Chapter 12: The Demon Reveals Itself

Roar!

Just as Wang Liang was about to agree to Wang Yi’s request, a strange howl echoed from the nearby forest. Four or five bizarre-looking monsters burst out from the trees. All of them had the heads of wild beasts on human bodies, thick fur covering them, and ill-fitting human clothes stained with unwashed traces of blood.

As they charged out, they wielded hunters’ pitchforks, roaring as they lunged at the nearest commoners.

At the sight of these monsters, the civilians shrieked, dropping whatever they held and scattering in every direction.

Only a handful of braver folk, armed with sticks, dared to stand their ground and fight back. Yet, peasants were peasants—though they summoned the nerve to swing their clubs, they stood no real chance of killing the monsters. Worse yet, their resistance only provoked the beasts, who used their pitchforks to kill several more innocents.

That was enough to send the rest fleeing in terror, leaving only Wang Yi, who could not run, huddled at Wang Liang’s side.

The little monsters, having slaughtered a few, saw that Wang Liang and the merchant Wang Yi still stood their ground and charged at them, excitement gleaming in their bestial eyes.

But Wang Liang paid these malformed creatures little heed. Monsters of this sort—mere beasts in human form—were nothing to him; his own estate was full of such lesser demons.

The spiritual beasts Wang Liang had captured from the Shaolin Temple, once enlightened by his steward Xiaolan, could all take on this beast-headed, human-bodied shape. Those of greater potential could even assume fully human forms.

As for these little fiends, it was clear they’d been carelessly transformed by more powerful demons. They could not even speak, a clear sign of their low rank.

As the monsters leapt forward, Wang Liang drew his Slaying Blade in a swift arc. One of the charging demons was cleaved cleanly in two.

That single stroke told Wang Liang all he needed to know about their strength. These monsters were roughly at the fourteenth or fifteenth level, favoring strength and agility—no match for cavalry atop warhorses.

This realization sparked a glint in Wang Liang’s eye. He turned to Wang Yi and said, “Hide yourself.”

With that, he raised his blade and charged into the fray.

Though Wang Liang now primarily cultivated the Supreme Mystery Canon, a technique not focused on offense, in battle he still relied on his mastery of the Mo blade, paired with his innate Qiankun skill.

With this combination, his strikes were easily twice as powerful as those of an ordinary man, and his attack angles multiplied. He could deliver blows from positions others could barely imagine.

This time, though he charged forward with his blade swinging down from above, as he reached the monsters, the blade’s arc swept horizontally from left to right.

Two more monsters were cut in half in a single motion.

Wang Liang then dropped into a low stance. As the Slaying Blade completed its sweep, he spun it upward in a rising slash, splitting the last monster down the middle.

With the battle over, Wang Liang sheathed his blade and strode back to Wang Yi.

He found that the others who had accompanied the caravan had vanished without a trace, leaving only the wagon behind.

“Do you still intend to visit the Mountain God Temple now?” he asked.

Wang Yi, nearly paralyzed with terror at the sight of the monsters, shook his head frantically, desperate for Wang Liang not to abandon him.

“Good. Forget the wagon. We’ll ride and pursue them. As long as we recover the signal gong, we can descend the mountain safely. You can ride, can’t you?”

At this, the portly merchant glanced down at his belly, but in the end, he nodded.

Wang Liang said no more. With a single stroke, he cut loose all the horses from the wagon.

Even without any special training, Wang Liang was a capable rider. He selected the horse that looked the most vigorous and mounted it.

Wang Yi was shoved onto another horse.

Just as they were about to set off in pursuit of the fleeing attendant, another man burst from the woods, face covered in blood.

“Master! Please take me with you!”

Wang Yi recognized him at once—a lowly servant who usually drove the wagon and handled deliveries. He had been the first to flee when the monsters appeared.

At the sight of him, Wang Yi’s anger flared. He dared not vent his rage at Wang Liang, but to this servant, he could show his full authority.

“Xiao Yi, where did you run off to just now? If you’re so good at running, why not keep going?”

Before Wang Yi could finish, Wang Liang interrupted him.

“You’re covered in blood. Did something happen in the forest?”

The servant called Xiao Yi stopped in his tracks, unable to speak for a long moment.

Wang Yi, exasperated, pointed at him and scolded, “What’s the matter, Xiao Yi? Cat got your tongue? You’re usually so glib!”

But before Wang Yi finished, Wang Liang had already leapt from his horse and swung his blade at Xiao Yi.

Wang Yi was stunned, about to shout for him to stop, when he saw Xiao Yi twisting his limbs in a grotesque, unnatural way as he tried to retreat.

Too slow. As Xiao Yi contorted backward, Wang Liang was upon him. The Slaying Blade fell in a downward arc, cleaving the servant in two.

But this time, Wang Liang’s face was grave. As he struck, he had the distinct sense that the true enemy had slipped away.

“It was a chang ghost,” Wang Yi murmured from atop his horse, trembling.

Wang Liang turned to him. The merchant was nearly petrified with fear.

“You recognize it?”

“I know a little,” he stammered.

Mounting his horse again, Wang Liang said, “Tell me what you know.”

“I—it’s just what my brother-in-law told me. He said that after the demon tiger achieved its transformation, it gathered three armies and set four heavenly kings to guard them. That’s why the imperial troops have never been able to wipe out the demon tiger, and the Jingyang Ridge became what it is now.”

“Three armies, four heavenly kings?” Wang Liang scoffed. He could see that the territory here was not vast enough to sustain so many troops. Whether three or four, it was most likely all empty boasting.

“No, it’s true. Each of the three armies is well-known and traceable. The first is the Chang Ghost Legion, the demon tiger’s personal guard, numbering three to five thousand. Every chang ghost was once killed by the demon tiger before it became a demon. The strongest among them nearly killed the demon tiger with his bare fists. Now, that one is called the infantry commander—the leader of the four heavenly kings.”