Uncle-Master 011

"Where do you get the nerve? Huh?" Fang Zhiyi stood with hands on hips, glaring at the man who called himself Li Jia. Spotting his two junior disciples nearby, he took a moment to nod at them.

"You! I heard White Cloud Temple was benevolent—clearly an exaggeration!" Li Jia, despite being beaten, still spat defiance.

Fang Zhiyi smirked and was about to roll up his sleeves when a low rumble of thunder echoed overhead. He glanced up irritably, then reluctantly smoothed his sleeves back down. "Disciples! What did I teach you?"

One of the followers piped up, "Master, was it ‘Learning without thinking leads to confusion, thinking without learning leads to exhaustion’?"

Fang Zhiyi nodded approvingly. "Close enough. Attack!"

Several disciples charged forward with wooden staffs, and Li Jia curled into a ball, howling in pain.

He hadn’t grasped the meaning at all.

Little Hei, however, overheard Fang Zhiyi’s silent apology to the sages in his mind and shook his head in exasperation.

"My apologies, great sages..." Fang Zhiyi muttered for the umpteenth time.

Just then, a Daoist priest nearby shouted, "You vile cultivator! How dare you act so ruthlessly!"

Li Jia opened his mouth to retort, but a staff smacked across his lips, silencing him.

Luckily, the lead disciple eventually tired, leaning on his staff and pointing at Li Jia. "Listen well. If you don’t reflect after my master’s lesson, this beating was for nothing. If you reflect but don’t return willingly for further instruction, you’ll die."

Li Jia gritted his teeth—not just figuratively. After several blows to the mouth, he was certain a few teeth were already loose.

Nearby stood two other disciples, dressed differently from the ones beating him. One wore a blank expression, while the other gazed at him with pity, driving Li Jia’s humiliation to its peak.

Fine. Just fine. You vile cultivators dare treat me like this? Just wait. I swear I’ll have my revenge—or I’m not human! Li Jia—no, Xiao Yunche—silently vowed. If only the divine artifact had responded, he wouldn’t have suffered such disgrace!

Fang Zhiyi watched as Li Jia limped away, then turned to the stunned onlookers with a warm smile. "No need for alarm, everyone. That man was a malevolent cultivator trying to infiltrate White Cloud Temple to harm you. Fortunately, I caught and stopped him."

Some devotees immediately thanked Fang Zhiyi, while another asked, "Reverend, why not kill him?"

Fang Zhiyi waved his hands dismissively. "Cultivators refine their hearts—how could we recklessly take lives? Though he’s a vile practitioner, as one who seeks to aid the world, I’m willing to give even the wicked a chance to repent."

The crowd murmured—some applauding, others moved to tears.

Only Jiang Mubai looked odd, his face red with suppressed laughter, while Li Buyan turned away as if something fascinating had caught his eye elsewhere.

Mission accomplished, Fang Zhiyi waved cheerfully and retreated into the temple.

Zhao Yichen, counting copper coins nearby, chuckled under his breath. "Uncle, you’re shameless."

"Hey! Is that any way to speak to your elder? You’re not learning proper manners these days."

Zhao Yichen just grinned.

"Well? Found anything?" Fang Zhiyi asked Little Hei, who bobbed up and down. "Spotted it, but it’s still too small. Our presence probably disrupted its plans. Acting now might cause... complications."

Fang Zhiyi glanced at the sky, where sunlight now pierced the previously dark clouds.

"Uncle, we’ve dealt with the bear demon," Li Buyan reported, bowing. Fang Zhiyi nodded. "Drag it to the back later. Check if it formed a core."

As the bear’s corpse passed by, Fang Zhiyi winced at the gruesome wound. His usually stoic senior disciple was growing increasingly brutal—swinging from one extreme to another.

The temple’s rear courtyard was newly built but strictly off-limits to devotees and even most disciples. Stepping through its gate, the very air seemed heavier.

A black cat napped lazily, meowing once at Fang Zhiyi’s arrival. Then a massive green serpent slithered down from the roof, flicking its tongue at the group.

Without hesitation, Fang Zhiyi shoved it aside. "Scram. Don’t block the path."

The serpent sulked, slithering to the ground before following them. Meanwhile, several weasels peeked from behind a rock garden, their eyes widening at the sight of the bear corpse before scrambling atop the rocks for a better look.

The peach tree transplanted from South Mountain trembled, as if trying to uproot itself. Its surroundings were scorched by lightning strikes.

"Stay put, Little Peach. A few more thunderbolts, and you’ll be free."

Jiang Mubai glanced around, always fascinated by the temple’s hidden menagerie. His uncle had turned this place into a sanctuary for spirits and oddities—the shapeshifting snake, the weasel that once demanded deification, the lightning-struck peach tree... Thank goodness the temple master wasn’t here, or he’d lose his mind.

They’d encountered the weasel while subduing the peach blossom spirit. Jiang Mubai had been stunned, but Fang Zhiyi reacted faster.

"Do I look like an immortal or a god?"

It was the first time Jiang Mubai had seen shock on an animal’s face. The weasel tried to flee but seemed trapped, and Fang Zhiyi badgered it until it feigned deafness. Eventually, he brought it back to "think things over." The next day, its entire family showed up.

The peach blossom spirit specialized in enchantment, but Fang Zhiyi didn’t bother with subtleties—he just dug it up with a hoe and replanted it here.

Then there was the self-playing zither from a wealthy estate. Fang Zhiyi had declared it perfect background music and hauled it home. Now its melancholic tune drifted through the courtyard.

"Stop! How many times must I tell you?" Fang Zhiyi scolded. "More festive! More lively!"

The music paused, then shifted to a livelier rhythm.

Fang Zhiyi hummed along to "Good Fortune Comes," then sighed. "Still too plain. Any of you know where we can find a drum spirit?"

Li Buyan replied, "Uncle, we encountered no other supernatural threats this trip."

Fang Zhiyi sighed. "Business is drying up lately." He washed his hands in a water vat, shoving the emerging water monkey’s head back under.

"Uncle, maybe we’ve just captured too many lately?" Jiang Mubai wasn’t lying—their haul of demons and spirits had surged these past months.

"Tch. Maybe we should expand our range?"

Li Buyan clasped his hands. "Understood." He hesitated. "Uncle, keeping so many malevolent beings here may invite disaster."

"Oh? What do you suggest?" Fang Zhiyi raised an eyebrow.

"In my humble opinion, we should execute them all and harvest their cores for cultivation."

Fang Zhiyi couldn't help but feel exasperated. This Li Buyan had truly swung from one extreme to another - formerly a complete pushover, he'd now become the very picture of a malevolent cultivator.