Chapter Twenty: Pointing Toward Little Thunderclap Monastery

Yet, there was still a lack of proper cultivation techniques and combat moves. The “Word of Motion” was solely a speed technique, allowing one’s velocity to increase effortlessly, but that didn’t necessarily mean one’s attacks had grown stronger. Still, as long as he was fast enough, would attacks really be a problem? In the world of martial arts, speed is invincible! This was the ultimate speed technique! If he reached the pinnacle of speed, his attacks would be flawless, without weakness. The Supreme Ones could traverse space and time, walking between worlds. Lin Yi could only marvel at this—extraordinary! Even more impressive than the “True Sutra of the Great Cavern!”

As the ghostly tiger vanished, sunlight pierced through puddles and other openings, refracting into the area. The oppressive, ominous energy and that dreadful atmosphere had completely dissipated, and everything was restored to its noble, righteous state once more.

Inside Lin Yi’s mind, after destroying the ghostly tiger, he discovered memories within the spirit’s mind—fragments of the wraiths’ past. Everything he’d just experienced was real. Lin Changsheng, Little Leaf, Erwa, the Old Chief… all of it had truly happened. The ghostly tiger’s bones were buried nearby, along with the relic of a revered monk. Over the years, the relic had been gradually tainted, until eventually the ghostly tiger broke through its power, which explained its lingering existence. Later, as the red mist grew, the tiger spirit absorbed the unholy energy and grew stronger, causing chaos.

That relic held extraordinary and mysterious power. In a brief moment, it ensnared him, creating an illusion that blurred truth and falsehood. The “God-Slaying Sutra” bestowed upon him Lin Changsheng’s memories—memories the ghostly tiger, through the relic, had intended to transmit to him. Though the affair had ended, Lin Yi pondered: if he hadn’t unearthed the soil beneath Erwa and killed him first, would the “God-Slaying Sutra” have deemed his trial a failure? The thought left him oddly uneasy.

“Killing all sorts of demons and specters in the Paranormal Investigation Bureau, gaining experience and rewards—when I’m truly invincible and unstoppable, I’ll emerge to exterminate evil.” Lin Yi made up his mind.

The thirty-three mist-shrouded places and those towering peaks, in Lin Yi’s estimation, were exceedingly perilous. This ghostly tiger had cultivated for over three centuries, yet the Lady Huangjiu had cultivated for more than a thousand years—what unimaginable power must she possess?

“I’ve just gained thirty years’ worth of cultivation—already a minor powerhouse, but it’s not enough. When I reach a thousand, ten thousand years of cultivation, Lady Huangjiu will be nothing to me. I’ll crush her with a finger, and I’ll no longer need to hide or fear the ‘God-Slaying Sutra’s’ trials…”

Those misty places were like fish bones stuck in his throat—he could not let his guard down.

With the matter resolved, Lin Yi went to collect the relic and the ghostly tiger’s bones—both valuable treasures.

Just then, the “God-Slaying Sutra’s” multicolored lights began flashing across the stone table. Gradually, the memories of the wraiths and the ghostly tigers became ever clearer in Lin Yi’s mind.

The ghostly tiger had killed many people, but few were chosen to become its wraiths. Coincidentally, whether it was the scholar Lin Changsheng, his servant Little Leaf, or even the two disciples from different sects—all were ideal candidates.

The entire sequence of events unfolded exactly as Lin Yi had experienced in the illusion. The real Lin Changsheng hadn’t been so cunning; just as Lin Yi had guessed, Erwa was the first to be tricked into leaving. After his death, the ghostly tiger manipulated Lin Changsheng to kill Little Leaf, and then the three wraiths killed the Old Chief and the rest. Finally, they slew the two sect disciples—a man and a woman, both from the Starry Sect.

The ghostly tiger had not devoured countless people, but it had claimed at least over a hundred lives. It had obtained the revered monk’s relic because it had once lived in the Tiger Forest outside Little Leiyin Temple.

Little Leiyin Temple—just hearing the name startled Lin Yi. In the present age, the Buddhist order still wielded immense influence, and the Little Leiyin Temple was among its most renowned branches.

Within Little Leiyin Temple, many high monks were former beasts or spirits who had attained enlightenment, acquired sacred scriptures, and received official recognition as “wild Buddhas.” There were also righteous human Buddhas.

The ghostly tiger’s death was the result of a monk from Little Leiyin Temple, who, during an epiphany, went mad and entered Tiger Forest, slaying several tigers, among them this very ghostly tiger. When the monk later immolated himself, the ghostly tiger, by chance, obtained the relic left behind by his passing, thus transforming into a powerful spirit.

“An Miaoyi once spoke to me of the Buddhist order… It truly has deep roots.”

Still, the red mist exuded a sinister aura—an unholy energy that awakened demons and ghosts, including the ghostly tiger. After its death, the tiger became a wraith, but lacked the power to harm anyone, forced to hide and quietly absorb the essence of sun and moon to cultivate. The appearance of the red mist allowed it to resurge, growing more active in recent days…

All of it was tied to the red mist.

Shaking his head, as these memories settled into Lin Yi’s mind, he finally understood the nature of the Starry Sect. It was a Daoist school that cultivated by harnessing the cosmic energy of the stars and the essence of sun and moon. After several centuries, it was uncertain whether the sect still existed, but considering the Buddhist order still thrived, Lin Yi guessed the Starry Sect likely endured as well.

In his mind were fragments of the sect’s cultivation techniques, though some were flawed and not yet fit for practice.

Walking the winding mountain path, pondering all this, Lin Yi reached a cliff on the northern slope—a place he knew housed the ghostly tiger’s bones and the relic. The tiger had not dared leave its essence-infused bones in the Tiger Forest, so once it was able, it dug up its remains and the relic, bringing them here to Erlong Mountain—never expecting Lin Yi to ultimately claim them.

At this moment, Lin Yi was still some three hundred meters from his destination.

…

Meanwhile, at Erlong Mountain’s tourist entrance, crowds queued for tickets when suddenly panic swept through them. Many pointed at the distance in alarm.

“Look at that—why is the military coming this way? Did something happen at Erlong Mountain?”

“With all this red mist lately, so many strange things have happened—maybe something’s going on here too?”

“I’ve seen so many places cordoned off and investigated. To avoid trouble, maybe we should leave!”

The crowd pointed in terror at a spot in the distance. Armored vehicles, resembling tanks, rumbled into view. These vehicles appeared fully armed, and behind them marched soldiers, some carrying M15 machine guns, others wielding heavy AK rifles and ammunition. The entire force looked formidable, as if preparing for battle.

Though frightened, the tourists knew the soldiers would never harm them. Because of the red mist, the thirty-three mysterious areas, and even the ninety-nine sites from three years prior, the world had grown wary. Few had witnessed true supernatural events, but the recent red mist convinced many that something was amiss at Erlong Mountain.

People hurried to clear a path. Soon, the police arrived as well, and together with the soldiers, they quickly cordoned off the entire area and began advising tourists to leave.

Yet, despite the evacuation, many lingered outside the perimeter, treating the spectacle as entertainment. After all, with so many police and soldiers and so many officials present, what harm could come to them?

At that moment, a striking young woman drew everyone’s attention. She wore a mask, but her tall figure, bright eyes, jet-black hair, and elegant presence were impossible to ignore. She was none other than An Miaoyi.

Beside her stood a middle-aged man whose eyes, a blend of fox-like sharpness and peach blossom allure, bore a family resemblance. Such eyes lent a woman charm, but on a man’s face, they seemed to convey a mysterious allure of their own. This man, too, wore a mask and a loose, traditional tunic, giving the air of a tai chi master—though he did not look old.

He was not particularly conspicuous, but aside from the military and police, only An Miaoyi and her companion wore civilian clothes, naturally drawing attention. Especially noteworthy was the horsetail whisk in the man’s hand, adding yet another touch of mystery.

Both An Miaoyi and the middle-aged man carried cloth satchels on their backs—legendary “Hundred-Treasure Bags,” the standard kit for agents of the Paranormal Investigation Bureau. These intelligent bags could store real firearms, talismans, black dog’s blood, and other frequently used items, automatically sorting and storing their contents.