Chapter Fifty-Five: A Frenzy of Demons

Before long, Feng Yuan and his companions arrived at the Temple of the Sage. Just as the night before, the place was ablaze with light and packed to the brim. The sly-looking master was reciting aloud, and the people seated below listened as if bewitched, utterly enraptured.

The three of them found a place to sit. Feng Hanyun and Feng Changshun immediately began to sway their heads in rhythm, like patients seized by a periodic fit. Feng Yuan, however, remained clear-headed, unaffected by the strange atmosphere. His gaze swept around the hall and he noticed that there were a few more people present than yesterday—young scholars in clean attire, clearly still among the living. The ones he had seen the previous night were likely already dead.

Yesterday, Feng Yuan hadn’t realized that Feng Changshun and Feng Hanyun were both deceased, so he had paid little attention to the condition of the temple and those inside. Only tonight did he become aware of the heavy stench of rotting corpses pervading the place, and of a strange energy radiating from the sly-looking master as he delivered his lecture.

It seemed that this very force was bewitching the crowd, leaving them entranced by the master’s recitation. Feng Yuan alone remained unaffected, likely due to his own cultivation. He glanced outside but did not see Hu Xiao, nor did he know if Hu Xiao had arrived. Without Hu Xiao present, he dared not act rashly.

So as not to draw suspicion from the sly master, Feng Yuan mimicked the others, swaying his head as though under the same spell. As time ticked by, the master’s voice grew louder and more powerful, and Feng Yuan felt an immense force assailing his mind, his head growing dizzy.

When he looked again at the sly master, a shock ran through him—the master had somehow transformed into the likeness of the Sage, his entire body radiating golden light, as if a saint had descended. Yet within that golden aura, Feng Yuan sensed a thick and sinister energy, the opposite of true righteousness.

As the master unleashed this overpowering energy, three or four people in the crowd—the young scholars who had come tonight—rose mechanically, faces filled with reverence, and walked toward the master.

It was clear they were the next victims. The master, now in the guise of the Sage, beamed with satisfaction as he watched them approach, his chanting growing even louder.

A wave of yet stronger energy burst forth, and Feng Yuan’s mind was suddenly engulfed in dizziness. He felt himself losing control, overcome by an urge to prostrate himself in worship before this false sage.

The next moment, Feng Yuan, like the others, rose to his feet and began to walk mechanically toward the sly master.

But just then, a golden light shot out from the ball of energy in Feng Yuan’s lower abdomen, racing through his meridians and exploding in his mind.

In an instant, his body shuddered and clarity returned. Realizing that he had been unconsciously drawn in and was now walking toward the master, he was greatly alarmed. If not for the golden light within his core protecting him, he might have died without ever knowing it.

Meanwhile, the sly master noticed Feng Yuan’s sudden halt and immediately directed his chanting at him, sending an even more powerful wave of energy to assault Feng Yuan’s mind. However, the golden energy within Feng Yuan automatically formed a shield, blocking the invasion and keeping him free from control.

Still, Feng Yuan imitated the movements of the others under the spell, slowly approaching the master so as not to reveal his resistance.

The sly master, seeing Feng Yuan approach, looked extremely pleased.

With a wave of his hand, the other newcomers knelt before him. Feng Yuan quickly followed suit, betraying no sign of abnormality.

The master ceased his chanting and spat out a yellowish bead, which floated before Feng Yuan and the scholars. Waving his hands, the bead suddenly emitted a terrifying suction, pulling at Feng Yuan and the others.

The golden light within Feng Yuan instantly blocked the force. The other scholars, however, could not resist; their faces twisted in pain as faint white threads drifted from their brows.

The evil spirit had begun its work and it was time to act. Yet Feng Yuan still had not seen Hu Xiao and was uncertain of his chances. But time was running out. If he delayed any longer, the scholars would be lost.

With no more hesitation, Feng Yuan bellowed, “Fiend, cease your evil! Take my palm!”

He instantly summoned the golden energy from his core and sent it rushing toward the sly master.

A streak of golden light shot from Feng Yuan’s palm, heading straight for the master’s chest.

The sly master was caught off guard, never expecting Feng Yuan to strike so suddenly. He had no time to defend himself and was hit squarely.

There was a thunderous bang, a shriek of pain, and the sly master was sent flying several meters, crashing to the floor, his clothes torn to shreds. Yet he appeared uninjured, merely sprawled on the ground, the bead returning to his body.

The scholars collapsed as well, motionless—whether alive or dead, it was impossible to tell.

“Curse you! So you’re a cultivator! You dare ruin my plans? I’ll have your life!” the sly master roared furiously, a cloud of yellow smoke enveloping him. In the next instant, he transformed into a giant yellow weasel, its fur smooth and gleaming.

“A Yellow Immortal Weasel!” Feng Yuan was shocked. In folk tales, weasels turning into monsters were common, but he had never expected to encounter one in the flesh.

This Yellow Immortal Weasel was clearly powerful, on par with the wolf demon from before. Feng Yuan’s unexpected strike had failed to harm it, proof of its formidable physical defenses—far beyond what Feng Yuan could handle.

“Children, tear this human limb from limb!” the weasel snarled at the corpses sitting behind Feng Yuan.

At the command, the dead rose as one, their faces twisted in savage fury, hands outstretched, jaws gaping, lunging toward Feng Yuan with relentless ferocity.

Feng Yuan’s face turned ashen. Dealing with the weasel alone was challenge enough, and now more than twenty corpses were attacking as well. How could he possibly fight so many, no matter how strong he was?

Worse yet, escape was impossible. The exit was blocked by the corpses, the weasel barred the way ahead, and the sides were dead ends. There was nowhere to run.

While he hesitated, the horde of corpses was already upon him, dozens of hands reaching out to grab him all at once...