Inheriting a Taoist temple, the story begins with Wu Zetian offering incense.

Chapter 361 Going up the mountain is suicide! [Seeking monthly votes]

On the mountain path, Zhou Yi tossed various talismans with different functions to both sides as he walked. Some of these talismans could change the landscape, some could create illusions, and some contained formations related to water and fire.

Yunwu Mountain is our home ground, so we must make the most of it.

Xin Qiji, wielding a flat-headed cleaver in one hand and a scholar's pen in the other, perfectly embodies both refined elegance and tyrannical cruelty.
"Master, after killing them, what should we do with their bodies?"

The Book of Changes says:

“My grandfather said someone was going to clean up the mess, but it was too much trouble. He suggested just chopping them into charcoal so their souls would be scattered and they wouldn’t be able to harm anyone else.”

When I rescued Uncle Ming at the tattoo shop last time, he used a kind of corpse-dissolving powder that could turn a person's corpse directly into water and then flush it away down the sewer.

Zhou Yi felt that the corpses of the Manchus, if turned into water, would pollute Yunwu Mountain, so it was better to chop them up. This would leave no residue, be gentle on the hands, and be even better than Diaopai soap.

Zhao Xu, carrying a long spear, recalled the Bagua mirror that Chen Tang had boasted about last time:

"Master, why don't you bring the mirror over and put them all inside?"

The Book of Changes says:

"Grandpa told me to kill them honorably. The more miserable these people die, the safer Hunyuan Palace will be for some time to come... The illusion created by the Bagua Mirror is not tragic enough. It's more satisfying to kill them directly."

As the master and his two apprentices made preparations on the mountain road, a Mercedes-Benz van slowly pulled up at the entrance to the mountain road in Yunwu Town at the foot of the mountain.

"We're here. This is the entrance to Cloud Mist Mountain. It seems quite a distance to go up the mountain. Are you sure you don't want me to drive the car up?"

The old man, whose voice sounded like fingernails scraping glass, buttoned up his yellow-trimmed jacket and said:

"No need. After we get off the bus, you can find a place to eat and rest in town by yourself. Just come pick us up early tomorrow morning. When we get to the capital, I will give you an extra big red envelope."

The driver laughed heartily:
"No need for that. Just place the order on the platform and pay the full amount. You don't need to give more than that."

His refusal displeased the old man in the yellow jacket:

"Just take what's offered to you, that's so rude!"

After saying that, he got out of the car, picked up his luggage, and waved for the driver to leave.

The driver rolled down all the windows and muttered to himself as he drove toward town:
"Damn it, even a corpse that's been dead for three days doesn't smell this bad. What the hell is this stuff?"

He decided to go to town to have a meal first, then find a hotel to stay in and get a good night's sleep... After the group of old men got off the bus, he yawned repeatedly, as if his energy had been drained.

After the van drove away, the old man in the yellow jacket snorted coldly:
"The world is going to the dogs. Back in the day, it would have been a miracle if someone like this could carry our sedan chair. And we weren't even satisfied... These days, the lackeys are getting more and more ignorant of the rules."

An old man in a yellow jacket, wearing a bright green thumb ring on his left thumb, smiled as he gazed at the Cloud Mist Mountain:
"This industry is just like crosstalk; whoever lives the longest has the most say. Zhou Yannian, you call yourself a demigod, but you never imagined your corpse would one day be dug up and turned into a puppet, did you?"

Another withered old man, holding a snuff bottle, straightened his blue jacket and said:

"I heard that Zhou Yannian has a grandson who is a dimwitted college student. When we go up the mountain later, we'll subdue him and make him dig up Zhou Banxian's grave. The scene will definitely be quite interesting."

After saying this, the old man picked up the snuff bottle, brought it to his nose, and then exhaled a cloud of black smoke. This smoke enveloped the vegetation on both sides of the mountain road, and the trees visibly began to wither.

"Zhou Yannian nurtured this place into a spiritual mountain, probably never imagining that this spiritual energy would become our tonic."

As more and more trees withered, the old man in the blue coat seemed to deflate like an inflating balloon; his wrinkled face became relaxed, his hunched body straightened, and his breathing stopped being like an old bellows, as if he had suddenly become decades younger.

Upon seeing this, the man in the yellow jacket with the green thumb ring gently turned the ring on his thumb. Instantly, countless rays of light shot out from the ring, shooting straight out in all directions. The flowers, plants, and trees hit by the light withered rapidly, while the man with the green thumb ring himself became younger.

The man in the red jacket walking behind took out a string of colorful beads from his pocket and hung it around his neck. A powerful sense of majesty emanated from him, and the surrounding spiritual energy automatically surged towards him.

Then, the old man in the red jacket took out a pocket watch, adjusted it forward for a while, and gradually returned to his youthful state.

The old man in the blue-trimmed robe draped the rat tail on his shoulder, from which hung a jade feather tube, exuding the same majesty and automatically drawing in the spiritual energy of Cloud Mist Mountain.

Once everyone had taken out their magical artifacts and started absorbing spiritual energy to rejuvenate, the old man in the yellow robe who spoke as if scratching glass with his fingernails took out several gold-inlaid jade fake nails from his pocket and slowly put them on his hands.

With each fake nail he puts on, he looks a few years younger, but instead of becoming more upright and robust, he becomes more effeminate, and his every move is effeminate.

When they reached the White Tiger position, the group of old men all turned into middle-aged men, while the old man in the yellow jacket who was leading them became a genderless, dead transvestite. He was smearing powder on his face as he walked, and he was humming Peking Opera. His voice was no longer like scratching glass with fingernails, but had become a genderless, distorted voice.

Down the mountain, Old Joe frowned and said:

"They're absorbing the mountain's spiritual energy. Shouldn't we stop them? Are we just going to watch the show?"

The blind man nodded: "I have a feeling that Old Zhou went to so much trouble to send these people to seek revenge, just to absorb the spiritual energy dissipating from Hunyuan Palace... The things that the gods enjoy are being eaten by a bunch of rats. If you were the gods, what would you do?"

Uncle Ming answered subconsciously:

"Then we definitely have to exterminate the rats to death... Wait, does Zhou Bansian even dare to provoke the anger of gods?"

The blind man recalled his decades-long acquaintance with Zhou Bansian and couldn't help but sigh:
"It seems there's nothing he wouldn't dare to do in this world... He's known as a half-immortal, not only for his high level of skill but also for his unrestrained behavior. A few years ago, a massive avalanche occurred in Changbai Mountain, and it was this guy who caused it. He secretly severed the dragon vein of Changbai Mountain, turning hundreds of living dead people who were nourished by the dragon vein into real dead people."

Uncle Ming was shocked, and a flood of emotions welled up within him, which ultimately coalesced into a single word:

"Hold……"

He used to feel sorry for being controlled by Zhou Banxian, but now, Uncle Ming feels that being favored by Zhou Banxian is an honor for the Jiang family. Others who want to be controlled by Zhou Banxian don't even have this opportunity!
On the mountain, Zhou Yi sensed an inexplicable increase in deathly aura below, which was rapidly spreading, and guessed that the Tartars had arrived.

He stood with Zhao Xu and Xin Qiji on the Azure Dragon position on the mountain path, quietly waiting for this group of dead people who had delivered themselves to their doorstep.

About half an hour later, eight shadowy figures appeared on the mountain road. The one leading them walked with an increasingly flamboyant gait, but his face still looked like that of a man in his forties or fifties with a stubble beard, which made Zhou Yi gag.

Damn it, if winning is about being disgusting, then you've already won.

The leading transvestite looked at Zhou Yi, his voice constantly shifting between male and female, much like the tree demon in "A Chinese Ghost Story":
"You're Zhou Yannian's grandson? We've been looking for you everywhere! Here's an imperial edict, listen carefully..."

After speaking, he took out a bright yellow imperial edict, slowly unfurled it, and began to read it aloud to Zhou Yi:

"By the mandate of Heaven, the Emperor decrees: As a subject of the Great Qing, you shall naturally..."

With each word spoken by this dead transvestite, Zhou Yi felt an additional restraint on his head, as if he were gradually being controlled... Of course, this was just a guess, because whenever the feeling of restraint appeared, the leaves of Wang Lingguan's tree would become warm, completely eliminating the feeling.

Zhao Xu gradually figured out the trick:
"Using the imperial edicts of the previous dynasty to bind the people of this dynasty—is that how it works?"

He brandished his long spear and shouted loudly:
"I am the Emperor of China! How dare you barbarian dogs lay your hands on my Central Plains?!"

"You're acting like officials from the previous dynasty, then I'll act like an emperor from the dynasty before that..." Zhao Xu roared, interrupting the reading of the imperial edict, and the dead transvestite coughed up a mouthful of blood.

He never imagined that there was an emperor in Hunyuan Palace, and a genuine emperor of the Song Dynasty at that.

After Zhao Xu used his imperial authority to intimidate the situation, Xin Qiji took out his scholar's pen:

"I've heard that the living dead are most afraid of the scorching sun, so I'll give it a try today."

After saying that, he quickly wrote the four characters "烈日凌空" (literally "Blazing Sun in the Sky") in running script in the sky. After writing them, he pushed them forward, and the four characters floated to the side and upward. When they reached mid-air, they suddenly exploded. A blazing sun suddenly appeared in the originally dark night, and the group of Manchu Tartars were instantly covered in smoke, and their middle-aged state quickly slid into old age.

Down the mountain, the blind man sensed this scene and, unusually, lost his composure:

"What did this kid do with the Confucian scholar's pen? It feels like the Great Sun Buddha has descended upon us."

Old Joe and Old Lady Ji were also shocked. They thought Zhou Yi would be attacked from both sides and were waiting for him to step in and become the main force, but they didn't expect that Zhou Yi was the real main force.

Old Joe and Mrs. Ji simply couldn't make the sun appear at night.

The blind man breathed a sigh of relief, a look of ease appearing on his face.
"Let's wrap things up, Ms. Ji. Please make eight paper figures, pretending to be those eight Manchu Tartars. Have the driver take them away tomorrow morning. Once at the service area, pretend to argue and drive the driver away. Then, turn them into ashes in a blind spot of the service area's surveillance cameras and disappear without a trace."

Old Joe said:

"It seems that the driver's life force has been drained. I'll go to town later to find him and restore his life force, so as not to affect the young man's fortune."

The tension from before dissipated, and the group began chatting lightly.

Although the Tartars on the mountain were not dead yet, the moment the sun appeared, even Uncle Ming knew that it was time to start garbage time. Zhou Yi's abilities far exceeded expectations; killing these few things was easier than stepping on eight ants.

On the mountain, Zhao Xu and Xin Qiji made their moves one after another, which made Zhou a little itchy to fight. He was too lazy to waste words, so he silently recited the eighth-grade lightning strike technique and struck the leading dead transvestite.

"Crack!"

A bolt of lightning ripped through the sky and struck the dead transvestite's head. Within a five-meter radius of him, dazzling light flashed. The transvestite exploded into ashes on the spot, and the seven money rats around him were thrown far away by the blast wave, all of them turning back into withered old men.

Xin Qiji and Zhao Xu looked at Zhou Yi with longing eyes, never expecting that their master's lightning strike technique would be so powerful.

Of course, even Zhou Yi himself didn't expect this:
"Holy crap, the eighth-grade lightning strike technique is incredibly powerful! If it's upgraded to the first grade, won't it become a world-destroying lightning tribulation?"

(End of this chapter)