Demonic Insanity

When Jing woke up, an eerie silence filled the house. Her grandfather had gone, and there was no sign of Old Ling either.

Stepping cautiously outside, he glanced up at the cloudless sky stretching over the mountains.

"Grandfather..."

No answer. Without lingering any longer, she busied herself with her grandfather's daily chores—tending the garden, sweeping the courtyard, tidying up the house, and checking the fences.

But everything was in its place. No dust, no broken fences, not even a single fallen leaf out of order in the garden.

Jing frowned slightly and went back inside. The roof had been repaired, the walls patched up, and even certain parts of the house looked entirely different.

"Was this Old Ling's doing?"

The sun dipped lower on the horizon, its final breaths painting the cold mountain sky. The hues of dusk spread across the heavens—somber and distant, as if stoking a quiet sorrow in the hearts of wanderers.

Jing sat in her grandfather's chair in the courtyard. The shadows of trees stretched long across the ground, and the chill of the mountain wind whispered down toward the lower valleys.

Then, from the distance, the howls of wolves pierced the silence. A crescent moon emerged in the darkening sky.

Jing remained still, gazing at the horizon, when a shadow appeared among the birch and pine trees. The figure moved slowly, its steps uneven, limping slightly as it approached the cottage.

Jing's eyes lit up with hope. She jumped to her feet and called out, "Elder Ling!"

The old man raised a hand in greeting, lifting his straw hat slightly as he hobbled forward with his cane.

"Ah, Jing, it's you? Why are you sitting outside?"

Jing hurried over. "Elder Ling, did you go to gather spirit herbs?"

Ling Yun chuckled. "Jing, my years are numbered. I thought I'd spend the last of them in seclusion…" Then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he added, "Who knows? I might even achieve enlightenment and extend my lifespan!"

His gaze swept over the house, and his expression shifted. "Wait… the garden—"

Jing smiled. Ling Yun often reminded her of her grandfather—forgetful at times, yet sharp in ways that mattered.

"Don't worry, Elder. I already took care of the garden, cleaned the house, and swept the courtyard. There's nothing left to do."

Ling Yun nodded in approval, a satisfied smile on his lips.

"Good. Now, take this basket and head inside."

Jing took the basket but hesitated. "Elder… aren't you coming in?"

"No, there's still something I need to finish in the forest."

Jing hesitated again. The mountains at night were filled with beasts and lurking fiends… but then again, wasn't Ling Yun a cultivator?

Even so, she couldn't shake the concern in her voice. "But Elder… even if you're a cultivator, I still worry that—"

Ling Yun burst into laughter. 'How amusing! A mere mortal, worrying about the safety of the Heavenly demon?'

"Don't trouble yourself, girl. There's no danger for someone like me. I'm far stronger than I appear."

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, Ling Yun stepped closer to Jing and lowered his voice.

"By the way, these herbs aren't for sale. Hide them in the storage room—somewhere no one can find them."

Jing glanced down at the basket. It was filled with spirit herbs—each one worth hundreds of thousands of spirit stones!

Ling Yun chuckled at the stunned look on her face.

"Go on, hurry!"

Jing bowed and sprinted toward the house without hesitation.

Her grandfather had once spent weeks searching for spirit herbs, only to return empty-handed. Even when he did find some, he never sold them—he simply donated them to the Raging River Sect without asking for anything in return.

Jing hadn't fully grasped the extent of her grandfather's sacrifices until she herself had the chance to take the sect's entrance exam.

Of course, if luck was on his side and he managed to find some spirit herbs, he would sell a few. Even a handful was enough to cover living expenses for months.

Ling Yun silently watched as Jing disappeared into the house. Then, without another word, he melted into the shadows of the forest.

When Jing returned moments later, hoping to bid him farewell, the clearing was empty.

A sudden gust of wind howled through the trees.

And from the depths of the darkened forest—

A scream rang out.

---

Miles away from Old Zhou's cottage, deep within the Raging River Sect's leader's estate, Wang Xuanzi sat in silence, studying a map of the mountain range.

His sect's domain stretched a hundred miles into the mountains, following the course of the Azure River for seventy miles.

Yet most of the land consisted of barren highlands, where the density of spiritual energy barely differed from that of the lower regions. In reality, the sect's usable territory was only around forty miles in width and seventy miles along the river.

"Maintaining control over this land depends entirely on the number of cultivators in the sect…"

He tapped his fingers against the table.

"This year, we only accepted fifty disciples. Any more would've been beyond our capacity. But now, we've lost four…"

His gaze returned to the map, locking onto a specific point—the location where those four had perished.

"Twenty miles northeast…"

Tracing a path between the sect and a cave marked on the map, his fingers paused.

"It's not far. So why were they delayed for more than a day?"

Then, all at once, he clenched his fist.

"Of course! They walked right into a trap!"

His eyes gleamed with ruthless intent.

"A trap I set for Elder Tai!"

"But there should have been no casualties... what happened there?"

Elder Tai's growing influence had upset the balance of power within the sect, splitting it into two factions. So, Wang Xuanzi had no choice but to gamble.

Yet, he hadn't known how to act—

Until that fateful moment when Old Zhou appeared before him with an intriguing proposal.

Zhou had been willing to donate a portion of any spirit herbs he found to the sect and even work there personally—on one condition: that his daughter be accepted as a disciple.

It was then that the sect leader devised a long-term plan.

Each time Old Zhou visited, he would hand over a few spirit herbs. Normally, he brought only one or two, but the sect leader would discreetly add four or five more before sending them off for alchemy.

It didn't take long for certain disciples to notice.

Rumors began to spread, and occasionally, the sect leader himself would make offhand remarks that only fueled the speculation.

Every few months, he increased the amount of spirit herbs reported. By the later years, he was turning in sixty at a time.

Eventually, Elder Tai took notice. Suspicious of the whole affair, he sent men to tail Old Zhou.

But Zhou, having long anticipated such a move, always took the most treacherous and misleading paths through the mountains.

Still, there was one glaring problem…

It had been weeks since Old Zhou last visited the sect. And that could only mean one thing—

The old man was dead.

So then…

Who had Elder Tai's men been tracking?

And more importantly—

Who had killed them?