Unseen Immortal of Three Hundred Years

Chapter 9

Before the secluded physician Yi Wusheng began his retreat, he would set up barriers in the Courtyard to prevent any accidental intrusions. The regular disciples, of course, knew the rules, but there was no guarantee that newcomers wouldn't be ignorant, not to mention the madman A Yao, who roamed about Peach Blossom Island erratically.

The barriers were still active, stopping the evil spirits just outside the small building, making it impossible for them to advance. When everything else ceased to move, the only thing that could became particularly conspicuous. Yi Wusheng was that "only thing."

Nearly a thousand disciples of the Hua family rushed over, then abruptly stopped, staring at Yi Wusheng with faces full of terror.

"What's going on?"

"Shouldn't the master be in seclusion?!"

"Yes!"

"Then why is he here, among the evil spirits?"

As soon as these words were spoken, there was a dead silence. Everyone knew the answer—Yi Wusheng's hasty and clumsy rush into the building was too obvious. He wasn't mixed in with the evil spirits; he was one of them. Like those buried beneath the ground, he was drawn by a powerful force and had been running around Peach Blossom Island all night.

The Hua family disciples were completely taken aback by this outcome, standing frozen in place, at a loss for what to do. Only one person lost his footing and tumbled out of the crowd.

"Be careful—"

In the midst of the cries, that person fell into the mud churned up by the evil spirits. Screaming frantically, he tried to roll and crawl away. It was none other than the madman A Yao.

"A Yao!"

"A Yao, come back—"

The disciples in front were about to pull him back when Yi Wusheng suddenly turned his head. His body remained still, but his neck twisted in a way no living person could achieve.

"A Yao..."

"A Yao..."

Yi Wusheng called out with a sigh, then suddenly bent his finger—

The scrambling A Yao on the ground was as if seized by an invisible force, instantly dragged in front of Yi Wusheng. Yi Wusheng clamped his neck and dragged him into the house.

"A Yao!!"

"Master—"

The disciples raised their swords, and the sword intent of nearly a thousand people surged like a fierce wind, yet they hesitated to strike. Among them, some were disciples of Yi Wusheng, some had been healed by him. Even if neither applied, they had drunk the disciple soup he had prepared for refining the body and cultivating qi.

Even though at this moment the master was neither human nor ghost, they couldn't bring themselves to act. But if they didn't, A Yao was done for!

Because evil spirits are always hungry, and when they're hungry, they must eat. They feed on the souls and flesh of the living.

And Yi Wusheng, having been in seclusion for many days, was extremely hungry.

***

A Yao punched and kicked, struggling incessantly. His neck was clamped, and he couldn't make a sound, only managing to emit a hoarse wheeze from his throat. The sword qi from his body flew wildly, striking all over the house, instantly leaving it in complete disarray.

Yi Wusheng was cut by the sword qi many times, blood oozing out, but he seemed oblivious, only lifting A Yao to sniff the scent of a living person. The veins on the back of his hand turned a purplish-blue, making his skin appear as thin as a membrane.