Chapter 73: A Strategy in Response

Miao Shihai nodded in agreement, though he still could not understand why matters pertaining to scholars would attract the interest of such a wicked spirit. Noticing the deep worry etched across Miao Shihai’s face, Master Xuanyang consoled him, “You needn’t worry. Exorcising evil and upholding the Way is simply my duty. However, the problem is that the demon lurks in the shadows. If she does not reveal herself, there is nothing we can do.”

“Then what shall we do?” Miao Shihai was momentarily stunned, then immediately realized the gravity of the situation. Xuanyang could protect him for a time, but not for all his days. That demon was cunning and sly; she would certainly not strike while Xuanyang was by his side. Given time, the affair would naturally dissipate, and Xuanyang could not possibly safeguard him forever—such a notion was not realistic.

There was no relation between them; Xuanyang owed him nothing. That the priest would shield him at all was already a great favor. How could he dare to request more? Once Xuanyang’s protection was gone, he could not hope to be so lucky again. If he were to encounter the demon once more, the outcome was all too clear.

Xuanyang could see his worries and, after a moment’s resolve, said decisively, “Let us do this, then. Since the demon refuses to show herself, we shall draw her out. If we cannot lure her, then we will force her hand!”

“What?” Miao Shihai stared in surprise, then his face lit up with delight. “Master, please lead the way. I will do all I can to assist in exposing that demon!”

Xuanyang pondered for a moment, then said, “Since the demon has her sights set on you, she will not easily give up. We can create the illusion that you have left Yuxu Monastery. But do not worry; we will follow in secret and protect you from the shadows.”

“If the demon still refuses to take the bait, we have a second plan. Yet this plan is not as simple as the first—it will require some sacrifice.”

“Master, I am at your command. Whatever the cost, as long as I am rid of that demon, I will accept it,” Miao Shihai replied, his eyes shining with hope.

He was but a mortal. For over twenty years, the word ‘demon’ had existed only in legend, let alone in real experience. Even recalling it now, his heart still raced with lingering fear.

Xuanyang nodded with satisfaction. “Very well. The second plan is for me to use a secret technique, with you as the medium, to compel the demon to reveal herself.”

“There is a secret art, known as the Divine Curse. By making use of any object associated with the target, one can bring disaster upon them. The closer the object to the target, the more potent the effect. If we could obtain a drop of that demon’s true blood, she would be doomed within seven days—her soul consigned to the nether depths, forever banished.”

“But… we have nothing belonging to the demon,” Miao Shihai said, crestfallen after a brief pause.

If only they had her blood—then they need not even act openly, but could kill the demon without anyone ever knowing.

“Haha, but you yourself are just such an object,” Xuanyang said, stroking his tuft of beard and narrowing his eyes.

“What?” Miao Shihai was dumbfounded. He had not the slightest connection to the demon—how could he be considered ‘close’?

“Haha, a man of the mountains has his own clever ways.” Xuanyang smiled mysteriously, offering no further explanation. As Miao Shihai suspected, he was but a mortal. Even if Xuanyang explained patiently, Miao might not comprehend.

“The Divine Curse… is there any relation to the Seven Arrows of the Nailed Head?” Yi An, upon hearing about the curse and its effects, felt a sense of familiarity. On closer thought, he realized it bore a remarkable resemblance to the infamous spell wielded by Master Lu Ya during the era of the Investiture of the Gods.

The Seven Arrows of the Nailed Head were notorious for their lethal power. During that ancient war, even Zhao Gongming, a great immortal of the Jie sect, was slain by this very spell.

One should know that Zhao Gongming’s prowess was extraordinary. Not only did he possess the innate spiritual treasure—the thirty-six Sea-Pacifying Beads—but he himself was a Golden Immortal of the highest order. Not just among the Jie sect, but across the entire era, few could match him.

To be killed without even knowing, the terror of the Seven Arrows was beyond imagination.

To perform the spell, one must set up a camp, erect a platform, and craft a grass effigy. The effigy was inscribed with the target’s name, with a lamp above the head and one at the feet. Ritual steps and talismans were enacted, with offerings thrice daily, continuing until midday of the twenty-first day.

After twenty-one days, the target’s very soul and spirit would be scattered. When the arrows were shot into the effigy, it was as if they struck the person themselves—both grass doll and target would spout blood. The only way to break the spell was to find the caster before twenty-one days elapsed and force them to halt the ritual.

Otherwise, once the full term was reached, nothing could save the victim—not even a sage come in person.

“What is this Seven Arrows of the Nailed Head?” Xuanyang was utterly perplexed, never having heard the name before.

Yi An explained everything he knew about the spell, for only thus could Xuanyang discern the differences between his Divine Curse and the Seven Arrows.

“Listening to you, it does seem possible that my sect’s Divine Curse is related to the Seven Arrows,” Xuanyang said, carefully weighing the similarities and immediately struck by revelation, his face full of awe.

It was not the resemblance that shocked him, but the terrifying power of the Seven Arrows. Though his own spell was similar in principle, in terms of intricacy and effect, it could not even hold a candle to the Seven Arrows. This was not self-deprecation, but simple truth.

The main difference was that the Divine Curse required a medium to enact, greatly limiting its use. The Seven Arrows, on the other hand, only needed the target to possess a soul—there was no escape.

At this thought, Xuanyang shuddered. Should such a foe fixate on a person, none could sleep soundly.

“Your Divine Curse is likely but a fragment, a flawed version of the Seven Arrows, missing its true essence,” Yi An lamented. Though the Divine Curse sounded formidable, in practice it was little more than a curiosity.

First, to take a life through the curse required obtaining the target’s blood, which was no easy feat. If only a personal belonging was used, the effects would be so weak as to be almost meaningless.

Blood was a vital essence for anyone—who would ever trust another with their own blood?

To use it against a more powerful foe was almost impossible, for there would be no means of acquiring their blood. On the other hand, if the target was weaker, why go to so much trouble when simpler methods abounded?