Chapter 105: The Unorthodox Ones

Li Yanchu's gaze drifted across the room, landing not on the monks and Daoists, but on the other types of people seated at the gathering.

Some were casually chatting with acquaintances; others sat aloof and silent, their demeanor distant and proud.

“I wonder if any remnants of the Bare Body Sect have infiltrated this exorcism assembly...”

He swept a casual glance around the guests while popping a sweet, juicy piece of fruit into his mouth.

Among the Bare Body Sect members he knew of were the paper effigy woman, the corpse bearer, and the false City God, as well as the feng shui master from Longmen Village, and most recently, the monk Guanxin and an elderly Daoist. It was clear the cult's composition was highly complex, with its members scattered across both Buddhist and Daoist circles.

So, with such a grand exorcism event being held, it would be more surprising if no one from the Bare Body Sect had managed to slip in.

Of course, identifying them by appearance or even profession was next to impossible. Li Yanchu wasn’t about to waste his energy trying. After all, with so many masters gathered here, if trouble came, there were plenty of stronger shoulders to carry the weight.

The meeting hadn’t officially begun, and people continued to arrive. From their attire and chatter, Li Yanchu was able to gather a bit about the folk experts and unorthodox practitioners in attendance.

For instance, there was a folk yin-yang master dressed in a traditional long robe with a stern and reserved look on his face. This yin-yang master was said to be able to issue orders to the Underworld, speak with the dead, and interact with ghost officials. He was quite renowned in his region, often sought by wealthy merchants and nobles to bless their ancestors.

Similarly, there was an old village shamaness. It was a seventy-year-old woman who still seemed full of vigor.

Talkative and completely at ease in such a mixed crowd, she had a no-nonsense, crude but direct style. Whether facing mysterious rogue cultivators or solemn monks and Daoists, she could trade words with anyone.

Strangely enough, everyone treated her with genuine respect, calling her “Granny Chang.”

Despite having lost all her teeth, she ate with remarkable energy. An entire roasted chicken vanished into her stomach in no time, thereafter her face gleamed with oil and satisfaction.

Li Yanchu refrained from using his Qi Sight in such a gathering of experts, as some unorthodox masters were known for their eccentric tempers, and would see such acts as deliberate provocation. He merely gave Granny Chang a brief glance.

To his surprise, the old woman suddenly walked over.

“Hey, young Daoist Master,” she said with a grin, “this plate of roast chicken on your table looks pretty good. How about showing some respect for your elders and offering it to me?”

Li Yanchu was momentarily stunned. This old lady had actually walked past three or four tables just to ask for a roast chicken?

“If you like it, Granny, please help yourself,” he said with a slight smile, neither trying to strike up a conversation nor putting on any airs.

Granny Chang’s eyes lit up. She stepped over, picked up the roast chicken from Li Yanchu’s table, and walked off without another word.

“Thank you, young Daoist Master,” she said cheerfully over her shoulder.

Hearing this, Li Yanchu returned a polite cupped-fist salute with a smile. But then he noticed that several people nearby were suddenly looking at him with envy.

“What’s going on? That old lady came over and took my roast chicken, and somehow that’s supposed to be a compliment to me?”

He glanced over at Bai Hongtu, who winked at him and whispered, “What’s that Granny Chang’s deal?”

Li Yanchu shook his head. “No idea.”

Aside from Granny Chang and the yin-yang master, a few others in the room caught Li Yanchu’s attention.

One was a middle-aged man with a sickly yellow complexion, looking like a chronically ill patient. His hands were habitually tucked inside his sleeves. He, too, sat in a corner, yet Li Yanchu noticed two different groups of people had already approached to speak with him. This sallow-faced man was addressed as Mr. Ma, and he practiced a particularly obscure and unconventional method of cultivation.

It was said to originate from the Liaodong region, and was known as “Immortal Summoning Art.” The summoning technique he practiced was different from the orthodox Daoist method Li Yanchu used to invite deities; this Mr. Ma summoned great spirits from the mountains and forests.

It was just unclear which of the Five Great Immortals—Fox, Weasel, Snake, Hedgehog, or Rat—Mr. Ma was calling upon.

Practitioners of this art usually enshrined a specific “Great Immortal” in their home, often passed down through several generations. The stronger the spirit they invited, the more powerful they themselves would become.

This was a highly unorthodox form of wild fox Zen, a fringe method far removed from the mainstream.

There was also a burly man over eight chi tall, as tall as a towering iron pillar. A massive thick-backed and thin-edged long saber was strapped to his back, with its hilt wrapped in fine hemp cord.

In front of him sat a large pot brimming with meat; clearly the hosts had anticipated his appetite and specially prepared it for him. The stew was cooked to perfection, and he ate with gusto. This man, simply sitting there, was eye-catching in both presence and pressure; he radiated an intimidating aura that was hard to ignore.

His name was Yan Chixiao, and upon hearing it for the first time, Li Yanchu couldn’t help but look at him a few more times. After all, the name differed from Yan Chixia, someone he knew, by just one character.

At Yan Chixiao’s waist hung a tightly wrapped round and bulging bundle, which wsa clearly sealed with care.

Bai Hongtu chuckled softly. “You think there’s a severed head in that thing?”

Hearing his words, Li Yanchu raised an eyebrow. “Someone carrying a bloody human head on their waist in a setting like this?”

But it seemed this Yan Chixiao had excellent hearing, as he suddenly looked up and flashed a smile at the two of them. Surprisingly, for someone so physically imposing, his smile was warm and guileless, almost like a naive simpleton. His eyes were shockingly clear and free of any hidden thoughts.

Li Yanchu returned the smile, offering a gesture of goodwill.

Elsewhere at the banquet sat an elderly man with an ashen complexion, silently occupying a corner seat. From the moment he arrived, he hadn’t spoken a word to anyone. Only later did Granny Chang come over to exchange a few casual remarks with him.

It was then that Li Yanchu deduced this man, referred to as Old Ghost Wu, was likely a high-level practitioner of the corpse-rearing lineage. His entire being exuded a dense qi of death. If it weren’t for the presence of eminent Daoist and Buddhist masters keeping watch, Li Yanchu might have thought this man was here to sabotage the event.

One could hardly call Old Ghost Wu a fringe eccentric, as his appearance alone screamed demonic cultivator. He was completely out of sync with the atmosphere of the gathering.

Yet, the fact that Jing'an Temple and Yongxing Temple had both extended him a formal invitation meant one thing: this man wasn’t some unknown rogue, and was in fact quite the opposite. He was someone with status, someone whose identity carried real weight.

Li Yanchu also felt like his horizons had been broadened. Back then, Bai Hongtu’s little “fiancée” had said something that now seemed absolutely true: those who practiced Art of Skin Painting weren’t necessarily evil or heretical.

Now, with the Buddhist and Daoist sects jointly hosting a grand Exorcism Assembly, they had invited all kinds of strange folk from among the common people.

Aside from the few he’d already noted, there was also a young man dressed like a boatman, bookish scholar with delicate, almost feminine features, and a middle-aged man with a genial demeanor, accompanied by a fierce-looking large dog. Li Yanchu wasn’t sure what they did for a living, but they definitely stood out.

Just as he was casually observing these people, Master Huizhen finally arrived. This high monk from Lingxi Temple was clearly a widely respected figure. The moment he walked in, many people came up to greet him, especially younger Buddhist disciples.