Chapter Forty-One: The Great King of the Southern Mountains

The monk of Three Flames was just as decisive in his methods. Within moments—between a punch and a palm strike—he had killed the Yellow Fox right where it stood, before turning to clash with the Bear Demon. Though he bore the outward appearance of a venerable monk, his attacks were ruthless and unhesitating, targeting only the weakest points and fatal spots.

The battle was almost completely one-sided. The two of them, fearless, suppressed more than a dozen monsters, and it seemed the outcome—life or death—would be decided at any moment.

Just then, all the monsters suddenly stopped in unison, standing respectfully on either side of the road through the marketplace. At some point, a withered old man had appeared in the midst of the market. He stood less than one meter forty in height, his skin as dark as earth, his whole body little more than skin and bones.

Three Flames Monk snorted, producing a porcelain bottle from his robe. With a forceful flick, he splashed a pale green liquid over himself and Zhou Bai.

Before Zhou Bai could react, a voice rang in his ear: “This talisman water masks our aura. Let’s see what happens.”

He looked down and saw his clothes shrouded in a thin layer of demonic energy, enveloping his body. Zhou Bai took this in stride, wiped the blood from his blade on the corpse of the wild boar, and turned, his yin-yang eyes coldly watching the sudden appearance of the old man.

“So, the real master has arrived.”

In the black-and-white vision of his eyes, the old man transformed into a monster with the head of a rat and the body of a man. Its gray fur was matted with scraps of flesh and blood, and its eyes were blood-red, filled with violence.

Three Flames Monk glanced at the rat demon, then smashed the fallen Bear Demon’s head with a powerful blow. Flesh and brain matter splattered everywhere. He shook the filth from his palm, rose to his feet, and, together with Zhou Bai, fixed his gaze on the newly arrived rat demon.

“Ahem... Ahem...” The rat demon cast a look of distaste at the surrounding lesser monsters, then cleared its throat.

“The feast is about to begin. The King of South Mountain sends his regards. Why don’t you two young demons come and join us?”

At these words, the assembled monsters began to whisper amongst themselves. Lacking any real discernment, they had taken Zhou Bai and his companion for humans—who could have guessed they were little demons themselves?

“Silence!” snapped the rat demon, annoyed. Its voice cut sharply through the air, and the chattering ceased at once.

“You ragtag creatures, still covered in stray fur, can forget about attending the King of South Mountain’s feast. Dream on!”

It turned its gaze to Zhou Bai and his companion, extending an inviting gesture. “You two, please ascend Mount Yue.”

Ignoring any reaction from the pair, the rat demon dropped to all fours and darted up the mountain path.

Zhou Bai was surprised by this turn of events, but Three Flames Monk remained calm.

“What about these monsters?” Zhou Bai asked, his gaze dark with murderous intent as he surveyed the surroundings.

“They’re just riffraff—not worth the effort,” replied Three Flames Monk. He had heard of such lesser monsters before. Like wandering ghosts, their cultivation was shallow, and even ordinary people with the right knowledge could handle them.

After these come the minor demons—halfway transformed to human form, akin to vengeful ghosts, which only those with supernatural arts could confront.

Above them were the blood demons and fearsome spirits—the former having shed all trace of their beastly form, the latter like the Lord Anu, beings of dreadful power.

Three Flames Monk, unable to contain his eagerness, nodded to Zhou Bai, then strode swiftly up the mountain.

Zhou Bai did not hurry after him. To him, a demon was a demon—no matter its cultivation, he had no intention of letting any escape.

The remaining monsters, thinking he was about to leave, began to relax. In that instant, a cold gleam flashed from Zhou Bai’s butcher knife. The fox demon closest to him was struck by the blade’s aura; its head flew skyward, the face still frozen in surprise.

With the most formidable three monsters already slain by Zhou Bai and Three Flames Monk, the rest were nothing but chickens and dogs, no match for him. Though they tried desperately to flee, Zhou Bai caught up with each and slaughtered them all.

After this battle, the black robes of the Underworld Registry bore fresh flecks of blood. Zhou Bai sheathed his blade, which now exuded an even fiercer aura.

He now understood: these monsters were utterly unlike ghosts, especially in their intelligence, which was no different from ordinary people. But these were just lesser monsters, their demonic power barely perceptible. He had yet to face a true demon and did not know what powers such a being might possess.

Quickly following the mountain path, Zhou Bai, having mastered the Five Animal Frolics to perfection, ran with deep, steady breaths. Within ten minutes, he caught up to Three Flames Monk.

The monk looked at him with some surprise. He had thought the Underworld Registry official would retreat, but instead Zhou Bai had come along, the blood on his robes betraying that he had slaughtered all the lesser monsters before coming up.

“A true killer,” thought Three Flames Monk to himself. He knew well that the people of the Underworld Registry never left a task half done. If monsters were discovered in a place, not a single living creature would be left behind.

“Do you know anything of this King of South Mountain?” Zhou Bai asked gravely, seeing at once that the monk was prepared.

Three Flames Monk pondered for a moment, then replied, “All these years at Panshan Temple, my purpose was always the King of South Mountain. My master entrusted me to slay him.”

“Why not inform the Underworld Registry?” Zhou Bai was somewhat surprised. With their methods, why wait so many years?

The monk laughed. “The King of South Mountain is a timid creature. He would never let the Underworld Registry get any evidence on him.”

As they spoke, they reached the edge of the forest—halfway up Mount Yue.

Before them stood a solemn temple nestled among the trees—blue bricks, red tiles, and statues of Arhats standing in a ring. A plaque above the entrance bore three large characters: South Mountain Temple.

“What is this...?” Zhou Bai was taken aback.

“Don’t mind it. The King of South Mountain always claims to be a disciple of the Buddha,” Three Flames Monk sneered.

The temple doors were tightly shut. The two did not rush to enter.

Zhou Bai used his yin-yang eyes again. The temple building rapidly decayed before his gaze, crumbling to ruins in the blink of an eye. The golden Arhats were revealed as hellish asuras.

Three Flames Monk noticed his reaction and glanced at him. “Yin-yang eyes, eh? Quite the supernatural gift. But the Buddhist tradition has the Five Eyes, which are comparable. The Celestial Eye, for example, is much the same.”

“Celestial Eye? I think the Daoists speak of that as well,” Zhou Bai said with interest, curious about both Buddhist and Daoist supernatural arts.

“The methods of awakening differ, that’s all,” Three Flames Monk explained patiently, having realized that Zhou Bai was new to this world—likely unaware even of the Underworld Registry’s own hierarchy. “The Five Eyes are: the physical eye, the celestial eye, the dharma eye, the wisdom eye, and the Buddha eye. For Buddhists, opening any of these is a supernatural power, and the effect is permanent.”

He explained in detail, seeing that Zhou Bai was just a beginner, likely unfamiliar even with the divisions of strength within the Underworld Registry.