Chapter 65: The Curtain Falls

Such towering trees are truly a rarity, likely possessing lifespans of centuries or even millennia. All around, the forest was encircled by similarly ancient giants, yet curiously, not one displayed any trace of spiritual awareness or signs of transformation into a demon. In such a remote and isolated land, where life still struggled to flourish, even a blade of grass, should it endure the passage of ages and absorb the essence of day and night, might awaken consciousness and eventually become a spirit. Yet these trees remained lifeless, which was exceedingly strange.

Pressing onward, leaping from branch to branch, he journeyed several miles until he reached the heart of the forest, where a pavilion stood beneath a massive tree. Lush flowers and grasses thrived nearby, and a small, secluded pond lay deep and silent, the whole scene serene beneath the pouring rain.

It was a place fit for immortals.

He could scarcely believe this was the lair of the tree demon’s avatar. Yi Fan vaulted onto the pavilion; inside, chaos reigned, evidence of recent abandonment—the little ghosts who had dwelled there had fled, carrying their belongings. He searched up and down, but found no trace of them, only bizarre objects resembling Daoist scriptures, though many had been destroyed, their contents illegible and impossible to examine.

With no clues to be found, Yi Fan exited the pavilion and made his way to the roots of the great tree. The closer he drew, the more astonished he became, for the tree bore countless vivid scorch marks, and even after all these years, he could sense the destructive power of thunder lingering within. Suddenly, it dawned on him: these trees had not failed to become spirits, but had reached a certain stage of cultivation only to be struck down by heavenly lightning, thus creating this realm of death.

Suddenly, Yi Fan paused—he detected a faint trace of demonic energy nearby. Maintaining his composure, he walked toward it, then suddenly quickened his steps, running along the trunk and leaping onto a massive branch.

There, nestled in the middle, was a tree hollow, pitch-black within. He drew a firestarter from his robe, tore off a corner of his garment, wrapped it around a twig, lit it, and peered inside.

The hollow was not large, but what he saw inside astonished him: nearly a hundred urns, commonly known as golden urns, of varying sizes, neatly arranged.

The demonic energy emanated from them. He let out a cold snort, “Show yourselves! No more hiding.”

At his words, dozens of green flames immediately flew out from the urns, flickering and huddling together in the hollow, trembling with fear.

“Master Daoist, in your mercy, please spare us,” came a voice from one of the green flames.

---

“Spare you? When you slaughtered those innocent villagers, did you ever consider sparing them?” Yi Fan’s face was expressionless as he untied a talisman pouch, and with a quick shake, the dozens of green flames were instantly sucked inside.

The pouch bulged, writhing like a sack full of frantic mice, squealing in terror. “Master Daoist, we were forced! We should have hidden in the mountains, but the tree demon possessed this great tree and imprisoned us, using us to lure living souls and sap their life essence.”

Yi Fan’s heart stirred—so the tree demon’s avatar had possessed this ancient tree, allowing it to recover and thrive. He felt relieved that he hadn’t faced the avatar within the tree itself; with its age and vitality, victory would have been far from certain.

He ignored the ghosts’ lamentations, instead drawing a talisman to seal the pouch, tying it securely to his waist. He would refine them later, or feed them to the ghost-devouring spirit.

Having finished, he was about to continue his investigation when he noticed, hidden in the hollow, the faint outline of a book. He reached in and drew it out—a damaged secret manual.

“The Secret Manual of Minor Talismans.”

Joy flickered in his heart, but upon opening it, he was disappointed; the contents were fragmentary, mostly basic talismans for warding off evil, suppressing demons, and even healing illnesses—a practical encyclopedia, but only the most elementary version.

Whoever had left it here, it had been forgotten for ages, and the ghosts had no use for it, thus preserving it. Still, something was better than nothing. He tucked it away as a foundation for his own cultivation.

Two hours later, Yi Fan returned to the pavilion, gazing at the relentless rain. His search yielded nothing else—clearly, the tree demon’s avatar had been completely refined.

But what of those villagers who had been captured?

Yi Fan pondered; the only possibility was the pavilion itself. He returned and conducted a thorough inspection, soon discovering a hidden chamber, so well concealed that it could not be found without careful searching.

He gently pushed open the door and descended, turning a corner, and was immediately assaulted by an overpowering stench of blood. Raising his torch, he saw that the vast chamber expanded further into a massive space, its floor piled with layers of desiccated corpses and white bones—countless in number.

At the center stood a bronze cauldron atop a stone. Yi Fan approached and found it filled with thick, crimson blood—the so-called heart’s blood.

With so much heart’s blood, the corpses below were surely those missing villagers; not a single one survived, all had been slaughtered.

The oppressive air in the chamber weighed heavily. Yi Fan inspected it briefly, then left, closing the hidden door behind him.

---

He ascended to the pavilion, exhaling deeply, his expression darkened. The fate of the villagers held no surprise for him; after so many days, their chances of survival had been slim.

Yi Fan had no desire to linger in this place, but he would not allow it to remain untouched. Should the resentment of the slain villagers give rise to ghosts, who knew how many more would suffer in these woods?

Thus, he affixed “Minor Exorcism Talismans” throughout the area, using an entire pouch—nearly a hundred talismans. No other cultivator would be so extravagant.

With so many talismans suppressing the place, barring unforeseen events, any ghosts that formed would gradually dissipate, either passing to the netherworld or fading into nothingness.

With everything settled, he leapt from the pavilion and sped away, soon reaching the mountain hollow. Looking down upon the lush trees below, he noted that though the place teemed with life now, the principle of extremes held true—this was not a suitable place for cultivation.

…

Half a month later, Yi Fan’s wounds were fully healed. He climbed to the mountain’s summit and sat cross-legged, gazing at the distant foothills. Since the tree demon’s avatar had been destroyed and the life force released, the mountain’s creatures had multiplied, and even the lower slopes were turning green, with rare rainfall at last.

The months-long drought was finally easing.

A few days prior, Daoist Zhao had sent a letter. Yi Fan gave the messenger a reply, briefly explaining the situation and assuring them they could relax their vigilance—the tree demon had been eradicated.

Time seemed to settle into a period of tranquility, and Yi Fan enjoyed nursing his body back to health.

Examining his system, he found that the energy gained from refining the tree demon’s avatar was immense—enough to further elevate his strength once more.

…

(Third update)