Chapter Eighteen: Has It Truly Become a Spirit?

"Damn it, has that mosquito really become a spirit?"
After searching for two or three days, Uncle Zhao had nearly scoured every corner within a hundred miles around Wo Niu Village, yet failed to find even the slightest clue about the demon mosquito.
As an outer sect elder, he had many responsibilities in the sect and couldn't stay outside searching indefinitely. After another half day's search, Uncle Zhao, cursing in frustration, decided to give up and return to Green Mountain Gate.
Still, since he rarely ventured out, he resolved to visit his hometown, Qi Qiao Town, on the way—after all, a cultivator could ride the flying sword, and it wouldn't delay him much.
"Hmm... these horse bandits lurk in the woods, hiding their heads, what should I do about them?"
The Black Scarf Bandits had been intercepting the north-south road in He County for several days. The locals sensed something amiss, and no one dared leave the city; the main road was deserted even in broad daylight, a strange sight indeed.
As a cultivator, Uncle Zhao easily noticed the abnormality as he passed through. Spreading his spiritual sense, he quickly discovered the hidden bandits in the dense forest.
Cultivators are notoriously indifferent and pragmatic, never acting without benefit. Uncle Zhao originally had no intention of meddling, but just happened to overhear two bandits whispering, which piqued his interest.
"Third Brother, are we just going to keep waiting if they stay inside? If this goes on, I'm afraid that fellow who knows the insect controlling art will raise his poisonous bugs, making them even harder to deal with."
In the woods, Chu Hong, growing impatient, spoke thus to Zhuge Fan.
"Big Brother, your worry isn't unfounded. How about this? Tomorrow I'll lead some men disguised as a merchant caravan to seize the city gate, then you and the others..."
Zhuge Fan's words were cut short by the sound of something slicing through the air overhead—a white-haired elder descended from the sky, standing on a flying sword, his powerful aura firmly locking onto them.
"A c-cultivator... We greet the immortal master!"
Though ruthless with common folk, the bandits quailed like mice before a cat when confronted with a cultivator. Snapping out of their stupor, all of them—led by the red-faced Chu Hong—knelt and kowtowed to Uncle Zhao.
"Speak. Who knows the insect controlling art? Lie to me, and you'll end up like this tree."
Uncle Zhao had no interest in the bandits’ plot to attack He County, but the mention of the insect controlling art stirred his curiosity.
He himself was fond of studying insect beasts, yet lacked advanced texts for reference.
Fixing his gaze arrogantly on Chu Hong, Uncle Zhao ordered coldly, flicking his finger—several sword auras flew from his fingertips, shredding a nearby tree as thick as two men embracing into splinters.

"R-revered immortal master, here’s what happened, a few days ago..."
With wood chips raining overhead and witnessing such power, Chu Hong was terrified, not daring to conceal anything. He hurriedly recounted the events, with Zhuge Fan supplementing any unclear or unsatisfactory details.
"Oh? So that’s how it went. Bring over Hou Tai, Geng Liang, and the others you mentioned."
After hearing their account, Uncle Zhao vaguely suspected that the wounds on the bandits’ necks from poisonous insects might be the work of the "demon mosquito" that disappeared from Wo Niu Village. Delight surged in his heart, and he waved his hand to instruct them.
"Greetings, immortal master, greetings, immortal master."
No one dared defy a cultivator, especially one displaying such overwhelming power. Uncle Zhao’s words were now law. Soon, the surviving bandits Hou Tai and Geng Liang were brought forth and knelt before him.
"You, come with me. Rest assured, as long as you do your duty, I won’t make things difficult for you."
Casting a glance at Hou Tai, who seemed shrewder, Uncle Zhao instructed him calmly.
Though he suspected the wounds on the dead bandits from insect bites might be related to the demon mosquito of Wo Niu Village, he couldn’t rule out that someone in the Long Wind Escort Agency was secretly skilled in the insect controlling art.
The advanced manuals for such arts weren’t found even in Green Mountain Gate. If he could obtain one by chance, it would be an immense stroke of luck.
Thus, deep down, Uncle Zhao secretly hoped that the truth lay with the latter possibility.
Taking the bandit who had seen Fatty Qian and the middle-aged man surnamed Xu, Uncle Zhao headed for He County to find and interrogate them, believing he could uncover the answer.
"Yes, immortal master," Hou Tai replied obediently, not daring to disobey.
Meanwhile, over a hundred miles away on the official road, Xiao Wenzi was hitching a ride with a passing caravan.
This caravan from Nan Feng Town bound for Qing County numbered fewer than ten. Inside the wagon sat a middle-aged couple and their eight- or nine-year-old son.
All three were finely dressed, and their guards were strong martial artists—obviously people of some standing.
But none of that concerned Xiao Wenzi. He lounged atop the wagon, waiting until they stopped to seek his next ride.
The journey from He County to Qing County was four hundred miles. Most caravans took two days, with villages en route to rest overnight.

The day passed peacefully. At dusk, the couple and their son, along with their guards, settled into the Cloud Water Inn at Cloud Water Town. Xiao Wenzi, naturally, did the same.
He had overheard them mention Qing County, so he was in no hurry to switch caravans.
Ever since leaving Wo Niu Village, Xiao Wenzi had been gripped by a nameless sense of danger, enduring several tense days. Tonight, he could finally sleep comfortably in the wagon.
"Nothing, still nothing. Damn it, could that demon mosquito have developed intelligence not inferior to humans?"
Under the night sky, Uncle Zhao withdrew his spiritual sense, his face full of frustration.
Earlier, with Hou Tai’s guidance, he had found the Xu family from Long Wind Escort Agency, as well as Fatty Qian, Du Hai, Cheng Wu, and others.
With his cultivation at the peak of the Qi Refining stage, no one in He County dared defy him—dealing with these worldly martial artists was effortless.
Yet, after questioning them, Uncle Zhao was deeply disappointed. None knew the insect controlling art, nor did they possess any related manuals.
Moreover, the Xu couple and others had no idea about Feng Kui and the skinny man’s sudden neck spasms and loss of consciousness, so further questioning was fruitless.
Still, as one door closed, another opened. Since there was no insect controlling manual, it was likely the "demon mosquito" that bit Wang Sheng had fled here.
If it had traversed hundreds of miles in a few days and refrained from feeding and evolving, its intelligence must be extraordinary.
Uncle Zhao, unwilling to lose such a perfect spiritual pet, began searching all over He County.
After several hours, he had scoured every residence within a thousand yards of the inn, but found nothing.
"Wait—perhaps that cunning demon mosquito, after drinking the bandits’ blood, didn’t follow Fatty Qian and the others to He County, but is cultivating somewhere hidden in the wilderness?"
Suddenly struck by this thought, Uncle Zhao’s eyes lit up. Ignoring the darkness, he rode his sword and flew north from He County.