Ning Caichen (Part II)

Lighting a few sticks of incense, he watched the smoke curl and linger without dispersing, understanding that the little spirits within the earthen jars were not resistant to their surroundings. He ceased to concern himself further, took several ritual pouches from the side, checked the talismans within, and tied them at his waist.

Tonight, he planned to investigate the area again, with the ruined Orchid Temple as his main focus. Everything had to be prepared meticulously, for if he encountered Nie Xiaoqian, it would surely be another contest of sorcery.

Dealing with Nie Xiaoqian alone was troublesome enough; should the tree demon send forth its avatar, he might have to exert all his strength, risking even his life. Thinking of Nie Xiaoqian, Yifan recalled the people who had died so miserably, and countless villagers hidden away by her. His expression grew grim.

He was neither a saint devoted to saving humanity nor a villain of great infamy. He could turn a blind eye to Master Zhang beating four women to death—not out of indifference, but because he refused to be shackled or manipulated by moral coercion.

If everyone could use another’s life to force him into action, living would become unbearably exhausting.

He could also ignore bandits killing each other, for such events were too numerous in this world to intervene or avenge them all. As for executing the bandits who had seized the temple, he was never known for mercy—those deserving death would meet it.

Yet he could not disregard demons murdering people for their own ends.

And if the tree demon’s true form broke free, he would be the first to suffer. Two years ago, he had fought at the Orchid Temple, aiding Yan Chixia in gravely wounding the tree demon’s avatar, and helping a monk suppress its true form with a relic.

Such a deep grudge meant the tree demon surely hated him fiercely, with no intent to spare him. For that alone, he must prevent its escape.

Once everything was ready, Yifan stepped out of his room, gave a few instructions, and left the temple with the ghost-hound. Night had already fallen; visibility was poor, the mountain steep and the path treacherous. Fortunately, his skills were strong enough that he did not falter.

The forest was dense, light scarce, weeds rampant, and no paths in sight, but he managed deftly, springing from tree trunks to avoid steep, chaotic pits, bounding across rocks, moving forward with considerable speed.

He did not hurry straight to the Orchid Temple. Instead, he circled the surrounding area for over ten miles, searching carefully in hopes of finding clues, but after several hours, nothing was gained.

When the moon was high, Yifan casually tossed a ritual pouch to the ghost-hound, containing several small spirits he had caught—an offering for its troubles, something to sate its hunger.

As for other demons, he had encountered few. He was not surprised; with the tree demon’s presence, lesser spirits either submitted or fled the mountain.

The ghost-hound received the pouch with delight, uttering strange cries, plunging its large hand inside and pulling out several balls of black smoke, shoving them into its mouth. After a few shrieks, all was silent.

Its fur shimmered silver in the moonlight as it shook itself, licked its tongue, and eyed another pouch at Yifan’s waist, only to be slapped away as Yifan scolded, “Ghosts abound at the foot of the mountain—if you’re hungry, go hunt for yourself. Just don’t harm anyone, and I don’t care how you feed.”

The ghost-hound shrank back, turning its head away from the pouch and pretending indifference, though it cast furtive glances at Yifan.

Yifan shook his head. This creature was timid, fearful of strangers, never daring to descend the mountain alone for fear of encountering a powerful being that might subdue it. It had already been frightened once by Zhuge Liuyun; since then, it had grown even more cautious.

Still, after consuming spirits for a year or two, it had grown considerably, and its howl now possessed a supernatural ability to subdue lesser ghosts, rendering them paralyzed with fear and easy prey.

Though not particularly useful yet, it had one noteworthy talent: an acute sensitivity to ghosts, able to detect and track them instantly.

That was why Yifan brought it along, hoping to find Nie Xiaoqian’s lair.

“Well then, let’s check the Orchid Temple again. We’ll rest there tonight.”

Seeing he’d found nothing, Yifan headed toward the ruins of the Orchid Temple, leaping through the moonlit woods. The two figures moved like specters between the trees, enough to terrify any mortal who saw them.

As he reached the ruins, Yifan frowned. The shattered main hall glowed faintly with firelight. Since that group of bandits had been drained to husks by Nie Xiaoqian, he had left the corpses untouched as a warning to others.

Could there really be someone so reckless as to ignore the sight of those dried corpses?

With this suspicion, Yifan approached the hall. Through a crack in the door, he saw a scholar curled up in a pile of straw, fast asleep against the wall.

Nearby, a small fire burned; the newcomer had not been here long, likely arriving only tonight.

He pushed open the door, its creaking startled the scholar, who shuddered and sat up, fearfully eyeing Yifan, “Who are you?”

Yifan shook his head, ignoring the scholar’s attempt to grab a wooden stick, and asked, “What brings a scholar like you to this place?”

The scholar, sensing that Yifan was not a threat and noticing his Taoist robes, relaxed slightly and replied stiffly, “I’m here to rest, obviously. Why else would I come?”

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“Afraid of what? What’s there to fear?”

Yifan chuckled. The scholar must be from out of town, unaware of the terrors of the Orchid Temple. He said, “I’ll tell you, so don’t soil your pants—this temple is haunted by demons. Your life could be claimed at any moment.”

“Demons? In broad daylight, where could there be demons? You Taoist, you make no sense. Disturbing my sleep in the dead of night, spouting nonsense—leave, leave, don’t waste my time.”

Yifan eyed him, “Truly unafraid? There's still time to leave. I can escort you down the mountain.”

The scholar snorted, “When have I, Ning Caichen, ever been afraid? You Taoist, stop with your nonsense and don’t expect to scare me.”

Indeed, the scholar was none other than Ning Caichen, who had come from Guobei County to stay at the Orchid Temple.

Ning Caichen?

Yifan’s expression turned odd. First Nie Xiaoqian appeared, now Ning Caichen—were they about to enact a tale of love between ghost and mortal?

Yet this Nie Xiaoqian was not the gentle, fragile specter from the stories, but a fierce, ruthless demoness who killed without a second thought. This frail scholar before him would likely be drained to a husk at first sight.

Seeing Ning Caichen unwilling to leave and disbelieving his warnings, Yifan did not insist. He left the hall, heading in another direction to check if the tree demon’s true form was still secure.