Chapter Eighty: Encountering the Grand Mentor Once Again

The two walked along the road toward the main stronghold, traveling without pause. After a whole day’s journey, as dusk fell, they found a cave to rest in, conserving their energy for what lay ahead.

“I’ll make the fire,” Fang You said, building a pile of wood in the cave and igniting it with a talisman. Flames sprang up instantly.

“These are pastries from my hometown—Xiangxi pastries. They’re quite famous,” Yue’er sat beside Fang You by the fire.

Fang You took the pastry from Yue’er’s hand, biting into it as he warmed himself by the fire. “It’s certainly crisp.”

“By the way, sir, you still haven’t answered my question.” Yue’er gazed at Fang You, her eyes earnest.

“What question?” Fang You looked back at her, puzzled.

Yue’er’s cheeks flushed with shyness. “I asked you during the day, if you’re not married, what do you think of me?” She turned her face away, fiddling with her hair, her voice delicate.

Fang You simply laughed heartily. “I suspect you don’t really like me, but rather want me to stay and help your stronghold. There’s no need for that. Fortune and calamity are determined by heaven. If you and your villagers refrain from evil and live honestly, misfortune will not fall upon you without cause.”

“That’s not it!” Yue’er turned back, speaking with sincerity. “I truly like you, sir. If you do not mind, from today on, I am willing to be your wife. Even if you take me away from the stronghold, I would follow you.”

Fang You was taken aback. “I always thought you were acting for the sake of your people…”

“Since you came to the stronghold, I’ve secretly liked you. I volunteered to guide you on this journey. If you truly wish…”

“It’s late. Let’s sleep,” Fang You interrupted, knowing he could never pledge his life to Yue’er. He had already resolved to sever all earthly ties, to become a true cultivator. His fate was one of solitude—destined to live alone, a decree he could not reverse.

“Sir…” Yue’er wanted to say more, but Fang You lay down, turning his back to her. “I’m used to a carefree life. Family and obligations aren’t what I desire. I don’t wish to be entangled in worldly affairs. You’ll find a good husband someday. Let’s not speak of this again.”

Disappointment clouded Yue’er’s face, but with Fang You’s words, she could not insist further. She lay beside him on the ground, resigned.

The night grew chilly, filled with the sounds of insects and birds. The air turned cold, and with a thunderous crash, rain began to pour from the sky.

Outside the cave, a man in a black robe approached, braving the downpour. Spotting the flicker of fire at the cave’s entrance, he hurried inside, driven by the cold.

“My apologies—this sudden rain has forced me to seek shelter here for the night,” the black-robed man said, setting his suitcase at the cave’s base. Through the dim firelight, he saw two people asleep, and refrained from disturbing them, knowing it was he who needed help.

He found a corner by the cave wall, opened his drenched robes, and gradually settled down, shivering as he drifted into sleep.

The night passed quietly.

“What a comfortable sleep!” Fang You rose from the ground, stretching as he felt the stiffness in his back. He noticed, to his surprise, a black-robed figure sleeping against the wall.

“Is he a traveler?” Fang You wondered aloud.

Yue’er, awakened by Fang You, rubbed her eyes sleepily. “Are we setting out again?”

Fang You stepped over to the black-robed man, lifting his mask. His face changed dramatically—it was Xilong, the Thai sorcerer he had encountered before, one of the twelve members of the Yin-Yang Chamber.

Seeing his adversary, Fang You instantly drew his coin sword, pressing it to Xilong’s throat.

“Mr. Fang You, what are you doing?” Yue’er cried out in alarm, startled by Fang You’s sudden violence. “He’s just a traveler, isn’t he?”

Her shout snapped Fang You out of his murderous impulse, and he quickly withdrew his sword. Just moments before, he had been ready to finish off the man who had once threatened him.

In the events involving Li Susu and Li Mengbao, Fang You had killed one of Xilong’s little ghosts. At the time, Xilong had sent a message through the ghost, vowing that Fang You would die a miserable death.

Fang You knew this man was extremely dangerous, and upon drawing his sword, he’d nearly given in to the urge to kill him.

But Yue’er’s cry brought him back to himself. He shuddered inwardly—what had come over him? How had he become so violent?

Suddenly, Fang You recalled the vision Er Lang Shen, Yang Jian, had shown him—a whole village destroyed, everyone mourning injustice and tragic death. It seemed that it was all his doing.

Could it be that, in his previous life, he was a person given over to slaughter, and so, in this life, he carried a demon of murderous desire?

Fang You looked at Xilong, who was shivering uncontrollably, apparently feverish from the previous night’s rain and weakened.

Fang You took a hemp rope from his pack and bound Xilong tightly.

“Sir, what are you doing?” Yue’er asked, bewildered.

Fang You stepped back, took a talisman from his chest, and invoked the Fire Spell.

The talisman ignited before Xilong, flames surging forth.

Xilong was jolted awake.

“What happened? Wait—who tied me up? What are you doing?” He found himself bound like a bundle, unable to use any of his powers, panic in his eyes.

“I am Fang You, last disciple of Maoshan,” Fang You declared.

Hearing the name, Xilong’s eyes widened. “So you’re the enemy who killed my little ghost. Well, well, fate has brought us together. Today, I’ll…”

Bound like a bundle, Xilong tried to move, but simply rolled across the ground like a ball, a comical sight.

“Why are you here? Surely, the Yin-Yang Chamber sent you. Tell me your purpose, or else…” Fang You pressed the coin sword to Xilong’s throat, his words laced with threat.