The 6th Martial Uncle

"Money?" The villager looked puzzled. "What money?"

Martial Uncle reached out to stop Eldest Senior Brother, his shoulders slouched. Jiang Mubai had seen this before—sometimes there were street thugs in the market who carried themselves just like Martial Uncle did now.

"Do you know anything about herbs? Huh? No, right? My junior here went through all the trouble of gathering these medicinal herbs, and you just waltz in expecting them for free? Play dumb when money’s mentioned, is that it?"

The villager’s face flushed red. "You people are so money-grubbing! And you call yourselves cultivators? Disgusting!"

Martial Uncle turned his head. "Let me teach you a saying: 'A gentleman who is not stern lacks authority.'"

Jiang Mubai didn’t understand what it meant. Eldest Senior Brother hesitated. "Doesn’t that mean a gentleman should maintain dignity—"

But the villager’s shouting cut him off. In the next moment, Martial Uncle launched a kick, sending the villager sprawling to the ground, followed by a flurry of punches and kicks.

Eldest Senior Brother moved to intervene but froze, unsure what to do. Jiang Mubai, remembering the woodcutter from before, averted his gaze.

After a while, Martial Uncle finally stopped and explained, "The real meaning is: If a gentleman doesn’t hit someone hard enough, he won’t command respect."

"Is that really what it means?" Second Senior Brother sounded doubtful.

Martial Uncle smirked, bent down, and yanked the villager up by his collar. "So, what do you think of my words now?"

The villager, barely regaining his senses, widened his eyes and nodded frantically. "Everything the Daoist says is right!"

But Martial Uncle wasn’t satisfied. He smacked the man again. "Call me 'Dao Master'!"

"Dao Master! Spare me, Dao Master!"

Then Jiang Mubai saw a red glow flicker in Martial Uncle’s hand. "If you dare cause trouble again, I’ll end you. I know where you live and how many mouths you feed."

The villager was terrified, nodding incessantly. Martial Uncle let go, watching as the man scrambled away like a frightened animal. Shaking his head, he muttered, "Still didn’t hit him hard enough, tsk. Hey! Next time, bring money if you want medicine!"

The villager didn’t reply, too busy fleeing for his life.

Eldest Senior Brother, however, bowed respectfully. "Martial Uncle, may I ask about the technique you just used…?"

"Oh, that? Useless. Just for show. It’s called the Soulburn Curse."

Silence fell over them. Martial Uncle looked puzzled. "Your master knows it too, doesn’t he? Didn’t he teach you?"

Eldest Senior Brother shook his head. Second Senior Brother shook his head. Jiang Mubai also shook his head.

"I think… that’s a technique used by demonic cultivators," Eldest Senior Brother added cautiously.

Martial Uncle grew even more confused. "Our sect is demonic cultivation. Didn’t your master tell you?"

An eerie quiet settled over them. Jiang Mubai’s mind went blank. Just like that, he was a demonic cultivator? He’d heard wandering storytellers describe demonic cultivators as blood-drinking, flesh-eating monsters!

Martial Uncle mumbled something to himself, ignoring their shock. Eldest Senior Brother glanced back at the temple gate, then silently followed.

The rest of the journey was filled with Martial Uncle’s idle chatter. Eldest Senior Brother was lost in thought, Second Senior Brother’s gaze was vacant, and Jiang Mubai had already accepted his new identity—at least he wasn’t officially initiated yet, so he wouldn’t have to eat human flesh or drink blood anytime soon.

Martial Uncle paid no mind, rambling about trivial things.

But Jiang Mubai noticed something strange—the fog around them seemed unusually thick.

"Remember, whatever you do, don’t—" He caught Martial Uncle’s warning, but the words faded abruptly.

Jiang Mubai stood frozen. "Martial Uncle? Senior Brothers?" Panic rising, he took a few steps forward but saw nothing. Where Eldest Senior Brother had been standing was now empty. The dense fog swallowed everything, making it impossible to see.

Then a voice called out, "Is anyone there?"

Jiang Mubai turned. A faint figure stood behind him.

"Here!" Relief washed over him. The sudden disappearance of Martial Uncle and his senior brothers had unsettled him, and seeing another person was comforting.

"Come here!" The voice sounded eager. "Quick! I’ll take you out!"

"Okay!" Jiang Mubai replied. But after a few steps, he hesitated. What if Martial Uncle and the others came back looking for him?

"Have you seen my senior brothers?" he asked.

The figure just kept waving, urging him forward.

A chill ran down Jiang Mubai’s spine. Something wasn’t right.

"Come! I can get you out!" The voice grew impatient. "There are tigers in these mountains!"

Jiang Mubai glanced around, fear creeping in. Tigers? He’d heard stories—tigers were terrifying beasts.

He took a few more steps, and the figure became clearer. Finally, they stood face to face. A hand reached for him—and in that instant, Jiang Mubai saw the person’s face. Half of it was gone, leaving only bone. The remaining flesh bore two deep gashes, a horrifying sight.

The hand gripping him had a chunk of flesh barely hanging on by a strip of skin.

"You—!" Jiang Mubai stumbled back, but it was too late. The figure’s grip tightened, an unnatural strength dragging him into the fog. He struggled desperately, but it was useless.

Was this how he’d die? Guess he shouldn’t have eaten so well.

"Dispel!" A familiar voice rang out. Behind the figure, another shadow emerged. Black flames erupted, illuminating Martial Uncle’s face. The creature shrieked, retreating into the fog as fire flickered in the distance, growing fainter.

Slowly, the fog lifted.

"Martial Uncle!" Jiang Mubai cried in relief, only to get smacked on the head the moment he reached him.

"Didn’t I tell you not to move?"

"I didn’t hear you… Martial Uncle, what was that?" Jiang Mubai scanned their surroundings.

Martial Uncle did the same. "A changeling ghost. First time I’ve seen one." He glanced at Jiang Mubai. "Lucky for you, the thing controlling it was weak. Otherwise, you’d be dead."

"A full-fledged changeling is indistinguishable from a living person," Second Senior Brother chimed in, appearing behind them. Eldest Senior Brother stood guard, wary. "They’re controlled by tigers, luring lost travelers to their deaths. Changelings always appear with heavy fog."

"Tigers are that powerful?"

"As beasts, tigers are apex predators. Once they’ve tasted human flesh, they can gain intelligence and become demons. Then they’re no longer just tigers."

"What are they called then?"

"Mountain Lords."

"Martial Uncle, you’re amazing… You could handle a Mountain Lord, right?"

Martial Uncle sighed, looking at his hands with resignation. "I can barely deal with changelings. If we meet a Mountain Lord, just run fast."

"Run fast? Are Mountain Lords slow?" Jiang Mubai asked innocently.

Martial Uncle patted his head. "No. Just faster than you."

"......"