A tiger demon?!
Li Yan's pupils contracted, a sliver of murderous intent rising in his shock.
To think that beneath sacred Zhongnan Mountain, within the ancient Medicine King temple, a demon hid in the deity's seat—feasting on the pilgrims' incense offerings!
An utter perversion of heavenly laws!
Buzz~
As though provoked by his murderous intent, the "Three Talents Demon-Subduing Coin" activated, swinging in the wind, exuding a cold death aura.
Temple altars are usually brimming with divine energy.
When using talismans or magical tools—if one announces their presence and shows respect—it can be accepted and even blessed, like at Li's stronghold's Earth God shrine earlier.
But reckless aggression? Especially against a deity's statue?
That is absolutely taboo.
In an instant, the vision before Li Yan's eyes dissolved—but not before a roaring tiger cry thundered in his ears. His spirit quivered, like a hammer upon his skull, his vision dimmed, and his legs faltered.
"Quick—go!"
He heard the urgent voice of Wang Daoxuan, clear and insistent.
Nauseous and shaken, Li Yan stumbled forward under his companion's support, hastening from the tiled temple hall.
Everywhere they rushed, pilgrims eyed them suspiciously.
Wang Daoxuan, ignoring their stares, led Li Yan down a hidden path until they reached a quiet grove. Only then did they pause—a sharp intake of breath.
"You were possessed—dared to strike at the Medicine King image?"
Wang Daoxuan's voice trembled with concern.
Li Yan, recovering his composure, checked himself: no injuries in spirit cultivation; merely shaken by the tiger's cry. No grand Dharma Body healing necessary.
"Yes, I was possessed," he admitted, voice tight, and recounted the vision he'd experienced.
"Impossible!"
Wang Daoxuan drew breath. "I don't doubt you—but this is beyond bizarre."
He explained:
"It's not uncommon for shadow spirits to possess statues. I once saw villagers bring home a god statue—earnest, but unblessed. Without consecration, incense offerings attract darkness, not light.
But this is the ancient Medicine King temple—rebuilt over centuries by true adepts. How could such corruption take root here?"
"I saw it—for certain." Li Yan's tone was resolute.
Wang Daoxuan recalled: "You once received aid from a mountain god at the mass burial ground—that god intervened, but did not harm. Perhaps this is similar—something else at play."
He frowned. "Let it go."
Li Yan shook his head. "I have enough to manage with human affairs—no time to dwell on demons and spirits."
No sooner had he spoken than the illusion returned.
The stone altar again showed the tiger-robed specter, and soon blurred into a new form:
A mountain ravine—the same one he'd seen: lush trees, and a Daoist lying injured, his eyes shut. Life hung by a thread…
The vision faded, and Li Yan looked to Wang Daoxuan in silent question.
"He's asking you to save a life," Wang said softly.
Though cause and effect were unclear, this was no malevolent spirit—perhaps a guardian. Rescuing a life would earn merit.
Li Yan frowned. "The problem: I don't know the location."
After a moment's thought, Wang said, "It cannot be far. And I believe the injured one is the temple's officiant."
"Rest here—I'll go inquire."
With that, he hurried back to the temple.
Li Yan exhaled. Not surprised: that was Wang Daoxuan—kind-hearted, honest to a fault. Their bond was forged on his sincerity and moral lines; without him, their small group would have been doomed or wanted by the authorities long ago.
Soon, Wang returned with two young temple acolytes, faces flushed with anxiety.
"He's the officiant," they gasped.
"He went to pick herbs on the mountain two days ago—and didn't return," one said.
"This place has many patients. The master went to White Mist Gorge with Senior Brother Lin to gather medicine. We thought it normal…" the other explained hastily.
Li Yan waved them on to lead the way.
They didn't need answers yet—only urgency. The specter meant help, and every moment wasted might cost a life.
Under shouts and scrambling, they pushed deeper into the woods: ascending slopes, crossing ridgelines, until they reached a sheer cliff.
Below, Abel cows—a type of mountain antelope—were found, and near one, the injured Daoist lay.
Li Yan approached carefully. The acolytes murmured that his name was Chen Yuan, a kind healer who practiced at the temple, treating villagers—often gratis—with great skill.
He had gone after two rare herbs—but something had beenfall him.
Before rushing, Li Yan paused.
Near Chen Yuan stood a large-lipped black-nosed creature with slanted horns and white fur at the tips—two somber, calm eyes gazing at him.
An "antelope spirit," he realized: a sentient being, channeling cosmic energy drawn from this sacred domain.
He recalled Wang's words—enlightened creatures could appear in these hallowed spaces.
The spirit showed no hostility, tilting its head before dropping a package of crushed roots near Chen Yuan's side.
Curious, Li Yan gently investigated the roots—they were tu san qi (root of Paris polyphylla), known to disperse bruises, stop bleeding, calm the heart, detoxify.
Gifted me some herb medicine, he realized.
In awe, he scooped Chen Yuan onto his shoulders. With the acolytes' help, they hauled him up the cliff path, reverently.
"How extraordinary," Sha Lafei exclaimed later, once night had fallen and they were settled in a side chamber of the temple.
Despite their funerary duties, they'd been welcomed to stay by the grateful temple—a testament to the deep respect their rescue had earned.
Wang Daoxuan stroked his beard. "All life is sacred; beings with spirits are not always demons. Here, a sage lived to heal—protected by divine forces and spirit-animal guardians."
Sha Lafei scratched his head. "So is there still time to be good people?"
At that moment, the asthmatic-sounding Chen Yuan peeked in, pale but blinking with life.
"Oh, Daoist Chen Yuan has awakened," he said quietly. The acolytes bore relief.
He sat up.
"Thank you—thank you for saving me," he whispered, voice weak but heartfelt.
"Please rest," Wang gestured gently.
"My thanks again," Chen Yuan managed. "I believed I was done for… but how did you find me?"
Li Yan gave a gentle nod. "You sent the call—for help—and a tiger-being demanded we save you."
At the words, Chen Yuan's expression dimmed. "Silk and Black—you go please wait outside." His voice shook. He ushered the acolytes out and locked the door.
Only then he spoke: "Friends—you… are any of you a living yin messenger?"
Li Yan startled.
"How did you know?" he asked quietly.
Chen Yuan's reply was solemn. "A true founding Daoist master hasn't appeared in a decade. The last time was when such a living yin messenger passed by, aiding in sealing a demon.
This sacred site was protected by the Tiger Daoist—my lineage's founder. He hid in the apricot forest temple with the Medicine King. When I hold the tiger sigil, I channel his medicine and Daoist power."
Li Yan's mind raced: earlier the creature had held a bronze ring—that was the famous "Tiger Shield," taboo to Daoist physicians—the emblem of lineage.
Sha Lafei's eyebrows shot up: "But why must the tiger take over the Medicine King's incense offerings?"
Chen Yuan sighed: "It's complicated.
Legend holds that the founder, in devotion, would travel to different Medicine King shrines with a fellow master. But incense there was only symbolic—it wasn't the true divine presence.
Our founder's true spirit remained—and over time was worshipped as the Tiger Daoist at their shrine. Over the Tang Dynasty's turmoil, war destroyed the temple and my lineage died. The founder's spirit became a wandering teacher, seeking successors—but the flame dimmed.
When the prosperous "Great Xuan" dynasty rose, a new Medicine King temple was built—but no one remembered the Tiger Daoist. My master returned to restore it—but was stopped in dreams by the founder.
I believe the founder is waiting—perhaps whispering to the Medicine King himself through spiritual communion."
Silence followed—centuries of history, ruin, and spiritual yearning lay weighty between them.
Sha Lafei broke the solemn atmosphere: "Daoist Chen, your wound—it's a blade wound?"
Chen Yuan grimaced: "I trusted a treacherous disciple. Two years ago, a student—Lin Hui—arrived, claiming admiration for my healing arts. He was quick-witted and earned my trust as a secular disciple. I believed his medical devotion meant more healing for the world.
But he desired my family's precious relic—the skull fragment made into the Tiger Token—the emblem of our lineage."
Sha Lafei's eyes glittered with intrigue. "What relic?"
Chen Yuan revealed the secret with a gravely voice…
*(End of Chapter)*