Crane’s Cry Sparks Terror; Twin Immortals Subdue the Demon

Zhou Chun charged out of the crumbling house, but Yan'er had vanished without a trace.

The mountain winds howled, and the moonlight stretched the shadows of dead trees across the ground like skeletal claws clawing at the earth.

His heart pounded as he shouted into the void:

"YAN'ER!"

His voice echoed three times through the desolate valley, unanswered.

"You still refuse to leave…" The frail voice from inside the house rasped again, weaker now.

Zhou Chun turned back, desperation sharpening his tone. "My companion was here moments ago! He's disappeared—his clothes and belongings remain untouched. Could this be the work of the demon you spoke of?"

The man inside coughed weakly. "That creature thrives in darkness… It will not strike before the third watch. Your companion's disappearance is not its doing. Go to White Cloud Master at once—ask her to divine his fate. Do not linger… The night grows perilous!"

With no other choice, Zhou Chun pressed onward, the weight of dread heavy in his chest.

He had not traveled five li when a putrid stench assaulted his nostrils—a stink of rot and sulfur. Behind him, a sudden gale whipped up a thick, oily fog. Within the murk, two crimson lantern-like eyes flickered briefly before vanishing. Under the cold moonlight, the sight froze his blood.

"By the heavens…" Zhou Chun muttered, quickening his pace.

He sprinted to a dilapidated thatched hut nestled halfway up the mountain. Two ancient willow trees flanked its entrance, their gnarled branches casting splintered shadows that danced like specters in the moonlight. The scene was eerily silent, save for the creak of the hut's weather-beaten door.

"White Cloud Master!" Zhou Chun hammered the door with his fist, his knuckles raw.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

A young girl's voice answered, muffled yet firm: "This is a nunnery. Travelers seeking lodging should proceed farther down the path."

"I beg for your aid!" Zhou Chun pleaded, his voice cracking. "Calamity has struck—my disciple is missing!"

Before he could finish, the door creaked open. A stunningly beautiful young nun, no older than fourteen, stood before him. Her robes were plain, but her eyes held an ageless calm. "The Master is conducting her nightly meditation," she said softly. "Wait in the hall."

Zhou Chun followed her into a modest Buddha hall lit by flickering oil lamps. The air was thick with incense, and the statue of Guanyin gazed down with serene indifference. The girl served him tea and a plate of steamed buns before retreating into the inner chambers.

Minutes stretched into an hour. Zhou Chun's patience frayed like worn rope. Just as he rose to pace, a streak of green light—like a darting sparrow—flashed past him toward the backyard. Curiosity overpowered caution. He slipped out of the hall, following the glow.

Crouching beneath a rear window, he overhears a conversation between a man and a woman:

A woman's voice, steady and resonant: "Second Brother, what brings you here so late?"

A man replied, his tone gravelly yet sharp: "While passing Yunling Mountain, I sensed a surge of demonic energy thick enough to choke the stars. Investigating further, I found a child cornered by the creature—mere steps from death!

"His name is Zhao Yan'er, disciple of Zhou Chun, one of the Three Heroes of Qilu. The boy's bones hum with immortal potential! To leave him among mortal swordsmen would be a crime. Thus, I took him as my disciple."

He paused, then added: "Later, I encountered another victim—Shi Lin, Seventh Brother's disciple—writhing in the mud, his veins blackened by the demon's poison. After purging the venom, I sent him back to his sect and learned Zhou Chun had come here."

The woman sighed. "A man named Zhou did arrive earlier, seeking refuge. I intended to meet him, but your sudden visit delayed me."

The man's voice hardened. "That demon is no ordinary foe. I merely drove it off with my Frostmoon Blade. How have you allowed it to fester here unchecked?"

"I have exhausted myself devising ways to suppress it," the woman admitted, weariness seeping into her words. 

"For three years, its venom has tainted the mountain springs. I finally secured a relic to counter it—a golden centipede borrowed from Master Canxia of Mount Huangshan—but I lack the strength to wield it alone. Your arrival is a stroke of heaven-sent fortune."

Abruptly, her tone shifted, sharp as a drawn sword: "Sir Zhou, why eavesdrop from the shadows? Join us."

Caught off guard, Zhou Chun flushed crimson. He stepped into the chamber, head bowed. The room was sparse: a single prayer mat, a low table, and two figures radiating an aura that made the air hum.

The woman—White Cloud Master—sat cross-legged, her silver-streaked hair coiled in a simple bun. Though middle-aged, her face was unlined, as if time itself hesitated to touch her.

Beside her stood a towering Daoist, his beard wild as a lion's mane and eyes that gleamed like twin daggers. This was Beard Immortal Li Yuanhua, a legend whispered of in taverns and temples alike.

Knowing that they were not ordinary people, Zhou Chun saluted them.

White Cloud nodded back and said. "You overheard our discussion. This is my senior brother, Li Yuanhua. Your disciple now follows him. Do you consent?"

Zhou Chun clasped his hands into fists and saluted, excited. "For a child to gain the guidance of a sword immortal is a blessing beyond mortal measure. I lack the skill to nurture his talents fully. That's how lucky he is."

White Cloud Master nodded. "Wisely spoken." She turned to Li Yuanhua. "Brother, dawn approaches. We confront the demon today."

Li Yuanhua stroked his beard, frowning. "What manner of creature is this, to defy even your prowess?"

White Cloud Master's gaze grew distant. "This mountain was not always called Yunling. Centuries ago, it bore no name—just another peak among the clouds. Then came the serpent demon.

"By day, it slept deep within the earth. By night, it exhaled venom that coalesced into radiant clouds, painting the skies in hues of jade and crimson at dawn and dusk. Locals marveled at the beauty, dubbing it 'Cloud Spirit Mountain.'

"For decades, the demon kept to itself. But three years ago, something changed. It began hunting under the midnight moon, its victims found with their souls siphoned dry.

"I have battled it for three years, yet each encounter ends in stalemate. Its scales deflect blades; its poison corrodes steel. Even my Golden Lotus Formation barely contained it."

Zhou Chun's throat tightened. "Earlier, when I sensed the demon's presence near the hut…"

"It fled because it sensed Li Yuanhua's arrival," White Cloud Master interjected. "But it will return. Tonight, we end this."

She produced an iron case etched with talismanic script. Opening it, she revealed a creature that made Zhou Chun recoil: a two-foot-long centipede, its crimson scales glinting like bloodstained armor. Its head bore two bulbous eyes, glowing toxic green, each the size of a teacup.

"This," she said, "is the Golden Venom Centipede, bred by Master Canxia to devour demonic essences. It is the serpent's bane."