surely be the kind that add incense with delicate hands. Though we're of the living and they of the dead, meeting tonight over flowers and wine would be a refined affair. Sisters, am I right? Just don't let slip your terrifying ghostly forms while drinking—that would spoil the beauty."
The two enchanting women exchanged smiles. In over a hundred years of preying on the living here, this was the first time they'd encountered such carefree fellows. Were these men bold because of their skills, or were they simply greenhorns fresh out of the gates, ignorant of the ferocity of mountain and river spirits? One of them covered her mouth and giggled, while the other laughed so hard she doubled over, her snowy chest heaving and making Liu Chicheng across the fire swallow hard.
Suddenly, the young girl lifted her head, her face ashen, and screamed, "Run! They are..."
The smiling woman across from them stiffened. Her long sleeve shot out like a whip, striking the girl's forehead. The girl tumbled backward, a red welt on her brow.
Liu Chicheng, sitting beside the girl, was startled witless.
At almost the same moment, the Daoist Zhang Shanfeng brought his two fingers together in a sword gesture, and the peachwood sword at his back shot out, tracing a swift arc through the air before driving straight into the back of the woman who had struck. The woman was pierced through by the wooden sword and fell forward, but no blood gushed out. The glowing sword seemed only to have pinned a billowing garment.
The woman's face and body twisted hideously. Clearly, she was not a spirit that had cultivated a physical form but rather a ghostly entity without substance. Black smoke roiled around her as she struggled to escape the vicinity of the fire, but she couldn't break free from the peachwood sword standing slanted on the ground. It was like a beast chained in place.
Zhang Shanfeng chanted a spell, and the peachwood sword's body blazed with brilliant light. The female ghost could no longer maintain her human shape.
A streak of blade aura exploded. The big-bearded man had drawn his saber with lightning speed. The long blade passed through the flames, like an immortal quenching a divine weapon, with tongues of fire coiling around it like dragons. Then Xu Yuanxia slashed down, cleaving the pinned female ghost's smoky form completely. The black smoke met the saber's blazing aura and dissolved instantly. The ghost's piercing wail echoed through the ancient temple.
Xu Yuanxia turned to look and felt a bit embarrassed.
Chen Ping'an was grasping the air as if throttling someone's neck with one hand while punching with the other like a storm, striking the female ghost's chest. He had already beaten most of her black smoke away, leaving her nearly extinguished.
Though he too had obliterated a female ghost, Chen Ping'an had done it so quietly that it was a ruthless flower-crushing indeed.
Liu Chicheng was no fool. Forgetting any chivalrous thoughts, he scrambled away from the fallen girl, circled around the fire, and took cover behind the three men.
The girl struggled to sit up, tears threatening to spill. "You should run! Our Matron will be here soon..."
Before she finished, the Listening Demon Bell began to shudder violently. The door was blown open by a fierce gust of yin wind. A chill mountain wind struck the girl squarely in the back. She spat blood, her small body flying over the fire toward the young Daoist and the big-bearded man. Xu Yuanxia hastily sheathed his saber to avoid harming an innocent. But in that instant, the girl flashed a cunning smile. Her hands shot out like lightning, tapping several acupoints on Xu Yuanxia and Zhang Shanfeng's chests. She rebounded slightly and stood amidst the fire, casually nudging the blazing flames with her embroidered shoe. The scorching coals and fire could not harm her in the slightest.
She ignored the immobilized big-bearded man and young Daoist, instead kicking the peachwood sword away. The tip of her embroidered shoe blackened slightly upon touching the wooden blade. Looking down from her vantage point at the only one still capable of fighting—the teenager with the box on his back—she said teasingly, "If you want to run, I might let you off."
At the doorway, yin winds howled. Several figures appeared, holding black banners and surrounded by ghostly energy. They gazed at the girl inside the temple with fervent eyes and shouted, "Matron's divine power spans the ages! Long live the Matron!"
Chen Ping'an stood up and asked, "Are you human or ghost?"
The girl, the so-called Matron, laughed darkly. "Human hearts are more treacherous than ghostly schemes—the heart comes first, the ghostly schemes later. That shows your human hearts are scarier. This immortal has been here in Shushui Kingdom for two hundred years. One of my signature dishes is stir-fried heart and liver, which must be freshly harvested and heavily spiced, otherwise the earthy smell is too strong to bear. But there are exceptions. A few years ago, an old Daoist passed through—fairly powerful. He killed several of my darling girls. That Daoist had an excellent heart and liver, rare in flavor. I wonder about the four of you outsiders. You all have decent skills. How do your hearts and livers taste? Shouldn't be too bad, I imagine. Martial artists have better bodies and souls than ordinary folk..."
From far outside the ancient temple, a very clear, aged voice rang out, "Suitable for sword sacrifice."
The girl's expression shifted drastically.
At the entrance, sword light erupted. The heads of those yin creatures and ghost minions fell one after another, and under that light, they were as frail as mortals, impossible to survive once beheaded.
Soon, a stoic old man in black strode through the threshold, a sword scabbard hanging at his waist. An unsheathed sword followed beside him—a bronze blade covered in cracks, without a trace of sword aura or spiritual light. Yet as the rust-covered sword hovered silently beside the old man, it commanded an unspeakable power.
Pure sword aura, abundant sword intent, fierce swordsmanship.
On the journey through the martial world, there was always a mountain beyond a mountain.
The girl clearly recognized this person. Her fingernails grew long like ten silver hooks, her spine arched as she stared fixedly at the old man, putting on a brave front. "Song Yushao, you're a mere wanderer of the martial world—do you dare to oppose the Four Evils of Shushui? If we join forces, we'll level your Swordwater Villa!"
The old man looked at her calmly, this notorious demon lord of the Shushui Kingdom, and slowly said, "Are you some kind of fool?"