Chapter Forty-Eight: The Terrifying Scholar

“Not good.”
A shiver ran through me as I retreated into the Temple of the Son of Heaven at once. Beside me, Wang Feiyang and Lu Li’s faces also changed drastically, and in a flash, we slammed the temple doors shut.

Outside, the piercing, shrill voice of the Yin-Yang Scholar drifted in, sounding like a soul-calling incantation: “Honored guests, I know you’re inside. Hide well—this scholar loves nothing more than a game of hide and seek.”

No sooner had the words fallen than I heard a rustling sound outside, as though the Yin-Yang Scholar was tiptoeing right up to the temple doors.

“What should we do?”
The three of us exchanged glances. Though we had no idea how powerful this Yin-Yang Scholar truly was, we knew one thing: even if the three of us joined forces, we’d hardly fill the gap between his teeth.

“Hide. Wait for an opening.”
I muttered under my breath, darting behind the statue of the Son of Heaven. Lu Li and Wang Feiyang followed without hesitation.

We quickly concealed ourselves behind the statue. Though we knew it was only a matter of time before the Yin-Yang Scholar found us, at least it bought us a few precious moments to consider how best to deal with him.

Behind the statue, all was pitch black; not even a hand could be seen before one’s face. None of us dared to breathe. I bit through the skin on my left middle finger, and quietly began to draw the Thunder Sigil in my right palm. Beside me, I heard Lu Li murmuring the Sword Incantation.

At that moment, the old, rickety temple doors creaked open. The Yin-Yang Scholar’s shrill voice sounded again: “Are you hidden? This scholar is coming to find you!”

Every nerve in my body was taut, sweat beading on my forehead. Though I couldn’t see a thing, my eyes were wide open, locked on the darkness ahead—I had no idea if the Yin-Yang Scholar would suddenly appear right before me.

“Not here!” His voice came as he rifled through a pile of withered grass outside.

“Still not here!” Now he was overturning a broken table.

“Hmm? Still nowhere to be found?” This time, his voice was much closer—I could hear him kick over the incense burner before the statue.

“Here you are!”
Suddenly, a shrill, excited cry erupted right in front of me. The Yin-Yang Scholar’s half-black, half-white face appeared less than four inches from mine, twisted sideways in a grotesque grin that revealed jagged, uneven fangs.

Though I had braced myself, seeing that eerie, terrifying face made every hair on my body stand on end, goosebumps rising thickly at the roots.

“Damn!”
I screamed, striking out instinctively with my palm at the scholar’s face. To my shock, he didn’t dodge; my blow slammed his entire head to the ground.

Wang Feiyang and Lu Li leapt out from behind me. Seeing that I’d knocked the Yin-Yang Scholar’s head to the floor, both of them were dumbfounded.

I, too, was stunned—this wasn’t right. Since when had my Thunder Palm become so powerful? Could I really have taken him out in a single strike?

As confusion gripped me, the head that had rolled twice on the ground suddenly opened its eyes and flashed us a smile that made my scalp crawl. “This game of hide-and-seek is no fun at all. You three have no skill at hiding. Now that this scholar has found you, there will be punishment!”

No sooner had he finished than his headless body bent down, picked up its own head, and—unhurriedly—pressed it back onto its neck. He twisted his neck with a crack, crack. “Oh, pardon me, I put it on backwards.”

His body spun a full circle, another crack sounding at his neck. “There, now it’s on right!”

At that instant, I felt as though my heart might leap out of my chest. Wang Feiyang’s face was twisted with grief and rage. He knew now that, since the Yin-Yang Scholar had come after us, his grandfather, Wang Bilin, must already have been killed.

Despite knowing he was no match for the fiend, Wang Feiyang didn’t hesitate. He snatched up his bamboo knife and charged at the Yin-Yang Scholar.

Lu Li acted at once as well, forming hand seals and chanting, “Heaven’s Source, Supreme Unity, Spirit Marshal of soldiers, guardian of the world, preserver of life, Azure Dragon on the left, White Tiger on the right, Dragon Sword at my side, seal of the Five Blessings, commander of the gods, generals of the Three and Five—if there is evil, slay it; if there are monsters, destroy them. By the Sword Incantation, by the law, I command!”

As the incantation ended, a golden sword shadow a finger’s length long condensed at Lu Li’s fingertips. He pointed at the Yin-Yang Scholar, and the golden sword shot toward him like a bullet.

I, too, wasted no time, drawing a Thunder Sigil in my palm and reciting, “Heaven’s circle, earth’s square, nine-fold law, thunder and fire in my palm, let ten thousand ghosts yield!”

Having finished, I struck my palm at the Yin-Yang Scholar’s forehead.

Faced with our combined assault, the Yin-Yang Scholar’s eerie smile never faded. He simply twisted aside, effortlessly evading both my Thunder Palm and Wang Feiyang’s bamboo blade, then opened his mouth, lined with uneven fangs, and swallowed Lu Li’s sword shadow in a single gulp.

This display left the three of us utterly dumbfounded. The Sword Incantation is a high-level art, reserved for the chief disciples of Mount Shu—formidable against demons and spirits. Though Lu Li was not the greatest master, as the sect leader’s disciple and Mount Shu’s chief student, his technique should have been powerful. Yet the Yin-Yang Scholar had swallowed it as if it were nothing. Just how terrifying was this fiend’s strength?

Perhaps, if he wished, we would have died at his hand a dozen times over already.

With a slap, a wave of his folding fan, and a shrill, ear-piercing shriek, Wang Feiyang was sent flying by the Yin-Yang Scholar, crashing heavily into the statue behind him. I was grazed by the scholar’s folding fan, a bloody gash opening on my abdomen, burning with pain. Lu Li, struck by the scholar’s wail, was hurled through the air, crashing into a window that shattered to pieces from the force.

So, the three of us lay sprawled on the ground, faces deathly pale. The Yin-Yang Scholar stood there, laughing wildly, clapping and hopping about. “So much fun! Even better than hide and seek! Why don’t we play a story-telling game next?”

With that, he grinned, baring his fangs, and strode toward Wang Feiyang. He fixed that grotesque Yin-Yang face on Feiyang and said, “Just now, in the city’s paper effigy shop, I ran into a master who could fold paper into soldiers. He almost managed to hurt me! But I’m not so easy to bully. I used my Yin-Yang Fan to slice strips of flesh from his body, one after another, cut them into the shape of paper men, and strung them up as a wind chime!”

As he finished, the scholar waved his hand, and a string of wind chimes fashioned from human flesh appeared before him. Each chime was shaped like a person, features horrifyingly lifelike, every face twisted in agony—all bearing the likeness of Wang Bilin.

“Grandfather!”
Bloodshot, Wang Feiyang ignored the pain racking his body, leaping up and slashing madly at the Yin-Yang Scholar. The fiend gave a wicked laugh, seized the bamboo knife with one hand, and flicked his finger, sending it flying. It struck the statue behind Wang Feiyang with a heavy thud.

At the very instant the blade struck, a cold and imperious voice thundered through the temple: “Yin-Yang Scholar, how dare you! Before the Son of Heaven’s statue, how can you act so wantonly?”