Chapter 34: The Demon Monk (Revised)

The cyclone within Ling Chi’s body whirled madly. His war blade became a blur, its light forming a cage within a radius of several yards, aggressively wearing away at the Buddhist radiance.

Caught off guard by this sudden assault, Hongde hastily grabbed the monk’s staff beside him. His eyes darkened, his monk’s robe burst apart, revealing a sinewy, blue-black upper body with bulging veins and cords of muscle. A chilling, violent aura surged from him.

The iron-forged staff whistled through the air, clashing against the war blade with force enough to send shockwaves tearing the meditation room apart.

A chill ran down Ling Chi’s spine. No matter how he looked at it, this man was anything but normal.

With a sharp crack, the Buddhist light shattered.

Ling Chi seized the opportunity.

[Ha]

The Ha-syllable shattered the soul.

A golden little dragon of thunder and mist reappeared; thunder rolled as the shout forced Hongde’s body to sway. A piercing headache split his skull as if his crown had been struck through.

With a furious roar, black spiritual energy engulfed Hongde, his face twisted and contorted, wholly losing any trace of the dignified monk he’d been.

[Demonic Staff Technique]

The monk’s staff erupted with rolling demonic energy, which swirled around Hongde in a massive vortex, spinning rapidly toward Ling Chi.

Ling Chi felt as though even his soul were about to be sucked in.

[Thunder Protect Me]

Lightning flared more fiercely around Ling Chi, twin-colored bolts encircling him.

A torrent of blazing, crimson yang energy spewed from his mouth, striking Hongde like a waterfall, producing a sizzling hiss.

Hongde shrieked as he was scorched, yet the demonic aura on him only thickened. His previously sinewy body began to contract, fine scales spread over his skin, and the veins beneath writhed like snakes. Slowly, his body floated three feet above the ground.

If only you could fly, otherwise this fight would be over, Ling Chi mused, his heart unmoved by the sight. No matter what his opponent became, it would not change the outcome.

Ling Chi drew a deep breath. Countless electric charges danced over his skin, turning it golden. His heart thundered, blood rushed like a flood.

From his mouth came a peal of thunder: “Old demon, today you will aid my cultivation.”

Demonic energy condensed around Hongde; his true form revealed, only one could survive this day.

Ling Chi leapt high, blade chopped down in a slanting arc, the crimson blade striking Hongde.

Their battle grew ever faster—within moments, they had exchanged hundreds of blows.

Ling Chi was tireless, spiritual energy unceasing, the spinning cyclone within him providing boundless stamina. For any ordinary practitioner at this level, collapse would have come long ago; it was hard to imagine what he’d be like after opening his sea of qi.

In contrast, Hongde’s movements slowed, wounds from the blade multiplied, each cut laced with lingering thunder, tormenting him unbearably.

The righteous power of thunder was a natural nemesis to demonic energy; coupled with the crushing force of supreme yang, Hongde was soon driven from the air, exposing fatal flaws.

Ling Chi seized the moment, severed the fingers gripping the staff. Reeling from pain, Hongde’s defense broke further. The blade sliced through the tendon of his left leg; in a flash, Ling Chi spun and kicked hard at the hollow of his right knee. Hongde could no longer control his body and fell backward.

The crimson tip of the blade drove toward the second cervical vertebra at the back of Hongde’s neck. His central nervous system severed, Hongde howled in agony.

With a dragging cut, countless arcs of the blade flicked black blood into the air, splattering everywhere.

Ling Chi seized Hongde by the throat, pinned him with a knee, and let golden thunder-essence flow into him. The torrent surged through Hongde’s mouth, flooding his organs. Explosions burst from within as the demonic energy thinned, dissipating at last.

The moment Hongde had revealed his demonic form, Ling Chi knew interrogation was impossible.

With Hongde dead, more than five hundred threads of thunder-essence surged into Ling Chi, triggering a transformation. The Yin Conduit was instantly breached. Ling Chi immediately activated the Supreme Yang Spring Thunder Breathing Method, sending the cyclone of thunder spinning wildly.

Spiritual energy from heaven and earth funneled toward him as if through a giant funnel, with Ling Chi as the opening. A massive influx of yang widened his meridians and refined his body further. Though already honed to the utmost in this realm, impurities still seeped out.

The ninth and final major meridian of this stage—the supreme yang channel—was as mysterious as anything in all creation.

At the fourth quarter of the Tiger Hour, an explosive sound echoed within Ling Chi. His meridian broke through.

Feeling thunder and yang force flooding through him, the cyclone inside swelled to several times its former size. Ling Chi was elated.

His cultivation had advanced; he could not remain here any longer.

The meditation room lay in ruins. Ling Chi searched everywhere, finally discovering a hidden chamber beneath the Grand Hall.

What he found there filled him with unspeakable rage: rows of tiny white bones arranged along the walls.

He could not imagine what these children had suffered before death. Ling Chi left the bones undisturbed; it was not yet time for them to be discovered.

At last, in the training room, he found letters documenting dealings with the Lianshan Bandits. There was a terrible secret behind this group.

Those involved included not only the Lianshan Bandits and the Beneficent Faith Monastery but also the bandit headquarters in Guan County and even Hezhou. Ling Chi had every reason to believe there were more officials complicit than appeared on the surface.

But that was not his concern. He cared only for slaughtering the Lianshan Bandits and avenging the massacre of the Ling family village. He was no sage who fretted for the nation’s woes—he was a villain!

Ling Chi plundered all the wealth from the monastery, including a large jar from the bandit stronghold below, and made his escape.

Before leaving, he shut the monastery gates and hung a sign reading “Gone Traveling,” doing his best to buy several days’ delay and create time for his assault on the Lianshan Bandits.

After a night’s work, it was only just past the end of the Tiger Hour (around 4 a.m.). At the Ox Hour, he first slaughtered the couple in the small courtyard, then moved on to a brothel, killing the third boss and eight minions. Next, he struck the Lianshan Bandit base beneath Beneficent Faith Monastery, killing Li Chun and twelve others, and finally, Hongde and nineteen monks.

Two hours, four locations, three crime scenes, forty victims—what an efficiency of murder! Ling Chi could not help but give himself a mental nod of approval.

Before dawn, he rode out of the city, broke the jar and buried it, packed the money into a bundle and hid it nearby, then found his big black horse concealed in the forest and rode through the night toward Guan County.

Ling Chi’s soul trembled—this was the obsession of his predecessor. Having fulfilled that wish, Ling Chi could now begin anew.

He galloped on, carefully muffling his horse’s hooves to avoid alerting any who might deduce his route from the sound.

According to information from Li Shunfu, the Lianshan Bandit headquarters was hidden in Qingyuan Mountain outside Guan County. Ling Chi, as usual, hid his horse in the woods and buried his valuables.

He slipped into the county town, found an empty courtyard, and took a brief rest.

Once fed and rested, he began to study the Stealth Art left behind by the man in gray.

That man had used the Stealth Art to track Ling Chi undetected. The stronger a martial artist, the keener their sixth sense; Ling Chi himself was a trained assassin and even more advanced in cultivation, yet he had still been tracked. He was deeply intrigued by this technique.

No records remained of the Stealth Art’s creator, but according to its description, it could shield one from the five senses and intuition of others, effectively concealing the practitioner.

Determined, Ling Chi began to practice at once. After circulating his qi through a great cycle as described, he felt a strange change—an invisible membrane seemed to separate him from the world.

Could it be mastered so easily? Truly, he was a genius. Ling Chi practiced a dozen more cycles in one breath, the sensation growing ever more distinct.

“I feel as if I’ve acquired an extraordinary technique—its wonders are beyond anything I’ve ever heard.”