Chapter Three: The Old Hermit of the Mountains

Heading east, Han Tianyue and his companions crossed several mountain peaks and arrived beneath a pavilion. Having reached his limit, Feng Shang felt as if he were coming home at the sight of the pavilion; he rushed forward and called out, “We’ve been walking for so long—let’s all rest for a bit!”

Surrounded by verdant mountains and clear waters, the pavilion stood here in elegant solitude.

Mao Xuanzi remarked, “There’s not a village before or behind us—how could there be a pavilion in such a place?”

“Don’t be so mysterious! Maybe some hermit built it here,” Feng Shang replied, sprawling himself grandly on the stone bench inside.

“On a journey, caution is our best policy!” Though not as cryptic as Mao Xuanzi, Han Tianyue surveyed the surroundings. A faint path could be seen threading through the woods.

“I doubt there’s any danger here,” Han Tianyue said, pointing to the mountain trail. “This pavilion is probably meant for travelers to rest while climbing.”

Mao Xuanzi saw the path as well, and Han Tianyue’s reasoning convinced him. He took a seat beside Feng Shang.

After a brief rest, Han Tianyue stood, glanced at the nearby stream, and left the pavilion to fill his water flask.

Once the flask was full, he cupped the water in his hands, ready to drink, but was startled to see that it was blood. He recoiled and shouted, “Something’s wrong!”

The others sprang up at his cry.

At that very moment, dark clouds gathered overhead, and the pavilion crumbled into ruins.

“What’s happening?” Feng Shang was shaken by the sudden change, trembling as he retreated behind Mao Xuanzi.

Han Tianyue stepped back onto the ruins and joined Mao Xuanzi, saying, “Everyone, be careful!”

Fang Zhe took out his zither and held it close.

A wicked laughter echoed nearby. The voice jeered, “Well, well—a bunch of youngsters! It’s been ages since I’ve seen such tender meat!”

Mao Xuanzi’s eyes burned with fire; peering through the clouds, he glimpsed the figure. “Scorching Palm!” A red imprint shot toward the clouds.

“So hot! So hot!” After swallowing the palm print, an old wretch tumbled from midair, crying out incessantly.

As soon as he hit the ground, the old wretch vanished.

“Ah, troublesome!” The voice returned, sounding furious.

“Ice Orb!” Following the Scorching Palm, Han Tianyue released an orb of ice. It exploded in midair, and the temperature around them plummeted.

The old wretch cursed, “Trying to freeze me to death, are you?”

“Target acquired!” Fang Zhe’s voice rang out. He plucked his zither, sending a wave of sound toward the old wretch.

With a thunderous crash, the sky fell silent.

“Did we win?” Feng Shang, still hiding behind the others, heard no more laughter and lifted his head to ask.

“The clouds haven’t cleared—no doubt the old monster hasn’t left,” Han Tianyue said seriously.

“He’s still here?” Feng Shang quickly crouched down, waiting for Han Tianyue, Mao Xuanzi, and Fang Zhe to deal with the old wretch.

“He’s keeping quiet now, likely aware of our strength. He’s lurking somewhere, waiting for a chance to strike. Everyone, stay alert!” Mao Xuanzi warned, scanning the area.

No sooner had he spoken than a wave of black smoke surged toward them.

“Ugh, it reeks!” Feng Shang, crouched on the ground, pinched his nose and stood up, only to find the old wretch standing right in front of him. The old man stared hungrily, drooling, and said, “Of course it stinks! Don’t your farts smell?”

“Ah!” Feng Shang screamed, and a storm burst from his palm, blowing the old wretch far away.

Watching the figure swept into the distance, Feng Shang grinned, “Sometimes a gust of wind really does the trick!”

“Let’s go!”

Seizing the chance while the old wretch was blown away, everyone quickly fled.

Gold medals, favorites, recommendations, clicks, comments, red envelopes, gifts—whatever you have, send it all my way!