The ox-sized carcass of the boar demon lay across the entrance of the bamboo grove, its peck-measure-sized head resting twenty paces away.
A group of Daoists from the lower court circled the boar demon's head, clicking their tongues in wonder. Even in death, the colossal, hideous boar head remained thoroughly terrifying.
It was also the first time many of the Daoists had seen such a ferocious monster, and their curiosity ran high.
"Look at the wound on the boar demon's neck—red on the outside, scorched black within! The Yin Thunder had already shattered its brain, but its qi and blood were so vigorous that it took a while to die!"
"Master's Yin Thunder carries immense power, truly omnipotent in subduing demons and vanquishing evils!"
"When Master wields lightning arts, he is awe-inspiring and majestic, like a heavenly god commanding thunder..."
All of them were Wuzheng's disciples, retinue, or junior martial brothers; naturally, they credited the primary merit of slaying the demon to Wuzheng.
Their words were heaped with nothing but flattery for him.
Zhou Wuji listened from the side without the slightest irritation.
The primary merit for slaying the boar demon truly did belong to Wuzheng; there was nothing to dispute there.
If not for two blasts of Yin Thunder obliterating most of the boar demon's vitality—slackening its muscles and dissipating the power of its qi and blood—he would never have been able to decapitate it with a single stroke.
In truth, even without his sword stroke, the boar demon would not have survived long even if it had escaped.
The arts of Yin Thunder destroyed a living creature's vitality from the inside out, exceptionally domineering and ruthless.
Yet that single strike had delivered the true death blow to the boar demon.
At the very least, the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment recognized it; information about the boar demon had appeared upon its pages.
Eighth-rank boar demon: convertible into two liang and five qian of Primordial Profound Essence.
Just as he had anticipated, the slain boar demon could be converted into Primordial Profound Essence.
Zhou Wuji felt there were too many people around, making it inconvenient to convert the Primordial Profound Essence right now.
There was another issue: fierce and rampant as the boar demon was, it was actually only of the eighth rank—a rather low rank.
With such an eighth-rank monster, what kind of effect would the converted Primordial Profound Essence even have?
"Senior Brother, thank you for stepping in to help just now."
Wuming glided over and cupped her hands in thanks, her demeanor tender and intimate, her voice sweet and gentle.
Seeing someone approaching, Zhou Wuji first put away the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment within his sea of consciousness. Smiling, he cupped his hands and replied, "A trivial matter, not worth mentioning. Junior Sister, there is no need to be polite."
Polite as his words were, he thought to himself, 'This girl isn't practical at all. Saving your life doesn't strictly require offering yourself in marriage, but you should at least present a generous gift. Brushing it off with a casual sentence makes your own life seem worthless...'
Seeing Zhou Wuji speak so breezily, without claiming credit or acting conceited, Wuming was somewhat surprised.
Normally, young men like Zhou Wuji loved showing off the most.
She praised sincerely, "Senior Brother's swordsmanship is superb, and your character is so open-hearted and magnanimous. I fall far short of you!"
Then she added earnestly, "In the past, I was ignorant and treated Senior Brother with slight and neglect. Please forgive me, Senior Brother."
"We are fellow disciples of the same sect. Why speak like this, Junior Sister?"
Seeing that Wuming was offering nothing more than empty words of thanks, Zhou Wuji felt a touch of disdain inside, yet spoke with grand generosity.
Since no tangible benefit was coming his way anyway, he might as well speak pleasantly and maintain full face for both sides!
While the two were talking, the villagers arrived.
The old headman and the others grew exceedingly agitated upon seeing the boar demon's corpse.
Crowding around the headman, a cluster of villagers came before the altar. The headman immediately dropped to his knees and kowtowed to Wuzheng, praising him incessantly: "Master possesses boundless divine power, subduing demons and eliminating evils, saving hundreds of lives in our Baizhu Village! Such great kindness we shall never forget..."
Wuzheng helped the headman to his feet and exchanged a few humble remarks.
The demon slaying had gone quite smoothly, putting him in high spirits.
Though uneducated, the headman spoke and handled affairs with seasoned thoughtfulness; there was nothing to fault.
Shouldering the boar demon and the domestic pig, the villagers returned to the village in jubilant celebration.
To celebrate the successful slaying of the demon, large cauldrons were set up in the village center with boiling water. They scraped the hair off both pigs and divided the meat across several cauldrons to stew together...
The village had nearly six hundred souls. Over a thousand jin of pork—especially the boar demon's meat, which was tough and chewy—could not be finished in one meal, but dividing a few jin among each household took care of it.
The Arctic Sect did not forbid wine and meat, and knew well that demon beasts possessed rich qi and blood, making their flesh deeply nourishing.
The headman had offered to butcher the demon meat and present a portion to them, but Wuzheng declined.
After all, the boar demon had eaten humans. For a company of Daoists to haul around heaps of pork would look improper!
Besides, several people in the village had died; the boar demon could serve as compensation for their losses.
Feeling uneasy about receiving so much without giving in return, the villagers brought out cured pork, freshly gathered bamboo shoots, home-brewed rice wine, and other provisions from their homes to entertain Wuzheng and the Daoists.
Simple as the fare was, it was the best the villagers possessed.
The fresh bamboo shoots in particular were crisp, tender, and refreshing, tasting delightful alongside the cured pork.
Having eliminated the boar demon, Wuzheng was in great spirits and took the lead in drinking the rice wine.
The rice wine was cloudy and thin in flavor, yet it quickly went straight to the head.
With Wuzheng leading the way, the Daoists ate and drank, soon growing slightly tipsy.
Zhou Wuji did not drink; he was always cautious about what entered his mouth.
It was improbable that the villagers would deliberately harm them, but one could never be too cautious.
He remembered clearly that most of the villagers shared the surname Zhang.
The bamboo charcoal business was also an enterprise belonging to Zhang Xinhu of Siming County. In fact, this entire white bamboo grove belonged to the Zhang family.
Zhang Xinhu might have given instructions; Zhou Wuji had only one life, and being careful in such matters was never a mistake.
Furthermore, rustic brewing methods were crude; getting poisoned from poor liquor was by no means unheard of.
He ate only the fresh bamboo shoots, which were so tender and delicious that he couldn't resist having a few slices.
Wuming swirled her coarse earthenware bowl. She found the wine too full of impurities to stomach.
Seeing that Zhou Wuji had not touched a drop, she playfully raised her bowl in a toast. "Senior Brother Wuji, I toast to you."
Zhou Wuji raised his bowl in return, merely touched it to his lips, and set it down.
Wuming pouted slightly in mild discontent. "Senior Brother, you're not showing any sincerity at all!"
She was alluring to begin with; adopting this girlish pout added a touch of flirtatious charm that was indescribably captivating.
"Everyone has had quite a bit to drink; someone has to stay clearheaded. The world isn't peaceful these days..."
Zhou Wuji gave a nonchalant explanation. Wuming started slightly. She had only been joking around, never expecting Zhou Wuji to be so thorough in his foresight.
A bit ashamed, she said, "Senior Brother thinks of everything. I fall far short of you, only knowing how to fool around."
Zhou Wuji smiled, about to offer the beauty a few soothing words, when a faint premonition stirred within him, as if someone were watching him. He turned his head toward the village entrance.
The distance was rather great, obstructed by houses and low walls, and night had fully fallen; even with his vision, he could see nothing.
Noticing the shift in Zhou Wuji's expression, Wuming followed his gaze, seeing only the distant, majestic mountain ranges faintly silhouetted in the deep dark night.
Puzzled, she asked softly, "What is it?"
"Nothing." A flicker of vigilance rose in Zhou Wuji's heart, though he let none of it show.
With so many of them gathered together, even if Zhang Xinhu came rushing over, he wouldn't dare act recklessly; there was no need to appear overly tense.
That said, Zhou Wuji still deftly executed the Six Yang Dharma Eyes, sweeping a hand over his eyes.
The dense gloom of night instantly grew extraordinarily vivid and clear. Zhou Wuji peered toward the village entrance, where two large poplar trees swayed gently in the breeze with lush foliage, but revealed nothing out of the ordinary.
At the entrance of Baizhu Village, Zhang Xinhu concealed his aura and kept his eyes lowered, hiding directly behind the poplars.
Having attained the level of Transforming Jin, the power inside and outside his body was refined into unity, reaching the realm where not even a single feather could be added without response.
Just now, while spying on Zhou Wuji, he had seen the youth turn around so alertly and immediately realized something was off, swiftly descending from the tree to conceal himself.
Zhang Xinhu did not fear Zhou Wuji; he merely did not wish his presence to be discovered.
After pausing for a moment, Zhang Xinhu quietly departed Baizhu Village, leading several subordinates to the woods several li away.
His subordinates all looked toward him. With a cold expression, Zhang Xinhu said, "Zhou Wuji is in the village alongside a group of traveling Daoists. They must have killed that boar demon!"
To slay the boar demon proved this band of Daoists possessed some skill.
Zhang Xinhu had also received a report from the villagers and rushed over to render aid.
The charcoal was his business, and the villagers were valuable labor.
Moreover, the flesh and blood of a boar demon contained spiritual qi and was exceedingly valuable.
Yet as soon as he reached the village entrance, he saw the crowd gathered in the village center boiling pots and preparing a meal—a dense, lively throng.
Zhang Xinhu knew right away something had gone awry. Spotting a group of Daoists among them, he was even less inclined to enter.
Hiding to the side and watching for a while, he had indeed spotted Zhou Wuji!
That punk had killed his son and scurried in panic to the lower court, yet he dared to return!
Zhang Xinhu knew killing Zhou Wuji wouldn't be difficult, but with so many Daoists present, he couldn't possibly slaughter them all!
Not to mention so many villagers—he couldn't massacre the entire village just to silence witnesses.
If he attacked and killed Daoists of the lower court and even the slightest whisper leaked out, the repercussions would be beyond his ability to bear.
He possessed vast family estates and a great business; he could not drag hundreds of household members down with him merely for revenge.
Face darkened, Zhang Xinhu pondered for a moment before speaking: "Don't those mutinous troops at White Wolf Stronghold want grain? Have them send men to wipe out Zhou Wuji and his lot, and I'll provide their grain for the winter!"
His men hesitated, on the verge of speaking, but Zhang Xinhu had always been obstinate and domineering, acting autocratically in everything.
Right now, his thick brows were steeply raised, his square face seething with murderous intent; none dared speak up to dissuade him.
In a deep voice, he commanded, "Tomorrow they will arrive at Laocang Village. Go back and order a caravan to deliver ten wagonloads of grain to Baizhu Village. Set out late so the caravan happens to stop at Laocang Village.
"Don't those mutineers want grain? Then let them go plunder it at Laocang Village!"
Chapter 24