23 The Moment of the Final Battle (2)

Jiang Xiaoman stared at the demon beast collapsed on the ground, motionless.

Aside from its vestigial horns, sharp claws, and tail, its outline was indistinguishable from that of a mortal girl. Great demons who assumed human form usually put on such a convincing facade—must they all reveal such a terrifying side in the end?

Ling Sichen walked over to deliver the final blow, but sensing something amiss, he paused and leapt back several paces.

In an instant, the demon was engulfed in azure demonic flames, which flickered around its body like green, flowing fire. It dragged its heavy frame up, blood dripping in thick rivulets. Its lips moved in a constant, murmuring chant, the sound so faint that only it could hear.

The creature stood unsteadily, its body covered in wounds. It should have been dead, yet it was driven by some unknown resolve, or perhaps the desperate throes of death. It coughed up blood, opened its mouth, and began to inhale deeply.

Jiang Xiaoman grew alert, her eyes fixed on the rolling demonic miasma gathering around the creature.

"What—what is it doing?"

"The Phantasmagoric Sound Technique." Ling Sichen recognized the stance and turned to her. "Quickly, gather your spiritual energy around your ears!"

The moment he finished speaking, the demon let out a long, piercing howl.

The shrill sonic waves shattered the sky. Even though Jiang Xiaoman had followed Ling Sichen’s instructions, she could not help but press her hands tightly over her ears. Still, the vibrations pierced through her palms and drilled into her mind. Yet, they brought not pain, but waves of dizziness. Fortunately, she adjusted the spiritual energy within her body in time to keep her head clear.

A moment later, the screaming stopped.

Jiang Xiaoman lowered her hands, thinking, *Is it over?*

It was eerily quiet...

Wait, something was wrong.

The demon was grinning, its face drenched in blood.

Ling Sichen seemed to realize the danger. He raised his sword and flew forward to finish it, but the demon dodged by leaping backward. It was clearly stumbling, at the end of its rope, but it seemed unwilling to abandon its life. With a trembling body, it struggled to gather its demonic energy.

It seized an opening, hurled a ball of demonic energy at the white-clad swordsman, and took advantage of his evasive maneuver to emit a strange, peculiar sound.

This cry was different—it sounded as if it were calling out to something.

As Ling Sichen assumed his "Crescent Moon Step" stance to launch another fierce attack, he found himself unable to move. A man was gripping his leg tightly from below.

"Steward Ma!" Jiang Xiaoman recognized the man instantly. His eyes were rolled back, showing only the whites, and he was foaming at the mouth. He was clearly beyond his own control, yet he clung to the swordsman’s leg with a death grip.

Just as Ling Sichen reached out to pull him away, another person lunged from behind and hugged his waist—it was Cen Lan. She, too, wore the vacant expression of one who had lost her mind.

A man and a woman, one on each side, entangled him with all their might, trapping him in place.

While Ling Sichen was distracted, trying to break free, the creature raised its hand, gathered a blade of energy, and struck. The white-clad swordsman, along with the two people clinging to him, were sent flying to the ground.

The shockwave rolled toward Jiang Xiaoman, forcing her to retreat several steps. In the chaos, she heard strange movements all around. She instinctively looked around and saw a crowd of dazed servants flooding into the courtyard, their expressions dull, moving like walking corpses.

With the wailing of the servants, she understood—they had all fallen victim to the Phantasmagoric Sound Technique.

So this was the creature's ultimate trump card... using countless mortals as human shields. This was the demon's way of clinging to survival.

Ling Sichen had just climbed to his feet when he was pinned down by another servant. Unable to use his cultivation to harm these mortals, he could only push them away one by one. The demon seized this opportunity. As he struggled, it swept three blades of energy through the air. Ling Sichen could have dodged them all, but to protect the servant clinging to him, he took one hit head-on. His meridians ruptured, and he began to cough up blood incessantly.

***

The demon was severely injured and could not finish him off personally, so it directed its puppets to hold the immortal swordsman in place, wave after wave. It grabbed a servant, drained their spiritual energy to heal its wounds, and kept a sharp eye on the swordsman, clearly intending to finish him once it had recovered enough strength.

Jiang Xiaoman realized that if this illusion were not broken, Ling Sichen would be in great danger, and the tide of battle could easily be turned by the demon.

She had to help.

With this thought, she held her breath and tried to suppress her racing heart.

She was Jiang Xiaoman, the only daughter of the Jiang clan—not some useless sheltered girl, and certainly not a weakling who would only hold others back.

However, casting and dispelling illusions were two of the most difficult arts within the Sound Technique. Even her senior brothers struggled with them, let alone a half-baked practitioner like her.

Could she... do it?

Jiang Xiaoman gripped her jade flute tightly, struggling to recall everything she had learned at home.

*"Man'er, when dispelling an illusion, remember to stay focused,"* her father had said, holding her small, ten-year-old hands as he demonstrated. *"Dispelling an illusion is like picking a lock. Do not think of other things; think only of how to open the heart and mind that have been locked away."*

Jiang Xiaoman closed her eyes.

A melodic, soothing flute melody drifted out, becoming a sliver of light in the darkness of the murderous atmosphere.

Even though her body was still trembling, she played each note with careful precision.

In the darkness behind her closed eyes, the thick, coiling demonic miasma seemed clearer. She understood that every mass of miasma represented a living person trapped by the illusion. She had to follow that aura and use the music of her flute to dissolve it.

She was the only one who could do it.

And she would succeed.

***

Cen Lan was the first to regain consciousness.

Opening her eyes, she saw the demoralized servants entangled with the young master of the Ling family as if possessed. Ling Sichen’s condition was dire; his snow-white robes were stained with patches of crimson, yet he still struggled to block the blades of energy occasionally fired by the demon.

She gritted her teeth, rushed forward, and used her frail body to push the servants away.

Ling Sichen freed one hand, picked up a few stones from the ground, and flicked them with his fingers. The puppets approaching Jiang Xiaoman fell one by one, leaving her in a quiet space where she could play in peace.

The flute melody was long and continuous, then suddenly shifted, becoming tense and staccato. With every shift, another servant would snap out of their stupor and look around in panic. Some shrieked and fled upon waking, while others helped to restrain the remaining ones.

At first, the demon had dismissed the useless little girl, as her earlier melody, while annoying, posed no real threat. Its plan had been to dispose of the troublesome man first, then finish her.

But when it saw the mortals it controlled being awakened one by one by the girl’s flute, it was thoroughly enraged. It threw the servant it had just drained to the side, cracked its neck, and let out a series of audible pops.

"You... are courting death!"

Gritting its teeth, it leapt into the air, wreathed in surging demonic energy, and charged at her.

***

"Jiang Xiaoman—!!"

Ling Sichen broke free from the final restraint and rushed to stop the demon, but he was one step too late.

The creature grabbed Jiang Xiaoman by the throat, hoisting her up like a chick. It then transformed into a red blur, flashed back and forth across the ruins of the courtyard a few times, and vanished in the blink of an eye.

Ling Sichen recognized the technique; it was the "Demonic Trace Step," known to many great demons. Using it consumed a vast amount of energy. He had not expected the creature, on the verge of death, to recover so quickly by draining spiritual energy.

He panted, picking up the jade flute Jiang Xiaoman had dropped. His wounds burst open, causing excruciating pain, but he gritted his teeth and pushed on.

The people in the courtyard had all regained their senses. They were the bolder ones who hadn't run away immediately. Now they stood in the courtyard, looking at each other in confusion, seemingly still trapped in the memory of the demon's roar.

Ling Sichen checked on those who had been drained of their spiritual energy.

Mortals did not die immediately when their spiritual energy was drained; most of it was stored in their bones, blood, and organs, with only a small portion released externally. This was why most people didn't radiate spiritual energy, and why demons were so greedy for human flesh and blood.

But they were only temporarily safe. A demon’s draining was like a mosquito’s bite; while feeding, it would inject a trace of demonic energy into the body. Even a single wisp of such energy was extremely dangerous for a mortal with no spiritual defense.

Ling Sichen channeled some of his own spiritual energy into the cold, stiff bodies on the ground to soothe them and dissolve the demonic miasma. Only when he saw their faces shift from withered to flushed did he let out a sigh of relief. He then instructed the other servants to carry them back to rest and recover.

Some servants left with the wounded, while the braver ones began searching for tracks. They had witnessed the demon abduct the woman who had awakened them, and their hearts were filled with righteous indignation.

"Young Master, look! There are traces!" one called out. "She must have been taken to the back mountain!"

Ling Sichen went over to look. On the path leading to the back mountain lay overturned lanterns and broken tree branches, looking exactly like the tracks left by a monster in a hurry.

"We will follow you, Young Master, to slay the demon!"

"Yes, let's go!" The remaining servants were hot-blooded men, pounding their chests with ambition.

However, Ling Sichen sensed something was wrong. These tracks were too deliberate. The demon’s movement was agile; it was unlikely to have crashed through things so clumsily. Moreover, the lingering demonic energy here was chaotic, suggesting it was a deliberate ruse—a diversion.

He pondered: given this demon's nature, it was likely trying to escape. By abducting Jiang Xiaoman, it probably intended to steal her skin to hide its identity. Since it had used a diversion and just performed the "Demonic Trace Step," it proved its remaining strength was indeed low. To peel her skin and disguise itself, it would need to recover more energy.

His tensed heart relaxed slightly: at least there was still time.

But time was still of the essence; he could not afford any mistakes.

He looked around again. These were all back-courtyard servants. The Phantasmagoric Sound Technique must have a range limit, probably only reaching as far as the back courtyard. That meant the servants from the front were likely still safe.

The demon would definitely seek out a place with more people to drain another round of spiritual energy.

Fortunately, he had previously sent word through Steward Zeng for everyone to stay in their rooms, no matter what noises they heard. He had also laid down anti-demonic arrays on the walls of both courtyards. These arrays couldn't stop a great demon, but the current demon was at the end of its strength and severely wounded; it might just work.

Regardless, he had to go save her immediately.

But he could not take these mortals; the demon was too dangerous.

He turned back, looked at the excited servants, and nodded.

"Very well. You all go to the back mountain to search. If you find her, remember to stay put and wait for me. I am going back to retrieve my artifact, and then I will join you."