Chapter 65: Two Comical Souls

“Eh?”
Zhang Hao pointed at Qingquan in the white shirt before him, his face filled with surprise.
“Cui Yue, Cui Yue, look quickly! That bespectacled oddball has tied those people up in such a strange way—could he have some improper intentions? Is it some kind of peculiar fetish?”
Cui Yue nearly choked with exasperation. How is it that your mind always circles around these same filthy ideas, never anything decent? Keeping you around is a scourge to the environment, a waste of air.
Granted, the so-called oddball was a little eccentric, but his preferences weren’t that abnormal. Besides, those people he tied up were hardly the sort to inspire wild fantasies.
Left with no choice, Cui Yue succinctly explained what had happened to the two beside him. Zhang Hao and Da Zhuang listened, their hearts pounding with fear, mouths agape for a long while.
Halfway through the tale, Qingquan approached. Zhang Hao and Da Zhuang gazed at him with unparalleled admiration, their wide eyes fixed on him, making Qingquan’s skin crawl, his entire body uneasy.
“Uh... are those two alright?”
“They’re fine. Those two have thick skin and sturdy bones, their luck’s strong,” Cui Yue replied irritably, gesturing to the men on the ground.
“What about them?”
“No harm done. They’ll wake up soon, and after a few days’ rest, they’ll be up and about.”
Zhang Hao suddenly grabbed Qingquan’s arm, his face ingratiating, grinning slyly.
“Little Daoist, thank you for saving us. May I ask, did you capture that fox demon? Can I see her?”
As he mentioned the fox demon, Zhang Hao’s eyes shone, his expression hungry, and he unconsciously swallowed.
Qingquan, usually composed, was utterly flustered by Zhang Hao’s behavior, his response awkward and stammering.
“Uh? That, um, the fox demon escaped. Why do you want to see her?”
“Just curious, really curious,” Zhang Hao replied with an embarrassed smile, rubbing his hands together.
His face was full of regret and disappointment, but suddenly his expression shifted to one of lewd hope, and he hurriedly said,
“Little Daoist, your skills are unmatched, having subdued countless demons. Surely you have other creatures on hand—maybe a jade rabbit spirit, or a white mouse spirit, anything really. Let me see them, would you?”

Looking at Zhang Hao’s hopeful face, Qingquan was utterly bewildered.
“Uh... I don’t have any, not a single one.”
Zhang Hao kept grinning.
“Hey, surely there could be...”
“There really aren’t any...”
“Smack!” Just as Zhang Hao was about to wheedle further, a large dark hand appeared before him, and his vision went black as he was slapped aside.
Da Zhuang brushed off his bear-like palm, shooting Zhang Hao a disdainful glare. This guy was too disgraceful—his mind full of lascivious thoughts, not even sparing female demons.
Da Zhuang’s expression changed, suddenly respectful, as he pulled Qingquan’s arm, nearly kneeling in front of him, speaking earnestly.
“Um, big brother—no, Daoist Qingquan, does your sect still accept people? How about my build?”
Qingquan was dumbfounded, lost for words.
“Oh, um, your build is impressive, but our place—no, our Taibai Immortal Sect doesn’t accept your type.”
Da Zhuang’s face instantly fell. He looked at Qingquan, and suddenly a glimmer of hope returned to his eyes.
“Daoist Qingquan, maybe you could take me as your disciple? I’m strong and tough, surely I’d be useful.”
As your disciple? Humbug! Da Zhuang, do you even know how to speak? You’re willing to be someone’s mount—does anyone dare ride you?
Zhang Hao cursed under his breath, clutching his face.
Qingquan hadn’t expected Da Zhuang to make such a request, his face awkward as he hastily refused.
“Uh, well, I’m still inexperienced, not ready to take disciples yet. The path is perilous, and with your aptitude, it’s not one you can pursue.”
Qingquan, raised in the mountains studying the Dao, was ignorant of worldly ways, always speaking frankly without tact.
His words were like a thousand blows, thoroughly crushing Da Zhuang’s hopes.
Since childhood, Da Zhuang had dreamed of wielding a sword to vanquish demons. Now, even his last shred of hope was dashed. Finally meeting a Daoist master, he’d hoped to become a disciple, only to find out his talent was too poor. All hope lost, the light in his eyes extinguished, he slumped, utterly dejected.
Zhang Hao laughed mischievously, “Heh, Da Zhuang, never thought you had a heart for the Dao—back in school, reading was harder for you than climbing to heaven. With your build, you don’t need to slay demons; just catch one and sit on it, job done. People should give you a title: the Sitting Daoist!”
“Ha ha, oh man, Da Zhuang, take it easy!”

Da Zhuang responded with a fist the size of a sandbag, pounding Zhang Hao’s back with a thud.
Qingquan watched Da Zhuang’s departing figure, murmuring to himself,
“This brother has no hope of cultivating the Dao, but he could certainly master physical martial arts.”
Cui Yue, observing these two clowns, felt a headache coming on. Where do they look like people drained by a fox demon? With their vigorous energy, it’s as if they’ve overdosed on ginseng and turtle essence.
Who will save their turbulent youth? If I don’t, I’ll feel guilty; if I do, I’ll regret it for life!

Inside the projection room, the film reel suddenly jammed, making a harsh grinding sound and emitting a faint burnt smell. Then, it resumed, the reel slowly spinning, the lens brightening once more. A beam of light shot onto the screen, and the room was empty, filled only with the soft rustle of the machine.
One of the men who had been lying on the floor earlier twitched a finger, yawned, and felt utterly drained, as if all his strength had left him.
He rubbed his eyes, surveying the mess around him, and saw the others sprawled on the ground, unconscious as if drunk.
Alarmed, he struggled shakily to his feet, turned his back to the screen, and pointed at Cui Yue and the others nearby, squeezing out a few words between his teeth.
“What... what’s going...”
“Ah!...”
Before he could finish, a monstrous hand, thick and covered in black hair, reached out from the screen, gripping his neck, lifting him into the air. With a whoosh, both man and hand were dragged into the screen.
His mind was still foggy, not yet comprehending what had happened. Suddenly, his feet touched the ground, his body felt light, and his eyes widened as he looked around.
He saw wild grass everywhere, the courtyard in ruins, broken walls and webs, a scene of utter desolation.
“Where is this? What kind of place is this?”
He hurriedly rubbed his eyes, thinking he was still dreaming. Could it be he’s transmigrated as well?
Before he could think further, he heard a strange sound behind him, a hissing that grew louder. He slowly turned his head to look.
Ah...
A shrill, bloodcurdling scream echoed—
The cry was so harrowing that anyone who heard it felt chills down their spine!