Chapter 90: Wang Chu Yi Collides with a Monster
Chen Yan exchanged his shoes for a sturdier pair and wrapped himself in a thick down coat before stepping out with Wang Chu Yi. The two navigated through the village, heading westward until they reached the base of the mountain. There, they followed a narrow, winding trail that led up the slope.
Though the path bore faint traces of human effort—scattered stones pressed into the earth to mark the way—the heavy snowfall of the past day had rendered it treacherously slick. The Abandoned Temple atop the hill wasn’t situated on an imposing peak, merely a rugged knoll. Yet, beyond it, the forest stretched deep, spanning two or three miles in a tangled expanse.
They climbed in silence, the darkness of the night thickening around them. When they arrived at the temple gates, Chen Yan lifted his gaze to the ancient, dilapidated doors. Within, only a suffocating blackness loomed.
Beside him, Wang Chu Yi panted lightly, his breath curling in the cold air.
Chen Yan turned his eyes to him, noticing something amiss. The youth’s gaze flickered with restlessness as he stared at him.
“Brother Yan… why… why aren’t we going in?” Wang Chu Yi asked, his voice carrying a hint of urgency.
Only then did Chen Yan realize a detail he had overlooked on their journey.
His sharp gaze swept over Wang Chu Yi before he suddenly inquired, “How far did you run tonight?”
“Huh?” The young man blinked in surprise. “I… I ran down the mountain, into the village, then to your house… and then back here…”
Chen Yan made a quick calculation—
A round trip of several kilometers at least, and that included scaling the mountain once already!
[This kid… his physical endurance is beyond ordinary.]
Chen Yan thought back to their ascent. He himself possessed a body strengthened by Vital Energy, his physique honed far beyond that of mere mortals. Even so, he hadn’t taken his time climbing. Yet Wang Chu Yi had managed to keep up with him the entire way, and now, even after reaching the summit, he was only mildly out of breath?
Something stirred in his thoughts.
Without revealing his intent, Chen Yan activated his Qi-Observing Technique, casting his sight upon Wang Chu Yi.
Yet—
No trace of Vital Energy flowed within him.
[Strange…]
Chen Yan dismissed the thought. Now was not the time for such distractions.
He shook his head, took a deep breath, and stepped boldly into the temple.
The Abandoned Temple atop this mountain was a place Chen Yan had visited many times in his youth.
As a village child, running wild was second nature—climbing trees, swimming rivers, and scrambling up mountains were all part of everyday life. He often played here with the other children. In those days, he had even met the Old Monk who resided in this temple. Back then, the monk had not yet grown so old.
The Old Monk was not an unkind man. When children sneaked over the temple walls, he never scolded them, nor did he chase them away with a broom. Occasionally, he even shared malt candies with them, a rare treat.
A lone orange tree stood in the courtyard. Every autumn, when the fruit ripened, he would allow the children to pluck them. As they climbed and reached for the fruit, the Old Monk would simply sit beneath the tree, watching them with a gentle smile.
To Chen Yan’s memory, he had always been a benevolent soul.
The Abandoned Temple itself was small—barely a courtyard and a single hall.
The so-called Main Hall was merely a modest structure, taller and neater than an average dwelling but otherwise unremarkable. Within, aged statues of the Buddha stood, their lacquer long since peeled away, revealing the bare clay beneath.
There was no Merit Box, only a timeworn Stone Incense Burner, its origins lost to history.
Instead of meditation cushions, there were just two wooden boards placed before the altar.
To the east lay the Old Monk’s quarters, partitioned modestly into a meditation room. To the west stood a kitchen and firewood storage. A small door behind the kitchen led to a modest vegetable garden, now blanketed under the snow.
A humble place, no more.
Chen Yan recalled hearing the temple’s origins from the village elders. This had once been a grand monastery, its age uncountable. Even the oldest villagers had no memory of a time before it existed. Generations had come and gone, and the temple had remained.
In ancient days, its incense offerings had flourished, for it was the only temple in the region. But a century ago, war came. The monks fled, and the temple was left to ruin.
It remained abandoned for decades.
The Old Monk was a later arrival.
He had been born in the village, once a man of the mundane world. He had taken a wife from a neighboring settlement and lived an ordinary life. But tragedy struck—a great flood claimed his wife and child. He alone survived, left to drift beyond the village, seeking meaning in distant lands.
Years later, he returned, his heart still unsettled. The weight of the world bore down on him. And so, he cast aside all ties, sold his home and lands, and used the coin to lease the mountain from the village, making the temple his refuge.
From then on, he lived as a monk.
When Wang Chu Yi arrived at the temple, the Old Monk had partitioned his own quarters, fashioning a separate room for him. A single wall divided the space, giving the boy a private chamber.
Chen Yan followed Wang Chu Yi into the Old Monk’s room, flipping on the light as they entered.
He reached out and pressed his hand against the bed.
Cold.
His gaze swept the room. Then—
His brow furrowed.
Crouching down, he scrutinized the bedside.
A pair of shoes lay there, untouched.
[The Old Monk is missing… and he didn’t take his shoes?]
His eyes darted to a chair nearby. An old, padded monk’s robe hung limply over the backrest.
[Even his outer garment was left behind!]
No one would venture outside like this—not in such bitter cold, not after a day of snowfall.
No one would leave barefoot and underdressed.
Something was wrong.
Chen Yan’s mind sharpened, his instincts urging caution. He turned to Wang Chu Yi and asked solemnly, “Are you absolutely sure you searched the temple?”
“Yes! I checked everything—the Main Hall, the courtyard, the kitchen, even the vegetable garden behind the temple. I found nothing.”
Chen Yan gave a slow nod. Without another word, he pulled out his phone and switched on the flashlight mode, stepping out of the meditation room.
With Wang Chu Yi in tow, he combed through the temple once more, sweeping light over every inch of the compound. Yet nothing emerged from the darkness.
Still—
As he returned to the courtyard, a feeling stirred in his chest. He turned sharply, striding toward the stone steps before the meditation room.
Lifting his phone, he aimed its light at the ground.
The courtyard was blanketed in pristine snow, untouched since morning.
And yet—
Around the meditation chamber, a thick layer of snow lay undisturbed, blanketing the ground in silence.
Chen Yan surveyed the surroundings with keen eyes, and in an instant, the truth became as clear as a blade’s edge—
The footprints were all wrong.
He meticulously traced the paths imprinted in the snow, and every mark was accounted for—his own steps and those of Wang Chu Yi, left behind as they had searched for the missing Old Monk.
Yet around the meditation chamber, there was but a single trail, forming a solitary circle—the exact path Chu Yi had taken when he had first discovered the monk’s disappearance and scoured the area for signs of him.
Beyond that—
Nothing. No other footprints marred the pristine white.
A living person, no matter whether he had walked away of his own accord or had been taken by force, should have left a trace.
Yet, the snow told no such story.
Chen Yan’s brows furrowed as he turned to look at the anxious face of Wang Chu Yi. After a moment of thought, he spoke calmly, “Don’t panic just yet. Let’s check the forest beyond the ridge.”
“Alright!” Chu Yi had no better plan and was too flustered to think for himself. He nodded rapidly and sprinted toward the mountain woods behind the temple.
The two of them pressed forward, their steps sinking into the thick snow. The journey through the forest proved arduous, every movement burdened by the icy grip of winter. After several minutes, Chen Yan activated his Heavenly Eye Qi-Observing Technique, peering beyond the veil of the mundane. A faint wisp of demonic aura still lingered in the air, dissipating ever so slowly, as though it had been left behind long ago.
His eyes lit up with understanding. With one hand forming a Sword Finger Technique, he prepared for battle. The other hand reached into his pocket, grasping tightly onto the talisman Gu Qing Yi’s Mother’s Blade—his expression sharpened as he strode toward the fading traces of the demon’s presence.
Behind him, Chu Yi ran with all his might, his breath ragged and uneven. Though his movements were less than graceful, he stubbornly refused to fall behind. They crested a small ridge, only for the lingering demonic aura ahead to vanish entirely, dissipating into the night like mist beneath the morning sun.
Chen Yan halted, narrowing his eyes as he carefully scanned the surroundings. After a moment, he sighed softly.
This mountain was neither too large nor too small, yet searching it entirely in the dead of night with only the two of them was an impossible task. The demonic presence had already been faint to begin with—by the time they had arrived, most of it had already dispersed. Wandering aimlessly in the freezing dark would accomplish nothing.
“Let’s head back.” Chen Yan shook his head and turned to Chu Yi. “We’ll need to rethink our approach.”
“But… my master… we’re just going to stop searching?” Chu Yi’s voice was fraught with frustration and helplessness.
“We will find him,” Chen Yan assured him, his voice steady as a drawn bowstring. “But running around blindly at this hour will do us no good. Do you understand?”
He placed a firm hand on Chu Yi’s shoulder. “Let’s return and plan our next move.”
The long trek through the snow had left both of their shoes soaked through, their faces chilled to the bone. Chen Yan remained composed, but Chu Yi’s lips had paled from the cold.
It took them nearly twenty minutes to retrace their path to the Abandoned Temple’s rear gate.
Yet the moment they stepped through, Chen Yan came to an abrupt halt.
A dim glow flickered within the temple courtyard, where there should have been nothing but darkness.
The meditation chamber’s lantern was lit.
Chen Yan took a slow, deliberate breath. He distinctly remembered extinguishing that very light before they had left.
Through the thin windowpane, the flickering glow outlined a shadowy figure. Faintly, through the rustling night wind, the sound of coughing echoed from within the chamber.
Chen Yan had yet to speak, but the moment Chu Yi heard that weak, familiar cough, he cried out, “Master!”
Before Chen Yan could stop him, Chu Yi dashed forward, throwing himself toward the meditation chamber.
Chen Yan reached out but failed to grab hold of him in time. His fingers curled around the talisman in his pocket as he strode after him with measured, cautious steps.
Standing at the doorway, he peered into the chamber with cold, scrutinizing eyes.
Inside, the Old Monk leaned against the bed, his face a sallow shade of yellow, deep wrinkles carved into his aged skin. The flickering lantern cast long, shifting shadows that obscured his expression. His posture was frail, one arm dangling weakly over the bedside.
Chu Yi had already collapsed beside the bed, clutching the old monk’s hand, his whole body trembling with unspoken emotion.
Chen Yan lingered at the threshold, his Heavenly Eye Qi-Observing Technique sweeping over the monk’s form. Nothing appeared amiss. After a brief moment of consideration, he stepped inside.
“Chu Yi, where did you run off to?” the old monk asked with a sigh, shaking his head weakly.
Chu Yi opened his mouth, but words failed him.
Chen Yan, however, strode forward with confidence, his voice firm and direct. “He woke in the middle of the night and found you missing. He searched the temple from top to bottom but couldn’t find you. Terrified, he ran down to the village to seek help. I happened to be there, and he dragged me along. We just spent ages combing through the forest behind the temple, all for the sake of finding you.”
As he spoke, his gaze remained locked onto the old monk, sharp as a drawn blade. “Tell me, Master, where exactly did you go in the middle of the night?”
The old monk’s shadowed face lifted slightly. His murky eyes regarded Chen Yan, squinting in hesitation before he asked in a frail voice, “You… and you are…?”
Chen Yan’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “I am Little Yan, from Old Madam Huang’s family in the village. A while back, when my grandmother passed, we held a ritual, and you were among the monks who came to our home. Have you forgotten me already?”
The old monk seemed to search his memories before nodding feebly. His voice, thin and lacking vigor, murmured, “Yes… yes, I remember you… you were the boy who used to steal oranges from my courtyard when you were little.”
“That’s right, Master,” Chen Yan replied, casually seating himself on a wooden stool. His smile remained as he continued, “So, where exactly did you go? Do you know how worried Chu Yi was?”
The old monk shook his head and let out a long sigh. “My old ailment flared up in the middle of the night. My chest felt tight, as though I could barely breathe. I… I simply stepped out for some fresh air. Without realizing it, I wandered farther than intended… I never meant to cause such distress for the child.”
As he spoke, his body convulsed with a fit of coughing.
Fresh air?
In the dead of winter? Barefoot, without even a cloak, stepping out into the snow?
Chen Yan scoffed inwardly.
[What an interesting tale.]
The old monk coughed for a long while, his body trembling with each breath. Beside him, Wang Chu Yi busied himself, rubbing the monk’s chest and patting his back with anxious care.
Chen Yan, however, remained unmoved, his expression placid, his posture still. He simply watched, saying nothing, offering neither concern nor assistance.
As expected, when the old monk saw that Chen Yan had not reacted in the slightest, he gradually let his coughing subside. Narrowing his weary eyes, he regarded the young man with a calculating gaze.
“Ah… So, you are from the Huang family.” His voice was hoarse, carrying the weight of countless years. “Tonight, you have already been troubled enough by my presence. The night is dark and the mountain paths treacherous—best you head home while the way is still clear. The road is slick with ice; tread carefully, lest you take a nasty fall.”
Chen Yan chuckled lightly, the dim glow of the chamber’s lantern casting shadows upon his face. Though his demeanor appeared easygoing, there was an unmistakable sharpness in his eyes. “There’s no need to rush me down the mountain, Master. As it happens, I have learned a thing or two about traditional medicine while studying in the city. Since you seem unwell, why don’t I take a look at you?”
The old monk hesitated. “No need… The village doctor has already examined me and even given me an intravenous drip…”
Chen Yan remained composed. “Even after days of treatment, you’ve shown no sign of improvement. I, however, practice traditional methods—no need for needles or drips.”
With that, his gaze shifted to Wang Chu Yi. “Chu Yi, fetch me a pot of hot water. I’ve traveled far and my throat is parched.”
“Eh? Ah! Right away!” Wang Chu Yi, relieved that his master had been found, felt his earlier anxiety melt away. The boy, simple-minded as he was, grinned with unbridled joy. “Brother Yan, just wait here! I’ll get you some water!”
“Mm.” Chen Yan nodded, his tone light but firm. “It’s cold outside. Cold water would only harm my throat—bring me something warm.”
Wang Chu Yi hesitated, rubbing the back of his head. “Uh… Brother… There’s no hot water left in the kitchen…”
“Then boil some.” Chen Yan’s smile remained gentle. “I don’t mind waiting. I just want a warm cup.”
“Alright!” Wang Chu Yi nodded eagerly. “Brother Yan, sit tight! I’ll get the fire going right away!”
The moment Wang Chu Yi dashed off, Chen Yan turned, quietly shutting the chamber door behind him. Then, his expression turned cold as he gazed upon the old monk.
“There is no hot water in the kitchen. I already confirmed this while searching the temple,” he said, his tone now devoid of any warmth. “I sent Chu Yi away on purpose—to ensure we would have ample time to talk. Now, Master, let’s drop the pretense.”
The old monk exhaled a long breath, his shoulders sinking.
“That nonsense about ‘stepping out for fresh air’—perhaps it fooled that naive boy, but me?” Chen Yan’s lips curled into a smirk. “Master, since you already know I hail from the Huang family, do you truly believe you can deceive me?”
The old monk, still bundled beneath his thick quilt, shivered. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet Chen Yan’s. He hesitated for a long moment before speaking in a defeated voice. “Old Madam Huang is gone now… Even if you are her grandson, it won’t change anything. You should leave.”
Chen Yan raised an eyebrow. “Good. So, you do know my grandmother’s reputation.”
He lifted his left hand, forming a sword seal with his fingers. His smirk deepened, but his voice carried an undeniable edge. “I don’t care what you’re scheming. If you mean to harm Wang Chu Yi, believe me—I will make sure your soul is shattered beyond salvation.”
The old monk’s eyes flickered, then softened into a bitter smile. He studied Chen Yan carefully before shaking his head and sighing. “You suspect me of harming Chu Yi? You are mistaken. I have raised that child as if he were my own son—I would never bring harm upon him!”
His voice wavered, burdened with sorrow. “I only wish to protect him… But I fear I am powerless to do so.”
Chen Yan slowly lowered his hand, pondering the old monk’s words. His brows furrowed as realization dawned. “What do you mean? Are you saying someone else seeks to harm Chu Yi?”
The old monk’s complexion was pallid, his breath growing fainter. Between ragged gasps, he whispered, “Chu Yi… has encountered a demonic being.”
Chen Yan’s gaze darkened.
The old monk continued, his voice tinged with helplessness. “Alas, my meager skills are insufficient. I cannot drive away the creature. Every time it comes knocking, it subdues me with ease. I am left powerless, forced to endure humiliation after humiliation.”
The weight of his words carried an undercurrent of grief and frustration.
Chen Yan exhaled slowly, regaining his composure. He pulled a chair close and sat down, his voice now measured and steady. “Tell me everything. Spare no detail.”
The old monk hesitated before finally speaking.
“You are the grandson of Old Madam Huang. No doubt, you possess some of her talents…
“In my youth, I traveled far and wide, picking up a few rudimentary skills from various masters. When I finally returned to this rural village, I crossed paths with your grandmother. From the moment I laid eyes on her, I knew she was no ordinary woman. Though my own abilities were lacking, I could still sense the vast depths of her power. She was a force beyond reckoning.
“With her here, the land remained peaceful for decades. No ghosts haunted the village, no spirits dared stir in the mountains—her very presence kept the darkness at bay.
“But then, she passed away…
“And not long after, a new spirit monster emerged in the mountains. Worse yet, it was Wang Chu Yi who stumbled upon it.”
The old monk’s fingers trembled as he clutched at his blanket. “I wished to protect him, but my feeble tricks are laughable before such an entity. Each time I tried to stand in its way, I was effortlessly cast aside. I had no choice but to endure.”
Chen Yan’s expression grew heavier. “What kind of demon are we dealing with?”
“I… I do not know.” The old monk shook his head in resignation. “My abilities are too lacking to discern its true form. I cannot fight it, and whenever it comes, it toys with me like a cat with a mouse. That alone tells me—it possesses immense power, far beyond my reach.”
Chen Yan’s frown deepened. “Then tell me—what happened tonight?”
The old monk let out a bitter chuckle. “It took me.”
He took a long, shuddering breath before continuing. “I have tried time and again to protect Chu Yi. Perhaps I angered the creature… Tonight, it came for me. It dragged me into the back mountain and tossed me into the snow, calling it a punishment. Then, it gave me a warning—if I dared to interfere again, it would burn my temple to the ground.
“I was helpless against it. I barely managed to make my way back before you arrived.”
The old monk let out a sigh, his voice heavy with resignation. “Huang family’s descendant, heed my words—you should not meddle in this matter. Though you carry the blood of the Huang clan, what age have you reached? How much cultivation have you truly attained?
If you truly wish to aid Wang Chu Yi…” He hesitated, his face filled with helpless sorrow, before waving a hand dismissively. “Then take him away! Lead him far from this place! If he leaves, the spirit of the mountain will not find him. At worst, it will vent its anger upon me. My old bones have but a few more days left in this world—offering my life to it is of no consequence.”
Chen Yan studied the old monk for a long moment, taking in the sincerity in his words. Pondering deeply, he finally asked, “This spirit—how exactly is it harming Wang Chu Yi?”
The old monk sighed once more. “Every third night, past the midnight hour, it comes to this temple…”
Meanwhile, in the temple’s small kitchen, Wang Chu Yi was boiling water. The stove, as was customary, remained alight through the night, requiring only a few logs to rekindle the flames. His thoughts were simple, his mind straightforward—Chen Yan had asked for hot water, so he would ensure there was hot water.
As the kettle sat atop the stove, he crouched beside it, staring with quiet patience. Then, footsteps sounded from outside.
Wang Chu Yi looked up and saw Chen Yan entering. Rising to greet him, he had only just uttered, “Brother—” before Chen Yan abruptly raised a finger towards him.
“Freeze!”
In an instant, Wang Chu Yi’s body stiffened, his simple mind failing to register what was happening as he fell backward in a daze. Chen Yan swiftly caught him, then pulled out a talisman and slapped it onto Wang Chu Yi’s forehead.
His eyes rolled back, and consciousness fled him.
Without hesitation, Chen Yan hoisted Wang Chu Yi onto his shoulder and carried him to the firewood storage room, laying him down amidst the straw. He stripped him of his monk’s robe and covered him with his own down jacket. Then, donning the robe himself, he crouched beside Wang Chu Yi and studied him intently, committing every feature of his face and build to memory.
Closing his eyes, he focused. Moments later, his form wavered like ripples across a pond, and when he straightened once more, he had become Wang Chu Yi.
A young monk with round eyes, thick lips, and a shaven head now stood where Chen Yan had been.
He scrutinized his disguise, ensuring there were no flaws, then turned and shut the storage room door behind him.
Returning to the meditation hall, he knocked lightly upon the old monk’s door. “No matter what you hear tonight,” he murmured, “do not come out.”
From within, the old monk coughed and muttered his assent. The room fell into darkness as he extinguished the lamp.
Chen Yan turned and entered Wang Chu Yi’s quarters. Moving without a sound, he lay down upon the straw mattress, pulling the worn cotton quilt over himself. He steadied his breath, then placed a Qi-Concealing Talisman upon his body, suppressing his cultivation and hiding his presence.
Time trickled by in the darkness. A cultivator like Chen Yan possessed patience beyond mortal men—he treated the wait as nothing more than a meditative state.
At the deepest hour of the night, as he remained in silent stillness, he sensed it—a presence drifting into the room.
The door, which had been securely bolted, creaked open just a sliver. A thick, cloying scent filled the air—a sweetness that carried an unnatural allure.
Lying motionless, eyes shut, Chen Yan felt the presence slink closer.
Then, something crawled onto the bed. A shift in the blankets, a rustling in the silence—a corner of the quilt lifted, and the intruder slipped beneath it.
What the hell?
Feigning drowsiness, Chen Yan half-opened his eyes, his voice groggy. “Mmm… Who—who is it?”
The answer came not in words, but in touch—a smooth, sinuous body pressing against his side. A bare leg slid over his waist.
The sensation was unmistakable. Soft flesh, warm breath scented with that strange, enchanting fragrance—an irresistible pull woven into the very air.
His blood surged, his body reacting before his mind. He recognized this feeling—it was no different from the fevered heat of mornings before he had tempered his body with medicinal herbs.
His instincts clamored, but his mind sharpened. The Qi-Circulating Technique he had been holding in his mouth since nightfall activated, washing clarity through his thoughts in an instant.
A sweet, sultry giggle whispered beside his ear.
“Oh, little Chu Yi~~ Good soul, I’ve come to visit you in your dreams again~~”
The voice was as intoxicating as fine wine, dripping with honeyed seduction, each syllable curling into his bones.
Damn it.
Chen Yan sighed inwardly.
Wang Chu Yi, you’re only eighteen! And here I am, twenty-two, still an innocent. But you? You’ve been… well-fed, haven’t you?
In the darkness, a delicate hand slid along his chest, trailing downward.
Chen Yan’s eyes snapped open.
In a flash, his left hand seized the creature’s wrist, while his right thumb pressed against its chest.
Hmm. The texture beneath his thumb confirmed his suspicions—impressive size.
His voice dropped into a cool, warning murmur. “That’s enough. Any more would be impolite.”
Staring back at him was a face of exquisite, wicked beauty, laced with unearthly charm. But surprise flickered across its features—a realization, too late.
“You—you’re not Chu Yi—”
Chen Yan let loose his Qi Pulse!
Like a blade of pure energy, his Yuan Qi Six Veins Divine Sword shot forth from his thumb, striking the spirit square in the chest.
A piercing shriek filled the air!
The entity was flung from the bed, its body airborne for a breathless instant. A gaping wound burned through its chest, blood spilling freely. As it hit the ground, its essence erupted, filling the room with a miasma of demonic energy.
“Decree: Freeze!”
Chen Yan’s eyes flickered with a sharp glint. With a single finger raised, he pointed—
At once, the spirit monster that had collapsed to the ground stiffened, as though bound by unseen chains.
Rising from his bed, Chen Yan swiftly reached for the bedside lamp, flicking it on. The sudden burst of light illuminated the room, revealing a pale, trembling figure sprawled on the ground—
The sight was enough to make one’s blood surge!
Caught by the binding spell, the spirit monster lifted her head, her face drained of color. Seeing Chen Yan about to raise his finger once more, terror seized her, and she shrieked, “Master, save me!”
Chen Yan’s expression darkened at once.
Another one?!
Boom!
The wooden window of the meditation chamber burst open with a thunderous crash, and a raging wind howled through!
Chen Yan felt the gust hurtling toward him. Without hesitation, he invoked the Escape Formula, his form flickering like a shadow as he vanished to the corner of the room.
A splintering crack rang out—the wooden bed shattered into countless pieces!
The violent wind did not cease there. It spiraled around the woman on the ground, lifting her up before whisking her out the window!
Chen Yan’s figure flashed to the doorway. Outside, under the pale moonlight, a woman stood in the courtyard, catching the naked spirit monster midair and hoisting her onto her shoulder.
She turned to glare at Chen Yan—
A face of unparalleled beauty twisted with rage.
“Little cultivator! You dare ruin my master and disciple’s grand undertaking? You will regret this!”
With that, she wove her hand in the air, summoning a whirlwind that carried her and the spirit monster toward the dense forests behind the temple.
Chen Yan snorted. “You think you can escape?”
With practiced ease, he slapped a Lightness Talisman onto his chest. His form blurred as he activated the Escape Formula again—
Like a gust of wind, he gave chase!
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation