Chapter Eight: Bestowing the Way of Spirits

“It’s you…” Xu Wen Shan said. “Weren’t you supposed to stay away for ten years…”

The figure on the bed was none other than Lu Ze, the temple maiden who had been personally suppressed by the Taoist priest with a righteous talisman two years ago.

Xu Wen Shan stopped himself mid-sentence. The priest’s promise had been reassuring, but for the monster before him, it was nothing but a painful memory.

As expected, the shadow on the bed shifted at his words, as if troubled by how to answer. After a long pause, she finally said, “That talisman had no effect on me.”

Having thoroughly studied the Book of Prophecy, Xu Wen Shan found her claim absurd. The book clearly stated that the Righteous Talisman worked on all beings below the Earth rank. That simple line was the distilled wisdom of countless practitioners over ten thousand years—Lu Ze was a Mystic-rank monster, and for her to claim immunity was simply unreasonable.

It wasn’t scientific… or rather, not metaphysical!

Monsters were generally divided into four ranks: Celestial, Earth, Mystic, and Yellow. The higher the rank, the greater the magical power.

Yellow-rank monsters were mostly harmless mountain spirits and earth sprites. The backbone of the monster world was the Mystic-rank; they possessed magical abilities but, among monsters obsessed with bloodline, had little standing. Lu Ze was a Mystic-rank monster.

Within the Mystic rank, those who lived alone were less esteemed than those who lived in groups. Fox spirits and serpent spirits were also Mystic-rank, but their status was clearly higher than solitary monsters like Lu Ze.

Earth-rank monsters were akin to “civil servants” or “local lords” among monsters. The Five-Tongued God and Frog God worshipped by the people, the underworld’s ghost officials, and the heavenly Land God—all belonged to the Earth rank. If they wished to harm humanity, their destructive power would be a hundred times greater than Mystic-rank monsters.

Celestial-rank monsters were the legendary divine beasts—Azure Dragon, White Tiger, Phoenix, Qilin—existing beyond the mortal realm, with boundless power.

Why, then, could a humble temple maiden break free from the Righteous Talisman?

The Sanfeng Taoist… no, the Sanfeng True Immortal, was a genuine cultivator in the Core Formation stage. He had said the talisman would last ten years because, after ten years, Lu Ze would have been “righteously transformed,” unable to trouble the Xu family again. Such was the dominance of a Core Formation cultivator’s talisman. Yet why could this temple maiden easily escape its suppression?

Something must have gone terribly wrong.

“Why have you returned?” Xu Wen Shan asked nervously.

Lu Ze rose from the bed, her form gradually revealed by the moonlight. “I have already given my body to you, my husband. It is only natural that I return to seek you.”

She took hold of Xu Wen Shan’s sleeve, and a haze of yellow mist enveloped him. He felt as if Mount Tai was pressing down upon him, making even breathing a struggle.

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The yellow mist was actually fine sand, weaving into ropes that bound Xu Wen Shan’s hands and feet, rendering him immobile.

“Come, Young Master Xu, eat this.”

Lu Ze raised her hand; between her forefinger and thumb, she held a pitch-black insect. Its many legs writhed in the air, grotesque and terrifying.

“No…” Xu Wen Shan moaned.

Lu Ze tried to make her voice gentle, but to Xu Wen Shan, it sounded chilling. He shook his head and clenched his teeth, but Lu Ze’s fingers were like steel bars, forcing his mouth open and feeding him the insect.

He felt something foreign slide down his throat with a gulp—the insect’s legs seemed to crawl across his throat, leaving it numb and itchy.

He retched, wanting to vomit it out, but nothing came. He collapsed to the ground, his stomach churning with nausea.

Xu Wen Shan, pale-faced, asked, “What did you make me eat?”

Lu Ze did not answer. Instead, she gazed earnestly at his face and said, “Do you know? For the past two years, I have thought of you day and night. I long to be with you.”

Xu Wen Shan replied, “But the paths of humans and monsters are different. There can be no future for us.”

“No,” Lu Ze shook her head. “There can be a future.”

Xu Wen Shan looked at her—her beautiful face was filled with sincerity.

“As long as Young Master Xu also becomes a monster, you and I can be together for eternity.”

“No!” Xu Wen Shan shuddered, springing to his feet.

The sand ropes binding him threw him back to the ground. Dust from the floor flowed into the ropes, making them thicker and stronger.

After securing him, Lu Ze began her ritual, chanting under her breath, apparently casting a spell to turn Xu Wen Shan into a monster.

He had to find a way to escape before she succeeded, Xu Wen Shan thought.

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In the midst of chaos, Xu Wen Shan noticed that some of the sand binding him was damp. He recalled spilling a cup of leftover tea on the floor earlier that day, leaving a patch of moist earth near the door.

The damp sand must have come from that spot. And it seemed to flow more slowly than the dry sand, likely due to the presence of moisture.

A sudden inspiration struck Xu Wen Shan. He spat several times onto the sand rope binding him. The moisture softened the rope. Lu Ze, engrossed in her ritual, noticed his actions but could not intervene.

He spat several more times, and that section of sand grew weaker. Seizing the moment, he exerted all his strength—the rope snapped at the damp point, and he broke free.

Before Lu Ze could cast her sand spell again, he stumbled out the door.

Lu Ze’s ritual was interrupted halfway; she was forced to give chase.

The two dashed onto the village dirt road, their shadows flickering in the moonlight, like a silent black-and-white film.

“No, I cannot become a monster.”

This was Xu Wen Shan’s most genuine thought at that moment.

After carefully studying the books left by the Sanfeng True Immortal, he concluded: the Taoist organization in this world was even more powerful than the medieval Church in Europe.

Here, Taoists were strong, with vast followers and strict discipline—opposing them was nearly impossible.

Being born in Deer-Crane Ravine already made life difficult; if he became something neither human nor monster, the difficulty would rise to hell level—eighteenth layer, at that.

He could not become a monster here.

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