(Side Story) Shishu 013

That thing was clearly a demon—and a disgusting one at that. It had no eyes, no nose, only a mouth full of jagged, irregular teeth.

The moment it locked onto Wang Qianyue’s position, it began to slide lazily toward his head.

Wang Qianyue was scared out of his wits. What spiritual root did he have? What thunder magic did he know? He tried to explain himself, but the soft wooden gag in his mouth stopped him from uttering a single word—only muffled, indignant grunts escaped.

He could even feel the thing brush against the crown of his skull.

But it hesitated. It refused to bite down.

“Imperial Preceptor?!” The Left Protector, standing some distance away, was confused and shocked.

Wang Qianyue craned his neck back desperately, and what he saw was this: the long, slender demon had its mouth wide open, ready to clamp down on his head—but behind it, the skeletal figure of the Imperial Preceptor was gripping its body with all his might.

“Imperial Preceptor! What are you doing!?” The Left Protector was baffled, and a touch panicked. The Preceptor had actually moved? Everyone knew that ever since he’d extended his life, the Imperial Preceptor had lain in his coffin year-round, unable to move anything but his eyes.

“Heh... heh...” The Preceptor, his eyes bulging, fixed his gaze on Wang Qianyue—or more precisely, on the back of his neck. Something flickered in those hollow pupils that hadn’t been there before.

“Mas...ter’s junior...”

He forced out those two syllables with tremendous effort.

The two Protectors exchanged glances, both deeply puzzled.

“Imperial Preceptor! We cannot waste time! If the life-extending ritual fails, His Majesty will...”

But the Preceptor didn’t even look at them. He kept staring at the back of Wang Qianyue’s neck, where a square, neat talisman was imprinted.

“Master’s junior...”

Then Wang Qianyue remembered. Last night, as he was falling asleep, he’d felt an itch at the back of his neck. He’d groggily turned to look and caught Fang Zhiyi standing behind him, which had nearly stopped his heart. But Fang Zhiyi had just said he was teasing him, and Wang Qianyue hadn’t thought much of it.

“Forget it! Move! Let the Life-Stealing Demon get the job done!” barked the Left Protector.

Immediately, someone behind him rose and walked silently toward Wang Qianyue.

“Zuo Yin, do you hear that sound?” The Right Protector suddenly frowned, turning to look at the sealed double doors behind them.

“What sound? Today’s our big day. Outside are our people and the imperial guards. What could possibly—” The Left Protector paused. He heard it too. A faint, rising commotion.

Both of them turned together, staring at the doors.

Now even the others—the ones preparing to subdue the Imperial Preceptor—heard it as well.

It was screaming.

And the sound of begging for mercy.

Then, something slammed hard against the doors.

“Who’s there!?” The Left Protector formed a hand seal, faint crackles of lightning dancing at his fingertips.

The doors shook violently. Dozens of vines forced their way through the gap between the closed doors, clawing them apart, then yanked them wide with a sudden jerk.

A small figure stood at the threshold.

Though it was just a young man—a boy, really—he clasped his hands behind his back like some old codger. He cast a glance inside the hall, said nothing, and stepped across the threshold with a slow, deliberate stride.

Wang Qianyue nearly cried tears of joy. His patriarch would never let him down!

He wanted to shout, but he couldn’t. Otherwise, an avalanche of flattery would have poured right out.

“Pretty wicked, isn’t it? Using my junior to power the emperor’s life-extension ritual. You people tired of living?” Fang Zhiyi’s gaze turned icy cold as he swept his stolen look across the room. Everyone he glanced at felt a chill running down their spines for no good reason.

“Boy! Who are you!?” The Left Protector was alarmed. He had observed earlier: this one was nothing but a hollow corpse—a walking dead thing that had latched onto Wang Qianyue’s side. To keep the plan from arousing suspicion, he hadn’t bothered with it, intending to dispose of it after everything was done.

But now...

“Me?”

“Mas...ter’s junior...” Tears actually welled up in the Imperial Preceptor’s eyes. His other hand rose, as if reaching out to Fang Zhiyi.

“See? He just told you.”

The Left Protector paused for a beat, then frowned. “Don’t talk nonsense! The Imperial Preceptor’s martial uncle was a famous immortal who ascended a hundred years ago!”

“Ah. So just because I ascended, you think you can push my junior around?” Fang Zhiyi shot him a sideways glance.

The Left Protector didn’t bother arguing further. He began muttering an incantation under his breath and hurled a bolt of thunder forward.

This Palm Thunder spell could obliterate most evil spirits under heaven—including this walking corpse.

But to his astonishment, the thunder vanished before it could touch Fang Zhiyi, deflected by an invisible barrier.

“Impossible! Heaven and Earth, boundless! Borrow the might of the cosmos!” The Left Protector formed another hand seal.

Fang Zhiyi, however, seemed amused. “This low-level thunder magic still needs an incantation?”

“Mmph?”

The Right Protector lunged from the side in a sneak attack, but Fang Zhiyi simply crossed two fingers and flicked them in his direction. “Strike.”

An arc of lightning tore down from the sky, piercing straight through the Right Protector.

The Right Protector clutched the magic artifact in his hand, eyes bulging, body convulsing twice before slowly crumpling to the ground.

“You!” The Left Protector was truly shaken.

At that moment, he half-believed that this boy really was the Imperial Preceptor’s martial uncle. Because no one in the world could hurl thunder with a mere wave of the hand.

“Ummff waffle unth sowed own!” The gagged Wang Qianyue was mumbling with all his might.

Little Hei crossed his arms. “I’m guessing he’s saying our great patriarch uses your ultimate move like a basic quick attack, so shouldn’t you just slap your forehead on the ground and beg for mercy?”

Fang Zhiyi smirked. “Not exactly right, but close enough.”

“Even if you are Fang Zhiyi, so what?!” The Left Protector suddenly grew impudent again. “This is the Imperial Preceptor’s Hall, right under the emperor’s nose! We’ve got Daoist disciples guarding us and imperial palace guards besides. You’re just one man...”

Fang Zhiyi clapped his hands. “Well said. That’s why I didn’t come alone.”

And as he spoke, the vines clinging to the door burst into motion, shooting outward in a frenzy. In an instant, several of the men inside were wrapped up and dragged outside by their ankles.

“Of course, I know my own limits. I couldn’t have gotten in here on my own—since you’ve got the emperor’s army at your back. So I used him as my free pass... And along the way, I left a few messages scattered around.” Fang Zhiyi paused, then turned to look out the door. “Lucky me, someone actually picked up on it. Monster lifespans sure outlast mortals, eh?”

Wang Qianyue lifted his head toward the entrance. He could have sworn he was seeing things—a massive zither floating past the doorway.

“You! You collude with demons! By the statutes, that’s a death sentence!” the Left Protector cried in panic.

“Statutes? Whose statutes? Everyone under heaven knows that Fang Zhiyi once personally released and enlightened a great many monsters...” Fang Zhiyi tilted his head as he looked at the Left Protector. “I’ve talked with you long enough. My junior is getting impatient.”

“You—” the Left Protector began, but before he could finish, something wrapped around him—a tail—and yanked him off his feet. His head cracked loudly against the ground, and his entire body was dragged out of the hall without another word.