"Xuan Tong's secret?"
Song Lin's heart tightened. It seemed this honest and reliable eldest senior brother also had sides unknown to others.
Come to think of it, being the eldest senior brother but having no presence at all already made him rather unusual.
From seeing Xuan Tong's expression earlier, Song Lin already knew this guy wasn't simple.
"Xuan Tong has eleven houses, twenty-five concubines, and five estates down the mountain. He uses the alias Landlord Lin down there. My subordinates recently investigated and confirmed that Landlord Lin is indeed Xuan Tong."
"Do you have evidence?"
It was strictly forbidden for Lao Mountain Taoists to marry, have children, or covet worldly riches.
If a cultivator sought wealth and status, it would inevitably involve spells to deceive mortals, which violated fundamental taboos.
Moreover, once someone had a family, they would become hesitant and timid, unwilling to fight against demons.
"Of course. Xuan Tong has seven sons. His eldest son is the spitting image of him, like a younger version of Xuan Tong."
"Got it. You all keep investigating."
A peculiar gleam flashed in Song Lin's eyes.
He suspected that Xuan Tong wasn't the only one; perhaps other disciples were involved as well.
Several days later, when he met with Yangg Xing again, Yangg Xing's right arm was completely gone, and his face bore pitch-black scars as though corroded by something.
"Master, something's wrong! There's someone in Lin Mansion!"
Yangg Xing clutched his wound, panting heavily as he spoke.
"What happened?" Song Lin frowned. The evil qi on Yangg Xing was overwhelming.
"I followed Xuan Tong and saw him enter Lin Mansion. Then I encountered an old man in green robes, who unleashed a burst of green smoke. That's how I ended up in this state. Luckily, I ran fast."
After returning, Yangg Xing discovered he had been poisoned and decisively severed his own arm.
"And then? Did he find out who you are?"
"No."
"Alright, go back and heal your injuries. Next time, stay farther away."
After Yangg Xing left, Song Lin's face turned grim.
According to legend, the Miasma Demon of yesteryear had appeared as an old man dressed in green.
It seemed that after decades, the Miasma Demon hadn't gone far but instead remained hidden around Lao Mountain.
If his guess was correct, the eldest senior brother Xuan Tong was likely colluding with this demon.
As for why... there was no need to guess—it must be for fame and fortune. The Miasma Demon must have offered something irresistible.
"Good thing I had Yangg Xing investigate early—otherwise, I wouldn't even know how I died."
Who would have thought that the traitor was right beside him?
Should he inform the Lao Mountain Taoist about this?
After thinking about it, Song Lin decided not to say anything for now. Given the Lao Mountain Taoist's character, he might not believe him. Even if he did, he might act prematurely and clash with Xuan Tong, falling into the demon's scheme.
The opponent had been hidden for so many years; they must already understand the intricacies of the situation.
The main issue was that he couldn't explain his abilities and resources, which might lead to Xuan Tong countering him instead.
Now, the only hope for Lao Mountain Taoist Temple might rest on himself. No one knew he had broken through the Fetal Breathing Stage or about the Yan Yun Eighteen Riders.
This was the only advantage in the dark.
If Song Lin utilized it well, it might create astonishing results.
With this thought, he returned to studying the Method of Breaking Miasma.
Xuanke Temple had a long history and abundant materials, far exceeding what Lao Mountain Taoist Temple could offer.
Sure enough, in the Book Collection Pavilion, he found ancient records.
There was a place afflicted by plague, and upon investigation by people from Xuanke Temple, it turned out to be caused by the miasma of demon rats.
Thus, a Taoist mixed betel nut, red sandstone, magnetic stone, fire pepper with rooster blood and black dog blood to create Anti-Miasma Powder.
When used, the powder was dissolved in water and sprinkled around the area to ward off miasma. It could also be taken orally for immunity against miasma.
The Taoist later killed the demon rat and extracted its poison pearl.
The poison pearl contained the essence of the demon rat, which cultivated in damp, foul places over the years until the pearl formed.
This pearl could emit miasma and be refined into a Magic Artifact.
"A treasure," Song Lin's eyes lit up.
If he obtained such an item, Song Lin planned to consume karma to carry it out.
For cultivators with shallow realms, the most essential thing was indeed a Magic Artifact.
At this level, a cultivator's spells and Taoist realm were not very profound.
By the time you finished chanting and casting a spell, the opponent might already have pierced you with their Magic Artifact dozens of times.
Song Lin memorized the recipe and ordered the other seventeen riders to collect the ingredients for Anti-Miasma Powder at full capacity.
The more, the better. Each should carry dozens of doses.
Unbeknownst to him, two months had slipped by.
Name: Song Lin
Realm: Fetal Breathing Stage
Taoist Realm: Eight years
Divine Skills: "Zhigang Taoist's Eight Secret Skills," Summoning Birds Technique, Blood Stopping Spell, Taiyi Swordsmanship.
Items: Three Yang Fire Sword, Qi Nourishing Pill, Hidden Dragon Breath Emission Powder, Plague Relief Powder.
During this time, Song Lin had learned the Summoning Birds Technique and the Blood Stopping Spell in Lao Mountain World.
He also mastered a swordsmanship skill to complement the use of the Three Yang Fire Sword.
Additionally, he had Yangg Xing commission skilled craftsmen to create over ten iron masks.
The masks had cloth soaked in Anti-Miasma Powder covering the mouth and nose, as well as an outfit similarly treated with Plague Relief Powder.
Truly, everything was prepared—only the timing remained.
Down the mountain, in a dark chamber.
The candlelight was eerie green, casting a strange and demonic glow.
The dim light made the two figures inside appear ghostly.
An old man in green robes sat at the chief seat, his features sneaky and rat-like, with pupils unexpectedly vertical.
Beside him was a middle-aged man with a loyal and honest appearance.
"Xuan Tong, how are the preparations?" the old man in green robes asked.
"All seven junior brothers have been bought off and now only follow my orders. There's only one, the ninth junior brother, whom I haven't contacted."
"Why leave one out?" The old man in green furrowed his brows, his expression displeased.
"This person cultivates diligently and isn't swayed by material desires. Wealth and beauty don't tempt him," Xuan Tong replied.
"Hmph, very well. When the time comes, we'll simply kill one more person. No delay—act on the full moon of the fifteenth!"
Whoosh!
As soon as he finished speaking, the old man in green transformed into a gust of Yin Wind and vanished.
After the old man left, Xuan Tong's tense demeanor relaxed. He slumped into his chair, staring into the void and murmuring.
"Master, don't blame me for being unfilial. You just refuse to adapt."
Cultivation, for what purpose? For most people, it was for glory and riches, for enjoying prolonged wealth and luxury.
Few were truly willing to live secluded on the mountain all their lives.
This kind of life—what joy could an additional thousand years of longevity bring?
After years of laborious cultivation, Xuan Tong couldn't bear the loneliness anymore. Under the guise of seeking experience, he began acquiring property, taking concubines.
Of course, he had no talent for business and relied solely on spells—whether to deceive, rob, or steal—to build his empire.
His indulgence slowed his cultivation progress.
The first time he tasted forbidden pleasures, the first time he harmed others with spells, the first time he killed someone... he broke every rule of the sect.
He feared that one day it would be exposed, and at that time, his master would never forgive him.
Just as he was filled with anxiety, the old man in green robes came to him, teaching him longevity techniques and methods to conceal his aura, promising to kill Lao Mountain Taoist together.
Thus, an earth-shattering plan began to unfold.
"Old man, Song Lin, enjoy your remaining days. You'll only live for half a month." Xuan Tong laughed sinisterly.
He had withheld one secret from the old man in green.
That was his hatred for Song Lin. This man's demeanor was so reminiscent of their master in his younger years.
Pure and focused, devoted to the Great Dao.
Like a lifeless stone—what meaning was there in living like that?