Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Golden Toad Salutes the Moon

Lu Qian was suddenly struck by these words, and an inexplicable discomfort welled up within him. It was a feeling of sorrow for his own kind. To see those like himself treated no better than swine or dogs, used merely as fertilizer for the earth—it was something he had never heard of in his past life, nor in this one. For the first time, Lu Qian truly felt the overwhelming might of the Temple of the Netherworld. For thousands of miles in every direction, countless cities poured their lifeblood into this Daoist temple. Every material used here was saturated with human blood. Yet this feeling did not last long before it vanished without a trace. After all, he was himself one of the beneficiaries—there was no need to be sentimental. Nature selects through competition; only the strong survive. Only by growing stronger could one avoid being trampled by others.

“If that is so, why do the yields decrease every year?” Yu Ci asked.

“I cannot say for certain. I have failed to find the cause,” replied the Abbot of the Five Spirits Temple, his tone tinged with shame. Behind him stood five dark, shadowy figures: the Five Ghosts. The abbot was renowned for raising and commanding these spirits, his methods mysterious and profound.

“I suspect it has something to do with Wanshou,” the abbot continued. “In recent years, his actions have grown ever stranger. Just now, Daoist Lu and the others discovered that the disappearances were linked to the Sect of Mystic Fragrance. I believe he has been embezzling the treasures.”

Jin Yang added, “A few days ago, my grandson Jin Ying was incited by Wan Ming, which is why he came to challenge you all.”

“I only wanted to test myself against them,” Jin Ying retorted stubbornly. “The people of the Temple of the Netherworld aren’t so formidable.”

“Silence, wretch! You’ve brought shame to my name,” Jin Yang rebuked, his disappointment evident. His grandson was promising and had no small amount of talent, but his competitiveness and lack of sense were his weaknesses.

“Wait!” At that moment, Tang Bing suddenly spoke.

“What is it, Daoist Tang? Have you made a new discovery?” Han Bingli asked, puzzled.

“There’s something strange about the yin energy here. Let me investigate.”

With that, Tang Bing closed her eyes and began to chant softly under her breath.

A chill wind swept by, its wailing like the cries of ghosts and wolves, filling the night air with an eerie, desolate gloom. A cluster of black clouds veiled the moon, casting Tang Bing’s face into shadow. As the clouds slowly drifted away, the first beam of moonlight fell across her features.

To everyone’s astonishment, the woman before them seemed utterly transformed. Her eyes glowed a ghostly green, her skin flushed blood-red, and sharp fangs jutted from the corners of her mouth. Wreathed in a mist of shadow, her form was both real and unreal—like a demon emerging from the depths of hell.

The moment Tang Bing transformed, the Five Ghosts behind the abbot dropped to their knees, trembling uncontrollably and not daring to look up.

“What is this…” The abbot’s face was ashen as he pointed a shaking finger at Tang Bing. “The Mother of Ghosts Possession Technique…”

“The Mother of Ghosts Possession Technique?” Lu Qian echoed in confusion.

After using this power, Tang Bing’s entire presence had changed, now rivaling that of a seasoned cultivator at the Qi Refining stage. It was clear now why Yu Ci had deliberately brought this young Daoist on their mission.

“The Mother of Ghosts Possession Technique is an extremely demanding art,” the abbot explained. “First, the one to become the 'possessed' must be born under the sign of the yin moon, on a yin day, at a yin hour, thus possessing a fate attuned to the netherworld. Only then can they draw the yin energy of the Mother of Ghosts from the Yellow Springs into their body. Those who master this art can command all manner of spirits and wraiths, their power immense. But it is exceedingly difficult to complete. The wind of the Yellow Springs gnaws at the bones of the practitioner, inflicting a pain like being flayed alive, day and night, unending. Few survive the ordeal; most perish, unable to endure it.”

“So that’s how it is…” Lu Qian thought to himself. No wonder Tang Bing had claimed that no illusion could ever beguile her—one who endured such agony daily would possess a will of iron, far beyond the reach of mere tricks. He could hardly believe that a girl so young could possess such resilience, and with such a cheerful disposition at that; he knew he himself could not compare.

Suddenly, a few indistinct shadows appeared around Tang Bing, whispering something into her ear.

“What lies on the hillside twenty li away?” Tang Bing opened her eyes and looked at the abbot.

“That is a mass grave, nothing more,” he replied, clearly baffled.

Soon, the group arrived at the spot. The area was overgrown with weeds, mounds of graves scattered everywhere. Ghostly fires flickered, and the wind howled with chilling force.

“The spirits tell me there are people here. Some illusion must be at work—can anyone dispel it?” Tang Bing spoke, her white, elongated fangs lending her a strange, haunting beauty.

“I will,” Jin Yang declared, stepping forward. His true energy surged, snapping his robes taut. His hair blazed red as a fiery aura emanated from him.

Boom!

He struck out with both fists, unleashing two crimson streams of energy. Wherever they passed, grass and brush withered instantly, and red light bathed the entire graveyard. This was the Flaming Sun Qi, Jin Yang’s signature secret art. After expending such power, his face turned pale and he was left gasping for breath—an impressive feat for one grown so old and frail.

With a rumbling crash, stones shattered and the ghostly winds dispersed. The scene before them changed in an instant.

The graveyard was gone, replaced by a grand and luxurious palace.

Moonlight spilled across the palace courtyard, where a handsome and elegant man sat cross-legged, the silver glow swirling around him like gauze. He wore a black hat with a draping veil that obscured the right side of his face. Four figures in white robes and carefree caps stood watchfully at his side.

It was none other than Wanshou, the Master of Mystic Fragrance, whom Lu Qian had glimpsed by the roadside days before.

Wanshou raised his hands high, his forehead pressed to the ground in worship of the moon. In that moment, the group seemed to see a massive phantom of a crimson-gold toad behind him.

The Golden Toad worships the Moon!

Could it be that Wanshou’s true form was a toad spirit?

“No wonder he’s called Wanshou—ten thousand lives,” Lu Qian mused, a sudden realization dawning.

As the illusion was shattered, the five people before the palace turned to face them. Murder blazed in Wanshou’s eyes as he glared at Jin Yang and enunciated each word: “I have endured your provocations again and again. Since you seek death, I will oblige you—all of you shall die here!”

With a flourish, Wanshou lifted his veil, revealing that the right side of his face was an enormous, fanged maw.

In a flash, a green tongue shot out at blinding speed, coiling around Jin Yang and yanking him backward.

With a sickening crack, Wanshou’s skin split and his body swelled, transforming into a monstrous toad, nine feet tall and over ten feet long, his back covered in knobby lumps the size of fists. The tongue dragged Jin Yang into the gaping maw.

With a savage snap, blood and flesh burst forth—Jin Yang didn’t even have time to scream before he was devoured whole. The city lord who had guarded Baiyang for a century was annihilated in an instant.

“Grandfather!” Jin Ying cried out in despair.

“No one is leaving alive!” the toad demon cackled.

With a sinister hiss, the lumps on its back spewed a cloud of toxic green mist. An exotic fragrance filled the air, and a blood-red, unnatural moon appeared in the sky. The sweet aroma and moonlight made everyone’s heads spin, visions flickering before their eyes as they were beset by bizarre and uncanny illusions.

“Awaken!” Lu Qian shouted.

From his sleeve, several bottles flew out.

“These contain the Spirit-Suppressing Elixir of the Peach Blossom Face—drink it to dispel the illusions.”

Everyone except Tang Bing took one, and sure enough, the hallucinations faded away.

“Oh? Still alive?” the toad demon sneered, eyes glinting with malice. “My minions, attack!”

The followers at his side brandished their magical weapons, closing in to slaughter Lu Qian and the others.