In the demon realm, at the extreme northern territory, within the Hall of Hao Yue:
The great doors to the main hall were tightly shut as Cang Shan paced back and forth, his towering frame making the stone floor tremble beneath his steps.
“Cang Shan, quit pacing! You’re making my head spin,” complained a female demon standing by one of the hall’s columns, her arms crossed and a yawn on her lips. She had strikingly sharp features, a height that was half a head taller than most female demons, and an air of ferocity rivaling Cang Shan’s. Oddly, though, she was dressed in a delicate gown of soft yellow.
“We’ve searched all over the demon realm, but still no sign of our lord,” rumbled Cang Shan, his voice so deep it shook the hall and sent a cloud of dust floating down.
The female demon sneezed. “Of course not! If he were that easy to find, he wouldn’t be the master of Hao Yue Hall. He’s probably off somewhere having fun, so stop worrying about it.”
“Something’s wrong. I can’t feel his presence at all,” Cang Shan replied with a frown.
“You? Can’t feel it?” The female demon’s expression turned serious as she rubbed her chin. “Impossible. The Hall Master is a demigod—if anything happened to him, the Three Realms would be in turmoil. There’s no way it’d be this calm.”
Cang Shan’s face began to darken with anger, but the female demon nudged her head toward something on the table. “Ask that pig. It probably knows.”
On the table, a small wooden pig was napping soundly beside a wooden donkey.
Cang Shan looked at her in confusion, while the female demon sneered. “If something happened to the Hall Master, would this pig really be here taking a nap?”
The pig’s ear twitched, but before it could pretend to be asleep any longer, the female demon grabbed it by the ear and lifted it into the air.
“Wake up, you lazy pig! Tell us where the Hall Master went!”
Suspended in midair, the little wooden pig kicked its short legs in a frenzy. “Hey, hey, hey! Don’t you know a gentleman uses words, not violence? Iron Fist, put me down!”
“Shut it. I’m a lady, not some man.”
“How should I know where he is? He’s nearly a hundred years old; I’m not his mom…”
The female demon cut him off sharply. “Tan Yu and Chang Quan have gone to Wu Tong Island. If the Hall Master doesn’t show up before the Wu Tong Tournament ends, do you think Tan Yu won’t seize the chance to take over Hao Yue Hall and steal the Demon Gathering Banner? He’s already wiped out the Tiger Clan.”
The pig’s small limbs froze, and it turned slowly. “The Tiger Clan… was destroyed?”
The pig, normally cheerful and carefree, suddenly showed a glint of sadness in its large eyes. The female demon softened her grip slightly, and the pig flew up to settle on the table again, standing on its little wooden donkey.
“What? Were you close with them?” Could this enigmatic pig have some connection with the Tiger Clan?
“I managed to save a few cubs. They’re safe in the back hall,” the female demon replied.
The mention of some survivors revived the pig’s spirits, and it returned to its usual careless self, straddling the wooden donkey. “I really don’t know where the Hall Master went…” Sensing her hand moving toward it again, it hastily added, “But I do know if you find one person, you’ll find him too.”
The hall fell silent as both the iron-fisted demoness and Cang Shan fixed their eyes on the pig.
Meanwhile, Bai Shuo sat in front of her tiny cottage, flipping two bronze coins in her hands, staring at Fan Yue with a forlorn expression.
“Disciple, we’re out of spirit pearls again. Looks like it’s roasted sweet potatoes for dinner.”
This was a small, dilapidated cottage in the far western part of Nan Hai City, an area filled with rundown shacks. Bai Shuo had exchanged a low-grade elixir for it with a local landlord named Zhou Pa Pi, known for his miserly ways. The cottage itself was basic but spotlessly clean, thanks to Fan Yue’s diligent upkeep.
The boy, shirtless as he chopped firewood, heard Bai Shuo’s dejected tone and promptly uncovered a chicken that he’d bound tightly and hidden under the straw.
The chicken, with a rag tied around its beak to keep it quiet, glared indignantly at the two of them.
Bai Shuo’s eyes sparkled. “Where did you get that?”
Fan Yue pointed south. Just a hundred meters away to the south was another small shack, home to a blacksmith named Hua Hong, a well-known, short-tempered half-immortal famous for her skill with metal and for raising excellent chickens.
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