“Also, those two people from earlier, they reacted noticeably when we mentioned the Nightmare Assault, indicating their encounter last night was similar to ours.” Taking a deep breath, the woman sat up straight. “For now, don't alert them. If they are drawn into the Nightmare Assault again tonight, try to make contact, but only within the nightmare.”

“Why… now that we know there's a problem, why don't we just leave?” The maid, who had been scolded earlier, couldn't help but ask, tears welling up in her eyes, clearly frightened.

The knife-wielding middle-aged man glanced at her. “You think we haven't considered what you're thinking? You think we don't want to leave? The point is, can we?”

The maid's throat bobbed. Her instinctive reaction was to look at the old man dressed as a porter, Song, the leader of the Practitioners sect, skilled in the arts of yin and yang.

Old Man Song sighed helplessly. “This morning, I went for a walk and found the temple surrounded by mist.”

The maid was startled. “Is it poisonous miasma?”

The poisonous miasma of Lingnan was truly terrifying. They had suffered greatly in it before, nearly wiped out, and even now she still occasionally felt disoriented, forgetting exactly how she had survived the miasma.

Hearing this, Old Man Song slowly shook his head, his face turning grim. “I'm afraid it's not that simple. Poisonous miasma fears the wind, but this mist does not.”

After a moment, the woman was the first to react. “What, are you saying the mist outside is unmoved by the wind?”

“Yes.” Old Man Song nodded heavily, his voice becoming even more solemn. “Not only that, I also used my sect's secret paper to fold two paper cranes and sent them into the mist, and lit three kowtow incense sticks. Normally, whether it's good or bad, the paper cranes will fly back. The redder the secret paper, the more ferocious the evil within. But this time, even as the incense was about to burn out, there was no movement in the mist. The paper cranes disappeared, and…” Old Man Song's fingers gripping his knees tightened, veins popping on his arms, clearly in a state of great panic.

Old Man Song's appearance sent shivers down everyone's spines. The anxious middle-aged man couldn't help but press, “And… and what?”

Old Man Song suddenly raised his head, saying in disbelief, “And the three kowtow incense sticks I lit… exploded!”

“Exploded?” The middle-aged man was dumbfounded, blinking. “What does it mean for the incense to explode?”

“It's not that the incense exploded, it's that the incense was exploded.” The old man beside him was clearly more experienced in these matters, but now his face was even paler, as if drained of blood.

Trembling, Old Man Song took out a folded piece of yellow paper from his arms. When the yellow paper was unfolded, it contained dozens of broken incense segments. Seeing this, the middle-aged man gasped. The breaks were very rough, not like those caused by human force, and indeed more like a sudden explosion.

In just two days, first the sect's treasure was destroyed, then the paper cranes disappeared and the incense exploded. Old Man Song's heart was desolate. He feared this situation was something even his ancestors had never experienced.

But Old Man Song was indeed the leader of his sect. After a few breaths, he readjusted his state, his eyebrows filled with determination. “The world thinks my Practitioners sect only seeks immortality, and our skills only involve the Zhuyou arts and the Five Elements of Yin and Yang, but they don't know that we also take the elimination of demons and the protection of the common people as our foundation. Now that we've encountered this, there's no reason to retreat. Everyone, rest assured, I will do everything in my power to protect you all. If I unfortunately die, I ask you to go to my sect after escaping the evil temple and inform them of this matter. There will naturally be members of my sect who will come to subdue demons.”

The heroic woman said, “If Old Man Song perishes here, then none of us will have a chance to survive. Besides, the situation is not yet clear, so we must not give up.”

“Old Man Song, do you have a method to break the evil?” The middle-aged man looked at Old Man Song. The current situation couldn't be resolved by brute force. He hadn't believed in ghosts and gods before, but now he had personally witnessed their power, and was nearly frightened out of his wits by the sudden appearance of the Guan Yu last night.

This time, Old Man Song did not decline, but nodded solemnly. “I do have some clues. When the incense exploded, I vaguely glimpsed a few figures in the incense smoke. One of them was the monk Miss mentioned earlier, the mad monk who was forcibly fed wine and meat in the Nightmare Assault,” Old Man Song emphasized.

“What about the others?” The middle-aged man leaned forward, pressing.

“Phew…” Old Man Song exhaled, somewhat relieved, and said, “It's the two young brothers we rescued, you reap what you sow. Whether we can survive this tribulation depends on them.”

…

Near the refectory, Jiang Cheng and Fatty had circled around several times, but hadn't seen Hui Cong's figure. Fatty sat dejectedly on the steps, still concerned about Hui Cong, remembering how brutally those people had beaten him last night, and the bruises all over Hui Cong's body.

“Heh～, heh heh～”

Just as the two were wondering where else to look, a familiar silly laugh suddenly came from behind them. The two turned around and saw Hui Cong hiding behind a tree not far away, only showing his bald head and grinning foolishly at them.

“Master Hui Cong.” Fatty's face was full of surprise.

But unlike Fatty, Jiang Cheng's first reaction when he saw Hui Cong was alarm. After all, they had searched this area and hadn't seen Hui Cong at all, and that tree wasn't far from them. How could the monks in this temple appear and disappear so unpredictably, and walk without making a sound?

“Heh～, come, come quickly.”

Jiang Cheng and Fatty looked around, not noticing anyone, and quickly walked over.

Hui Cong seemed even thinner than the night before, and his clothes were even more ragged from being torn, like a broken sack draped over his body. Fatty, with his sharp eyes, immediately noticed the bloody wound under a tear in his clothes.

Fatty reached out and pulled down Hui Cong's clothes. What he saw shocked him. Hui Cong had many more bruises and blood marks left by whippings. These wounds were very fresh, not even scabbed over yet.

Jiang Cheng's expression changed. These wounds were clearly left by beatings, meaning what they had seen last night was real. But why… why was the slain Monk Huiming alive and well?

Hui Cong didn't seem to care about these things, but tilted his head and grinned foolishly at Jiang Cheng, then stretched out his dirty hand and said, his words slurred, “Trea… treasure, give me.”

Jiang Cheng was stunned for a moment, then immediately realized that Hui Cong was talking about the paper figures from yesterday, and he had indeed grabbed one in his pocket. He hadn't expected Hui Cong to notice.

But as the paper figure was taken out, Jiang Cheng and Fatty's expressions changed completely. This tall, thin paper figure was none other than the dead young man.