Chapter Forty-One: Never Let the Invaders Occupy the Yin Mountains

Xu Wenshan calmly drew his favored bow from beneath the cart, the very bow that had earned him first place in the “Deer-Crane Ravine Master Archer Competition.”

The thugs atop the hill grew rowdy. “Second Brother, this kid’s got guts! Is he planning to challenge us with arrows?”

“He’s courting death! Let me show him just how to spell ‘death’ today!”

Bending his bow and nocking an arrow, Xu Wenshan moved with swift, decisive grace. Though he fired later, his arrow flew simultaneously with the one released by the so-called “Second Brother” above.

The arrows whistled past each other in midair, each finding its mark.

A single agonized scream echoed.

“Second Brother” took an arrow to the chest. He dropped his bow, his hands flailing weakly, and collapsed, rolling down the slope. By the time he reached Xu Wenshan’s feet, life had left him completely.

The rival’s arrow struck Xu Wenshan too, but it merely bounced off with a metallic clang, leaving him unscathed.

Xu Wenshan had already cast “Stone Skin,” encasing himself in a layer of stone armor. Such crudely made arrowheads could not pierce his defenses.

Though the bandits could not fathom how their arrows failed to harm Xu Wenshan, they knew they had encountered a formidable foe. “This one’s tough! Brothers, fire your arrows!”

A scattering of arrows descended from the hill, but none touched Xu Wenshan or his companion. Xu Wenshan called to Lu Ze, “Go ahead. Leave one alive.”

Lu Ze nodded and sprang up the slope in a few agile leaps. The bandits had never witnessed such nimble movements from a “person.” Their arrows flew wildly, lacking any lethality.

Though Lu Ze was not a murderous demon, she had cultivated for two centuries and was already a second-rank spirit; a casual punch carried the strength of nine bulls. If she wished to kill, it would take only a single thought.

Xu Wenshan covered her with his bow as Lu Ze struck amidst the chaos. The bandits fell in heaps, their bodies strewn across the ground. Even the old man was felled by an arrow through the throat, leaving only the weakest-looking survivor trembling on the ground.

“Don’t kill me! Please, don’t kill me! Hero, you are merciful—spare my life!” The man lay prostrate, squealing like a pig before slaughter.

Xu Wenshan kicked him and said, “Why don’t you teach me how to spell ‘death’?”

The man burst into tears. “Spare me, hero! I don’t even know how to spell ‘death’ myself! It’s all my fault for not studying—if I’d gone to school, I wouldn’t have ended up a bandit…”

Xu Wenshan had no patience for his confessions and silenced him. “Where is your hideout? How many are left in the camp? Tell me everything.”

The bandit, broken in spirit, confessed all without resistance, then led Xu Wenshan up the mountain to their lair.

It was Xu Wenshan’s first time killing, nearly a slaughter—seven or eight criminals dispatched. Though his victims were wicked, discomfort lingered in his heart.

He tied the ox to a tree and followed the bandit up the winding mountain path, which was long and arduous. They finally reached the bandit camp, perched in a rugged, defensible spot—a perfect place for such a lair. Xu Wenshan couldn’t help but admire the talent behind its choice.

Unbeknownst to him, the bandit leading the way was troubled: Where had all the sentries gone?

The three arrived at the gate of the camp. No one manned the watchtower, nor was there a guard by the entrance. Xu Wenshan asked, “Is your camp always this lax in defense?”

The bandit, uneasy and suspicious, could neither nod nor shake his head, lost in confusion.

Inside the camp, they discovered something was seriously amiss. Weapons lay scattered, faint traces of blood stained the ground.

The bandit rushed into the central hall marked “Assembly Hall,” dropping to his knees at the threshold. Xu Wenshan followed, finding overturned tables and chairs, walls and floors smeared with dark, crimson blood—some in lines, some radiating outward, with deep and shallow scratches everywhere.

In the corners lay fragments of flesh, bone dust, and fingernails, enough to turn one’s stomach.

It was impossible to imagine what had transpired here.

The bandit turned, his voice venomous. “You’re ruthless…”

Xu Wenshan stared blankly. “It wasn’t me…”

Suddenly, he noticed large patches of glowing green liquid trickling from the bandit’s hair onto his face.

A moment later, Xu Wenshan looked up and saw a huge, vividly colored spider crouched on the dark ceiling.

Ordinary spiders were nothing to fear, but one as large as a millstone was a terrifying sight.

Lu Ze had spotted it too. In silent understanding, both she and Xu Wenshan encased themselves in stone armor.

In a blink, the spider leapt from the ceiling, clamping its pincers around the bandit’s neck. Unaware of what had seized him, the bandit grasped at the spider’s jaws, kicking and struggling.

Xu Wenshan saw a needle-like appendage emerge swiftly from the spider’s mouth, stabbing the bandit, whose face immediately turned green. His hands fell limp, legs ceased their thrashing.

The spider dragged its victim, hoisting him with a rope-thick strand of silk and returning to the roof. Its eight slender legs scuttled quickly, and soon it vanished into a crevice somewhere above.

All of this occurred in an instant; Xu Wenshan and Lu Ze had no time to react. But he quickly identified their enemy.

A spider demon.

Spider demons are ferocious monsters. Born from cultivated spiders, they inherit aggression, cunning, cruelty, and greed. They enjoy toying with their prey and hoarding food.

They inject venom into their victims, dissolving their organs for later consumption. Ensnaring them in silk, they store the bodies in their lairs.

Spider demons are equally ruthless to prey and kin alike—when kept together, they fight and tear each other apart.

According to the “Book of Prophecy,” spider demons excel at combat but lack intelligence. They only attack the unsuspecting; with vigilance, one can avoid their ambush.

Xu Wenshan’s expression grew grave. This was no gentle spirit like Lu Ze, but a murderous hunter, a sinister predator lurking in ambush.

“Lu Ze, follow that spider and find its nest. Be careful,” Xu Wenshan instructed.

Lu Ze nodded and quickly gave chase.

Xu Wenshan remained in the hall, carefully examining the traces left by the fight.

From the evidence, it seemed the bandits in the lair had been picked off one by one. The spider demon encountered scant resistance—perhaps only the last realized something was wrong and tried to fight, but by then it was too late.

It was a poor camp; the storeroom held little grain or meat, the slaughterhouse contained a few butchered rats, and their weapons were nothing but battered knives and bamboo spears. There was no sign of gold or silver—nothing of value.

Xu Wenshan felt deeply disappointed. These bandits had truly fallen on hard times.