Chapter 122: A Kill?

Perhaps due to the intense pain, the demon erupted with an unstoppable, unnatural strength. With a violent heave of its tentacles, it threw off "Uncle Yan," who had been pinning it down. The wailing did not cease; the wooden stake remained lodged deep in its eye socket, and even though Qi Yan had let go, it could not be dislodged or pulled out.

It thrashed on the ground, thick white vapor billowing from its body like steam from a pot. Its voice, initially a high-pitched soprano, gradually shifted into a deep, guttural roar—no longer the sound of a human woman, but the screech of some wild beast.

Qi Yan hurriedly used both hands to wipe away the slime surrounding his eyes. He had no idea if the substance was toxic, but it stung so sharply that tears were streaming down his face. He couldn't help but wonder: after this battle, would he end up like Ding Lingzi, forced to navigate the darkness with a blind man's cane?

While he was busy frightening himself, he suddenly felt a vine wrap around his neck. Having managed to sit up, he was now yanked back down. Immediately after, a face covered in disheveled hair lunged onto his own.

Qi Yan was horrified, his limbs flailing wildly. The creature seemed to have crawled right on top of him. Luckily, his hands were free, and he tried desperately to tear it away. But the demon’s uninjured face pressed against his, and instead of baring its fangs, it did something else entirely: it forced a kiss upon his lips—a deep, tongue-heavy, wet kiss, and it held on with terrifying tenacity!

It was fortunate that Qi Yan’s mouth was blocked; otherwise, he would have surely erupted in a string of curses. To think, in such a situation, it would resort to forced kissing? What kind of monster was this? Even as he pulled at its hair with all his might, he could not pry it away. The demon’s tongue was remarkably agile—it used its tongue to force open Qi Yan’s tightly clenched teeth, and even when he bit down hard, it refused to release its hold.

In his panic, Qi Yan felt as if he were suffocating, and he vaguely sensed something tiny—like a small particle—slide down his throat. He couldn't tell if it was dirt or a pebble, but it was minuscule, perhaps the size of half a tooth.

Yet, the moment this object entered his esophagus, the monster pinning him down went instantly limp.

The tongue stopped its assault, the lips parted, and those snake-like vines withered and went soft. Qi Yan shoved it aside, sprang to his feet, and didn't forget to kick it away like a ball before clutching his throat and coughing violently.

"Cough, cough... cough, cough, cough! Ouch..."

He hunched over, retching and coughing, but the small particle must have been smooth; once it hit his throat, it slid right down, and now he couldn't feel it at all.

As for the demon... although wisps of white vapor still rose from its head, it appeared to have lost all life. Its black pupils had vanished, leaving only three white, sightless eyes staring fixedly. Its disheveled hair clung to its mangled cheeks, and the tentacles beneath its body, which had once resembled snakes, now looked like withered, shriveled strings. It was a complete transformation from the vibrant, deadly creature of moments ago.

The sharpened wooden stake remained embedded in the eye socket, with green, foul-smelling fluid oozing from the edges. It looked absolutely grotesque. If one didn't look closely, it would have seemed like a discarded mannequin head from a salon. In short, it was completely motionless.

By the time Qi Yan had used his sleeves to clear his eyes enough to see, Uncle Yan sat up like someone waking from a deep sleep. He looked as if his head were splitting, rubbing his temples. He was in an even worse state than Qi Yan, his body bitten and shredded like a rotting pear. His clothes were in tatters, and he had wounds everywhere, though thankfully, they were only superficial.

Most importantly, his mental state appeared utterly exhausted. The light of humanity had returned to his eyes, and the dense, intricate runes that had previously covered his face had vanished completely.

"Ouch, ouch... it hurts, it hurts... oh, my..." He whimpered and winced, his voice thin and frail, too tired to even stand steadily.

Qi Yan took a new bottle of mineral water from his backpack, poured some out to wash his face thoroughly, and then rinsed his mouth a dozen times.

*Swish, spit. Swish, spit...*

Once he finally caught his breath, he asked, "Uncle Yan... did you let that little spirit possess you just now?"

"You bet! That was the plan all along. Although it couldn't occupy my body for too long, it allowed our strength to skyrocket for a short time. It was a desperate gamble! But I suppose I can't deny my age... I'm dying here... it was only a few minutes, yet my whole body feels like it's falling apart. If this were ten years ago, hmph... wait... where is that demon?"

Qi Yan pointed. "Right there... I'd say it's dead as a doornail, otherwise, would I be standing here rinsing my mouth so leisurely? That last move was a forced kiss from the creature—disgusting to the point of nausea. I even had the misfortune of swallowing a tiny bit of... dirt. But I'm not really injured. How about you? Are you alright?"

Uncle Yan waved a hand at him, bit back the pain from his injuries, and stood up with a grimace. He walked over, picked up his glasses from the floor, wiped them off, and put them on. Only then did he cautiously approach the demon to inspect it.

It was truly motionless. Even the white vapor caused by the corrosive sap of the fern had dissipated. Uncle Yan pulled the sharpened wooden stake from its eye and poked the creature with it.

In its current state, there wasn't a trace of life left. In just a few minutes, its two "pretty faces" had sunken and withered; the skin had turned a sallow, jaundiced yellow and developed deep wrinkles. The hair, starting from the roots, had turned deathly white in large patches. The tentacles beneath the torso had likewise shriveled and dried up.

Logically, this meant they had succeeded in killing it. Yet, Uncle Yan’s expression remained heavy and deeply perplexed. He adjusted his glasses and exclaimed, "That's strange... it shouldn't be... this doesn't make sense... it's unscientific..."

Qi Yan, finally having cleaned the slime from his face and refreshed his mouth, walked over and asked, "What are you muttering about? What's wrong?"

"Is... is this too easy? It was just wiped out like this? A twin-demon that had cultivated enough to move freely, and its life force is this fragile? Incredible... unbelievable... baffling..."

As Uncle Yan piled on the idioms, Qi Yan reminded him, "Fragile life force? Is it? You didn't see it when you were performing your ritual. Its tentacles could be severed and then split, growing back in a flash. Even when half its face was bitten off, it reshaped itself almost instantly."

Uncle Yan frowned and nodded. "Yes, it was supposed to be a difficult opponent. Why... why did it die so easily? Did I overestimate it? Or is there some other reason?"

Qi Yan pointed to the wooden stake in his hand. "This was coated in the sap of the fern, which seems to act like poison or sulfuric acid to it. Didn't you see? The moment it was stabbed in the eye, its entire head erupted in thick white steam, and it shrieked so heart-rendingly that I'm sure the villagers nearby were all woken up by it."