Chapter Seventy-Eight: Slaying the Demon

Murong Yan and Ye Feng joined forces against Lang Muxi, who, barely able to defend himself, was on the brink of death.

Suddenly, a furious shout rang from outside the tent: “Who dares to assassinate my disciple must first pass through me!” The tent flap was thrown open, and a man stormed in wielding a Zaoyang spear. He had flaming red hair and beard, and a rotund figure—it was Xu Yaozu himself!

“You fiend! You abducted my son, and now you attack my disciple. I’ll fight you to the death!” Upon seeing Lang Muxi, Xu Yaozu’s eyes grew bloodshot with rage, and he raised his spear to strike.

Witnessing this, Lang Muxi was plunged into utter despair, thinking, “These two are already too much for me—now this old man shows up as well! My life is finished!” He tucked his head in and braced his back, steeling himself to take the blow head-on.

A sudden thud echoed through the tent. Lang Muxi looked back—and to his immense relief, Xu Yaozu had stumbled and fallen heavily to the ground, unable to get up. Such a heaven-sent opportunity could not be missed! Lang Muxi sprang back, sheathing his Emei dagger with one hand, then seized Xu Yaozu by the nape and hauled him up. With the other hand, he pressed the dagger threateningly to Xu Yaozu’s throat and barked, “Back away! Don’t move, any of you! Move a muscle and I’ll kill the old man!”

Instantly, the situation froze, as if the entire command tent had been plunged into ice.

Murong Yan’s heart clenched in anxiety. This was the dearest person to her since childhood—though he was her master, he was as much a father to her, his kindness as profound as life itself. Now that he had fallen into enemy hands, it felt as though a dagger had been plunged into her own heart.

She was also exasperated. “Master, why did you have to make things worse? You were already weakened from the blow dealt by Xu Zhihui, yet instead of resting in your sickbed, you came out here! Now, having run out of strength, you’ve been taken hostage—what am I supposed to do?” She could only say helplessly, “Stop! Let my master go. As long as you release him, I will not make things difficult for you today. You may leave freely.”

Lang Muxi burst out laughing. “Little girl, do you take me for a fool? Why should I believe you? I’ll tell you what…” He leered at Murong Yan, his eyes narrowing to slits, and smirked, “How about you take your master’s place as my hostage?”

“Silence! Stop dreaming in broad daylight! If you so much as harm Senior Xu, I will see to it that your death is a painful one!” Ye Feng shouted, then turned to Murong Yan. “Sister Yan, you are the leader of this army. You must never risk yourself so lightly, nor trust his empty words!”

Xu Yaozu, seeing himself captured, twisted his neck and glared fiercely. “Yan’er, don’t listen to him. If I must die, so be it—what of it?” He then tried to head-butt Lang Muxi.

“You old fossil, do you really want to die?” Lang Muxi dodged the blow, secretly thinking, “So there really are people in this world unafraid of death!” But, for all his bluster, he dared not actually harm Xu Yaozu—if anything happened to the old man, his own life would be forfeit, and he’d never make it out of the tent. He could only tighten his grip on Xu Yaozu’s throat, cutting off his breath and sapping his strength, while slowly dragging him backward, inching toward the tent’s exit.

“Let my master go—take me as your hostage instead!” Murong Yan, seeing her master in peril, could not stand by. She feared he would not survive if taken out of the camp, and so spoke coldly.

“Sister Yan, you mustn’t!” cried Ye Feng, alarmed. He pointed his sword at Lang Muxi and scolded, “Fiend, if you want an exchange, take me instead! Where’s the honor in taking a woman hostage?”

“Pah! I never claimed to be a hero. You? Look at yourself!” Lang Muxi then turned his gaze to Murong Yan, his drool practically dripping, and cackled, “None can compare to this little beauty!”

“Fine. Release my master first!” Murong Yan, seeing Lang Muxi had already backed out of the tent, dropped her sword and, her face cold as frost, ordered him to let Xu Yaozu go. The soldiers outside, witnessing the scene, were stunned and dared not shoot.

“Enough talking! Come here first!” Lang Muxi was cunning—he would not act until he was certain. “Yan’er, do not come! I have nothing left to live for, why save me, a dying man?” Xu Yaozu protested.

“Master, why speak so? My brother is my brother, and you are you. I have never forgotten your kindness,” Murong Yan replied, eyes brimming with tears.

Ye Feng, faced with this scene, was at a loss. He could only watch as Murong Yan drew ever closer to Lang Muxi, about to be taken.

As she neared, Lang Muxi couldn’t wait any longer. He reached out, Emei dagger aimed straight at her, ready to subdue her. But in doing so, his other hand slackened.

Xu Yaozu seized the chance, tearing free from Lang Muxi’s grasp and swinging a palm at him.

“Looking for death?” Lang Muxi roared, twisting his wrist and stabbing the dagger toward Xu Yaozu’s heart.

“Don’t hurt my master!” Murong Yan cried, knocking aside the dagger with one hand and pushing Xu Yaozu away with the other.

There was a thumping sound as Xu Yaozu stumbled back several paces and collapsed to the ground. All this happened in a flash, the balance in the tent shifting once again.

“Fiend, you’re not getting away!” Ye Feng exclaimed, thrusting his sword at Lang Muxi’s chest.

But Lang Muxi was no ordinary foe. In this moment of crisis, he moved with lightning speed, dodging behind Murong Yan and kicking her in the abdomen. She staggered back into Ye Feng’s arms.

Taking advantage of the chaos, Lang Muxi turned and slipped into the ranks of the soldiers.

“Catch him! Don’t let him escape!” Ye Feng shouted, but the soldiers only looked at one another—Lang Muxi was nowhere to be seen.

“Everyone, stay where you are! Anyone who moves will be treated as a traitor!” Ye Feng declared, knowing that since the fiend could assume his likeness, he could just as easily become any soldier. He was surely hiding among the ranks now.

At his command, the soldiers froze like statues, afraid even to breathe.

Murong Yan straightened, joining Ye Feng in surveying the troops. Before them stood rows of soldiers, all outwardly identical—none appeared to be the fiend in disguise.

“Deputy Commander Ye, what now? Are we really to let the fiend slip away?” Murong Yan’s face was now cold and stern, her earlier girlishness gone.

“This… this…” Ye Feng frowned deeply, at a loss.

Just then, a guard reported, “General Mu Shijin requests an audience!”

Both Murong Yan and Ye Feng brightened. “Show him in at once!” they said in unison, exchanging a quick smile.

Moments later, Mu Shijin strode in, saluting. “Mu Shijin reports to the two commanders!”

Murong Yan and Ye Feng nodded. “At ease.”

Murong Yan spoke first. “General Mu, you’ve come at just the right time! A fiend disguised as Deputy Commander Ye infiltrated the command tent, and though we detected him, he slipped away among the soldiers. You’re skilled in the art of transformation—have you any way to root him out?”

Mu Shijin bowed again. “That’s exactly why I’m here. Such fiends have no place in our righteous army! Leave it to me.” With that, he strode forward, saber in hand.

His face was grim, his gaze hawk-like as he inspected each soldier. The men trembled under his scrutiny, feeling as though plunged into icy water.

Time passed—a full cup of tea—and still Mu Shijin paced among the soldiers, his expression dark.

At last, he stopped before a burly soldier, whose face twitched and body shook uncontrollably. Ye Feng moved to help seize him, but suddenly Mu Shijin spun around, his saber flashing like lightning.

There was a sharp crack, then an agonized scream. A small soldier behind the big one collapsed, his body split in two.

Murong Yan and Ye Feng rushed over to see. The corpse had already reverted to a wolf demon, its entrails and blood spilling across the ground. Murong Yan couldn’t bear to look and turned away, while Ye Feng, deeply impressed, cupped his fists. “General Mu, remarkable skill! How did you see through it?”

Mu Shijin smiled modestly. “You flatter me, Deputy Commander. It’s but a minor trick—I would not dare show off before you. I have long studied the art of transformation, and know that while the body may change, the shadow does not. I saw from this soldier’s shadow that he was a wolf demon.”

Ye Feng, still curious, asked, “What about true masters—demons who have cultivated the art of a thousand transformations? Can they not change their shadows as well?”

Mu Shijin frowned. “That is possible. If you encounter a demon king who has cultivated for ten thousand years, he can alter his shadow, too. But there is one thing he cannot change—his scent. No matter how much a demon cultivates, his original odor remains. Some demon kings may mask it with perfume or strong odors, but the underlying stench cannot be truly hidden.”

Ye Feng finally understood and nodded repeatedly. “So that’s how it is!”

Murong Yan took up the conversation. “General Mu, you have earned great merit today—I will see that you are duly rewarded!” She then drew Ye Feng aside. “Let’s go inside—the master is still down; we don’t know if he’s injured.”

Ye Feng and Mu Shijin hurried into the tent, finding Xu Yaozu still unconscious on the ground. After examining him, they found he had only a cut on his left arm and no other serious injuries, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Murong Yan ordered, “Men, carry General Xu away to rest.”

As they watched Xu Yaozu being carried out, Ye Feng sighed. “Alas, the old master has suffered greatly at Xu Zhihui’s hands—truly pitiful.”

Tears streamed down Murong Yan’s face. “As the saying goes: ‘A man fears heartbreak, a tree fears a broken root.’ My master’s grief is too deep; who knows how long he will need to recover.”

Daylight had broken. The soldiers decapitated Lang Muxi and hung his head at the camp gate. The demon troops reported this to Tuoli Bao, who, upon hearing it, burst into loud sobs. He immediately began gathering his forces to launch another challenge down the mountain.