Inner Demons

Chapter 39: The Taoist Acolyte

The old man, with white hair and beard, whose youthful nickname was "Killer Ghost," felt his chest heaving like a bellows. After delivering two fierce saber strikes, his arm trembled slightly, and his heart pounded in his chest as if it would leap out.

But his body was filled with blood that had become hot again. He once again experienced that unrestrained, destructive pleasure.

He recalled long, long ago, when he beheaded people in heavy rain. Hot blood sprayed onto his face, just as it was now. The blood tightened his skin, and the subtly sweet (xīng, fishy/bloody) smell made him alert.

He also remembered how, in the past few decades, as a lonely man, he watched Eldest Young Master grow up little by little, marry, have children, and stand on his own. He was a cripple and a family servant, but he felt Eldest Young Master was his own son.

Now he had nothing left.

He felt empty. But the emptiness was quickly filled by something else... the suppressed malevolence and brutality, like a hidden volcano, erupted.

Killer Ghost Meng'e stood straight, closed his eyes. A muffled, prolonged gasp escaped his chest. A quarter of an hour later, he suddenly opened his eyes and grunted. His joints cracked and popped, and the old man, straightening his back, seemed to grow several feet taller in an instant. The "Seven Kills Saber Technique," which he had pushed to its peak, was furiously burning his life force—this overbearing cultivation method, which he had accidentally acquired in his youth and earned him his reputation, now became a deadly poison and a burning fire.

He slowly exhaled.

White mist, like sharp arrows and long dragons, pierced the night sky.

Three breaths later, the old man easily picked up the thirteen-pound broad-backed saber with large rings and walked towards the West Courtyard. After a few steps, he saw a maid approaching.The little maid was originally watching Qiao Jiaxin. But Qiao Jiaxin was surprisingly quiet that night, so the two of them felt tired and hungry. So she walked towards the kitchen to get something to eat.

But in the darkness, she heard a clattering sound and vaguely saw the old man's snow-white beard and hair illuminated by the moonlight. The tired and sleepy little maid snorted inwardly, and as she hurried along, she mumbled: "Old man, you scared this lady half to death in the middle of the night."

After three more steps, she finally saw the old man clearly. She saw the blood on the old man's face.

The little maid subconsciously stopped, thought for a moment, then was about to cry out.

But the old man had already reached her, not stopping, nor looking at her.

He simply raised his hand. The saber rose, the head fell. He continued to move forward.

The smell of blood permeated the gentle spring breeze, mixing with the scent of wine, meat, and perfume. Meng'e reached the gate of the West Courtyard and pushed it open. Indecent laughter and chatter assaulted him again, but now they couldn't faze him.

He walked towards the pavilion with urgent desire, limping. A night breeze rose. The candlelight in the pavilion flickered erratically. The tip of the saber touched the ground, and the metal scraped against the stone slab with a grating sound—the three finally turned their heads.

Even the most obtuse person noticed the old man's unusual demeanor. Madam Qiao Wang, at this moment, finally recalled the words Qiao Duanhong had unintentionally mentioned.

"...Master Meng has gotten older these past few years. When he was young, he wasn't so good-tempered."

"...Called Killer Ghost. Don't look at Master Meng the way he is now... he came to the escort agency when he was desperate..."

"...You haven't seen him in action, have you? He's quite skilled."

At once, a nameless fear rose in her heart. She stared directly at the blood on his face, raised a finger at him, and shrieked in disbelief: "Killed... you killed someone?! You killed someone?!"

"Yes. This old man... killed someone, yes." The old man with white hair and beard said in such a strange tone and hoarse voice.

When he was young, he spoke just like that.

"Not enough killing yet." He took two steps forward. He walked very slowly, but not to intentionally create a sense of oppression or play a cat-and-mouse game. It was because the overbearing power of the "Seven Kills Saber Technique" was about to deplete his life force.

"Just now, Eldest Young Master left. You two, are going to accompany him." He finally stepped onto the platform, clearly seeing the three terrified faces.

Qiao Jiaming blinked his drunken eyes for a long time before realizing that the old man with the saber was only three steps away from him. He trembled in fear, pushed Madam Qiao Liu away as if shocked by electricity, and then frantically tried to escape.

"You can run!" The old man roared, swinging his saber. The blade cut through the air, and the iron rings on the back of the saber clattered loudly.

The blade first cut down the white gauze curtain between the two, then swept past Madam Qiao Liu's arm, leaving a long gash. Then... its momentum suddenly slowed. Like a soaring dragon suddenly losing its divine power, it heavily folded downwards, striking the stone table.

The sound of shattering cups, plates, and bowls mixed with the frantic escape sounds of the three people. Madam Qiao Liu screamed loudly, and Qiao Jiaming screamed even louder. But after howling for a while, the three suddenly realized... the old man was silent.

And they heard the heavy saber clang as it hit the ground.

Then, still shaken, they looked back and saw the old man had fallen to the ground. His forehead first hit the edge of the table, then the stone stool, and then the ground. The blood gushing from his mouth and the blood oozing from his forehead stained his hair and beard red, making him look as if he had died.

Qiao Jiaming was stunned for a long time before he pushed away Madam Qiao Liu, who was crying and claiming she was going to die. He then nudged Meng'e with his toe. Seeing no reaction, no sign of trickery, he walked over, bent down, and checked his breath.

Then he pulled his hand back, gritting his teeth: "This old killer! He's not dead yet! He's gone against us! Murderer!"

As he spoke, he tried to grab the large saber on the ground, emboldened by the alcohol. But after all, his body was hollowed out by wine and women, and he had drunk too much, plus the saber was heavy. He tried to lift it, but couldn't.

Then he heard Madam Qiao Wang, supporting herself on a red wooden pillar of the pavilion, say tremblingly: "That's enough, that's enough, let's spare his life for now. Bind him and send him to the Prefect's yamen. Eldest Young Master is dead... Meng'e, that's just perfect. A household servant colluding with bandits from outside. Anyway, when he was young, I heard he was a bandit. Prefect Li... didn't he say he was looking for an excuse? Well, here it is."

"Old servant colluding with outside bandits? Huh?" Qiao Jiaming's eyes widened, "Who would believe such a thing?"

"It's precisely because it's hard to believe that people will think it's true. Fool." Madam Qiao Wang's face darkened, she looked at Qiao Jiaming, then at the sobbing Madam Qiao Liu, "Besides, this old fellow... who was he close with normally? Did you forget?"

"Huh?" Qiao Jiaming blinked.

"Sigh." Madam Qiao Wang sighed, "That Old Daoist Liu. Didn't those two often drink together? Don't you want that Dragon King Temple in the back street? Didn't Prefect Li say the day before yesterday that he didn't have an excuse to act? Well, now he does!"

Qiao Jiaming slapped his hands together at this point, completely forgetting his earlier fright, and with the help of alcohol, became smug again. After a moment of smugness, he gritted his teeth and said, "Good, good, I was just thinking that. Hmph, I didn't originally intend to trouble that old man. But who told that kid—hmm? What was that kid's name again?"

"Who cares what he's called. I haven't even touched a finger of sister Jiaxin, but he, hmm? He even hit me that day? Just looking at his slicked-back hair and powdered face, he's no good. Old Daoist Liu's disciple? Heh, I know about those dirty deeds! What kind of Taoist acolyte? A boy? Isn't he just for playing with? Those who say they cultivate immortality, hmph, who doesn't keep a few, tender young rabbits? What were they called, called... um... behind, behind..."

Madam Qiao Wang frowned slightly, seemingly disliking his words: "You must not say such things when you go to court later. Control your mouth. This time, it's also because Prefect Li is short on money that he fancies that Dragon King Temple. Normally, as a Prefect, with only a few thousand taels of silver income a year, why would he stir up such trouble for a single house?"

"What you should say is not about any acolytes, but that everyone in our Qiao Family escort agency is gone, but an old Taoist and a young man who were with the escort were unharmed. Then they returned, and the household servant who was close with that old Taoist first killed the master and then tried to kill the mistress. Ask Lord Prefectural Governor to interrogate them carefully, then we can learn that it was Old Daoist Liu and Meng'e who got greedy and colluded with outside bandits. You must remember all this, lest you claim ignorance when questioned!"

Qiao Jiaming impatiently waved his hand: "Heh, women, always overthinking. That Old Daoist Liu, that kid, they're just ordinary commoners. If the Prefect wants to handle the case, find an excuse to arrest them, give them fifty 'might-subduing' beatings, even a man of iron will confess—why so much fuss..."

...

So many things happened in the mansion just a street away, but Li Yunxin only found out seven days later.

Old Daoist Liu woke up the next day, disoriented, saying he had seen a ghost last night, but also feared he was drunk and seeing things. Li Yunxin simply told him that was indeed the case—he had gone out and only saw Old Daoist Liu spinning around a few times before collapsing.

This was better than explaining more to him.

Then came his daily painful process of trying to break through the restriction. The number of visitors increased slightly on the second day, then gradually decreased on the third. After all, it was an inconspicuous temple, and although the nearby villagers knew about it and came, the news wouldn't spread quickly. It would probably take some time for the news of "the Dragon King Temple in the city manifesting a true spirit" to gradually reach more people.

After all, it wasn't the information explosion era he came from. It was not strange for people in a certain part of Weicheng to only learn about today's events a year later.

But this was also a good thing for Li Yunxin. The temple's incense gradually became more prosperous, and he could slowly adapt and get used to it, without feeling like he was going to explode.

He learned to use the little spiritual energy he could mobilize, wrapped with the power of incense and vows, to collect it into his "snow mountain." Using that power to drill hole after hole in the snow mountain, he felt his usable spiritual energy increasing day by day.

Three days later, he could walk around with a normal expression while enduring the pain. It was just that his steps would be slower, and his complexion would be paler. Some pilgrims occasionally saw Li Yunxin, and while surprised that the old Daoist suddenly had a young disciple, they were also surprised by his handsomeness. Some women secretly said that Old Daoist Liu had no children, and this young Daoist would probably inherit his legacy in the future. He looked decent, had a property, and the temple had income, making him a good match.

It was just that the young Daoist looked pale, and they wondered if he would have a sickly body in the future.

Li Yunxin looked a bit older than his actual age. So two days later, matchmakers actually came to inquire—he, of course, laughingly refused.

This was because he had been appearing in public frequently recently.

Before, he stayed in the mountain village and only saw villagers. Now that he had come to Weicheng—the "Magic City" of this world, he naturally wanted to see what kind of life customs people here had. He was a psychologist in his previous life and used to love observing people, and it was the same now.

So during the day, he entered the role of "Old Daoist Liu's" disciple, sweeping the courtyard, arranging incense and candles. He would say a word or two and nod to a few familiar faces. Then he would move a bench to a corner of the front courtyard and stare blankly at the passing pilgrims—others saw him staring blankly, but he was actually assaulting his restriction and, by the way, thinking...

How to deal with Young Master Nine, Bai Yunxin, and potential crises. It was always good to observe people more at such times, as it often led to good ideas.

Humans were indeed very interesting creatures.

He just didn't expect that before these major crises arrived, another trouble would come knocking.

The Qiao Family incident.

On the morning of the seventh day after seeing Qiao Jiaxin's Faceless Ghost soul.

There weren't as many people as in the previous days. Probably because every morning, Miss Yin, who sold tofu across the street, would come to offer incense and make wishes. The name "Miss Yin" was Li Yunxin's way of calling her—the girl would glance at Li Yunxin with a shy, smiling look in her eyes, "Oh, just call me Yin Xueruo."

Actually, to be fair, Miss Yin was indeed quite good. Perhaps because her name contained the character for snow, she was extremely fair. Faint blue veins could be seen under her neck, and her thick eyelashes cast shadows on her snow-white cheeks in the sunlight, like two butterfly wings. She had a slender and delicate figure. Li Yunxin couldn't see her legs through her cloth skirt, but just by her posture, in his era, she would probably be the type of small, charming woman whom men would chase, pamper, and hold in their hands.

She was fair and beautiful, and on this street, she was also considered wealthy.

One jiao of silver for one stick of incense, converted to RMB in his era, was two hundred yuan. He mused—a girl spending two hundred yuan every morning, six thousand yuan a month, without even blinking an eye... what level of rich and beautiful was that?

But such a girl, in novels and legends, would merely be a "Tofu Beauty" character—the most inconspicuous and ordinary person in the story. Whenever he thought of this, he found it increasingly interesting. Seeing things with his own eyes and seeing things through others' eyes were indeed different.

On this particular morning, as Miss Yin, as usual, offered incense and then, as usual, swayed over to Li Yunxin and said "Good morning, little Taoist priest," Old Daoist Liu walked in through the front door, his brows furrowed.

He looked up, saw Li Yunxin, and his face immediately fell. Then, like a child asking for candy but afraid of being refused by an adult, he walked up to Li Yunxin: "Brother Xin, something has happened..."