72: Bait (Part Two)

Shaking his head, Yi Fan lifted the scholar, gathered his energy, and headed toward Lanruo Temple. Before long, he arrived at the ruined main hall, put the scholar down to one side, lit a fire, and sat quietly nearby.

An hour later, Ning Caichen awoke. Opening his eyes, he saw Yi Fan and grinned, “Master Taoist, have you agreed to spare Xiao Qian?”

Yi Fan shot him a cold glance, saying nothing. He pulled a cloth-wrapped piece of dry food from his robes and tossed it over. “Eat something first.”

Ning Caichen hesitated briefly, then wolfed down the food hungrily and burped. He took a bamboo flask from his book basket and sipped some water.

When he had finished, Yi Fan asked, “Do you have your strength back?”

Ning Caichen froze, noticing Yi Fan’s strange expression. “Master Taoist, is something wrong?”

“Nothing, really. I simply intend to borrow your head for a while,” Yi Fan replied with a faint smile, pointing outside. “When the moon reaches its zenith, I’ll take your head to appease the souls of the innocent villagers who died unjustly.”

Ning Caichen shuddered in terror. “Master Taoist, surely you jest! I wasn’t the one who killed those people—why would you kill me?”

“You’re right. It wasn’t you, but it was that demoness. Since you pleaded for her, you can die in her place.” Yi Fan’s smile vanished, and a cold glint flashed in his eye.

“I... you…”

“Enough. If you want to run, you’d better do it now. If you escape down the mountain, I’ll let you go.” Yi Fan’s face was expressionless as he closed his eyes and fell silent.

Ning Caichen wanted to protest but, seeing that Yi Fan wasn’t joking, assumed the Taoist was furious and wanted to vent his anger by killing him. Terror seized him; he scrambled up and ran outside without looking back.

Once the scholar had fled far enough, Yi Fan opened his eyes and sneered inwardly. That demoness had spared Ning Caichen several times—certainly suspicious. If he frightened the scholar into running all over the mountain, surely she would appear.

And if she didn’t, at worst the scholar would just suffer a little; there was no real intention to kill him.

Half an hour later, Ning Caichen had stumbled and fallen countless times, not even knowing where he was—just running blindly and glancing back every so often, terrified Yi Fan might be close behind.

Suddenly, the air ahead was filled with ghostly howls and wolfish cries. Ning Caichen shivered, “Wolves?”

Just as he’d feared, he had worried about wild beasts, and now fate had delivered them.

There was danger in every direction—wolves ahead, tigers behind, death either way.

Ning Caichen was on the verge of tears. Gritting his teeth, he picked up a sturdy tree branch, veered slightly off course, and pressed ahead, muttering to himself, “They can’t see me, they can’t see me…”

After a mile or so, his entire body felt like it was falling apart, he was drenched in sweat, gasping for breath, and finally collapsed onto the ground, determined not to move another inch.

“If I’m going to die, I’ll just die. I’m not running anymore.”

No sooner had this thought crossed his mind than he noticed four or five pairs of glowing green eyes in the distance. He shuddered violently, somehow found the strength to scramble up, and ran on. After another few dozen yards, he saw even more pairs of green eyes lurking in the darkness.

“So many wolves?”

Ning Caichen’s face turned ashen; this time he truly couldn’t escape. He gripped his branch, standing frozen in place. Moments later, over a dozen large wolves began to circle him. Suddenly, one wolf leapt at him.

“Aah—!” The scholar screamed, collapsing and covering his eyes, curling into a ball, terrified to look.

But after a while, nothing happened. He cautiously opened his eyes, only to find that all the wolves had been decapitated, lying dead nearby.

His legs turned to jelly. He tried to get up but failed, then heard a soft laugh. Turning, he saw Nie Xiaoqian perched on a branch, looking down at him.

“Xiao Qian?” Ning Caichen exclaimed with joy, struggling to his feet. “Was it you who saved me?”

Xiao Qian snorted coldly, floated down, and said, “Didn’t I tell you to leave at dawn today? Why are you still here? Wandering all over the mountain at night—aren’t you afraid you’ll kill yourself by falling? You really are an idiot.”

Suddenly recalling something, Ning Caichen grabbed her hand. “You must leave—don’t worry about me. That Taoist will be after us soon!”

Xiao Qian was startled. “What’s going on? Explain.”

Ning Caichen dared not hide the truth and quickly told her everything. As he spoke, her face darkened, and she shook him off. “You fool! That Taoist is using you as bait to lure me out.”

Ning Caichen was alarmed. He had just opened his mouth to speak when a figure darted through the woods, and before the person arrived, a voice rang out: “Only now do you realize? Too late, demon! Let’s see where you run!”

Xiao Qian stamped her foot, glaring at Ning Caichen. “This is your fault! I’ll deal with you later.”

With that, she floated away. She had just landed on a tree when a bolt of lightning struck, barely blocked by a long silk sash, but she herself was knocked down to the ground.

“You despicable Taoist, do you really think I’m afraid of you?” Xiao Qian said angrily. She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve, shook it, and seven or eight clouds of smoke flew out. When they hit the ground, they transformed into black-armored corpse guards.

Yi Fan landed, sneering, “I knew you’d try that trick.”

He untied the bundle on his back and took out a large net, at each knot of which was tied a small demon-banishing talisman. This was the method he had devised after his last encounter, when Xiao Qian had escaped.

These corpse guards were uncanny—unless completely destroyed, they couldn’t be eliminated, but doing so would be too exhausting and disadvantageous in a prolonged fight. Thus, he had crafted this magic net specifically to deal with them.

He didn’t need to destroy them all—just trap them for a while.

Yi Fan leaped forward and cast the net, which spread out in the air, covering an area of several dozen feet. Xiao Qian tried to intercept it but was driven back by another “Thunder Palm.”

As the net fell, dozens of talismans on it glowed faintly. The black-armored corpse guards struggled as if ducks thrown into boiling oil, billowing with smoke and dust, trying to break free but blocked at every turn.

“Let’s see what other tricks you have. Show me all your magic tools,” Yi Fan said, drawing his demon-slaying sword. With a flick of his robe, several talismans flew out and stuck to the surrounding trees, sealing off Xiao Qian’s escape. Then he attacked with his sword.

Thunder and wind raged, trees were struck down and burst into flames, illuminating the area. Ning Caichen, meanwhile, had long since hidden himself to one side, curled up and not daring to move, fearful of being caught in the crossfire.

“Damn Taoist, why must you be so relentless with me?” Xiao Qian, driven back and growing paler, gritted her teeth as Yi Fan pressed the attack. “You walk your broad road, I walk my single-plank bridge—we don’t interfere with one another. Why fight to the death like this?”

Yi Fan snorted coldly. “Why don’t you ask the villagers you killed? Or the ones you’ve hidden away? Did they ever harm you?”

“And you want to free the tree demon’s true body—how could I let you succeed? Two years ago, the tragedy at Lanruo Temple should be warning enough. If it is freed, not only will I be doomed, but countless lives within a hundred miles will also be lost.”

Xiao Qian continued to dodge, retreating to a distance. “Freeing the tree demon wasn’t my idea—it’s Black Mountain’s command. If you have the guts, go settle the score with him. Why torment me?”