34. You draw the crowd, I draw you in. (Please support)

The brass oil lamp stared at Chen Huangpi as if he were a fool.

Someone wanted to kill Chen Huangpi? And they would send someone here to do it? What nonsense—this was the Ten-Thousand Mountains. How intense must that hatred be?

“Huang Er, you don’t understand,” Chen Huangpi replied, shaking his head with earnest seriousness. “I’ve seen their memories. They all practice sinister arts and are vengeful by nature. My master devoured Lin Ye, I fed their souls to the Ghost of Death, and took their geomantic divine disk. The enmity is already forged!”

“The Twelve Madam was sent to kill me—oh, and I fed her to the Ghost of Death as well. Now it’s truly a matter of life and death.”

The brass oil lamp scoffed, “What if they’re not coming for you? Besides, when Lin Ye’s people met you, the god they brought was devoured by the mutated idol. They couldn’t send word outside. They ought to be hunting the mutated idol instead. As for that geomantic disk, just don’t use it. And it’s just a dead object—how could it compare to me?”

Chen Huangpi pondered a moment and nodded. “Huang Er, what you say makes sense, but something still feels off. The Twelve Madam practiced evil arts. Just a glance at her technique made me want to kill. Those who cultivate such things are capable of anything.”

“There’s really such a wicked technique?” The brass oil lamp grew curious. Living side by side with Chen Huangpi, it knew his temperament well: sly and mischievous, but at heart a kind and steadfast child. How strange must this technique be, to make him murderous at first sight?

Suddenly wary, the lamp eyed Chen Huangpi, “Wait, you’re not planning to use that evil art on me, are you? I still haven’t settled the score with you over the Dog-Taming Sutra!”

Chen Huangpi shook his head, “No, it won’t work for us.”

“That’s good,” the lamp breathed out in relief, though it felt it couldn’t trust Chen Huangpi’s word alone. “Wait, show me the full text of that evil art first. Otherwise, I won’t believe a thing you say.”

“But…” Chen Huangpi hesitated. The technique was truly sinister. What if Huang Er’s mind was affected?

“No buts!” the brass lamp shouted angrily. “You’re just hiding something. If you won’t show me, you must be up to no good.”

“I’m not!” Chen Huangpi retorted indignantly. “If you insist, then I’ll show you.”

With that, he transmitted the entire Joyous Arts technique to the lamp.

“This technique…” The brass oil lamp glanced at it and immediately felt dizzy. Its body heated up, lamp oil bubbling.

Chen Huangpi said, “Isn’t it wicked? Didn’t you feel like killing someone just by looking at it?”

“Yes! I want to kill right now!”

“I told you not to look, but you wouldn’t listen.” Chen Huangpi sighed deeply. “Now even you’re affected. Better let me help you dispel the Dog-Taming Sutra.”

“What’s the hurry?”

“Huh?”

“No, I mean, I must study the flaws in such a sinister technique,” said the lamp seriously. “Otherwise, if you meet a cultivator with this skill, you’ll have no way to counter it. Besides, maybe I can extract some useful methods for you from it.”

No sooner had it finished speaking than the brass oil lamp withdrew all its aura, as if lifeless, and began to seriously research the technique.

Chen Huangpi was baffled. He muttered, “This technique really is wicked. Huang Er only glanced at it and now doesn’t care about dispelling the Dog-Taming Sutra. Could it be possessed?”

His master had entered the newly expanded area of the Pure Immortal Temple and had yet to return. If Huang Er went mad at this moment, Chen Huangpi would have no way to deal with it.

With a sigh, he tried to put it out of his mind. Fortunately, now the vital energy between his kidneys was more abundant than ever, and the pace of forging the Kidney Temple had increased. He’d already killed so many fruits of men and even swallowed a piece of the Demon Tree’s bark. The outline of his Kidney Temple had already formed. Now, the forging was speeding up, and even the dragon bones of the temple grounds were beginning to emerge. He estimated the Kidney Temple would be completed within a day or two.

When the time came, he would need to invite a deity to inhabit the Kidney Temple. If he couldn’t find a suitable god, even an evil god would do.

“I feel that even at her peak, the Twelve Madam couldn’t defeat me!” Chen Huangpi mused. “If Huang Er truly falls to madness, I’ll have no choice but to strike hard and wake it up!”

...

Elsewhere, in a guest room of the Pure Immortal Temple.

Old Lady Tang had a ghastly pale face, her whole body trembling uncontrollably. The other refugees stood silently by. Morning had long since broken.

According to the written agreement they had signed with Chen Huangpi, they could only stay one night; at dawn, they had to leave, and within half a month, they were to repay their debt.

Old Lady Tang had planned to leave this eerie temple at first light, then seek out other refugee settlements—even if Yellow Beard Village became history, so long as she could preserve her life, she would have fulfilled her duty.

But this morning, the moment she opened her eyes, she saw a scene that nearly made her cough up blood.

The statue of the Mountain God, which had just regained some color yesterday, was now dull and dim, covered in cracks, as if sucked dry of vitality like a mortal. Most crucially, no matter how Old Lady Tang prayed, the Mountain God did not respond.

But the Mountain God hadn't died. During offerings, Old Lady Tang could sense it still absorbing incense, though not as quickly as before—dragging its feet like a child reluctant to eat, taking ages for a single bite.

What Old Lady Tang didn’t know was that the Fox Mountain God wasn’t unwilling to respond, but simply unable to. Lacking incense, it dared not absorb too much, barely keeping its divine soul from collapsing, clinging to a single breath.

“I am a Mountain God, after all. Who would have thought I’d end up so miserable! This Pure Immortal Temple is a den of demons, and that Yellow-Skinned boy is wicked to the core. His master is downright terrifying.”

Though the Fox Mountain God had lost that memory, it remembered clearly that there was a mountain patrol in the Ten-Thousand Mountains. Now, it was certain: Chen Huangpi’s master was the patrol, but now the most dreadful anomaly in the mountains.

“The Yellow-Skinned boy said his master would knock, to ignore him and he’d leave. I did ignore him, but he never said his master would enter…”

Last night, the Fox Mountain God hadn’t even noticed how the old Daoist in the purple robe entered. As soon as the words were spoken, he appeared before it, grinning and muttering, “Don’t be afraid, Huangpi won’t let me eat you.”

He didn’t eat, but he did take a sudden breath, drawing out all the incense the god had accumulated, leaving only a trace. Had its fate not been strong, it wouldn’t have lasted until Old Lady Tang gathered the refugees to worship.

Worst of all, before leaving, Chen Huangpi’s master had said, “Little Fox, gather more human energy. When the time comes, I’ll come every day to draw from you.”

After hearing that, the Fox Mountain God knew it would never escape this den.

Just then, Chen Huangpi pushed open the door, carrying the brass oil lamp.

“Old Lady Tang, why haven’t you left yet?”

His words made the refugees bow their heads in shame. Old Lady Tang looked troubled, replying bitterly, “Young master, it’s not that we don’t want to leave—it’s that our Mountain God cannot.”

“Cannot?” Chen Huangpi grew alert. “Old Lady Tang, you’re not making excuses to linger in the temple, are you?”

“No, young master,” she protested. “See for yourself.”

She gestured for him to look at the Mountain God’s statue.

“Why has the Fox Mountain God become like this?” Chen Huangpi was shocked. “Wasn’t it fine yesterday?”

“Yes…” Old Lady Tang gave a bitter smile. “But today it’s like this. Young master, you’re knowledgeable—what could have happened?”

In truth, Old Lady Tang had an inkling. No, not just an inkling—she had seen Chen Huangpi’s master, in white Daoist robes, drain the three gods brought by the Twelve Madam of their incense, reducing them to dust. It had to be his doing.

But previously, the Mountain God had warned her that the Daoist was extremely strange, and under no circumstances should she mention him. So even as the words reached her lips, she could only swallow them.

Chen Huangpi flushed under Old Lady Tang’s gaze. He protested, “Why are you looking at me? I didn’t drain your Mountain God…”

“Nor did my master! He went out to buy candied hawthorn for me yesterday, he had no opportunity!” He produced the untouched treat as proof.

Old Lady Tang’s mouth twitched. She wanted to say that for someone like his master, who seemed to have no cultivation at all, going anywhere was simply a matter of thought. Besides, who else but his mysterious master could swallow gods whole?

Chen Huangpi dropped his gaze, feeling guilty, but then remembered this was his own temple, his territory—they should be the ones feeling guilty. He straightened his chest and declared arrogantly, “You must leave today. Otherwise, our agreement will have to be revised.”

Old Lady Tang asked, “How will it be revised?”

“You’ll have to pay me more!” Chen Huangpi held up three fingers.

She frowned. Triple repayment—they would struggle to gather it in half a month.

“I want a thirty percent increase!” Chen Huangpi counted his fingers. “I’ve calculated it: every extra day in my temple, you eat three meals on me. In business, I must make a profit—you must pay me thirty percent more.”

“Don’t think thirty percent is a lot—I haven’t even counted your Mountain God yet!” He strode over to the Fox Mountain God, eyes gleaming shrewdly. “You worship the Mountain God, you must make offerings. I won’t charge you for the offerings—I’ll eat them myself when I’m hungry.”

Just then, the Fox Mountain God spoke, “Yellow-Skinned boy, are you so short of money?”

Old Lady Tang was dumbfounded. She had called to the Mountain God so many times with no answer—how did it speak as soon as Chen Huangpi arrived?

He didn’t know what she was thinking. To the Mountain God, he replied, “Of course. My master has lost his mind. If I can’t cure him, I’ll have to take him to the outside world for treatment. I hear people outside value money highly—without it, you can’t take a single step. I have to save up.”

He had already accumulated some money, but not much—only what the headless man who brought the Soul-Calling Register gave him for his head. Surely that wasn’t enough.

The Fox Mountain God didn’t know what to say. It could only brace its weakened soul and praise him insincerely, “Yellow-Skinned boy, you’re truly filial. If the outside cultivators knew you were bringing your master to them and giving them money, they’d be delighted.”

Chen Huangpi shook his head, “I’m still short.”

The Mountain God said, “You’ll have enough soon. I sense a group of cultivators approaching the foot of the mountain, bringing many gods. If you detain them, you’ll have enough to pay for your master’s treatment…”

On the last word, the Fox Mountain God greedily drew in a large breath of incense. It wasn’t afraid anymore—gods with more incense than even its prime were on their way. Once they arrived, they wouldn’t be able to leave. With these gods present, the strange old Daoist wouldn’t target it anymore!

As if fearing Chen Huangpi might refuse, the Fox Mountain God added, “The leader is a woman, about eighteen or nineteen, very beautiful.”

At that, vivid images from the evil technique flashed in Chen Huangpi’s mind. His face flushed, mouth dry, heart pounding wildly.

His mind wavered. “I’m done for. I want to kill again—am I falling to madness, too?”

The Fox Mountain God saw this and burst out laughing.

“Yes! It’s done!”