Yan Chixia

Yan Chixia stepped into the courtyard, took the long sword wrapped in animal skin off his shoulder, and slammed it onto the bluestone ground with a dull metallic clang.

He cupped his hands in greeting, his voice still loud enough to drown out the rain, and said that he was a martial artist who escorted goods, surnamed Yan, and that he had just crossed the river by boat and was asking to rest for a while before leaving once the rain stopped.

As usual, Old Chen handed over a dry cloth. Yan Chixia took it, thanked him, and while wiping the rain off his face, his gaze swept over the entire courtyard.

His gaze first fell on the three children. Li Zhitui was squatting under the eaves helping Li Zhiwei tie her raincoat, while Li Zhiruo was sipping hot tea from a bowl. Yan Chixia's brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.

Three farm children, cleanly dressed and with rosy complexions, what were they doing in this remote mountain Taoist temple? His gaze lingered on the children's faces, a flicker of anger and regret in his eyes. He had seen many children abducted by demons and monsters to be sacrificed in the mountains; they were all like this, neither crying nor making a fuss, not because they were unafraid, but because their minds had been bewitched.

His gaze shifted to the edge of the well, where a crow was preening its rain-soaked wings with its beak, its black bean-like eyes occasionally darting about, a glint of shrewdness in them. A knowing look flashed in Yan Chixia's eyes. This talking crow didn't have the stench of evil spirits, but its faint spiritual aura couldn't escape his notice.

A small deer lay under the eaves by the vegetable garden, its fur shimmering with a faint silvery-white glow in the rain, clearly not an ordinary creature. Comparing these two details, he made a decision: what ordinary Taoist temple would allow such intelligent animals to freely enter and exit? This wasn't a Taoist temple; it was a demon's lair.

Old Chen brought over the tea, and Yan Chixia glanced at him as he took the cup. The old man's breathing was deep and steady, his steps were deliberate, and a faint aura of moonlight emanated from him; he was a cultivator. A cold glint flashed in Yan Chixia's eyes. At his age, he was still guarding the gate for demons, aiding and abetting them.

Then he saw Zhao Fengnian standing at the entrance of the main hall, and Liu Jin, who was getting up from the bamboo chair and turning to walk towards the meditation room. His pupils suddenly contracted. Although the fiery scales on Zhao Fengnian's body were not outwardly visible, Yan Chixia cultivated the Sword Heart Clarity, and his perception of aura far exceeded that of ordinary cultivators. It was clearly dragon aura, domineering and pure.

The sight of that pale, departing figure made his palms sweat slightly. He couldn't sense any demonic, ghostly, or malevolent energy, but it was precisely because he couldn't sense it that it was terrifying. In all his years of wandering the martial world, Yan Chixia had slain demons, eliminated monsters, and fought against evil cultivators, but he had never encountered anyone he couldn't see through at all.

This person is either nothing at all, or far stronger than him. And someone who is nothing at all wouldn't expect a cultivator possessing dragon energy to guard his door. A great demon, a great demon with unfathomable cultivation.

Yan Chixia remained expressionless, found a dry spot under the corridor closest to the three children, and sat down with his long sword within easy reach beside him.

Zhao Fengnian leaned against the kitchen doorframe, watching every change in Yan Chixia's eyes. From anger to understanding, from coldness to fear, it was as captivating as watching a silent play.

A mischievous thought welled up in his heart, and he deliberately took a plate of osmanthus cake from the kitchen and placed it in front of Yan Chixia. When he bent down to put the plate down, he inadvertently relaxed his breath, and a few fiery scales flashed across the back of his hand, and the unique pressure of the dragon clan swept over him.

It was so light that only Yan Chixia could feel it, so light that it seemed like an unintentional leak. Yan Chixia's knuckles holding the teacup turned slightly white, but he nodded and thanked her without showing any emotion, even praising the osmanthus cake as well-steamed.

Zhao Fengnian retreated to the kitchen doorway, meeting Liu Jin's helpless gaze as he returned to his meditation room. He grinned silently. Liu Jin shook his head, turned, went into his meditation room, and closed the door.

He had already seen the sword on Yan Chixia's body. Its sword intent was pure and fierce, making it a master at slaying demons and monsters, but that was all it could do. That sword was more than enough to kill minor demons, but it was far from enough to kill Zhao Fengnian.

As for what Yan Chixia was thinking or what he was going to do next, he had no interest in caring, since nothing serious was going to happen anyway. He spread out his cultivation notes and began to deduce the essence fire formula for the second level of the Fire Condensation Scripture.

When Old Chen was arranging rooms, Yan Chixia said that he and this Young Master Ning were complete strangers, just fellow travelers crossing the river, and that sharing a room would be fine. Ning Caichen, who was feeling a bit apprehensive about staying alone in an unfamiliar Taoist temple, quickly nodded and said that it was perfect, and that he would share a room with Brother Yan.

The rain continued into the deep of night. Yan Chixia leaned against the wall, feigning sleep. Only when the breathing in the neighboring rooms became even and deep, confirming that both the people and demons in the demon cave were asleep, did he gently wake Ning Caichen, who was wrapped in a thin blanket and huddled in the corner of the bed.

Yan Chixia leaned against the wall and pretended to sleep. When the breathing in the next few rooms became even and long, confirming that both the people and demons in the temple were asleep, he gently woke up Ning Caichen, who was wrapped in a thin blanket and huddled in the corner of the bed.

Ning Caichen opened his eyes groggily, and just as he was about to speak, Yan Chixia covered his mouth with a large hand.

"Shh. Don't make a sound, listen to me." Yan Chixia released his grip and lowered his voice, "Something's wrong with this Taoist temple."

Ning Caichen was instantly wide awake, huddled closer to the corner of the wall, and said in a trembling voice, "Brother Yan, what do you mean by that?"

"I inquired about it in Jinhua City before I came. This Sanyi Temple only appeared in the last few months. It doesn't have any ordination certificate registered with the government. All the pilgrims from the city who come to offer incense are turned away at the door, told that they don't worship gods, they only worship Heaven and Earth. You're a scholar too, think about it, what kind of Taoist temple doesn't worship the Three Pure Ones and the Four Emperors, but only Heaven and Earth?"

Ning Caichen paused, then hesitated, "Perhaps he is a reclusive master, unconventional and unrestrained by worldly etiquette?"

"Alright, let's not be bound by formalities." Yan Chixia glanced out the window to make sure no one was in the courtyard.

"What kind of reclusive master would accept a group of children, an old man, a talking crow, and a fawn radiating spiritual light as disciples? You saw those three children too; they were clean-cut, had rosy complexions, didn't cry or make a fuss, and were so well-behaved that they didn't seem like children their age. Do you know why children abducted by monsters to the mountains are so well-behaved? It's not that they're not afraid; it's that their minds have been bewitched."

Ning Caichen's face gradually paled, his lips moved a few times, but he couldn't utter a word.

Yan Chixia continued, "When that young Taoist priest surnamed Zhao handed me the osmanthus cake, I saw scales on the back of his hand with my own eyes. Scales, and the aura he exuded wasn't the Qi of a cultivator, it was dragon aura. Do you understand dragon aura? Either he's a demon himself, or he cultivates demonic arts. As for that one wearing the moon-white gauze robe..."

He paused, lowering his voice even further, "I can't see through him at all. In all my years of wandering the martial world, I've slain demons, eliminated monsters, and fought against evil cultivators, but I've never encountered anyone whose depths I can't even fathom."

It wouldn't matter if he were nothing at all, but to make someone with dragon-like aura willingly guard his door—what do you think he is?