Chapter 105: An Unexpected Delight

The vast scene of shifting light and shadow made the weasel demon want nothing more than to retreat at this moment. However, as it darted backward, it suddenly found itself blocked by an invisible barrier. The weasel demon tried to break through the surroundings with its swift speed, but to its dismay, it remained unable to escape.

The weasel demon immediately understood the situation—it was an otherworldly realm.

Like a demon's realm, yet far more mysterious, this was something unleashed by that scholar.

With no chance to flee, the weasel demon let out a high-pitched roar, its eyes blazing with ferocity as its entire body rapidly grew larger.

In just a moment, the demon had grown to the size of Song Mu. At the same time, thick yellow smoke burst forth from behind it.

The yellow mist swiftly enveloped the creature completely, and within it, needle-like rays began to emerge.

By now, Song Mu’s gaze was resolute. The poetry in his hand burned with a fierce heat, too intense to hold, but without hesitation, he cast it forth, aiming directly at the fearsome weasel demon.

The demon’s roar howled like the wind. Song Mu’s expression remained calm, though he could feel his inner power—the force of his thoughts and literary energy—being ravenously drained.

The fiery mass he had thrown transformed rapidly before his eyes, splitting into countless fiery red birds. They emitted noisy cries as they fluttered their blazing wings, heading straight for the weasel demon.

The red light plunged into the yellow mist, and the two forces immediately clashed. The firebirds attacked the demon’s body, igniting it fiercely. The weasel demon howled in rage, its eyes filled with hatred and fury.

The demon’s piercing shriek made everyone in the ancestral hall crouch down, covering their ears. Kong Zong shielded his arm and looked outside, his face filled with shock.

“Is this the true power of poetry?” the crowd of scholars and students watching the battle gasped, eyes fixed on the unfolding spectacle beyond the hall.

This dazzling and magnificent scene unfolded before them all, leaving everyone with a profound sense of unreality.

No one spoke; they merely watched in silence.

The yellow mist exuded by the weasel demon was suppressed by the firebirds; the needle-like rays were burned away completely. Even the demon’s body was charred beyond recognition by the firebirds’ flames. But in that instant, a fierce roar erupted.

The sound pierced eardrums, causing Song Mu to tremble involuntarily. In the next moment, the yellow mist dissipated, and amid the throng of firebirds, a terrifying figure lunged swiftly toward him.

It was the burned weasel demon, heavily scarred and battered, with parts of its body burned away to expose white bones beneath the flames.

The original poetry of Song Mu’s ancestor, awakened by his bloodline descendant, had already attained the power of a scholar’s strike.

But it was still not enough. This fierce attack only severely wounded the creature—it had already gone berserk and no longer cared about anything.

The weasel demon continued rushing toward Song Mu. His expression hardened, clutching a parchment left by Master Xun tightly in his hand.

Just as Song Mu prepared to make a desperate counterattack, a sudden roar thundered from the sky.

“Filthy beast!”

As the voice fell, a thunderclap crashed down. Master Xun entered the scene like a storm, holding lightning in his hand, and a parchment radiated crackling thunderlight.

Drawn away by the weasel demon, Master Xun arrived at the last moment and struck the demon with a thunderous blow.

At that instant, lightning and fire collided violently. The demon’s flesh melted away, and in a flash, it became a charred corpse on the ground, utterly lifeless.

Song Mu felt as if all his strength had been drained. The bizarre otherworldly realm vanished in an instant, and he slowly knelt on the spot, gasping heavily.

Though his ancestor’s poem was incredibly powerful, Song Mu felt completely depleted, his literary and mental energies utterly empty.

Without sufficient strength to fight, he had been barely holding on.

With the danger passed, the villagers poured out of the ancestral hall. Kong Zong stepped forward to check on Song Mu; seeing him only slightly weak, he sighed with relief and called a few men to carry Song Mu back inside.

Master Xun also approached, his gaze filled with curiosity as he examined Song Mu. Upon learning that it was Song Mu’s ancestor’s poetry that had unleashed the power, he too relaxed.

“This weasel demon is quite formidable. It even raised a pack of weasel beasts and managed to trick me when we were on that mountain,” Master Xun said cautiously.

“And that stone wall I encountered was rather strange—I was transported to a distant place in just moments.”

He spoke with a hint of apprehension.

“This demon may have awakened some innate bloodline, which grants it such formidable abilities.”

With the help of Shao Le and others, Song Mu was supported back inside the hall, took a few sips of water, and finally began to recover.

Master Xun comforted the villagers and boatmen. Upon hearing that the demon had been defeated, the villagers were visibly moved and repeatedly bowed in gratitude.

Yet, none of the villagers returned home. Even with the monster gone, they all crowded within the ancestral hall.

Song Mu, ignoring appearances, sat cross-legged on the ground, suppressing his exhaustion to recover. That single strike had drained a vast amount of his literary and mental energy.

With his energy depleted, his body immediately reacted.

Seeing Song Mu’s state, no one dared disturb him. Each person’s face showed a measure of respect.

Had it not been for Song Mu’s heroic efforts, everyone would have been in grave danger.

Though the lethal strike came from the parchment Master Fan held, it was only because Song Mu had activated it that such tremendous power was unleashed.

Now, hearing that Song Mu was a scion of the literary lineage, the people’s respect deepened further.

After all, a scholar respected by Master Fan was naturally revered by the villagers.

Song Mu was completely immersed in restoring his literary energy.

The night passed without incident. At dawn the next day, when the villagers saw the corpse of the weasel demon, no larger than a yellow dog, lying outside the hall, they exchanged glances of joy and relief.

Soon, the villagers organized many strong men, calling with shouts as they helped the boat owner haul the vessel across the shallow sandbank.

Song Mu and his companions were able to continue their journey.

Throughout, Song Mu remained unconscious, carried onto the boat by several fishermen as his literary energy slowly recovered.

His status on the boat had changed. The owner warmly and wholeheartedly arranged a private room for him. When Song Mu awoke, he found himself lying on a bed.

Sunlight streamed in through a nearby porthole, warming his body. He stretched luxuriously and exhaled a long breath.

After a night of cultivation, Song Mu felt his literary energy had recovered well, though his mental energy remained somewhat lacking. He could only slowly recite ancient texts to regain it.

Habitually, he scanned his body to check for any injuries from the previous battle.

But as he examined himself, his eyes suddenly widened.

He realized that the ancient texts in his mind seemed to have undergone some change.

The “Song of the Swallow” and “Cloud and Sun,” two poems not originally composed by Song Mu, had now appeared within his ancient texts.

Disbelief and surprise mingled on his face.

…

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