Daishan Turns The Wind Chapter 18

The Demonic Yuanbao

Outside the long pavilion, Kang Xiaole had specifically brought his guqin and played the melody he had composed for Shan Wuzhou, bidding farewell to the two.

He still remembered how nervous he had been that day, yet once he stepped onto the stage, his heart calmed, and he didn’t panic even when facing their scrutiny and questions.

Now, however, he felt somewhat awkward.

Gan Youyou chuckled beside him.

Lies couldn’t hide the truth. Feng Yuluo was, after all, eight hundred years old; though usually muddled, his eyes weren’t blind. Kang Xiaole’s harsh words were completely undermined by the look of reluctance on his face.

It was clear he wanted to find out what the two had discovered so he could cover any gaps and protect Gan Youyou. He had even prepared for the coachman to point the finger at himself.

Shan Wuzhou was even more perceptive. In some ways, he was very similar to Kang Xiaole, so how could he not see that deep sincerity?

Moreover, having an Ancestral Master who constantly gave himself away had trained him well.

The sound of the zither pierced mountains, crossed seas, and chased clouds across the sky.

Feng Yuluo listened for a moment, surprised. “So that’s the piece he wrote. Did you guess it?”

Shan Wuzhou looked relaxed and said, “Of course.”

Of course, he could guess who wrote which of the two pieces.

The one written for Gan Youyou was like a letter, full of melancholy at the time, and a repeated warning to himself not to be too attached.

The simple, comfortable life depicted in the fourth piece was Shan Wuzhou’s aspiration, but in his final imagination, he only dared to include himself.

Gan Youyou understood his solitude.

Kang Xiaole, on the other hand, had witnessed his other side—the vibrant and bright person he became when near a certain someone. That’s why he added hope and the dramatic dance with light into the melody.

Shan Wuzhou loved both pieces.

Feng Yuluo secretly glanced at him, hoping that after this incident, he might let go of some of his burdens.

Shan Wuzhou noticed and gave him a questioning look. The intense sunlight shone into his eyes, reflecting a spirited brilliance.

Feng Yuluo was startled by that gaze and inwardly cursed, wondering why he was still like this.

Getting back to the case, its resolution was due to an unexpected event. When the illusion was broken, a clone of Yuanbao was captured.

But it claimed it had something to do, transformed into a person, and turned itself in at the yamen, only to vanish when the case was closed.

It truly vanished.

Feng Yuluo wondered if this might be the opportunity to guide Yuanbao toward enlightenment—a genuine display of emotion?

He still needed to verify this.

He secretly asked Yuanbao’s main body, but it was sound asleep and ignored him. Feng Yuluo anxiously shook it. Yuanbao, grumpy from being woken up, stretched out its hand.

Seeing another massive slap coming, Feng Yuluo leaned back and retreated, slipping on the ground.

Shan Wuzhou, immersed in the music, reached out with both hands to catch him.

He held him by the waist and helped him stand steady.

An awkward atmosphere spread. Feng Yuluo woodenly uttered “Er” for a long time, then asked if creating so many puppets that were subsequently killed was troublesome.

Shan Wuzhou glanced at him, suppressing a smile, and said it was fine, as it was just an illusion.

He was lying again. Creating puppets using magic would inevitably consume spiritual energy.

The awkwardness persisted. Feng Yuluo huffed, “You brat grew up so fast. I feel like you were barely knee-high yesterday, and now you’re almost as tall as me.”

“…”

Shan Wuzhou quietly sighed and looked at him.

Ancestral Master, can you please take your amnesia act seriously?

Feng Yuluo realized he had given himself away.

Was he really this muddled? This careless?

He fell into contemplation.

In truth, Shan Wuzhou had it harder. The Ancestral Master was constantly revealing flaws—he was practically riddled with them—and Shan Wuzhou had to suppress his laughter every time, sometimes even covering for his master.

When Feng Yuluo showed another slip-up this time, Shan Wuzhou smoothly said, “I’m twenty years old. I should have reached my full height.”

That thin veil had been torn so badly it couldn’t be mended. If they pretended not to see it, then it wasn’t broken.

“…”

Feng Yuluo had finally understood over the past few days: amnesia wouldn’t solve the problem; it only made it worse. That brat Shan Wuzhou hadn’t stopped holding his waist!

He forced a smile, pretending to be utterly confused, and said, “Actually, just now in the illusion, I remembered everything.”

Shan Wuzhou froze.

The zither music stopped, and the oppressive heat of summer returned.

Kang Xiaole should be heading back with Gan Youyou to pack their bags, preparing to go to a new place.

Feng Yuluo struggled to fabricate a story. “It must have been the flash of golden light. Hmm, it was about as bright as the lightning during the Heavenly Tribulation. Just like that, by a strange coincidence, I remembered.”

A breeze blew, but it offered no coolness.

Shan Wuzhou’s chin felt hot and itchy, but he didn’t move.

“I was busy helping Gan Youyou at the time, so I didn’t get a chance to tell you. It’s not a big deal, just that I recovered after being knocked out by the heavenly lightning.”

Feng Yuluo scratched his hair, awkwardly scratching the air, not daring to look back, and walked forward with his head down.

“Is that so,” Shan Wuzhou spoke, his voice slightly low. “Then, I’ll send a message to Feng Mountain to tell Master and Second Martial Aunt.”

Feng Yuluo finally turned around.

In the shadow of the trees, Shan Wuzhou’s expression was unclear.

Feng Yuluo took out the incense burner and said, “The one that vanished was Yuanbao’s clone. Its main body is locked in here.”

Shan Wuzhou walked over, his gaze sweeping the ground, and took the incense burner to examine it.

It felt very familiar.

“Don’t you remember? You were the one who caught this demon, and I helped a little.”

Shan Wuzhou suddenly realized. This was the demon he had captured when he descended the mountain at eighteen. He had also encountered his masked Ancestral Master back then.

…

Who isn’t confused at eighteen or nineteen? After that conversation with the Ancestral Master who pretended to be drunk, Shan Wuzhou felt somewhat relieved and took advantage of the momentum to go down the mountain for practical experience.

That demon was entrenched on a mountain road, intercepting passersby. It would stare at people, and when they were utterly terrified and their hair stood on end, the demon would seize the opportunity to peek into the first half of their lives.

If it didn’t like what it saw, it would curse the person for a day and a night, forcing them to reflect. If the reflection wasn’t satisfactory, it would beat the person for two days and two nights.

Passersby were tormented to the brink of death, suffering nightmares for days after returning home.

But no one knew what the demon liked, because almost every passerby was cursed mercilessly.

Children were the exception, but they would be scared off with sarcastic remarks.

The locals realized this was bad—tourists stopped coming, affecting business—so they collectively raised money to hire immortals to eliminate the demon.

Master Feng Yarui didn’t think the demon was particularly powerful, so he agreed to let Shan Wuzhou go.

When Shan Wuzhou arrived at the mountain road and just took out his demon-subduing artifact, the demon proactively ran out, sized him up, and without waiting for an introduction, began to curse.

The demon yelled, “You little brat, how dare you come to catch me! Did you earn the money to buy this artifact yourself? Your heart is a muddy mess, you don’t even know who you are, yet you label others as demons. What makes you think you’re so great?”

Shan Wuzhou had never been cursed before. He found it extremely strange and smiled.

The demon had seen people get angry or cry when cursed, but this was the first time it had seen someone smile. Feeling satisfied, it immediately attacked.

The man and the demon fought for a long time. Shan Wuzhou was a genius in the way of the sword. The demon’s lair was blown up, and it fled in exasperation, with Shan Wuzhou in pursuit.

At that time, Feng Yuluo was several hundred years old. A single sentence from Shan Wuzhou had stirred up buried memories, leaving him preoccupied and unable to eat or sleep peacefully.

His disciple, Feng Yarui, was so worried he paid his respects five times a day, tearfully asking, “Master, please don’t scare me.”

Finally annoyed, Feng Yuluo put on a mask and descended the mountain.

He was going to find an enemy.

Liao Yuanzhi.

They had known each other while studying. There were countless geniuses among the scholars in the Imperial Examination Hall. He and this enemy, unfortunately, both possessed unparalleled talent and were extremely similar. Since neither could consistently win first place, they took turns competing for eighth place.

They competed in poetry, essays, memorization, and debating scriptures. Later, it escalated to competing in arguing, tug-of-war, tree climbing, and even competing for the master’s reprimands.

It was quite abnormal.

Calculating with his fingers, he realized his enemy’s time was almost up, so he came to see him off.

In the courtyard, flowers and plants grew haphazardly, and two rows of small green vegetables were yellow and drooping.

His enemy, with a head full of white hair, was rocking in a lounge chair.

He also cultivated the Dao and had lived for over eight hundred years, but unexpectedly, he failed his tribulation and aged like this overnight.

Feng Yuluo watched from a distance for a while, then quietly approached.

Liao Yuanzhi seemed to sense something, opened his eyes, and looked at him with the gaze of someone watching a thief.

The two stared at each other across the barrier of old age and a mask.

Feng Yuluo was the first to cough. “I was entrusted by someone to deliver something to you.”

It was a spiritual medicine that could prolong life.

Liao Yuanzhi sneered, “You old thief, you won’t even let me go at the end. You came here just to argue with me.”

“…” How did this annoying old man recognize him instantly?

Feng Yuluo tossed the medicine bottle over. “Take it or leave it!”

Liao Yuanzhi jumped up and smashed the bottle directly onto the ground. “I won’t take it!”

Feng Yuluo gritted his teeth. Despite his best efforts to tolerate him, they had reached the moment where enemies meet and eyes turn red with fury.

The two began to curse.

“What are you doing here?”

“Seeing if you’re dead yet!”

“Why must you monopolize even the last bit of spiritual energy before I die? Have you gone mad thinking about things!”

“Who wants your spiritual energy? All you have left is old man stench, you bastard!”

“I’m a bastard, yet you still eagerly came to see me? Are you that desperate?”

“I… I came to mock you!”

“You old tortoise, why do you keep cursing yourself indirectly!”

“You filthy thing, what part of you doesn’t look like a tortoise?”

…

Both were practically grinding their teeth to dust.

Feng Yuluo hadn’t expected that although the man was old, his temper hadn’t changed at all, and he was still so strong at cursing.

A gust of cold, sinister wind blew in.

Liao Yuanzhi’s expression hardened. He turned sideways and swung his palm to block it. It was a ball of black mist, heavy with demonic energy.

Already on the brink of death, the weakened Liao Yuanzhi was injured in his lungs and viscera by the sinister energy, bending over and coughing up blood.

The sudden turn of events stunned Feng Yuluo.

They were in the middle of an argument, and suddenly a powerful demon appeared. Feng Yuluo quickly pulled Liao Yuanzhi, summoned his immortal sword, and fiercely slashed at the demon.

After seven or eight moves, Liao Yuanzhi pushed him away with utter disdain. “Are you useless! Give me the sword!”

I’m fighting the demon for you, and you still talk to me like that? Feng Yuluo was furious. “You’re useful, then go use your butcher knife!”

Liao Yuanzhi’s face was ugly, hundreds of new wrinkles instantly appearing on his face. He glared at Feng Yuluo with hatred. “You’re the capable one, using an immortal sword worse than a butcher knife! You haven’t hit it once after so many strikes. What’s wrong, is the sword too short?”

Feng Yuluo nearly vomited blood. “You old thief, sooner or later I’ll string you up and beat you.”

The demon grew stronger, tearing off the roof. It knocked both of them down in a few moves, and bone-chilling cold pressed down on them.

Liao Yuanzhi’s body was weak, and he twitched uncontrollably.

This was the same demon that had been entrenched on the mountain road. It had been beaten away by Shan Wuzhou and had slipped here. Hearing people arguing, it was overjoyed and wanted to capture the two of them.

Shan Wuzhou rushed over, used his sword to parry the demon, and set up a sword formation to kill it.

Feng Yuluo climbed out of the rubble. Seeing that someone from Feng Mountain had arrived, he felt relieved and went back to pry open the roof beam, dragging Liao Yuanzhi out.

After a great effort, the two collapsed onto the ground.

Liao Yuanzhi, looking like a flickering candle in the wind, asked what kind of demon this was.

How would Feng Yuluo know? He tried to take Liao Yuanzhi’s pulse, but his hand was slapped away.

Furious, Feng Yuluo cursed, “What time is it now? Just let people worry less!”

“It’s none of your business! I don’t need you to worry!”

Feng Yuluo grabbed a handful of his hair, reluctantly crawling to look for the medicine bottle.

Shan Wuzhou was busy setting up the sword formation. Hearing the noise, he felt something was wrong. He looked back and, sure enough, saw the Ancestral Master. His heart panicked. Why was Ancestral Master here? And why was he injured?

This distraction caused the demon’s magic power to surge. It broke through the sword formation and charged straight at Shan Wuzhou.