Chapter 18: The Stubborn Master Qingyang

Watching the master and disciple continuing their ascent up the mountain, Chen Fan, standing not far away, curled his lips into a cold smile.

The two cautiously made their way upward. Along the path, nothing unusual had occurred, which eased their nerves.

Soon, they arrived at the site of the Su family ancestral tomb.

“I told you nothing would dare stop me now!” Qingyang Zhenren declared arrogantly to his disciple.

Hearing this, Qingxu Daoren looked at his master with even greater reverence.

“Master, do you think this is the White Tiger’s twin embrace terrain?” Qingxu Daoren pointed to the ancestral tomb before them.

Qingyang Zhenren examined the area carefully.

“To the west and east stand two mountains shaped like white tigers, with the tomb nestled between them. Indeed, this is the White Tiger’s twin embrace land.”

“Today, seeing this feng shui treasure spot recorded in ancient texts with my own eyes makes it all worthwhile,” Qingyang Zhenren said, patting his backside with a sigh of satisfaction.

Excited by his master’s words, Qingxu Daoren’s heart soared. He was certain he had identified a true feng shui gem for the Fan family. Fan Zeng would surely reward him handsomely.

He began to imagine the blissful life awaiting him, showered with dozens, even hundreds, of beauties.

He couldn’t help but smile.

Nearby, Chen Fan watched the two with a grin. He pulled a slingshot from his pocket and aimed at the beehive above their heads.

“Bang.”

A muffled noise sounded as something struck their heads.

“Wasps!”

“Ahhh!”

Before they could react, swarms of angry wasps buzzed around them. The two cried out in pain.

Qingyang Zhenren tried to chant an incantation to drive them off, but as he parted his lips, a cluster of wasps flew straight into his mouth.

“Ahhh!” he screamed in horror.

The master and disciple began to sprint wildly up the mountain, hoping to shake off the wasps.

But the wasps, enraged, relentlessly pursued them.

Fortunately, Qingxu Daoren soon spotted a small pond ahead.

Without hesitation, he leapt into the water, followed closely by Qingyang Zhenren.

They submerged themselves deeply, careful not to expose any part of their bodies, as the wasps circled above the water’s surface.

Bubbles surfaced as the wasps waited, but seeing no sign of them, the insects eventually dispersed.

“Phew,” the two emerged, their heads swollen several times their normal size. Anyone witnessing them now would think they were monsters.

“Master... could those have been evil spirits?” Qingxu Daoren asked weakly, his swollen lips mumbled and slurred.

“Perhaps,” Qingyang Zhenren replied, also struggling to speak clearly.

“Master, let’s descend the mountain, please!” Qingxu Daoren urged anxiously.

But Qingyang Zhenren’s excitement flared.

“No, we cannot leave yet. How could evil spirits appear in such a place? I must uncover the truth — or else the ancient scriptures of Dragon and Tiger Mountain are mistaken,” he declared.

“This concerns the reputation of Dragon and Tiger Mountain; I must solve this before we go.”

Hearing this, Qingxu Daoren’s face fell. The path down the mountain was dark and foreboding, and he dared not venture alone.

If he encountered evil spirits on his own, death would be certain.

With his master, he had some hope.

Though his master looked battered, Qingxu Daoren still trusted his strength.

So, he gritted his teeth and stayed.

Chen Fan, overhearing this, felt a flicker of admiration. Despite being half-dead, the old Taoist refused to give up and sought the cause. Not many could do that.

Enduring the pain, Qingyang Zhenren produced a compass and began examining the Su family’s ancestral tomb.

Yet, the more he looked, the deeper the confusion grew.

This was clearly an exceptional feng shui site; evil spirits should not be here.

Could the things they encountered earlier have been something else?

A thought struck him—a faint glimmer of insight amid his uncertainty.

“Bang.”

“Bang.”

Suddenly, the nearby burial mounds emitted muffled sounds.

Then, eerie blue flames erupted from the tombs.

“Ah!” Qingxu Daoren screamed, quickly ducking behind his master.

Qingyang Zhenren, startled by the strange flames, showed a rare flicker of nervousness.

But he quickly composed himself and stepped toward one of the fires to investigate.

Qingxu Daoren grabbed his arm, but Qingyang Zhenren shook him off.

“Bang.”

“Bold one! You dare approach without kneeling before me?”

Just as Qingyang Zhenren neared the flames, a deep voice boomed from behind.

“Ah!” Qingxu Daoren cried out in fright.

Qingyang Zhenren’s face tightened with tension as he turned.

A dark shadow had appeared behind him. Though merely a silhouette, it seemed eerily familiar—as if he had seen it before but could not recall where.

“Master... is that... our ancestor?”

At that moment, Qingxu Daoren’s excitement sharpened his speech.

Qingyang Zhenren’s expression morphed into shock.

The shadow resembled the ancestral portrait he worshiped daily.

No wonder it felt so familiar.

But why would his ancestor appear here?

His heart filled with questions.