Chapter Eleven: Beheading

“Roar, roar, roar!” The fifth monster let out a series of heart-wrenching, agonized howls, far more miserable than when it was exorcising spirits before—dozens of times worse. As the dazzling light from the talismans grew even brighter, the monster’s figure was almost completely obscured, hidden within the blinding radiance. Only its wailing could be heard, weakening with each passing moment, until it faded away completely.

With a soft crack, like something shattering, a cascade of green sparks burst out, only to be consumed at once by the brilliant light. The fifth monster’s body collapsed to the ground with a thunderous thud and lay still.

Scarface, gasping for breath, propped himself up on his steel blade and managed to sit up, utterly stunned by the scene before him. He knew the power of talismans, but never would he have imagined that just a handful of them could wield such overwhelming might—enough to bring down the fifth monster in one stroke. This was no ordinary charm; it must be a treasure his master had kept hidden away for emergencies.

The old man in black finally relaxed upon seeing the outcome. His spirit loosened, exhaustion flooding in. Just moments before, he had forced himself to summon the Divine Expulsion Talisman, depleting his vital energy. Now, he staggered and nearly fell.

Scarface’s guess was correct: the Divine Expulsion Talisman was indeed the old man’s most prized, secret treasure, rarely shown to anyone. Legend had it that this talisman was created by the great Daoist Master Zhang Huanqing of the Qing Dynasty, its power immense. Yet it demanded much from its user, draining their life force and energy. Ordinary practitioners could scarcely hope to activate it, let alone control it. Only a handful of such talismans survived to the present day, making them rare treasures among Daoists. These four charms had cost the old man a gold-bronze Buddha statue from the Ming Dynasty in exchange, and he had never dared to use them lightly—only as a last resort for survival in dangerous times. Who would have thought that here on Longyan Mountain, they would prove their worth, subduing the fiend in one fell swoop? Now, though, his stash was empty, and the loss pained him deeply. He was determined to acquire a few more next time.

“Master, are you all right? Can your body still hold up?” Scarface, steadying himself with one hand on his blade and the other pressed to his chest, slowly made his way toward the old man, concern etched on his face.

“It’s nothing—just terribly drained. Give me a moment to recover and I’ll be fine. How bad are your injuries?” the old man replied weakly.

“Oh, I reckon I’ve cracked a few ribs,” Scarface grunted, struggling to catch his breath. “But that bastard’s finally dead for good, isn’t he?”

Following Scarface’s gaze, as the luminous aura from the talismans slowly dissipated, a heap of charred, purple-black remains came into view. The monstrous flesh python that had covered the corpse was now horribly mangled and dark brown, the face burned black, the entire body resembling one consumed by fire, reeking with a stench that made the air shimmer.

With a slash, Scarface stepped forward and brought his blade down, severing the monster’s head, which rolled into the grass nearby. Only then did he feel some of the rage within him subside.

“Damn it! I told you, you should have been cut in half ages ago!” Scarface spat, his anger far from spent.

The old man in black was silent for a long moment—no one could have foreseen such a calamity today. At last, he sighed and spoke, “Chief, gather up their bodies… In the end, it was my own carelessness that brought this on.”

A heavy emptiness filled Scarface’s chest, leaving him speechless.

On the mountain’s peak, beneath the moon, a shadowy figure in the darkness let out a chilling, guttural laugh. “Divine Expulsion Talismans? Interesting… so you still have some powerful tricks up your sleeve. Let’s play a little longer.” With a wave, two streaks of green light, as if sentient, shot off in a certain direction.

At that very moment, the old man in black felt a sudden jolt of dread, his eyelid twitching uncontrollably. He saw the green lights racing toward them from afar and shouted in alarm, “Chief! Quickly, sever the heads from the corpses!”

“Huh?” Scarface turned to the old man, confused, thinking he’d misheard. But the anxious look on the old man’s face made his heart sink. He raised his sword just as the two streaks of energy shot into the corpses of the second and third monsters, exactly as had happened to the fifth.

In the blink of an eye, disaster struck again! As Scarface’s blade descended, a pair of ghostly claws seized it in a death grip—he couldn’t move it an inch. Looking down, he watched as a familiar, chilling green glow flared in the sockets of the corpse at his feet. Scarface’s heart plummeted. He realized he was a moment too late. Before he could process it, something tightened around his neck—a powerful force yanked him back. The third monster, somehow upright again, stood behind him, strangling Scarface with its own intestines. The stench of fresh blood churned his stomach, and his cervical vertebrae creaked ominously under the pressure.

“Damn it, couldn’t handle even one, and now there are two more. Looks like Lord Liu’s luck has finally run out tonight…” The thought carried a strange flavor—his life flashed before his eyes in vivid detail, time slowing to a crawl, every memory as clear as if relived.

The old man in black realized disaster was upon them the moment he saw the green lights. He’d called out to Scarface to act fast, but the events unfolded faster than he could have imagined. One monster had already left half his followers dead or wounded, and now, exhausted as he was, two more had arisen—they stood no chance, not even to escape.

Seeing Scarface in mortal danger, the old man’s heart clenched. He tried to rush forward to help, but his body was drained from using the talisman, too weak to rise. In desperation, he flung his pipe at the third monster.

The pipe was light and caused little harm, merely striking the back of the monster’s skull. Yet it did distract the creature, and the intestines tightened around Scarface’s neck loosened slightly, no longer constricting with full force.

Scarface gulped down a breath of air, clarity flooding his mind as the ringing in his ears abruptly ceased. Though still trapped, he felt a rush of relief.

The heavy scent of blood assaulted Scarface’s nose and throat—nauseating, yet intensely real. It reminded him that his life hung by a thread: if he couldn’t break free, he’d die miserably on this wild mountain, his corpse devoured by wolves with nothing left behind.

In such moments of life and death, a person’s hidden strength can explode forth. Scarface gathered his energy, then suddenly lashed out with a powerful kick, landing it squarely on the head of the second monster. The blow was fierce, and as the second monster’s hands were caught on the steel blade, it couldn’t dodge and took the full force, sent flying over thirty feet away.