Daoist Competition

Liang Wu spat and said, "Scoundrel! Ungrateful wretch, shut your mouth quickly and stop sullying our ears!"

Qian Tong, infuriated by the insult, grew ashamed and enraged, raising his blade to strike. Yet, at that moment, a voice called out from behind the curtain, "Stop!"

Though Qian Tong was ruthless, the voice made him shiver involuntarily. He turned his head and saw Zhang Zhan, supported by a servant, walking out with his gaze fixed on Qian Tong’s face. In a deep voice, he said, "Qian Tong, is it you who’s behind my illness?"

Zhang Zhan had a towering figure that was not as imposing on his sickbed, but now, standing before them, his presence was overwhelming. Qian Tong instinctively took a few steps back. Though he had envisioned countless ways to kill Zhang Zhan, he couldn’t help his wavering resolve. Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he boldly declared, "Indeed! It was I who aimed to kill you!"

Zhang Zhan nodded slightly and said in a measured tone, "Come forth."

With a loud crash, the screens on both sides toppled, revealing armored soldiers wielding strong crossbows. They were iron-faced guards, their heads fully encased in armor and their bodies enveloped in fine steel, thirty-six in total. In an instant, they moved to protect Liang Wu and Zhang Zhan, raising their crossbow mechanisms toward Qian Tong and Hu Daoist.

Seeing the chillingly sharp bolts in their hands, Qian Tong couldn’t help but retreat a couple more steps, asking in shock, "Iron-faced Guards? When did you summon them to the mountain?"

Hu Daoist, however, showed no fear. He sneered dismissively, "Even if you bring more, they’re mere mortal bodies..."

Zhang Zhan’s expression grew grave. If he had stayed resting in bed, perhaps he could have delayed the inevitable, but now, forcing himself to act, he felt his limit fast approaching. Unwilling to waste words, he waved his hand forward. Without hesitation, the armored soldiers pressed the mechanisms, and the sound of bowstrings echoed. Thirty-six crossbows unleashed bolts like raindrops toward Qian Tong and Hu Daoist.

Hu Daoist laughed aloud and crushed the jade pendant in his hand. In an instant, a radiant glow, as brilliant as the sun, enveloped both him and Qian Tong.

The crossbow bolts that had just been released shattered against the radiance as if colliding with solid steel. Sneering, Hu Daoist let out a sharp breath and took out a banner, biting the tip of his tongue to spray it with fresh blood.

Immediately, the banner began to tremble, and a ghostly shadow emerged from within. As it came forth, a chilling wind arose, extinguishing all the candles and lanterns while emitting eerie wails that sounded like weeping. The shadow transformed into a streak of black light, circling the room.

The iron-faced soldiers attempted to resist but found the shadow both elusive and ethereal. When it passed through their bodies, a freezing sensation overcame them, followed by darkness overtaking their vision as they collapsed noiselessly to the ground, lifeless.

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Hu Daoist exhaled deeply, his back drenched in sweat.

The banner was a treasure he had stumbled upon by chance. With it, he could capture human souls at will.

However, Hu Daoist’s foundational strength was insufficient. It worked well on ordinary souls, but these thirty-six soldiers were battle-hardened warriors with firm wills who did not fear death. Thus, forcing their souls into the banner required consuming essence blood, and failure would result in severe loss of primordial Qi, potentially leaving him debilitated for over a decade.

Fortunately, his luck prevailed, allowing him to scrape by with success. Yet, his face turned as pale as paper, his limbs weak and trembling—a far cry from the ease his words implied.

Qian Tong, recovering from his shock, stared at the seemingly invincible warriors now lying lifeless under Hu Daoist’s hand. He burst into manic laughter, pointing his blade forward and shouting, "Zhang Zhan, you wish to kill me? You still wish to kill me? Today, let’s see whether it’s you who dies or me!"

Zhang Zhan glanced at the fallen soldiers, shook his head, then motioned the servant holding him aside. Standing upright with great effort, he said gravely, "There’s no need to speak further. Victory or defeat determines all. My life is here; come and take it."

A hint of joy flickered across Hu Daoist’s face. With Zhang Zhan’s death today, Gun Mang Mountain would fall into Qian Tong’s hands. He could then refine Human Treasure Elixirs using young boys and girls, enhancing his divine soul’s essence blood. In seven or eight years, he might even achieve Opening Meridians and Breaking Through.

Filled with this thought, he laughed heartily, saying, "With me here today, all your schemes and strategies amount to nothing against my divine power!"

But before his words could settle, a voice sneered from outside, "Mere ghostly tricks, and you dare call them divine power?"

As this voice faded, another called out, "Father, Father..."

Hu Daoist’s face changed dramatically. The first voice carried immense force, as vast and deep as the mountains and seas, making his ears buzz and disrupting his inner Qi. He felt as though a single shout could extinguish his very life. While others might not perceive this, as a cultivator, he instinctively understood the terrifying nature of the presence outside. In that moment, he couldn’t even summon the thought of escaping.

Qian Tong also sensed something amiss. However, lacking Hu Daoist’s heightened perception, he simply assumed Zhang Lingyu had called upon a high-ranking figure from the Spirit Bridge Daoist Temple. But after yearning for this moment for over a decade, how could he now back down?

His face twisted with madness as he roared, raising his blade high to strike down Zhang Zhan.

Zhang Zhan, who was barely able to stand, had no strength to dodge. Resigned, he sighed inwardly and closed his eyes, awaiting death.

Yet, after waiting a long while, nothing happened. He opened his eyes slowly, only to see Qian Tong frozen in place, a thin line of blood slowly emerging at his neck. Moments later, his entire head slid off his shoulders, his headless body collapsing to the ground.

Zhang Zhan instinctively retreated a step, his feeble body swaying precariously. He quickly braced himself against the pillar and looked ahead. Standing at the entrance was an unknown Daoist, with his garments fluttering and ethereal mist wreathing around him like a celestial being. The once-arrogant Hu Daoist was now kneeling before him, trembling uncontrollably, not daring to lift his head.

Overjoyed, Zhang Zhan exclaimed, "Could it be one of the immortals from Spirit Bridge Daoist Temple? My child—has he arrived too?"

Suddenly, a strange sense of familiarity crossed his mind as he stared at the figure. He hesitated, his eyes widening in shock and suspicion as he stammered, "You... You..."

The Daoist regarded him calmly, with a faint smile, and said, "Second Brother, it has been over thirty years since we parted. Do you no longer recognize your elder brother?"

...

...(To be continued. If you enjoy this work, please visit Qidian.com to cast your recommendation votes and monthly tickets. Your support is the greatest motivation for me.)