To stabilize his early Foundation-Building stage, Evan Yang took a mid-grade Essence-Nurturing Pill and then threw himself into relentless training. Every day, he practiced controlling objects with his spiritual sense, aiming to master object-control arts. After a month, he could easily move a big stone around, but what really vexed him was trying to control those rusted daggers.
To avoid injuring his spiritual sense, Evan had to start slow—just nudging one dagger at a time. After three months of hard work, he finally managed to make a dagger fly freely through the air. He laughed out loud, "Three whole months, and I finally did it!"
Drilling the flying dagger technique boosted Evan’s confidence. He sent the dagger soaring here and there, controlling it so naturally it felt effortless.
“Let’s see how powerful this dagger really is!” Now that he could control it with ease, Evan was eager to test the flying dagger’s might.
With a loud bang, the dagger pierced straight through the rock in front of Evan. “Whoa, that’s seriously sharp!” Excited by the result, Evan wanted to compare it against his top-grade treasure armor to see which was tougher. But he quickly realized that if either was too hard, one would break or get pierced, so he reluctantly gave up on the idea.
“Controlling one dagger is easy, but handling two will take more practice.” Evan felt that a single dagger wasn’t enough, so he started training to control two at once, then eventually three over the next few months.
Time flew by. Since advancing to Foundation-Building, Evan entered the fasting state—he no longer felt hunger or fatigue. By the time he laughed again, half a year had already passed.
By now, Evan had not only stabilized his cultivation but could effortlessly control all three daggers. Even better, he’d fused the Starheart Method into his flying dagger technique.
Evan shouted, “Double-wave!” Two daggers shot out almost simultaneously toward the same target. With a bang, they pierced a rock twice as thick as before. It was exhilarating, but the technique instantly drained half his spiritual power. He gulped down qi, trying to recover—when the two daggers overlapped, the force stacked and emptied half his reserves in an instant.
Sitting on a rock, Evan panted, “Whew, the power’s amazing, but it burns through qi way too fast. In a real fight, I could only use this move twice in a short span.”
Still, this move could save Evan’s life at a critical moment, so he kept it as a trump card. He also looked forward to mastering triple-wave—three daggers overlapping at once—but his spiritual power just wasn’t enough for that yet. For now, he’d stick to single-wave in daily use and only resort to double-wave in emergencies.
After a good rest, Evan put the daggers away. Now, handling three daggers was effortless. He remembered how lifting just one used to drain him, and couldn’t help but laugh at his own progress.
Just then, a commotion broke out nearby—clang, clang!
Wasn’t that the sound of a gong? Curious, Evan Yang left the mountains and walked out to a small path, where he saw a group of people following behind a Daoist in robes, with a beard and a black mole on his face.
The group wore simple clothes, just like impoverished mortal families. The Daoist held a small Spirit-Chime Bell, and to his right, two young men were beating a gong and drum—the clangs from earlier came from the gong.
Evan watched curiously, wondering what they were up to. He heard sobbing from the back of the group, while the Daoist muttered ritual words under his breath.
“Immortal, can you really subdue the demon?” A frail child stepped out from the crowd and asked the Daoist, curiosity in his voice. The other adults watched the Daoist with hope and uncertainty.
The Daoist’s face changed. “Do you not believe me?” he snapped.
“No, it’s not that. We’ve given you all our money, Immortal. If you can’t subdue the demon, we can’t return to our village and will starve in the wilderness,” a middle-aged man quickly explained.
The Daoist stroked his beard and said, “Since my master sent me to subdue the demon, I’ll surely restore it to its true form. So you need not worry.”
Seeing how confident the Daoist was, the villagers could only retreat behind him. Watching this, Evan Yang was reminded of his childhood—back then, Daoists like this often came to the village claiming to subdue demons, but they were just con artists after money. Seeing it again, he was curious what this Daoist’s real deal was, and whether there was actually a spirit beast. To cultivators, these so-called demons were just spirit beasts; only when they wandered into mortal villages did people see them as monsters.
Evan’s curiosity had two parts: first, was this Daoist a fraud, and second, was there really a spirit beast here?
Soon, led by the villagers, Evan arrived at a small, abandoned village outside the deep mountains. No one lived there anymore, and the villagers all hid behind the Daoist. Even the curious children were pulled back by adults, afraid they’d run into a demon.
The Daoist glanced at the few broken-down thatched huts and said, "The demon’s already been scared off by me. You can go back in and live safely."
"Are you serious, Immortal?" the villagers asked excitedly.
The Daoist stroked his beard and said, "Would I lie to you? If you don’t believe me, go check for yourselves!"
Scam, Evan thought to himself, watching the Daoist. This was obviously a trick: if there was no spirit beast, he could claim to have scared it off; if there was one, he’d just run away at the first sign of trouble.
But the villagers were honest mortals. They quickly sent a few strong young men into the huts, while the Daoist got ready to bolt at any moment.
Everyone watched the young men and the thatched huts, waiting anxiously to see what would happen.
Just as everyone thought the young men would be fine, a roar echoed from the deep mountains, startling the villagers—some of the children even burst into tears.
The young men who had entered fled in terror. The Daoist spun around, trying to leave the crowd, but was blocked by a beggar—Evan in disguise. No matter how the Daoist pushed, Evan just stood there, grinning at him.
That beggar was none other than Evan Yang. Standing at the back, he wanted to see the Daoist and the spirit beast face off. Who knew the spirit beast would appear and the Daoist would try to bolt, only to be blocked by Evan? The Daoist trembled in frustration, and behind him, the villagers shouted, "Immortal, something's wrong! The demon is back!"
The Daoist glared at Evan, then turned to the villagers and said, "Don't worry, I'll go deal with the demon."
Evan secretly laughed and followed the Daoist. The villagers wondered when this beggar had joined them; some even suspected he was the Daoist's apprentice, which made Evan want to laugh.
But the Daoist was uncomfortable with this, and once they left the crowd and headed toward the huts, he turned and muttered to Evan, "Don’t mess things up for me!"
"Daoist, I’m just really curious what a demon looks like, so let me come along and see," Evan said with a grin. The Daoist was furious, caught in a tough spot—especially since the villagers outside would be unreasonable if they found out he was a fraud.
"Fine, come along. At worst, we’ll die together!" the Daoist snorted, eyeing Evan’s beggar appearance.
Evan wasn’t afraid. If he encountered a spirit beast stronger than himself, he’d just run. As for the Daoist, Evan really wanted to see what he was up to—and what kind of spirit beast had made that roar.
The Daoist gripped the Spirit-Chime Bell in his right hand and cautiously approached the huts, with Evan close behind. They checked several huts but found nothing. Just as they wondered where the sound came from, a noise behind one hut startled the Daoist, who quickly backed out and slowly circled to the rear, clutching the bell as if it were a treasure that could suppress spirit beasts.
What Evan saw next shocked him—a spirit beast, shaped like a tiger but with two horns, glared viciously at a rabbit curled up in a small burrow. The rabbit was so terrified it didn’t dare come out.
Evan wasn’t the only one startled; the Daoist was trembling with fear. The spirit beast turned to glare at Evan and the Daoist, baring its fangs and letting out another roar.
“You demon, watch how I subdue you!” The Daoist hadn’t forgotten about the Spirit-Chime Bell in his hand and began shaking it. "Ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling!" The clear chime rang out.
Evan wondered why the Daoist was still shaking the bell instead of running. But what happened next surprised him—the spirit beast’s eyes started blinking sleepily, opening and closing as if it were about to fall asleep. "Does this bell have hypnotic power?" Evan thought.
Sure enough, under the bell’s influence, the spirit beast looked drowsy, almost ready to collapse. But the Daoist was unlucky—his hands were slick with sweat, and the bell slipped out of his grasp with a thud. The spirit beast instantly snapped awake, remembered what had happened, and lunged at the Daoist in rage. With a scream, the Daoist was mauled to death, his limbs torn and blood pooling on the ground.
The spirit beast didn’t eat the Daoist, but instead turned its attention toward Evan.
Unlike the Daoist, Evan didn’t panic. He darted forward, snatched up the fallen Spirit-Chime Bell, and imitated the Daoist, shaking it. The bell’s clear chime rang out again, and the horned tiger staggered, swaying drunkenly as if intoxicated.
"This really is a treasure," Evan said, shaking the bell in his hand.
Just as the fierce beast was about to collapse, a sharp shout rang out—"Stop!" Evan halted the bell, and looked around. Two young cultivators, a man and a woman about his age, flew over on swords and landed nearby.
The villagers, seeing them, fell to their knees as if greeting immortals, but the pair ignored them and passed overhead, landing near Evan.
The drowsy beast woke up again and prepared to pounce on Evan, but the young woman called, "Little Tiger, come here!" Immediately, the fierce beast became docile and hopped over to them.
The spirit beast obediently jumped to the side of the man and woman, acting tame.
"Is it yours?" Evan asked curiously.
"Yes, it is," the young man replied proudly.
"Do you realize your beast could have killed countless mortals by coming here?" Evan said coldly, clearly unimpressed with the young man’s attitude.
The young man snorted, "That’s because these mortals are useless!"
Evan was about to retort, but the young woman gently apologized, "Sorry, little brother. It’s our fault for not keeping it in check."
Seeing the woman’s polite manner, Evan let it go and turned to the young man with a cold sneer. "Getting bitten by your own beast is what you deserve. Next time, take better care of it!"
"You’ve got some nerve, brat, talking to us like that!" The young man was furious. He was used to being above everyone else, never spoken to this way by a beggar.
"I’m just telling the truth!" Evan replied. From their sword-flight, he could tell both were early-stage Foundation-Builders—reason enough for pride among their peers, but he still disliked their attitude.
The young man, unable to win the argument, tried to intimidate Evan with a cold snort, unleashing his aura. The young woman quickly intervened, "Senior Brother, stop!"