He Yuzhu returns in Siheyuan

Chapter 786 Xiao Shuai Reports on the Situation

Zhang Jiao's brows furrowed deeper and deeper, as if they were about to form a knot, the veins on his forehead throbbing so hard they seemed about to burst through his skin. His mind was filled with the image of He Yuzhu throwing a punch with such force, the bitter disappointment of his meticulously planned scheme failing, and the surging resentment and malice in his chest. He knew perfectly well that Qin Gou's words were a seduction, an attempt to lure him into the demonic path, yet the bone-deep hatred surged like a burst dam, breaching one mental defense after another, even causing the spiritual energy within his body that resisted demonic energy to gradually crumble and become chaotic.

Zhang Jiao was completely unaware that the demonic energy emanating from Qin Gou was quietly spreading through the gaps in his chaotic spiritual power—those black wisps, as fine as cow's hair, entwined like spider webs, silently seeping into his sea of ​​consciousness. And his eyes, unknowingly, had begun to glow with an eerie red light, like gemstones stained with thick ink, exuding a chilling ferocity.

Just as Zhang Jiao's mind was about to be completely swallowed by the black energy, turning him into a demonic puppet, Qin Gou suddenly withdrew all the demonic energy he had released. The surging black energy receded like the tide, retreating into a corner of his dantian, curling up into a ball, lying dormant, no longer leaking even a trace of its aura. He knew in his heart that haste makes waste. Zhang Jiao was already resolute; if a hasty and impulsive attempt led to failure, it would only make him more wary, making it difficult to find an opportunity to exploit him again.

Zhang Jiao snapped back to reality, as if escaping the suffocating feeling of drowning. Cold sweat instantly soaked his back, the sticky fabric clinging to his skin, bringing a chilling sensation. He gasped for breath, still shaken, feeling as if an invisible hand had gripped his throat, almost plunging him into an abyss of no return. He quickly sat cross-legged, focused his mind, and circulated his internal energy repeatedly to soothe the restless spiritual power within his body, attempting to dispel the malevolent aura.

Unbeknownst to him, deep within his consciousness, Qin Gou had secretly imprinted a faint demonic mark. The mark, as fine as a hair, blended into the halo of light within his consciousness, like a buried seed, waiting for the right moment to sprout. Zhang Jiao, panting heavily, watched the black energy dissipate completely before him, a flicker of relief in his eyes. He thought he had withstood this onslaught through sheer willpower. Little did he know, Qin Gou had already laid a far more insidious trap; that mark was the fuse, waiting to detonate the next surge of hatred and loss of composure, delivering a fatal blow and completely claiming this body, honed over many years, as his own.

The secret chamber fell silent once more, save for the wisps of white vapor emanating from the jade bed, which rose and condensed into a light mist in the air. The mist concealed everything, including the turbulent undercurrent that was quietly gathering beneath the calm surface, ready to erupt at any moment.

The fox demon Xiao Shuai hurried along, the wind beneath his feet carrying a hint of panic, yet the trepidation in his heart remained undiminished. He truly hadn't expected this seemingly simple mission to turn out so troublesome—before setting out, his clan had all thought it was merely a matter of bringing back an ordinary cultivator from human territory; after all, the human race was currently weak, and truly capable individuals were few and far between. He Yuzhu? Just a rogue cultivator wandering around in a small place, his reputation barely known—how could he have so many powerful figures protecting him?

The pre-departure preparations were flawless: a snake clan elder, skilled in bewitching, was specifically dispatched, intending to use illusions to disrupt He Yuzhu's mind and cause him to collapse without a fight; fearing the snake clan might fail, two strong bear clan men were added—those two were capable of tearing apart tigers and smashing boulders with a single punch, so even with a few reinforcements, they should be able to handle the situation. But who would have thought that Elder Qingyi, hidden within the enemy camp, possessed unfathomable skill, able to deflect a bear demon's heavy punch with a flick of his whisk; and the seemingly unremarkable fourth elder was ruthless in every move, his blade flashing with a poisonous sharpness. If it weren't for the fox clan's innate agility, allowing him to escape with only minor injuries, he would likely have perished there.

The closer Xiao Shuai got to the Black Stone Valley where the demons were stationed, the more uneasy he became, and his steps grew heavy. He steadied himself, straightened his torn robes from the fight, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and then lowered his head, carefully entering the grand hall built from a single piece of black stone.

The hall was dimly lit, with only a few rows of torches burning on the stone walls. The candlelight cast flickering shadows on the rough stone, like countless distorted ghostly figures. On the stone throne directly above sat an old man with white hair and beard—the current leader of the demon race, the patriarch of the Fox Clan.

Recently, the demon race has suffered repeated heavy blows. Several highly respected ancestors are either in seclusion in secret realms healing their wounds or perished in the previous great war with the human race. The only one in the clan who can hold the fort and keep order among the various forces is this fox ancestor who has weathered three thousand years of storms. At this moment, he half-closed his eyes, and a faint but powerful aura surrounded him. That aura was like ancient ice, and just sitting there made the air in the entire hall seem to freeze. Even the crackling of the torches sounded cautious.

"Speak," the patriarch's voice wasn't loud, but it was like a boulder crashing onto a calm lake, carrying an undeniable authority. His gaze slowly swept over, like an ice-cold knife, landing directly on Xiao Shuai. "It was just to capture a human cultivator, and you messed up such a simple task? I told you to bring He Yuzhu back, and what did you bring me? A body full of injuries, or a 'mess'?"

Xiao Shuai's throat bobbed, and he instinctively wanted to defend himself—to say that the other party had laid an ambush, to say that Elder Qingyi's cultivation far exceeded expectations, and that he could even draw upon the spiritual energy of heaven and earth; to say that the fourth brother's swordsmanship had a strange pattern, unlike that of an ordinary rogue cultivator. But before he could speak, he felt an immense pressure as heavy as Mount Tai pressing down on him. That pressure was wrapped in the weight and chill of a thousand years of cultivation, like an invisible net, instantly pressing down on his limbs and bones, making them tremble, and even his bones ached.

With a thud, his knees buckled, and he knelt heavily on the cold stone ground, his forehead pressed against the rough black stone, too weak to even lift his head. The explanations he had prepared were all stuck in his throat, leaving only the clattering of his teeth, and cold sweat instantly soaked his robes.

The main hall was deathly silent, with only the occasional crackling of the candlelight clearly audible. Xiao Shuai could clearly feel the patriarch's gaze on his back, the disappointment and anger in that gaze pricking his skin like needles, more terrifying than any reprimand—he knew that this time he was likely to be held responsible.