Who is more pitiable?

That voice was crisp and melodious, like a mountain spring.

Chen Huangpi found it pleasant to the ear. He stepped forward and waved his hand.

The voice of the brass oil lamp echoed in Chen Huangpi’s mind: “Chen Huangpi, have you lost your mind? That’s an aberration—it wants to kill you, yet you’re greeting it?”

“It doesn’t matter; I’m not afraid,” he replied.

Protected by the sanctuary’s boundary, he curiously sized up the figure before him.

In all his years, it was the first time he’d ever seen an aberration his own age.

The figure was a head shorter than him, thin to the point of malnourishment, her entire body coated in yellow mud, exuding a foul stench.

“Brother, have you seen my grandmother? And the others from the village? I got separated from them—do you know where they are?”

“Who’s your grandmother—Granny Tang?” Chen Huangpi glanced over his shoulder.

Not far off, Granny Tang and the others were gathered under the fox deity’s statue, apparently unaware of what was happening here.

“Yes, that’s my grandmother.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“My grandmother and I look very much alike.”

The figure extended a hand, wiping the yellow mud from her face, revealing a sallow, innocent girl’s visage, pitiful to behold.

Chen Huangpi shook his head. “Granny Tang lost an eye, but yours are perfectly fine. I can’t believe you.”

No sooner had he said it than yellow mud streamed from the girl’s eyes, and her round eyeballs plopped to the ground.

“Brother, look—I have no eyes now. Do you believe me?”

“All right, I believe you.”

“I miss my grandmother so much. I really do.” The girl sobbed softly.

Chen Huangpi felt a pang of sadness as well.

“I miss my master, too.”

“I want to be with them.”

“I want to be with my master.”

“I miss the uncles from the village. I’m truly pitiful.”

“I don’t believe you. There’s no way you’re more pitiful than my master. He practiced until he lost his mind—without me caring for him, he’d have starved long ago.”

As he spoke, Chen Huangpi, moved by his own memories, continued mournfully, “I’ve been with my master since I was a child. Before he lost his mind, he cooked for me. Now that he’s mad, I cook for him. But today, while out patrolling the mountain, I encountered the Earth Dragon’s Turn and couldn’t get back. My master must be hungry now. Honestly, I’m hungry too.”

“So, you see, my master and I are more pitiful than you, aren’t we?”

“You…” The girl was at a loss for words, the mud on her body flowing backward.

“You may be pitiful, but what’s it got to do with me? I only want you to point me in the right direction—tell me where my grandmother and the others are. Why do you talk so much?”

“Your master lost his mind—that’s his bad luck.”

“You’re starving? Serves you right.”

Chen Huangpi was baffled. He was being reasonable, so why had this aberration suddenly gotten angry?

The little girl picked up her eyes from the ground. Without putting them back, she held them in her hand and said to Chen Huangpi, “The Earth Dragon turned, the yellow spring’s mud surged up. My grandmother took the villagers and fled, leaving me to be swallowed by the mud. Now I only want to find them. You won’t even point me the way—does your conscience not trouble you?”

Chen Huangpi clutched his chest. “It does trouble me.”

“Then give me directions.”

“All right, but I have one condition.”

“Name it. By the mountain god above, whatever you ask, I’ll grant.”

“Then admit right now that my master and I are more pitiful than you.”

There was a pause. The girl’s muddy body churned. Suddenly, she split her mouth in a grin.

“Go to hell!”

Before the words finished, she opened her mouth wide and spat a stream of yellow mud at Chen Huangpi.

He instinctively formed a sword gesture with his fingers.

From both kidneys, the energy that forged the temples of essence surged along a strange route.

Grand Demon-Slayer!

Blades of sword energy, sharp and imbued with the intent to destroy and banish evil, struck the girl fiercely.

With a crash, there was a sound like shattering porcelain.

Chen Huangpi’s vision blurred, as if the world had turned upside down.

In the darkness, a pair of beastly eyes, full of mud with green irises and yellow sclera, glared at him hatefully before vanishing into the void.

Whatever it was, it disappeared with astonishing speed.

Chen Huangpi stood uncertain.

“Huang Er, what happened?” The brass oil lamp’s voice resounded in his mind. “Just now, you met its gaze and your mind was pulled into an illusion. I was going to let you suffer a little before rescuing you, but you started wailing for your master and whining about being pitiful, and then you cut it down with a dozen sword strikes.”

“What sort of cultivation method did the abbot teach you?”

“You’ve only practiced for a day and you’re already this strong? Are you sure you’re not training in some demonic arts?”

Hearing this, Chen Huangpi bristled. “Nonsense! The Pure Immortal Monastery is orthodox—I practice only the righteous path.”

Then, as if remembering something, he continued, “That aberration was covered in yellow mud, yet it could speak. That’s unusual.”

During previous Earth Dragon Turns, Chen Huangpi had encountered aberrations consumed by the yellow mud, but those creatures had no thought, only savage instinct to kill.

“That was once the mountain god these people worshipped. Now, corrupted by the yellow mud, it’s no ordinary monster,” the brass oil lamp said warily. “Chen Huangpi, do you remember the last Earth Dragon Turn?”

“Of course. We hid in a cave, you shone your light to protect me till dawn, then my master found us and brought us back to the monastery.”

“You’ve a good memory. How long did it last, that time?”

Chen Huangpi scratched his head, thinking hard.

It had been some time ago. He’d been eight last night, so it must have been when he was seven.

It lasted… “A day and a night!”

“Good. At dawn, I’ll send a message to the abbot to come and rescue us. Otherwise, if anything happens to you, the abbot will make me his meal,” the oil lamp grumbled, sounding as if it wanted to die.

Chen Huangpi was confused. “Isn’t dawn safe?”

“That’s when it’s most dangerous! Once the Earth Dragon Turn ends, the rift between the yellow spring and the human world will close. All those tainted monsters will be dragged back down. Normally, that’s fine. But this is a god corrupted by the mud.”

“It retains self-awareness and has tasted mortal incense.”

“It wants to live, refuses to be dragged back, and needs a clean vessel.”

“But it only has a day and a night. Wouldn’t you go mad?”

The oil lamp made itself clear.

Chen Huangpi looked to the sky. Dawn was at least two hours away. If it didn’t get what it wanted tonight, tomorrow would be its wildest rampage.

Just then, a chill crept under his clothes.

A cold, sinister voice sounded in his mind.

“The Dog-Taming Sutra.”

It was the soul-reaping specter from the Ledger of Souls.

Startled, Chen Huangpi tried calling out to the specter, but it was like casting a stone into the sea—no response.

What did it mean by that? Why mention the Dog-Taming Sutra now? Wasn’t that a beast-taming method?

Could it mean that sutra held the key to this predicament?

Chen Huangpi furrowed his brow, recalling the techniques of the Dog-Taming Sutra.

It was a method to subdue beasts, turning them into loyal hounds capable of exceeding their natural strength. He’d only just begun learning, but in his current situation, where could he find a beast to practice on?

“Chen Huangpi, what are you thinking about? Don’t be afraid, I’ll protect you!” The brass oil lamp, thinking he was scared, tried to comfort him.

But Chen Huangpi suddenly looked down at the lamp.

“Huang Er, I have a way for us to get out of this safely.”

“What way?”

“Just be my dog.”

“What?!”

The oil lamp was scandalized, shouting in Chen Huangpi’s head, “If being your dog keeps us alive, why can’t you be my dog?”

“I mean it.”

“So do I!”

Chen Huangpi was about to continue persuading it when, in front of the wooden house where the Twelfth Lady lived, a cry rang out—half human, half beast—a horse demon’s wail.

“Granny Tang, Xu Daniu, Zhao Tiezhu, believers of Yellowbeard Village, where are you? Where have you all gone?”

The sound was piercing, laced with a kind of frenzied madness.

“It’s that deranged mountain god! Chen Huangpi, warn them!” urged the oil lamp.

Without hesitation, Chen Huangpi shouted, “Close your eyes! Don’t respond! If it can’t find you, it can’t get in!”

Granny Tang reacted instantly. “Hurry, everyone, close your eyes!”

One cultivator, closest to the maddened horse demon, unleashed a blade of sword energy, severing the beast’s head.

The corpse collapsed, yet no blood flowed—only a foul yellow-brown mixture of what seemed like blood and mud.

Chen Huangpi noted the change.

The oil lamp warned him, “If it confuses your mind, you become its puppet. Be careful!”

Even decapitated, the horse demon’s head kept screaming, as if calling names.

“Zhao Tiezhu, you begged me for wealth—I granted it.”

“Big Brother Daniu, it’s me, Erniu. It hurts so much, I’m so scared. Where are you…”

With a bang, a cultivator smashed the horse demon’s head to fragments.

Yet the other horse demons seemed infected by the madness, shrieking wildly.

“Kill them! Now!” someone shouted.

Chen Huangpi couldn’t tell what level those cultivators were, but in the blink of an eye, every horse demon had its head smashed.

The air was thick with the stench of mud and blood.

“The mountain god—it’s the mountain god… We abandoned the mountain god and let it fall into the mire. Now it’s come to punish us!” a villager cried, trembling violently.

A bare-chested man knocked the villager unconscious with a slap. “The mountain god won’t punish us—that’s an evil god.”

“Child, do you know what it is?” Granny Tang appeared before Chen Huangpi, her single eye full of complicated emotion. “Did you make contact with it?”

Chen Huangpi nodded. “It’s your mountain god.”

“No. It’s an evil god.”

“Fine, an evil god. It’s been corrupted by yellow mud. When the Earth Dragon’s Turn ends, it’ll be dragged back to the underworld, but it doesn’t want to go. It needs a clean vessel. Anyone could be its target.”

“What god would covet a mortal shell?” A cold, yet bewitching voice whispered in Chen Huangpi’s ear.

He looked up; the veiled Twelfth Lady stood before him.

She said, “It’s just like the Emperor of Dakan—master of all power in life, yet even in death he would be a ghost king. So it is with gods.”

As she spoke, an object appeared before her—square, cast in bronze, covered in countless symbols with a yin-yang needle at its center.

Chen Huangpi recognized it—a geomantic compass.

He had one himself.

At that moment, the needle spun, pointing at a crippled villager from Yellowbeard Village.

With a wave of her sleeve, the Twelfth Lady made the man’s head explode with a bang.

“Stop!” Granny Tang’s face turned grim, a formidable aura rising from her.

“What, a mere Golden Core cultivator—think you can show off before me with your mountain god’s power?” the Twelfth Lady sneered.

Before her laughter faded, the needle pointed at another person, whose head likewise burst.

“Those I kill are already ensnared by the evil god’s influence,” she said. “Without them, we are safer.”

“But madam, if you keep killing, the mud on the ground will be enough for that evil god to enter,” Chen Huangpi pointed out.

He gestured at the corpses; the mingled blood and mud had already begun to separate on the ground, and some of the mud was slowly gathering together, as if forming a human shape.