Volume One: When Youths Meet in Their Humble Days Chapter Twenty-Two: Such Generous Courtesy, It Would Be Discourteous to Refuse—Part Two

The vision before his eyes dissolved once more into wisps of smoke, vanishing without a trace. The incense stick floated into the Daoist’s hand.

Though the scenes within the illusion seemed to span ages, to the outside world, only a few breaths had passed.

The demon of illusion had not anticipated his opponent’s swift escape; he watched with a grim expression as the Daoist collected the Soul-Confounding Incense, powerless to intervene. He knew the illusion crafted by the incense could easily trap even those at the thirteenth realm of cultivation. With the monsters within the illusion, he had hoped to delay the Daoist long enough to activate his most powerful artifact.

Yet he had not expected the Daoist’s strength to be so rare and formidable. Though he succeeded in trapping him, it lasted mere moments—of little benefit to him. Still, he refused to give up. He would make one last desperate attempt; if he could slay such a mighty figure, the rewards would be unrivaled. Wealth and glory lie in peril, and in truth, every ounce of his cultivation and fortune had been seized on the knife’s edge between life and death.

The Daoist put away the incense and smiled. “A fine item, but you have only one last chance.”

The illusion demon did not attack immediately; instead, he asked, “May I know your esteemed name? Should you truly fall to my hand, I would like to remember the greatest cultivator I have ever slain.”

The Daoist replied, “You’re merely stalling for time. There’s no need to conceal such petty tricks from me. I promised you three chances; I will keep my word. If you need time, I will grant it—why all these roundabout schemes? At your level of cultivation, still playing these games? You’ve wasted your training. No wonder you remain so useless after all these years.”

Never had the illusion demon suffered such verbal humiliation. Yet, like meat on the chopping block, he had no choice but to bow his head; he could only grind his teeth in hatred, waiting for the moment to kill the Daoist and settle all their old and new grievances.

The Daoist found the demon’s aggrieved expression amusing. “Enough, I won’t toy with you further. Listen well: my Daoist title is Lin, one who walks the Lin Dao.”

The illusion demon immediately understood which Lin he meant. Lin Dao—daring to use such a title meant the Daoist was approaching the very path he himself sought, having reached the pinnacle of cultivation, climbing the most perilous heights, perhaps only a step away from transcending all.

At that moment, the demon dared not strike. He had not expected to provoke such a venerable old monster of cultivation, and he was filled with regret.

Why not focus on perfecting your last step? Why must you walk the world and trouble us lesser cultivators? Is this not bullying?

In an instant, the demon’s demeanor changed; he smiled obsequiously. “Senior, your presence stands apart from the world, transcending the mundane. Your character and heart are as vast as the sea, inspiring awe and reverence. Though I offended you unwittingly, surely a person of your stature would not begrudge one as ignorant as myself.”

No sooner had he finished than the demon continued, “Of course, it is my fault to have angered a senior such as yourself. If there is anything you require within my ability, speak freely—I will give all I have to satisfy you.”

The Daoist gave a half-smile. “You are indeed clever. But what if I am not so magnanimous, and enjoy holding grudges against you—what then?”

The demon replied humbly, “Senior, there is no need. Quarreling with me would diminish your dignity. Let me offer compensation—release me, I beg you.”

The Daoist continued, “You are hedging your bets: showing weakness on one hand, preparing on the other. Are you hoping to strike me unexpectedly while I am distracted?”

The demon answered, “Senior, your strength is unmatched. I merely wish to preserve myself.”

The Daoist shook his head, unwilling to argue further. Coldly, he said, “Go ahead, you’ve had enough time.”

At that, the demon shed his obsequious mask and snarled, “Then die!”

A nine-tiered tower flew from above the demon’s head toward the Daoist. Its exterior was ancient and weathered, each level adorned with intricate, mysterious patterns and images of unknown divine beasts and spirits. As the tower appeared, the surrounding space twisted violently, as if unable to contain such an artifact, breaking apart at the seams.

At the tower’s summit spun the Yin-Yang Polar Pearl, shining brilliantly.

The tower hovered above the Daoist, emanating a powerful suction intended to draw him inside. Everything around was reduced to dust and swept into the tower. The golden dragon, who had been lurking nearby for an opportunity, had fled far away at the Daoist’s warning.

The Daoist steadied himself, resisting the suction. His expression grew serious. “So, it’s the Xuanhuang Pagoda.”

The demon grinned maliciously. “Today is your death day. I will settle all scores—let us see if you remain so arrogant.”

Lin the Daoist remained unruffled. “I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”

With that, he removed the jade hairpin from his head; it transformed into a towering tree, its lofty branches immediately blocking the base of the pagoda, halting the constant suction.

The two treasures were locked in a stalemate.

The demon’s expression changed drastically, panic overtaking him. “Impossible! How could a mere jade hairpin withstand the Xuanhuang Pagoda, forged from primordial energy?”

The Daoist replied calmly, “Nothing is impossible. Your fortune is impressive—first the Soul-Confounding Incense, then the Xuanhuang Pagoda. Such luck is rare. But you happened to meet me.”

This time, he held nothing back. Striking with his palm at the demon, he commanded, “Perish.”

That palm carried the power of the Daoist’s ultimate path—a cultivator struck by it would be utterly obliterated, body and Dao alike, vanishing without a trace.

The Daoist had expected this blow to end the demon, but at the critical moment, the strange light appeared again, opening a rift in space and whisking him away.

Lin the Daoist had anticipated the demon might use this trick again. He had laid down layers of seals from the start—no artifact capable of splitting space, nor even a cultivator of equal strength specializing in the Dao of Space, should have been able to silently open a rift and escape.

The demon had not expected the palm’s power to be so overwhelming; he swiftly decided to flee.

He had hoped to recall the pagoda before escaping, even to take the tree formed from the hairpin, but unexpectedly, the tree sprouted vines that tightly ensnared the pagoda. Before fleeing, the demon, eyes bloodshot, cursed Lin the Daoist, “Lin, our enmity will not rest in this life or the next. When we meet again, I will grind your bones to dust, banish you to the Nine Netherworlds, where you shall neither live nor die!”

The Daoist watched the direction of the demon’s escape and snorted coldly. “Empty boasts. You’ll need strength for that.”

He then looked up at the pagoda entwined by the hairpin tree and was pleased. “Excellent—this journey has been truly rewarding. The ceremony for accepting a disciple will finally be presentable.”