Chapter Twenty-Two: The Night Hunt

The peaks of Mount Mei were exceedingly strange; some parts lay barren, others lush, some damp and some dry, as though every landscape of the Divine Land had converged within this span of ten thousand miles, forming a miniature world of its own.

Liu Chou and Guiche began making their way south. Though he didn’t know the exact direction of the camp, if he managed to traverse to the southern edge of the outer perimeter, he was quite confident he could inquire about the general locations of places like the Rocky Ridge and the Rotten Peach Valley. It would take some time, but finding the camp’s remains would not be difficult.

Months had passed. If those bald monks and warriors who had entered the mountains hadn’t died at the hands of great demons, then even if they returned and hadn’t relocated, with his awakened innate demon arts, Liu Chou would not be so easily discovered or hunted. Besides, he was now on guard—how could he make the same mistake twice?

Sure enough, after several days of searching, Liu Chou and Guiche had reached the southern face of Mount Mei, just over two hundred miles from the old Rocky Ridge. In a few more days, they would arrive at the camp.

To avoid being trapped in a cave as before, Liu Chou and Guiche chose to spend the night on the ridges. Now that he had transformed into a demon, and with Guiche beside him, the presence of two monsters should deter any foolish creatures from approaching the outskirts of Mount Mei.

The campfire died down. The two devoured most of a roasted fat ox. Guiche lay lazily by the fire, while Liu Chou climbed a tree to rest. Just as he lay down on his side, a sudden chill ran through his heart. He sat up abruptly, breathing deeply in the direction of the night wind.

The night breeze on Mount Mei carried a unique scent—mostly the freshness of the wilds, tinged with a hint of decay. But what seized all of Liu Chou’s attention was a wisp of fragrance that triggered a strong reaction the moment it reached his nose.

It was the scent of sandalwood—the very spice he’d once smelled on those tormenting, shaven thieves.

Instinctively, his first thought wasn’t to hide or flee, but to strike back, to return the suffering he’d endured. He leapt from the tree, darted through the woods in several swift bounds, and perched on the farthest branch, peering into the depths of the night.

Emerging from the darkness was a procession of monks who strode onwards as if oblivious to danger, their auras unrestrained and unhidden. The leader’s presence was even more threatening than any Liu Chou had sensed at the camp, and the weakest among them was stronger than his former tormentor.

Though their numbers were few and still far off, Liu Chou felt the hairs on his neck stand on end.

From afar, they had spotted the firelight and were now accelerating, closing the distance in a rapid run.

Liu Chou’s heart skipped—this was bad. Though he could alter his form, there was no way to tell if they could see through him. Hiding was uncertain, and an ambush was out of the question.

Without hesitation, he dropped down, grabbed Guiche, and fled deeper into Mount Mei.

Their fleeing figures instantly drew attention, and in a flash, all eyes swept their way. To those foreign monks, it was merely two monsters on the run.

“Abbot, two little demons—it seems they’ve noticed us.”

With a calm face, the leader, Huiqu, waved dismissively. “We seek a particular beast. These small demons are not our target. No need to concern ourselves. Mili, you two go capture them. The rest, come with me to the fire for a brief rest.”

Two monks accepted the order. With talismans stuck to their legs, they were instantly sheathed in faint traces of wind, sweeping forward like two wisps of smoke.

Moments later, Huiqu arrived at the fire. He sniffed the strange aroma in the ashes, his pupils narrowing to slits and his expression shifting.

“There’s something odd about this scent in the fire. What did these demons burn to produce such a faint fragrance… Mimo, you frequent the markets—come take a look and tell me what this is.”

Mimo approached, sniffed carefully, and sifted through the nearby soil, soon finding some tiny grains. He held them up and reported, “Grandmaster, this seems to be the scent of dogwood berries and brine.”

Huiqu was unfamiliar with such mundane condiments and asked, “For what purpose were they burned?”

“Likely for roasting food. Sprinkling these seasonings adds flavor,” Mimo replied respectfully. “Judging from the setup, that’s probably it. Burning them alone would serve no purpose.”

“Oh?” Huiqu’s eyes sharpened as he turned to stare at him. “You inspected the camp’s provisions—was there any of this?”

“There was a little left, but it seems to have been used up…”

“Not good!” Huiqu suddenly started. “There’s something off about these demons. If they had this on them, so be it—but to know how to use it for roasting food? Is that something monsters would know?”

Meanwhile, dozens of miles away, two foreign monks were racing after Liu Chou and Guiche, who fled with all their might. The demons were fast, but with their talismans, the monks were just as swift, even gaining ground. Liu Chou looped around several times but couldn’t shake them; they pursued relentlessly.

After another turn, Liu Chou suddenly stopped, told Guiche to stay, then darted up a tree and silently circled back through the dense canopy.

Guiche braced himself, hands on his knees, body bent, white breath billowing from his nostrils as he panted. He drew his broadsword, set it in the earth, and steadied his chest, readying for battle in the shortest possible time.

The two monks had no hesitation and were within ten paces in an instant before stopping.

One monk drew a crescent-moon spade, pointed it at Guiche while catching his breath, and cursed, “Why stop running, foul beast? Ready to die?”

Mili frowned, glancing around. “Be careful—there’s another demon not here. It could be hiding!” He raised his subduing staff in his right hand and gripped a spiritual weapon in his left, ready to strike at any moment.

Time was tight, with no room for delay. Guiche said nothing, but suddenly sprang like lightning, striking with the force of thunder.

The monk in front was prepared, but having just eaten, Guiche was at full strength, his entire body taut. As the monk raised his spade, it crashed against Guiche’s massive, square-bladed broadsword.

Guiche’s strength was immense, and with the weight of his blade, the monk was no match. He was knocked backward, sliding several paces. At the same time, Guiche’s sword veered sharply, swinging toward Mili.

Mili was about to activate his spiritual weapon when the blade flashed before him, shocking him. His staff was sturdy but no match for steel; he could only dodge aside, and his attack was forced to pause.

Guiche missed with his blade, but his body slammed forward, sending his heavy frame barreling into Mili.

There was nothing fancy about it; Mili, unable to dodge, collided with Guiche head-on. He was instantly dazed, his bones feeling as though they’d shattered, and nearly collapsed.

At that moment, the other monk, having regained his footing, charged back and swung his spade at Guiche’s head.

Thunk!

A black streak flashed from behind him, piercing his abdomen without hesitation and pinning him to the ground like a salted fish.

It was an Eight-Ox Arbalest bolt—long and thick.

At the same time, Liu Chou dropped from the trees, racing forward with another bolt in hand.

Mili had just regained his footing when a spray of blood splashed his face, terrifying him. B