Moonlight poured down like water, spilling across the earth.
A shaft of that light fell upon a lone figure—a being massive and towering, nearly three meters tall. Though humanoid in shape, two black horns, like those of a bull, jutted from his head, and a layer of deep, obsidian scales armored his body.
His eyes were pure and translucent, like rubies; yet they were utterly cold, as if devoid of any emotion.
He was of the demon race, and demons did not possess emotions as complex as those of humans.
Only two things could stir him: a powerhouse of exceptional strength, and prey that satisfied him.
As now—those ruby-clear eyes gazed toward the place where Uncle Nine was, and within the icy pupils a faint excitement surfaced.
"Such a vast fortune of fate—hardly the protagonist of an age where spiritual energy has withered."
"Not bad. Truly not bad."
"Only a protagonist like this is qualified to become my prey."
"I will savor you well…"
A strange gleam flickered in his eyes.
"Before that, let me send you a few gifts."
"I hope you can withstand them."
"Otherwise, it will be far too dull."
As he spoke, a mysterious, arcane, blood-red array unfurled beneath his feet.
"Roar! Roar! Roar—"
With a chorus of terrifying howls, one after another black-bodied, grotesque creature stepped out of the array.
From each of them surged the savage aura and bestial ferocity of a wild beast, as if they meant to tear everything before them to pieces.
There was no doubt—these were the "gifts" he had mentioned.
If the Child of Destiny of this world could not even receive such "gifts," then he had no reason to act personally.
The strong would not feel battle-lust toward the weak.
That sensation of crushing an ant beneath one's heel was simply too boring.
Even if the other party was a Child of Destiny, it was the same.
"Go. Hunt them."
"Bring death to this world."
At his words, the pack of grotesque creatures grinned wide, heads lolling as they set off at an unhurried pace toward the village town.
In the village town at that moment, Uncle Nine's expression grew darker and darker.
That looming sense of danger grew ever heavier in the unseen currents, warning him again and again.
Though the chat group had already issued the hunt mission, and he trusted the strength of Brandon White, the Holy Lord, and Daigu immensely, he did not know how long it would take the three of them to arrive. In the meantime, he had to safeguard this world.
Moreover, that vague premonition seemed to be telling him that the enemy had already begun moving toward his position.
He had to hurry and respond.
Gritting his teeth, Uncle Nine fetched the accumulation of his many years from his room, as well as the many items he had exchanged for and crafted after joining the chat group.
Talismans, ritual implements, elixirs… he strapped them all to his person.
He moved quickly, taking from his pack all manner of ritual implements densely inscribed with unknown runes, and placed them at various points throughout the village town.
"Even if this old Daoist dies here today, I will keep you."
"To butcher the world—this old Daoist will never allow such a being to exist among the living!"
So Uncle Nine vowed in his heart.
He was not truly a great powerhouse, nor had he ever planned to found an order of his own.
He pursued strength so that he could protect more of the people and eradicate more demons and monsters.
To attain immortality and the Dao was indeed his aim, but that aspiration did not outweigh his desire to protect the common folk. He was willing at any time to sacrifice himself for their lives, even if it meant abandoning his chance to become an immortal and obtain the Dao.
This was why he chose to descend the mountain.
To use his own strength to create a sliver of peace in this world filled with demons and monsters.
He was a Daoist—a Maoshan Daoist.
From beginning to end, his conviction had never changed.
Asking the group members for help was not because he feared death; he merely worried that his strength was not equal to the enemy's—that he would fail to hold the foe, allowing him to butcher the people of this world at will.
He opened his Spirit Sight. Not far ahead, countless monsters of bizarre appearance, steeped in a blood-reeking aura, were closing in. Their eyes were vicious to the extreme, seething with bloodlust and killing intent. Perhaps sensing his gaze upon them, they quickened their approach.
"Boom!"
Seeing this, Uncle Nine did not hesitate. He formed a hand seal, and from the mirror-shaped implement in his palm blazed a dazzling light.
Suddenly, from every point in the village town, beams of boundless radiance burst forth. Linking with the brightest shaft that speared down from the sky, they formed a transparent, intangible array that covered the entire village town.
After finishing, Uncle Nine tossed the mirror-shaped implement skyward. With a sound like merging, the formation fully took shape.
Only then did a faint smile touch Uncle Nine's face—but it vanished in an instant. He drew his peachwood sword and, without looking back, strode beyond the array.
He knew how powerful this formation was—and how long it could hold.
Better than waiting within it, trusting to luck for the group members to arrive before the demons breached it and slaughtered the villagers, was to go out himself and draw these demons' attention—buying time for the three supporting group members and for the townsfolk.
By now he had already stepped beyond the array, Spirit Sight leveled on those demons.
As a cultivator, his flesh and blood naturally drew the attention of those creatures. They stared at him with ravenous greed, impatient to devour him to the last morsel.
"Roar!!!"
All at once, a black shadow burst out from underground. It gaped wide and lunged to swallow Uncle Nine whole, seeking to gulp him down in one bite.
Rip—!
Spiritual qi surged within Uncle Nine. Arcs of lightning leapt along the peachwood sword. With a casual sweep, the instant the lightning met the creature it exploded into terrifying thunder-light and obliterated it!
"Just like that, and you think you can eat this old Daoist?"
"You look down on me far too much."
Uncle Nine snorted coldly, talismans in his left hand, peachwood sword in his right, and charged into the mass of demons.
"Rumble!"
"Rumble!"
"Rumble—!"
Thunderbolts raged wildly. A great many of the monsters were blasted to death by the thunder.
Uncle Nine's strength at this moment was by no means small—and besides, he carried a large supply of elixirs, and he had amassed plenty of talismans as well.
Whenever the spiritual qi within him was about to be exhausted, Uncle Nine would use a Five-Thunder Talisman to annihilate the demons around him, then quickly swallow an elixir to replenish his strength, and plunge back into the fight.
Gradually, the number of demons that perished beneath Uncle Nine's peachwood blade climbed higher and higher.
One hundred, two hundred, three hundred—
In the end, even Uncle Nine himself no longer knew how many he had slain. His hands only kept repeating the motions—cutting, activating talismans, downing elixirs.
At last, when he reached for another talisman, Uncle Nine's expression changed—the supply he had accumulated was finally spent.
Without hesitation, spiritual qi surged once more. With the peachwood sword he unleashed thunder arts, blasting apart the demons that came near.
The talismans were gone; when the elixirs were depleted as well, and the spiritual qi within his body burned out—
He would die.
(End of this chapter)