Volume One, Chapter Fifteen: Encountering Huang the Half-Immortal Once Again

“Go and get Wang Meng, we're heading back!” Yue Shan shouted at Sun Yueyue.

“That direction…” Sun Yueyue’s pupils contracted as if something had occurred to her, and her face instantly became pale.

“We’ve fallen into a trap!” Yue Shan’s face also turned ashen.

They had just arrived, and now something had happened in the inner city. If there wasn’t some connection between the two, he wouldn’t believe it even if beaten to death.

“The inner city is full of the elite from all walks of life. If anything happens to them, Haicheng will be turned upside down.” Yue Shan’s heart was uneasy, and he prayed that this attack would not lead to too many casualties.

Soon, Wang Meng rushed over.

Without a word, he grabbed Yue Shan and Sun Yueyue and began teleporting them.

Montage, who was undergoing questioning nearby, noticed the unusual behavior of Yue Shan and the others.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t shake himself free to follow.

“Director, here’s the spiritual essence of the attackers. How should we deal with it?” The voice of Nine Faces echoed in Montage’s mind.

He focused a strand of consciousness into the mental space and saw ten glowing orbs carelessly tossed on the ground.

Dang Kang was pawing at them with his small hooves.

“So many spiritual essences? But they seem weak?” Montage was surprised.

“They were forcibly transformed. This is my first time seeing such spiritual essence—it’s as if a person…no, many people’s spiritual essences have been compressed together to create something new,” Dang Kang said, pawing at the glowing orbs with curiosity.

“You’re saying these spiritual essences aren’t singular, but rather a fusion of many kinds?” Montage was dumbfounded.

Spiritual essence was like a soul—could souls even be fused?

It made him think of the synthesis function of the Ten-Thousand Demon Tree, which seemed to have similar abilities.

“Could there be another Ten-Thousand Demon Tree in this world?” Montage asked.

“Impossible! The Ten-Thousand Demon Tree is unique. Though these spiritual essences look like the synthesis function, there is a fundamental difference.

The Ten-Thousand Demon Tree’s synthesis breaks down and reorganizes from the root, whereas these spiritual essences are forcibly twisted together.

It’s like human birth: one develops in the womb, another is pieced together after the fact. No matter how perfect the assembly, it can never match the natural development,” Dang Kang explained.

“Besides, this method is sinister, not something native to our land.” Dang Kang’s expression turned serious as he spoke.

“What did you notice?” Montage pressed.

“I’m not an expert in magical arts, how could I discern the details? If Baize were here, he’d probably see through it.” Dang Kang rubbed his belly and rolled over to lie beneath the Ten-Thousand Demon Tree.

“You act like you’re a real researcher! By the way, who is this Baize you mentioned?” Montage sensed that this pig before him had many secrets.

“Baize was the second smartest demon in the world. Sadly, he’s dead.” Dang Kang lay on the ground, gazing up at the sky, his tone flat.

For some reason, though his words were calm, Montage sensed a sadness beneath them.

“Baize must have been very close to him,” Montage guessed silently.

“You said Baize was the second smartest demon. Who’s the smartest?” Montage asked.

“Of course, it’s our leader! The smartest demon I’ve ever known, and he was especially kind to me…” Dang Kang’s voice gradually faded, ending abruptly.

“Is he dead too?” Montage tentatively asked.

“Impossible! He’s the strongest demon emperor in this world—how could he die? He…he just disappeared! I believe he’ll come back one day! He definitely will!” Dang Kang shouted, suddenly agitated as if his tail had been stepped on.

Montage said nothing more, quietly watching him.

He didn’t know who Dang Kang’s demon emperor was, but the tone made it clear that person meant a lot to Dang Kang.

After venting his suppressed emotions, Dang Kang regained his composure and looked at the spiritual essences on the ground. “These are too chaotic; nothing useful can be extracted. I suggest you give them to Nine Faces to absorb and strengthen himself. That way, he can better protect you.”

“Alright!” Montage nodded in agreement.

If Nine Faces hadn’t acted, he might be dead already.

Though Nine Faces was absolutely loyal, rewards were still deserved.

“Thank you, Director!” Nine Faces, hearing this, grinned with all nine of his faces.

Leaving the mental space, Montage had finished recording his statement.

The exam could not continue; now he could only go home and wait for notice.

Walking home, his mind was filled with thoughts of the events in the exam hall.

A group of people had inexplicably attacked the candidates, killing so many.

What was their purpose?

And then there was the explosion from the inner city.

He remembered how Yue Shan’s face had changed at that moment—could it really be just a coincidence?

“Hey, what a coincidence, young man! We meet again!” Suddenly, a delighted voice sounded beside him.

Looking up, he saw an old Taoist in tattered robes standing before him.

“It’s you! What are you doing here?” Montage was taken aback.

It had been five or six hours since he’d gone to the exam hall, and now, just as he returned, he encountered the man again.

If it were a bustling area, it would be understandable, but this was the edge of Bird Street, with hardly a soul around.

The old man setting up a stall for fortune-telling here was truly odd.

“I calculated our destinies and found we are fated! How about I give you another reading?” Huang the Half-Immortal smiled, rubbing his hands together.

“Forget it, I have no money for you,” Montage rolled his eyes.

He’d already been tricked out of his last five yuan that morning, and now the old man wanted more.

“Hey, hey, don’t be so hasty, young man! I’m best at palm reading and character divination. This time, it’ll be accurate, and if I’m wrong, I won’t charge a penny,” Huang the Half-Immortal hurried to block his way.

“Really?” Montage eyed him suspiciously.

“Absolutely! At my age, would I deceive a child?” Huang the Half-Immortal thumped his chest in assurance.

“Alright, read my palm and tell me my fortune,” Montage said, holding out his hand.

“Ahem, young man, you don’t know. I have three don’ts: no reading for those without fate, no reading for the stingy, and no palm reading for men,” Huang the Half-Immortal stroked his beard and tilted his head at a forty-five degree angle, adopting the air of a sage.

“…”

Hearing this, Montage turned and walked away.

Greedy and lecherous, yet he could dress it up in such elegant terms.

Three don’ts, so lofty in name, but in reality, it meant he only read fortunes for wealthy people or women.

“A shameless old rogue, skilled at palm reading? More like skilled at ogling women!” Montage cursed inwardly.