Chapter 11: The Sorcerer's Night Assault

Within the black lotus of Lu Sha’s sea of consciousness lay a dimensional space, vast and boundless. Unfortunately, it could only contain the monsters he had created or the materials of evil entities he had already subdued.

He tossed the subdued Cat Fiend into the black lotus space, then sat cross-legged on the ground, replaying the entire affair in his mind.

First, through this matter, Lu Sha realized that this world was not only home to martial artists but also cultivators of the Dao. The demonic priest who had brought ruin to Ma Tiezh’s family was evidently one of them.

Yet this practitioner had gone to such lengths simply to raise a low-level Cat Fiend, expending over three years in the process. Obviously, he was no great master; his cultivation was shallow.

However, the county magistrate had issued a special decree forbidding Ma Tiezh’s execution, clearly intending to nurture a ghost. This suggested some prior connection between the priest and the local magistrate, a relationship of at least modest familiarity.

A practitioner of shallow cultivation, old ties with the county magistrate, yet spent three years nurturing a mere Cat Fiend... Lu Sha mulled these details over, and a rough plan began to take shape.

…

That night, Lu Sha slept lightly, wary of the demonic priest’s sudden arrival. Fortunately, the night passed uneventfully.

It seemed the priest had not yet noticed anything amiss—or perhaps was still on his way.

For the next two days, Lu Sha remained highly vigilant, yet saw no sign of the demonic priest.

Not until the third night, deep into the silent hours, did the expected visitor finally arrive.

Midnight, with a faint moon and sparse stars, the crows silent in the night.

Suddenly, a gust of dank wind swept through, raising goosebumps on Lu Sha’s skin.

His eyelids quivered; he knew the man he had awaited for days had at last arrived.

Yet Lu Sha remained perfectly motionless, lying on his side beside the wall, emitting soft snores as if sound asleep.

From within the chilling wind, a shadowy figure drifted through the prison wall, appearing inside the death cell.

Wall-walking—a sorcerous art!

The visitor was tall and lanky, more a ghastly specter than a man, clad in a tattered Daoist robe that lent him an air of destitution.

He matched Ma Tiezh’s description exactly. There could be no doubt—this was the demonic priest.

…

Inside the death cell, the priest’s gaze swept the room and immediately fell upon Ma Tiezh’s corpse lying in the corner. His expression shifted slightly.

He cared nothing for Ma Tiezh’s life or death.

But above the corpse floated the Cat Fiend’s languid, hollow shadow, its state clearly abnormal. This filled him with anxiety.

The vessel was undamaged—so why was it dead? And if it was dead, why hadn’t the Cat Fiend’s spirit returned to its master?

If something had gone wrong, three years of painstaking effort would be wasted.

Dark suspicions flooded the priest’s mind.

In his urgency, he rushed forward, gathering the Cat Fiend in his arms to examine its condition.

But just as he prepared to inspect it closely, the Cat Fiend suddenly opened its mouth wide, revealing a single blood-red eye that locked directly with his own.

“Not good!”

The priest’s heart cried out in alarm—he knew disaster had struck.

In the next instant, his surroundings twisted and blurred, and he found himself transported back to Ma Tiezh’s home three years prior.

Within the house lay several corpses, their faces twisted in agony—Ma Tiezh’s family.

“Give me back my life… give me back my life…”

Sensing the priest’s arrival, the corpses awoke as one, their bodies contorting as they lunged at him.

A cacophony of corpse-wails split the air, and filthy, grayish yin energy flooded the room, enveloping him.

The priest’s mind reeled, a demonic cacophony pouring into his ears, blurring his senses, severing his spiritual awareness.

In a heartbeat, he was plunged into mortal peril.

But the priest had roamed the world for many years; though his cultivation was shallow, his combat experience was vast.

He instantly realized he had fallen into an ambush and formulated a response.

“Who dares lay a trap for me?”

“Break!”

The priest bit through his tongue, spitting a mouthful of blood, while his withered hands formed a rapid seal. A charm appeared out of thin air.

A deep resonance sounded as the charm trembled, light bursting forth.

The surrounding yin energy scattered, the corpse-fiends dissolving into nothingness.

In moments, the nightmarish visions dissipated like summer snow before the sun.

His senses returned!

But even as they did, a murderous chill surged toward the back of his head.

Having just broken free from the illusion, the priest had no time to evade.

After the priest was trapped, Lu Sha had instantly risen, drawing a short blade from his robes and stabbing at the back of the priest’s skull.

This razor-sharp dagger was one he had instructed Zhao Erhu to procure—a weapon prepared solely to slay this demonic priest.

How could the priest have imagined a condemned man would wield the power of monsters—and be armed with a deadly blade?

What kind of man, then, would languish in a death cell?

One careless misstep, and the threat of death was upon him.

…

The “Tortoise Essence Qi Cultivation Art” was not a martial discipline, but after half a month’s practice, Lu Sha’s body had grown much stronger.

The dagger thrust was swift and fierce.

The priest had no time to react; the blade pierced his skull, entering through the back and exiting through his mouth in a spray of blood.

“Agh!”

The priest, the blade clenched in his jaws, staggered and crashed to the floor, blood pouring forth.

A mortal man would have died instantly from such a wound.

But this priest was no ordinary mortal.

He immediately wrenched out the dagger, slapping a Daoist charm to the back of his head, sealing the wound.

“Still not dead? Truly a demonic priest,” Lu Sha murmured, surprised but unperturbed.

He had more in reserve.

…

A piercing, grating caterwaul split the night.

The Cat Fiend, its eight tails lashing, pounced upon the priest, greedily devouring his vital essence.

The very creature he had spent three years raising with painstaking care was now turning on its master.

“Damn you!”

The priest’s shock and fury were mingled with a wrenching sense of betrayal.

No—what he felt was more excruciating than mere betrayal. Only the most bitter of words could capture his torment.

Of course, the priest could not know that Lu Sha had already wiped the Cat Fiend’s consciousness clean. It was now nothing more than an empty shell, able only to follow the simplest commands.

Such as draining the vital essence of its former master.

…

“You wretched brat, you’re dead! You’re dead!” the priest raged. “I’ll rip out your soul and burn it in ghostfire for forty-nine days and nights! I’ll see you trapped between life and death!”

Lu Sha, unmoved by the threats, drew out another blade and stabbed for the priest’s heart.

If he could prepare in advance, why would he bring only one knife?

Even if the priest’s body was extraordinary, a mortal wound was still a mortal wound; surely it must have some effect.

Indeed, under Lu Sha’s relentless pursuit, the priest scrambled away, rolling and crawling, desperate to avoid further injury.

Gaining distance, he hastily formed another seal, sending a burst of spiritual light at Lu Sha as he shouted:

“Freeze!”

The light struck, and Lu Sha felt resistance grip his body.

But it lasted only an instant before he broke free, blade raised to strike again.

“What?” the priest gasped, his face draining of color.

His Binding Spell had no effect on Lu Sha?

How could this be?

This young man clearly had no martial cultivation!

Even against a practitioner at the Muscle-Refining level, his spell would at least slow their movements. Never had anyone shrugged it off as though nothing had happened.

Just who was this man?

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Thanks to “Old Dreams Fragrant with Flowers” for the reward of 9,000 points, and to “I’m Called Dog Egg in My Village” for the reward of 10,500 points.