Chapter 518: Monster Kind

Chapter 518: The Demonic Kind

The Li clan’s troops threaded through the mountains; Li Xijun, in flowing white robes and girded with a sword, stood guard atop a peak. Kongheng rode the wind nearby, eyes shut, muttering incantations as if performing funeral rites for the deceased.

He glanced carefully to confirm Li Wushao was by Li Zhouwei’s side, then withdrew his gaze, tramping through wind and snow to draw nearer. His ears twitching, he suddenly turned his head aside.

A faint cold glint flickered in Li Xijun’s eyes beneath his sharp brows; wisps of white vapor drifted forth as he stared intently at an empty spot nearby. After a few breaths, he frowned and spoke in a frosty tone:

“I wonder which fellow cultivator hides here. I am Li Xijun of the Li clan—pray show yourself!”

His stern voice carried far, reaching Kongheng in the distance perfectly. The narrow-eyed monk’s eyes flew open; he pulled an ancient cyan monk’s staff from his sleeve and raced over on the wind.

After speaking, Li Xijun felt a quiet shock in his heart:

“What a masterful invisibility technique!”

One must know he had practiced eye arts since childhood; the Lu Qi [Bright Frost Pine Ridge] he bore enhanced his eyes, letting him see through illusions and even many formations.

Yet he had stared for several breaths and still failed to discern the figure—only a vague sense of someone being there. This startled him, and he made ready to flee.

But a flash of white suddenly blazed in that empty space, revealing an inch of cloud-white robe hem. A figure gradually materialized: a young man with a beaming smile.

The young man had slightly narrow brows, bright gray eyes, and smooth, delicate skin. Two black hair braids hung by his cheeks, adorned with silver bells that lent him a lively air.

Barefoot, he wore a long-sleeved, wide-collar robe in cyan and blue—an uncommon left-lapped style. The collar was small, cuffs broad; a string of silver beads hung around his neck, ending in a gleaming white quartz.

Li Xijun paused briefly, then stepped back warily. The young man’s face was full of smiles, even a hint of teasing, as he asked:

“Which junior are you? Where is Li Yuanjiao? Send him out at once!”

At these words, Li Xijun’s wariness lessened a little but did not vanish. He bowed and replied:

“I wonder who you are, senior. To answer you, my uncle Zhongfu passed away many years ago.”

“Ah!”

The young man’s smile vanished instantly; he beat his chest and stamped his feet. Li Xijun took the chance to look at him, finding him inexplicably familiar—gray eyes, long brows, a lively demeanor.

Looking closer, he saw white fur and sharp teeth, and purple mist wreathed him: he was a demonic creature.

The young man paused, seeming dispirited. He waved a hand, his lively air drained away, and lowered his eyes to say:

“Let me tell you: I am a cultivator from Great Li Mountain’s Demonic Cave, named Bai Rong. Once, for a mistake, I lived on the mountain’s outskirts, cultivating peacefully beneath a tree…”

“Then someone came and beat me—your ancestor Li Tongya. Humans have short lives; I know not how many generations have passed… Do you remember this?”

Li Xijun froze, muttering:

“Senior Bai Rong the Fox?!”

When Bai Rong heard his name, a hint of a smile returned. He called out:

“That is I!”

Li Xijun felt an indescribable emotion. He stood in the air a moment, about to step forward when he narrowed his eyes, a doubt rising. He rested his hand on his sword but did not draw it, speaking softly:

“You borrow a fine name, senior… But my clan’s records say Senior Bai Rong the Fox was a red fox. My eyes see clearly—you are plainly a white fox!”

Bai Rong stared blankly, then burst into laughter as if hearing something delightful. He laughed for several breaths before stopping and asking:

“So… your clan’s records are so detailed about me… Excellent, excellent… Li Tongya was a good man.”

Seeing Bai Rong did not feign, Li Xijun nodded slightly and bowed in reply:

“Pray give me an explanation, senior.”

“Bah!”

When Bai Rong spoke of this, he lifted his chin. A fluffy white tail emerged from beneath his cyan-blue robe as he smiled and said:

“I was born with low status. I spent years building my foundation to temper my blood and refine my nature in the cave’s Demonic Pool. Now I have succeeded—long ago I shed my red fur and mortal teeth to become a spirit fox!”

This explanation was novel. Li Xijun thought briefly and asked:

“Senior, do you know which sword our ancestor Li Tongya wielded?”

Bai Rong tapped his bare feet in the air and answered without hesitation:

“First [Dragon Coiled Pillar], then [Green Ruler Sword].”

Li Xijun asked secret questions; when Bai Rong answered fluently without pretense, he bowed deeply and said:

“I am Li Xijun, the ancestor’s great-grandson. I greet Senior Bai Rong and congratulate you on your success!”

Bai Rong chuckled and sighed, saying:

“Your temperament matches your great-grandfather’s caution. That flood dragon was the same—venomous, lurking, always careful.”

His cyan-blue robe made him look much younger than Li Xijun. He smiled at Li Xijun and said:

“You are quite handsome—you have Li Tongya’s bearing in his final years.”

Li Tongya held a lofty place in juniors’ hearts. Unsettled by the comment, Li Xijun said humbly:

“The ancestor’s divine bearing is something I dare not compare myself to in the slightest.”

Bai Rong turned around, listening to the battle cries below. He took a deep sniff, his lips turning vivid red. Li Xijun observed him briefly and said softly:

“It is ill-timed—I have clan affairs to attend to. Pray wait, senior. Once I settle matters here, I will invite you into the mountains for tea.”

Bai Rong smiled and chuckled:

“No matter, no matter. I am lucky—having just broken through and left seclusion, I can openly encounter such blood qi. I ought to thank you.”

Li Xijun felt abashed and did not know how to reply, so he swallowed his words. Bai Rong glanced casually below and said in passing:

“Li Yuanping is dead too… I told him to gather blood offerings and come to me, but he refused to listen.”

“You lot… are all stubborn to the extreme…”

He rambled a little; the white quartz on his silver bead string swayed gently. Li Xijun did not know why he wore it and could only reply:

“You are right, senior.”

Bai Rong’s cyan-blue robe began to billow as the blood qi below rose. He smiled, as if understanding something, and thought to himself:

‘Alas… Li Tongya hated this path all his life, but his descendants are obedient. Absorbing blood qi here is nothing like eating people—hardly any resentment clings to it—but I still cannot avoid being disliked.’

He flicked his sleeve, took two large sniffs, then turned around, still feeling reluctant. He spoke softly:

“I will not stay here longer. I will wait for you in Li Jing Mountain first.”

(End of Chapter)