Chapter Seventy-Three: The Demon's Life of Hardship, Sowing Seeds and Reaping Consequences
“Don’t underestimate that fox. Remember how fast it ran when Zhuzi was bitten, how powerful it was… Luckily, the few of us could exploit our positions to get these weapons, or we really wouldn’t be able to handle it. Look, even this armor has a huge dent from its attack—just how strong is that fox!”
“That’s right, it’s a demon fox! We must be on guard!”
…
Outside the cave, in the pouring rain, three burly men in gleaming silver armor stood, one holding a taser gun, another a net, and the third a hunting rifle. Their armor shimmered with flickers of light beneath the rain, radiating an aura of advanced technology. In that era, such attire would have inspired awe in anyone. Even now, in a small village, clothes like these would cause quite a commotion.
The trio entered the cave, and the taser gun crackled with arcs of electricity. Gunshots echoed one after another within the cave. The battle was swift and fierce. Before long, all the foxes inside were struck down.
They skinned and gutted every fox, then, driven by greed, stuffed everything from the cave into burlap sacks.
“Demon hunters really do make money fast! Boss, I’ve decided, I’ll stick with you from now on. Where else could I get an outfit like this?”
“Exactly. These Western gadgets look so sophisticated and high-tech, with magical runes etched inside. Alone, they might not be much against that demon fox, but together, they’re formidable! Truly products ahead of their time! Mark my words, as the years go by, these demon foxes and their ilk, no matter how powerful they become, will never be our match!”
“I agree. I’ve heard… cultivators… after the change… this will be mainstream… but cultivation is still the most reliable!”
They chatted on and on.
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out!
“Ah… Boss, what are you—”
A second shot.
After that, not a single human sound was heard within the cave.
A long while later, a sinister laugh echoed out.
“Heh heh… Those extra sets of armor, even if you two stole them, have nothing to do with me, Wang Yansong. And as for all the gold and jewels, they’re all mine now!”
“Men die for wealth, birds for food. You two made me a fortune, and as for your wives, rest assured, I, Wang Yansong, will take good care of them! Hahahaha…”
It turned out that just moments ago, the big man had killed his two companions!
So much for friendship—quickly corroded by greed!
Monopolizing the loot! Framing the innocent!
What he did was worse than the foxes!
And this, from a cultivator!
He packed up all the gold and jewels, dragged in two large rocks, and covered the cave entrance with dirt and sod to hide it.
On his forehead was a crescent-shaped scar.
Inside the cave.
The ugly, deformed demon fox, already skinned, was left utterly ignored.
Drip. Drip.
The blood from the two dead cultivators trickled from the bullet holes in their faces and eyes, flowing unabated.
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The blood soaked into the deformed demon fox, bubbling and fizzing as it seeped in. Within the cultivators’ blood, streams of energy steadily restored the demon fox’s broken body.
“This blood… so sweet… Cultivators… those who can cultivate… Wang Yansong killed my mother…”
The deformed demon fox’s consciousness was clear. It murmured softly.
…
Recently, Rongguang Town had been plagued with unrest.
Rumors spread that something unclean haunted the town. It wasn’t a ghost—worse than a ghost—it had already killed twenty strong men.
And that wasn’t all; the creature had even issued a challenge, delivered directly to the town’s renowned feng shui master, Uncle Ba.
Uncle Ba, whose real name was Li Zhengda, had a son studying Daoism on Mount Mao, a prodigy of remarkable talent and reputation, a rising star among the young disciples.
His son returned home, and Li Zhengda threw a grand banquet, guests filling the hall, laughter and toasts all around.
But that night, suddenly, the electric lights went dark, and the candles lit for atmosphere flickered out one by one. A chill swept through, sinister winds stirring the air.
A challenge, written in human blood, was hurled onto the roast pig at the center of the table.
Drops of blood seeped into the dishes, sending chills down everyone’s spine.
The challenge made it clear: Tonight, it would come again, to claim the life of Li Zhengda’s gifted son!
The news spread like wildfire, and the townsfolk shivered with dread.
Night fell swiftly.
Having lived in the town for decades, with deep connections and influence, Li Zhengda gathered ten feng shui masters to defend the household, determined that the demon would never leave alive.
The night wind howled, making the lanterns at the gate sway violently.
Suddenly, a muffled thud—a man had died!
One of the ten feng shui masters, Huang Youda, who had come to help, was the first to fall.
As everyone reeled from his death, a second master died in quick succession.
Originally stationed around the house, the remaining masters now huddled together outside with Li Zhengda, prepared to hold the line to the last.
Inside, Li Zhengda’s son was pale as death, anxiety etched across his face.
Soon, more screams tore through the night.
“Ahhh… it’s you… it’s you…”
In his final moments, one man’s words revealed that the demon was someone well-known to them all.
But just as paranoia set in—anyone nearby could be the creature—a bald monk’s body suddenly exploded!
Blood sprayed, his skin sloughed off, and a Paint-Skin Ghost burst forth, swelling in the wind to a height of three or four meters in an instant!
Its innate power stretched its body grotesquely!
Bloody, flesh-soaked fingers grabbed at countless black threads.
Bang, bang, bang—one after another, hearts burst in chests.
A spell that attacked the heart!
The Paint-Skin Ghost’s gift could only be imitated, never truly cultivated.
Corpses littered the ground.
The scene of ruptured hearts was unspeakably gruesome.
The Paint-Skin Ghost swung its bony arms, crashing through the house, its monstrous, bloody frame sweeping the roof aside.
Its massive, skeletal fingers reached for the prodigy of Mount Mao.
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As terror gripped the young Daoist, the sword at his side suddenly flared with dazzling light.
The sword sang, vibrating with excitement.
In his final moments, Li Zhengda’s son drew the blade with lightning speed. With a hiss, the ghost’s finger bones were sliced off, and then the sword drove itself straight into the Paint-Skin Ghost’s forehead.
It was not the boy wielding the sword, but the sword wielding itself!
In an instant, the Paint-Skin Ghost was immobilized!
As the sword was withdrawn, it blazed with a crimson glow, like blood. And as it lodged in the ghost’s forehead, the red radiance only grew, until the ghost’s enormous skull was ablaze with light.
Piercing screams choked out from the ghost’s skeletal maw.
Its severed arm, missing fingers, still writhed, stabbing its forearm bone into the forehead of the youth before it. Without the young man’s support, the sword’s red light faded, growing ever dimmer.
Suddenly, the red blade exploded, shattering the ghost’s bones to pieces.
Yet the fragment of bone lodged in the youth’s head remained, almost unaffected.
The wind picked up.
The courtyard was thick with the stench of blood, drifting ever farther on the breeze. The severed arm began slowly peeling back the boy’s skin.
It draped the skin upon itself.
…
Not far from Rongguang Town, on the outskirts of the county seat.
A youth stood before a great residence, grinning to himself. “Wang Yansong, I’ve come… Aren’t you always looking for talented young men? Always recruiting disciples? I killed Li Zhengda’s son just so I could meet you face-to-face, let you admire this new skin I wear, and then kill you! See how clever I am!”
“Today, I’m offering myself up—when the time comes, I’ll peel off your skin to honor my mother’s memory!”
Coughing up blood as he spoke, the youth’s aura flickered with a constant, ominous energy… He was the Paint-Skin Ghost!
His presence could not be fully concealed for a simple reason: his injuries from the last time had been grave indeed.
That afternoon, inside the residence, Wang Yansong died!
The Paint-Skin Ghost kept Wang Yansong’s skin all along.
The one with the crescent scar on his forehead!
Wang Yansong, who had killed the deformed demon fox Paint-Skin Ghost’s mother!
The Paint-Skin Ghost would make his skin witness every moment of his glory!
…
In the wild mountains, two Paint-Skin Ghosts gazed at the red mist swirling in the sky, looks of intoxication on their faces.
They reveled in the growing presence of ominous energy, exchanging knowing smiles.
“It’s our time to come down from the mountains… If we want to survive, we need to eat more flesh, grow stronger! Only by becoming powerful enough can we turn the tables on those cultivators!”
This very mountain was where the Paint-Skin Ghost had lived as a child!
Now, wildflowers blanketed the slopes, butterflies danced, birds sang, the grass was lush—a scene of serene beauty.
But inside the cave, darkness reigned, punctuated by the crunching of bones.
The little deformed demon foxes were feasting on human flesh!
Filth covered every surface, in stark contrast to the world outside the cave.
…
With a thud, Lin Yi landed on the ground.
The Paint-Skin Ghost’s century-long demon life played out in Lin Yi’s mind like a grand epic film.
At first, Lin Yi felt a deep sorrow for the Paint-Skin Ghost, but as the story continued, and the ghost grew ever more murderous, Lin Yi could only shake his head in dismay.
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