Chapter 40: The Nine-Foot Monk
Only because...
The crossbow bolts in the constable barracks had finally run out.
After the last volley, a brief silence settled over the courtyard. Aside from a few parasitic creatures staggering up again, not a single centipede demon dared step inside. Yet everyone knew this was merely the calm before the storm.
One parasite slowly pulled an arrow from its eye socket; even with the eyeball still dangling, it felt no pain at all. The eyeball dropped to the ground. It let out a howl toward the military formation.
As if at a command, hundreds of centipede demons hidden behind the walls emerged from cover.
Some of the more intelligent parasites sneered at the soldiers in the courtyard, while others, driven mad by the scent of flesh, roared and howled, their mouths reeking, crimson fangs flashing a chilling gleam in the night.
In the next instant, hundreds of parasites charged, leaped, and scaled the walls, launching themselves at the military formation.
The few remaining bolts flew from within the ranks, but fell among the parasites like stones sinking in water, failing to slow the onslaught even slightly.
Ren Yulong gripped his longsword, standing beneath the banner emblazoned with the three bold characters of the Constable Barracks, struggling to hold the formation together.
His eyes showed no hint of fear or retreat; his back was straight as a pillar, like a dam holding back the raging Yellow River.
"Prepare! Engage!"
...
Boom!
A muffled crash.
A dozen shield-bearers at the front were flung backward, landing within the ranks, their fate uncertain.
The spearmen in the rear thrust their weapons quickly.
A chorus of blades slicing flesh rang out—one unlucky soul was pierced through the brow and died instantly, but the other parasites pressed forward, impaled by several spears yet undeterred.
"Cut off their heads!"
At last, someone clever caught on. The shield-bearers beside him immediately swung their blades.
Several heads soared through the air.
A series of agonized screams erupted within the formation—blood from the decapitated centipede demons splattered onto nearby soldiers.
Their armor burned through, flesh liquefied, leaving only stark white bones.
The scent of blood grew ever thicker outside, the cries and clashes deafening, the battle fiercer than anyone had imagined.
Were it not for the Constable Barracks fighting with their backs to the hall, they would have collapsed at first contact.
Through the crack in the door, the front rank of shield-bearers was nearly wiped out.
One by one, soldiers were dragged into the darkness and devoured.
Beside the ritual dais, Zhang Xuan kept chanting endless incantations without pause.
"Tao name Pure Yang. Gourd ignites fire. Glory in achievement. Power spreads far and wide. Flashing lightning. Sun, moon, and stars. Thunder, rain, clouds, wind. Samadhi true fire. One breath, blue blade. Dispelling evil, destroying monsters..."
The ritual priest focused solely on his task, powerless to resist the danger before him.
Bai Xian and Yue Wenying, revered as the left and right guardian spirits, bore the heavy responsibility of protecting the ritual dais. Though anxious, Yue Wenying dared not leave his post.
But at that moment, Zhang Xuan opened his eyes and spoke in a weary voice:
---
"Captain Yue."
Yue Wenying immediately rose.
"What is it?"
"The duty of the Guardian Spirits has ended. You may act freely."
"But the ritual dais—"
"Miss Bai Xian alone is sufficient," Zhang Xuan maintained the incense bridge, saying, "The Fire Division's true god needs another two hours. I'm worried Captain Cai and General Ren won't hold out."
As if to confirm the fat priest's words, the tightly shut doors were suddenly struck—a sign that the constable soldiers had retreated so far their backs now pressed against the ritual chamber.
This meant the courtyard and front hall had been completely lost.
The centipede demons had pushed the battle line right up to the ritual dais.
Yue Wenying nodded, drew his longsword, and after a moment's thought tossed a golden talisman to Bai Xian.
"Miss Bai Xian, I leave this to you."
Without waiting for a reply, he swung open the door and rushed out.
Moments later—
Like a drop of boiling water into hot oil.
From the hall came Yue Wenying's rallying cries and the roars of the parasites.
Alone, he managed to drive the centipede demons back to the threshold of the main hall.
Zhang Xuan closed his eyes again, seemingly calm, though his chanting quickened.
He recited loudly:
"Blessings bestowed. Thousands of fortunes received. Heaven's army led. All demons cut down. Thunder captures fiends. Wind grants favor. Fire commands lightning. Earth brings prosperity..."
Yue Wenying used every trick in the demon hunter's arsenal.
Talismans, ritual implements, secret techniques, swordsmanship...
None of the parasites possessed by centipede demons could match him. Under the protection of the golden talisman, not a single demon dared approach.
At a certain moment,
All the demons retreated, clearing a space ten paces wide around him.
Yue Wenying sheathed his blade, hiding his trembling right arm within his sleeve.
"So, even demons know fear?"
His answer came in the form of a terrifying figure slowly emerging from the darkness.
Standing nine feet tall (three meters), robed in monk's garb, bald and beardless, his muscles forged like bronze and iron, tiger eyes glimmering ominously in the gloom.
Yue Wenying looked up, disbelief flickering in his eyes.
...
Bai Xian slowly raised her spear, her beautiful eyes fixed on the rooftop.
Just now, something had climbed onto the roof above the ritual dais, causing tiles and beams to creak.
At a certain moment,
The footsteps halted; a tile silently slid aside.
Through the gap, a blood-red pupil peered in, locking eyes with Bai Xian, the guardian spirit by the ritual dais.
In the next instant—
---
The figure on the roof leapt high.
Boom!
The beams gave way, countless tiles and timbers crashing down toward the ritual dais and the fat priest beside it.
Zhang Xuan, shocked, cried out,
"The ritual dais must not be damaged!"
Bai Xian's delicate brows knit together; her left hand formed a spell, unleashing her internal power.
"Wind, come!"
In a flash, a whirlwind surged from her, sweeping toward the hole in the roof.
Clattering!
The falling tiles, along with the whole rooftop, were swept into the sky by the gale, then rained down onto the surrounding houses with a series of dull thuds.
Those households had already awakened when the centipede demons attacked the barracks, but seeing the strange, black-robed figures through their windows, the townsfolk dared not venture out.
Now, they could only cower beneath their beds, trembling, awaiting the judgment of the end.
The smoke and dust cleared.
A crescent moon poured its light into the room, illuminating the corners.
Beside the ritual dais,
The girl in the gray dress, long hair flowing, gripped her spear in one hand, braced a beam with the other, and held up the fallen timber with her slender shoulder.
The Wind Talisman could move tiles and vertical beams, but not the massive horizontal beam as thick as a thigh.
Seeing the beam about to crush the incense altar, Bai Xian leaped onto the dais, bracing it with her shoulder.
The candles flickered, the table legs shook.
Bai Xian's expression changed drastically.
The wooden dais could not bear the combined weight of herself and the beam.
Amid Zhang Xuan's shouted alarm, a figure sprang from the corner, lifted the yellow cloth, and burrowed under the dais, propping up the unstable table from below.
Immediately, He Shan's voice rang out from beneath.
"Miss Bai Xian, quickly!"
Boom!
Bai Xian heaved, flinging the beam several meters away where it crashed heavily to the ground.
Through the neckline of her gray dress, a crimson bruise was clearly visible on her pale, smooth neck—shocking to behold, yet adding a unique allure to the young woman.
Zhang Xuan peered out from below, swallowing nervously.
"Miss... Miss Bai Xian, are you all right?"
"It's nothing serious, as long as the dais is intact." She paused, then called beneath the table, "Well done, He Shan."
Had He Shan not acted quickly to prop up the table, the ritual dais would have been destroyed even if she had caught the beam.
Zhang Xuan gazed at Bai Xian in awe as she leapt off the altar.
Her cool eyes pierced the smoke rising from the incense, locking onto the nine-foot monk standing silently outside the window.