Chapter Thirty-One: Negotiations

Under the cover of night, Fang You ventured alone into the deep mountains. According to what Wang Ge'er, the soul guide, had just said, there were many spirits and monsters ahead—it seemed he was about to disturb a fox's den!

Yet Fang You’s purpose tonight was merely to negotiate. If talks failed, he would consider other options; unless absolutely necessary, he would never strike first. The beings ahead were likely intelligent spirits, and such entities usually showed some respect to those versed in yin-yang arts, if only to avoid inviting calamity upon themselves.

The mountain night was tinged with a chill. Fang You had already drawn both his scarlet peachwood sword and the demon-slaying coin sword, gripping one in each hand. These two treasured weapons, forged for exorcising ghosts and slaying monsters, had not come to Fang You easily.

The scarlet peachwood sword had been acquired when Fang You accompanied his sect master to greet the sect’s grand master upon his 136th emergence from seclusion. While on the way, a strange thunderclap suddenly resounded from the clear sky. The sect master and Fang You saw, from afar, a huge peach tree on a neighboring mountain struck directly by lightning. The massive trunk shuddered violently, and from the split bark flowed vivid red blood.

The sect master was overjoyed, turning to Fang You and saying, “Today you are fortunate to witness a thousand-year-old peach tree spirit undergoing tribulation. Should it survive and ascend, we might bask in a trace of its immortal aura. If it fails, we can take its wood and craft it into a lightning-struck peachwood sword—a millennium blade! An ordinary peachwood sword can already wound ghosts and sever souls; one made from matured wood is even more potent, slaying gods and ghosts alike. If the wood has been struck by lightning, its spirit is further enhanced. A blade crafted thus, especially from a spirit tree that has cultivated for a millennium, will be unmatched—even greater demons would struggle to withstand it.”

Sure enough, after several bolts of heavenly thunder, the enormous peach tree burst into flames and soon toppled, its roots losing their luster.

“It’s done!” the sect master exclaimed joyfully, rushing over to the burning tree. Crimson blood still streamed from its branches. “Today, fate has brought you to this tree. I shall bring it back to Maoshan for refinement. In due time, I will gift you a weapon for exorcising evil spirits.”

After forty-nine days of forging with demonic energy and the support of Maoshan talismans, Fang You finally obtained his thousand-year-old lightning-struck scarlet peachwood sword.

The other sword, the coin sword, had originally belonged to the grand master himself. On the day the grand master returned to seclusion, he had spoken meaningfully to Fang You: “You were born with a divine mandate yet unfulfilled. This demon-slaying coin sword is forged from coins that have changed hands across many dynasties and families. It bears a special name: the Hundred-Family Coin Sword. Only a blade that has passed through a hundred households and gathered their spirits can truly cut down demons and break evil. I give it to you now, in hopes that you will achieve great things.”

Now, Fang You gripped these two sacred blades as he advanced to confront the mountain spirits. Yet despite such weapons, with only a decade or so of cultivation, he would find it very difficult to contend with powerful monsters.

Still, Fang You put such worries aside. He knew only that demons threatened innocent lives, and it was his duty to save them.

As he penetrated deeper into the mountains, about halfway along the path, he was suddenly confronted by a sharp-faced, monkey-cheeked man who looked every bit the steward.

“I advise you, sir, not to go any further. Every grievance has its origin and every debt its debtor. I warned the master of that household beforehand—he was only to open the sack upon reaching home, and he agreed. Who could have guessed he’d go back on his word and open it midway, disrupting Madam Huang’s spell and nearly causing it to backfire on her? He is the one who should be held accountable!”

Fang You looked at the steward-like figure before him and replied with righteous indignation, “They helped deliver your offspring and deserved your gratitude—gold and silver are beside the point. Why harm the innocent? That family of five is now left with only one survivor. I only wish to negotiate: if you cease your vengeance and spare the remaining girl, I will not pursue this further. Otherwise, I, Fang, will risk my life to protect the child!”

His voice rang with uprightness and resolve, the proper bearing for confronting mountain spirits. It’s said that humans fear ghosts a little, but ghosts fear humans much more; the more you fear them, the bolder they become. The same holds among people—cowardice invites aggression, but a show of fearless determination can deter even the wicked. As the saying goes, the reckless fear the crazed, and the crazed fear those who no longer value life. Once you’re prepared to give your all, no one dares push you further.

“If you insist on meeting Madam,” the steward warned, his tone edged with threat, “I fear you will not return alive. With your level of cultivation, you are fated to die at her hands if you trespass upon her tomb.”

“That’s none of your concern,” Fang You declared without yielding. “Those who seek the Way must set aside thoughts of life and death. We do not seek enmity, but if you harm humans, we will uphold the will of Heaven!”

Seeing Fang You’s resolve, the steward ceased his warnings. Instead, he extended a pair of gray claws from his sleeve. “Very well, sir. If you refuse to heed my advice, I will not stop you. But choose your words carefully—do not anger Madam. If talks fail, leave at once; do not throw your life away needlessly.”

With that, the steward strode ahead, as if to lead the way. Fang You followed without the slightest hint of fear, gripping his scarlet peachwood sword and the demon-slaying coin sword tightly.

They walked on for a hundred or two hundred meters, until an imposing mansion appeared ahead. It resembled a grand villa from decades past, exuding a certain austere luxury.

Standing before the mansion, the steward said, “Wait here. I will inform Madam.”

He entered the mansion straightaway.

At this, Fang You swiftly produced a talisman and brushed it over his eyes, whispering, “Heavenly Eye, open!”

In an instant, the grand mansion before him dissolved into a lonely grave, and the steward was revealed as a gray fox slipping into the tomb. As the grave mound trembled, a crowd of foxes emerged, kneeling respectfully on either side, awaiting something with utmost reverence.

Then, a fox with a brilliant, lustrous coat—clearly superior to the others—strode out of the burial mound and locked eyes with Fang You.

“Do you not kneel before your mistress?”