Chapter Sixty-One: Catching Demons

No sooner had Zhang Hao fallen to the ground than he rolled over and, with his mouth wide open, sank his yellowed teeth savagely into Cui Yue’s calf. Cui Yue had just put his foot down and hadn’t withdrawn it when he saw Zhang Hao’s gaping mouth coming for him. Alarmed, he instinctively shoved his foot forward.

A muffled groan followed.

In that instant, Cui Yue’s shoe and foot were both lodged firmly in Zhang Hao’s mouth, wedged between his grimy teeth. Zhang Hao’s jaws were stuffed to the brim, gnawing ferociously on Cui Yue’s filthy shoe.

Caught off guard, Cui Yue lost his balance as he was dragged, and with one leg unstable, he tumbled backward onto an empty wooden chair.

“Let’s see if this kick doesn’t choke you to death,” he cursed inwardly, lashing out in desperation without a second thought.

With a resounding smack, Cui Yue finally broke free from Zhang Hao’s iron grip, only to see a dark shoe print, size forty-two, stamped squarely on Zhang Hao's broad face.

Taking advantage of Zhang Hao’s momentary confusion, Cui Yue leapt up to flee, but had barely left the chair when a tremendous force slammed into his back. Da Zhuang, burly as a bear, threw his arms around him from behind, pinning him helplessly.

Cui Yue could only shake his head and smile bitterly, his heart pounding. “You two really are my brothers—one’s hand is heavier than the other. Truly, you take good care of me. No hesitation in landing your blows.”

Meanwhile, Qingquan was faring no better—frowning deeply, parrying left and right. No sooner had he pushed one assailant away than another climbed onto his back, one seizing his leg, another locking his waist in a fierce grip.

As it seemed Qingquan would soon be torn apart, he suddenly stomped his foot, his eyes blazing with fury, and shouted,

“Heaven and earth without bounds, divine spirits heed my call—lend me your sacred strength, dispel evil and shatter demons! Stone-splitting force, by decree—now!”

No sooner had the words left his lips than a surge of energy radiated from him, cloaking his body in a faint golden sheen. His muscles bulged like stone, hard and unyielding.

With a thunderous roar, Qingquan summoned the strength of a gladiator. He heaved the men clinging to him high into the air and flung them forcefully aside.

One attacker, poised to bite Qingquan’s neck, was caught in mid-motion. Sensing the danger, Qingquan twisted, executing a perfect over-the-shoulder throw that sent the man crashing onto a nearby wooden table.

Not far away, Jiao Na the fox demon’s expression darkened in alarm.

“The Divine Strength Incantation! It seems this infernal Taoist’s skills have improved considerably.”

Hand seals flickered in her grasp, conjuring a vision of a blooming jade lotus.

Qingquan, feeling the grip on his shoulders loosen, was about to turn when the men he’d thrown off regrouped, battered and bruised but undeterred, their eyes blazing with hostility.

Qingquan was now in a quandary. The fox demon’s scheme was cunning—using others to besiege him, knowing he dared not retaliate with full force for fear of harming innocents. If this continued, he would be worn down, leaving the fox demon to reap the rewards.

Unable to find a solution, Qingquan found himself at a loss. Though he knew full well the strategy of striking at the leader first, the sheer number of assailants left him no opening. He could only fight on, but even with the Divine Strength Incantation, he began to tire under the relentless assault, his stamina waning.

All the while, Cui Yue was struggling desperately. Da Zhuang’s arms were like giant iron pincers, tightening inexorably. Cui Yue could hear the creak of his own bones.

Within moments, breathing became agony, pain searing through his body.

“Da Zhuang, damn you, wake up! I’m about to be strangled—let go!” he gasped.

But Da Zhuang didn’t even flinch, his expression blank, his grip unrelenting.

“These two bastards,” Cui Yue seethed. “Should’ve let that fox vixen suck you dry back there. Why is it I’m always the unlucky one? Were you two sent from above just to torment me?”

His chest threatened to explode with rage. Suddenly, he remembered the strange slips of paper the bespectacled freak had slipped him after scribbling some talismans—worthless, he’d thought, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Laboriously, Cui Yue raised a trembling finger, pulled out one of the slips, and not knowing how to use it, slapped it onto Da Zhuang’s pants. He guessed that incantations needed some sort of chant, though the bespectacled freak hadn’t taught him a thing. “To hell with it,” he thought. “Just shout whatever comes to mind.”

“By urgent decree! No matter how skilled you are, you still fear a kitchen knife! Even the best fighter goes down with one brick! To hell with you!”

Sweat poured down his brow as he babbled incoherently.

He barely had time to wonder if it would work when suddenly, a blue flame burst into life on Da Zhuang’s pants, dense black smoke curling from his cuffs.

Da Zhuang’s face twisted in terror. He seemed mortally afraid of that blue fire, and instantly released Cui Yue, slapping frantically at his legs in panic.

But the more he slapped, the fiercer the blue fire grew, leaping up to Da Zhuang’s head. The stench of burning hair filled the hall.

Freed at last from the iron grip, Cui Yue had barely caught his breath when Zhang Hao twisted around and leapt onto his shoulders, grabbing his head with both hands, shrieking wildly.

Da Zhuang, now completely terrified, found the fire unbearably hot and, unable to extinguish it, dashed about like a mad bull, knocking over benches in his desperate flight.

Cui Yue seized Zhang Hao by the neck, and through his fingers glimpsed Da Zhuang charging straight at him. He ducked aside just in time, and Da Zhuang crashed hard into Zhang Hao’s back. The two tumbled into a corner in a heap, limbs flailing, groaning in pain.

Still dizzy from the impact, Cui Yue clung to a bench and staggered to his feet. He saw a stubborn blue flame still flickering on Da Zhuang’s chest and hurried over to stamp it out.

Examining Da Zhuang, he saw his shirt was full of blackened holes, half his hair singed, smoke curling from his scalp—he looked every bit like a boiler worker from the factory.

Seeing that both were otherwise unharmed, Cui Yue finally relaxed.

“If you two come at me again, I’ll roast you both like turtles,” he muttered, catching his breath.

He glanced up to see Qingquan still locked in battle with seven or eight men, fists and feet flying. His once-spotless white shirt was now wrinkled and stained.

In the center of the mayhem stood the purple-clad fox demon, casting one spell after another, her face lit with smug satisfaction.

Cui Yue crept up behind her, fished out two more slips of paper, and hurled them with all his might, shouting,

“Damn fox, take this from your grandpa! I’ll blast you to pieces!”

Jiao Na glanced up just as the two slips caught fire in midair, transforming into twin blue flames.

Her body trembled. At the sight of the blue flames, her eyes filled with instinctive fear and she staggered back several steps.

The flames, though not fast, clung doggedly to her, one in front, one behind, hemming her in.

In a panic, she stopped her incantations, abandoning the others she controlled, and summoned a demonic wind with both hands, hurling it at the flames before her.

Cui Yue hadn’t expected the blue fire to be so potent, nor that the fox demon would fear it so much. In her distraction, she lost control over the others.