Chapter Eighty-Two: The Serpent of a Thousand Faces (III)

Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
As the blood fell, the monstrous face chewed fiercely. It was an uncanny visage—large as a silver basin, with black skin sprouting across the cheeks and forehead, leaving only fist-sized eyes and a narrow, twitching mouth.
On closer inspection, it was the mask of a Kunoichi assassin, distorted and elongated, the black skin evidently a simulation of their dark veils fashioned from human flesh.
Yet this was no Kunoichi assassin, nor any ordinary human; no normal mouth could swallow a whole head.
Even the Zen Master, whose calm could withstand the thunderous falls of the Nine Provinces, now felt the primal terror of a beast, gritting his teeth: “Demon!”
Demons existed even in the Land of the Dwarves—legendary swords like the Child-Cutting Fishgang were famed for slaying river monsters. But such creatures had not appeared in a century; he never expected one to lurk on this unremarkable wild isle.
They had barely entered the forest when the surroundings changed; the Kunoichi’s marks and paths vanished, trees grew dense and sinister, branches moved as if gifted with limbs, despite the still air.
A chill seeped through—their backs prickled with the sensation of eyes watching, no matter where they stood.
Cold, relentless, unblinking, it was as if something stared at them every moment.
But by the time the Zen Master reacted, it was too late.
Ancient tales from the Land of the Dwarves warned that encountering a demon meant inescapable doom; demons could warp their environment, leaving only two choices—be devoured, or slay the beast, though the latter was nigh impossible.
Only the Zen Master remained composed; Princess Sakura was frozen in terror, her wide eyes brimming with fear, unable to hold the Child-Cutting Fishgang. Even the most hardened Kunoichi assassins, tempered by pain and cruelty, lost their will to fight.
A demon—how could man contend with such a thing?
The Zen Master drew a deep breath and formed a secret mudra of Eastern Esoteric Buddhism—the demon-banishing mantra of the True Word Sect, the technique that enabled him to achieve a state of no-thought and no-desire, his blood and qi sealed and hidden, then unleashed as a lion’s roar.
“Lin!”
Unmoved, unshaken—Diamond King of Clarity!
In a flash, it was as if a mighty bell tolled in everyone’s ears, clearing their minds from the demon’s eerie influence. The Zen Master’s low voice rang out: “Kunoichi, prepare for your death burial.”
All the assassins revealed fervent expressions, silently tying white cloths to their heads—the death burial, the highest ritual of the Kunoichi, meant that even if the target died, the assassin must commit suicide to honor the kill.
The demon, having swallowed the head, revealed a twisted smile and began circling the nest, its oppressive aura causing leaves to fall in a shiver, the strange energy squeezing the air.
All the Kunoichi struck at once—
A faint elegy rose with the blood.
“Always reflect on the fleeting nature of life, like morning dew on grass or moonlight reflected in water.
Praise the splendor of blossoms, but before admiration can be voiced, they wither in the wind.
Even the renowned souls watching the moon from the southern tower vanish like clouds at dusk.
Fifty years in this mortal world, gazing at the land, past deeds seem like dreams and illusions.
Though one may savor this life for a time, how could anything escape destruction?”
Limbs torn, blood sprayed, as the suicidal attacks rained down, the demon’s true form emerged—a monstrous serpentine creature nearly thirty meters long, its head almost human, but its facial features constantly shifting, as if it wore a thousand faces.
Demon—Thousand-Faced Python!
The Kunoichi’s sword strikes could not pierce its hide.
Poisons were useless.
But as the serpent slithered past the fire in the grass, its belly recoiled slightly.
Then, one by one, the assassins became blazing figures, clutching and grappling, causing the python’s skin to sizzle with smoke. The demon roared in anger, its face shifting to that of the Zen Master, baring layered fangs, biting ferociously, thrashing its tail—no tree, no matter how thick, could withstand its force.
The Zen Master remained motionless; the essence of his martial arts was to avoid the enemy’s strength and strike where needed, especially against unstoppable foes.
In that moment, he found the serpent’s weakness—
At last, the Zen Master drew his sword, advancing in small steps. Despite the scars that marred his face, rendering him hideous, his state of no-thought and no-desire gave him an aura of stability and solemnity.
One of the eighty minor marks of the Buddha—bearing the bearing of a lion, the visage of a demon-subduer.
But the Buddha did not subdue the demon.
The Zen Master’s eyes snapped open, the force so intense that his eye-corners split, and with the flash of a blade, his wrath burst forth.
Secret Sword Three—Demon Bites Buddha.
The python sensed danger; its pillar-like tail slammed down, and in the mist, a white cat was crushed to pulp.
Among Kunoichi, the assassins favored cats for their insect escape techniques, while their counterparts preferred mice.
In that instant of vulnerability, the Zen Master’s blade stabbed at the serpent’s eye, only to be dissolved by venom.
A serpent does not scream, nor does the demon before it takes human form.
Yet the air before the Zen Master seemed to smash against him like a giant hammer. His nostrils broke, teeth shattered, and he crashed to the ground.
“Blade!”
Suddenly, a legendary sword appeared in his hand—the Child-Cutting Fishgang.
The Thousand-Faced Python lunged, but the surviving assassins clung to its body, even as its scales opened like blades, shredding them to pieces.
Secret Sword Three—Fugu Slash!
The gentle, watery light of the blade struck again, and in an unseen realm, the Fugu Child appeared, coldly gazing at the serpent demon. Ten claws extended, like a child returning to its mother’s womb, though the manner was brutal.
With a sickening sound, countless pale, dead serpents spilled from the demon’s belly, mixed with viscous pus.
This strike not only hit the vital point but split the belly, causing the mother demon to lose hundreds of offspring.
The demon shrieked, black vapors pouring visibly from its body. The surrounding branches seemed to gain sentience, growing madly, shooting like arrows from every direction.
In an instant, everyone present was pierced through—
And the Thousand-Faced Python, exhausted, sagged limply.
“I never imagined I’d one day slay a demon,” the Zen Master murmured. One eye was pierced clean through by a branch, his lower body a bloody ruin, like a broken rag doll. Yet his unique spiritual state allowed him to linger a moment longer.
“But you lost.”
Through the smoky haze of the burning forest, a figure strode calmly—Kou Li, soaked as if emerging from water.
“Hiding underwater to evade the demon? You were prepared,” the Zen Master gritted out, pulling the branch from his eye. “There are several things I don’t understand. Please enlighten me.”
“Speak.”
“Did you guess my plan? Using our lord as bait to lure you?”
“I was eighty percent certain,” Kou Li replied calmly.
“Then why—”
“To lure you in.”
“I see. I found it strange you retreated so quickly, since it was your only chance to escape,” the Zen Master coughed blood, his face oddly flushed. “And one more thing—you are not a martial grandmaster from the Central Plains, are you?”
“I am not. I have not yet entered the realm of the Four Great Refineries.”
Kou Li admitted it. In truth, after slaughtering more than forty Kunoichi assassins by day, his energy was near its limit; had the enemy not changed tactics and continued their ambush, he would have died without needing to set the fire.
The Kunoichi assassins, who once wreaked havoc across six southern provinces, had slain countless renowned martial artists. He never underestimated their power.
“Now the island is ablaze, beasts are wild, and you leave the Princess Phoenix of the Central Plains behind—are you not afraid for her safety?”
“Who said the Princess Phoenix is still in the forest? Didn’t you send her away?” Kou Li countered.
The Zen Master was momentarily stunned, then, seeing his opponent point to the corpse at their feet, realized the truth. The Kunoichi had a tradition: regardless of the outcome, the assassin’s body must be recovered, lest clues to the organization be found.
Thus, the real Princess Phoenix had been disguised as an assassin’s corpse and carried out by her own people.
“You are truly a master of cunning,” the Zen Master managed a grim smile, shifting his body to reveal a fainting young girl, his expression complex. “This is the beloved daughter of Zhu Baozi. If you spare her, she may fetch a good price.”
Kou Li nodded silently. He could see the Zen Master’s unusual affection for the child—first using her to kill, then protecting her in the face of death. Human sentiment was indeed complex and unpredictable.
With his last strength, the Zen Master cried out, “Display strength, display weakness, repair the road in the open, sneak through the warehouse in secret, the mantis stalks the cicada, the oriole waits behind! I did not die by force, but by strategy!”
“My foe, you are the Hundred-Slayer of wit!”
With these words, he died horribly on the spot.
Kou Li, expressionless, picked up the girl and the Child-Cutting Fishgang.
“There never was a Princess Phoenix.”