Chapter Fifty-Seven: The Descent of the Thai Spirit

“Realgar powder!” Bai Ling pulled a packet of yellow powder from her robes, ignited it with the candle flame, and spun it up into the air. The yellow dust rained down, and wherever it fell, serpents and insects scattered in fear.

“Hurry!” Bai Ling called out, eyes fixed on the path cleared by the realgar, urging everyone forward at speed.

Ahead of them, the edge of the pit rose up, thickly draped with vines. As long as they climbed these vines, they could escape the pit.

“Quick, everyone!” Fang Zhong shouted back at Fang You and An Wu, hurrying them along.

Behind them loomed the monstrous Man-Pig—a grotesque mass of countless hands and heads, its massive body crushing one ground snake after another in its relentless advance.

The ground shook with thunderous booms as they reached the wall. Now, all that remained was to scale the vines clinging to the pit’s edge and escape.

But suddenly, the earth trembled beneath them. Their legs nearly gave out as the Man-Pig leapt, landing right before them with terrifying speed.

The four stood face-to-face with the giant, their hearts sinking.

“Are we really going to die here today?” someone muttered in despair.

At that moment, a gigantic serpent burst forth from the shadows. With fangs bared, it lunged and seized the Man-Pig in its jaws, lifting it high into the air.

There was no time for astonishment. The four dashed forward, grasped the vines on the rock face, and scrambled upward as behind them, the giant snake and the Man-Pig grappled fiercely.

They clambered onto the rocky rim to find themselves before a cave-like entrance. Behind them, the Man-Pig tore free several of the giant snake’s fangs, but then the serpent swallowed the monster whole.

Inside its belly, the Man-Pig thrashed violently, and the snake writhed on the ground in agony, unable to digest its prey, as if the Man-Pig might tear its way out at any moment.

At this critical instant, Fang You suddenly remembered the pouch Daoist Qiu had given him before dying.

He opened it and found seven or eight blood-red fruits, and a single blood peach.

Fang You recalled how, as Daoist Qiu rode the spirit monkey, he had used the blood fruit to bolster the monkey’s strength in the Man-Pig chamber. It seemed this fruit greatly enhanced a spirit beast’s power.

A dreadful thought struck him—if the Man-Pig burst forth from the serpent’s body, now infused with the blood of a spirit beast, it would be even more formidable.

Taking a deep breath, Fang You whistled sharply, drawing the wounded serpent’s attention—and the others’ suspicion.

“What are you doing, little priest?” Fang Zhong asked, wary.

The giant snake reared up, its gaze fixed on Fang You.

Fang You took out a blood fruit, which looked like an ordinary wild berry, but he knew it was a secret creation of Daoist Qiu’s sect, a wondrous tonic for spirit beasts.

The serpent inched closer, sniffing uncertainly at the crimson fruit in Fang You’s hand, but the Man-Pig’s struggles made it writhe in pain, its jaws gaping in agony.

Seizing the moment, Fang You tossed the blood fruit into the snake’s open mouth.

The serpent inadvertently swallowed the fruit, then hesitated, recoiling a few paces.

In the next instant, its eyes flared bright red, and crimson scales briefly erupted along its body. Its strength surged.

The broken fangs it had lost to the Man-Pig grew back swiftly, and a flood of venom was produced, flowing down its gullet.

Soon, the serpent’s belly churned violently as its venom corroded the Man-Pig within. In moments, the monster was digested.

But now, with the Man-Pig vanquished, the serpent turned its baleful gaze on the four survivors—especially on Fang Zhong, who had earlier dropped a boulder onto a nest of ground snakes.

Fang Zhong, realizing he was the object of the serpent’s attention, swallowed nervously.

Reading the situation, Fang You quickly knelt and bowed his head. “I beg forgiveness for having, in our flight, harmed several of your kin. I hope you can pardon our desperation.”

Seeing this, the others quickly knelt, pressing their palms together and apologizing as well.

The giant serpent glided to a halt before them, glaring at their prostrate forms, then snorted in anger and slithered back into the ruined pit.

“We’re finally safe!” Bai Ling breathed a deep sigh of relief.

“You Daoists truly possess remarkable arts—no wonder the boss chose you!” An Wu exclaimed, awestruck by Fang Zhong, Bai Ling, and Fang You’s resourcefulness.

By “the boss,” An Wu referred to the wealthy patron who had invited Fang You to Wangzang Mountain, to the tomb of Cao Anman.

“So, who exactly is this magnate?” Bai Ling asked curiously. “He must be quite wealthy and well-connected.”

An Wu hesitated, but after a moment, smiled and replied, “You all seem trustworthy, so I suppose there’s no harm in telling you. The magnate you speak of, my employer, is a native of the Northern City—his name is Xu Qiang, but people call him Tycoon Xu.”

“It’s said that Xu’s great-grandfather was once a beggar. By chance, he saved a feng shui master’s life with half a flatbread. In those war-torn days, half a flatbread could mean the difference between life and death.”

“Later, as Xu’s great-grandfather neared the end of his life, the feng shui master returned. He confessed he possessed no magical means to extend life, but he did know the art of changing fate through geomancy.”

“‘I’ll point you to a site of hidden fortune,’ he said. ‘If you bury yourself there, and the earth spirits do not drive you out before you die, your descendants will be blessed with unending wealth. None will know hunger or want.’”

“Moved by the promise, Xu’s great-grandfather, with nothing left to lose, decided to stake his final hope on this chance.”

“He found the place—a dank mountain cave the feng shui master called the ‘Serpent and Insect Fortune Cavern.’”

“Serpents and insects bring fortune; the cave is the altar. As long as they thrive, so will your wealth.”

“So, the old man crawled into the cave, braving a hundred days of venomous bites, hunger, and cold. Near death, he saw a creature with a human face and an insect’s features loom before him.”

“Terrified, he nearly fled, but then thought—dying here or elsewhere makes little difference. He would see this through.”

“The creature spoke: ‘I am the earth’s insect spirit, cultivated here for decades. I sought this site for years. If you die here, your descendants will drain most of the land’s energy.’”

“‘If you yield this place, I can grant you ten more years of life in exchange for your kindness.’”