Chapter 100: Elite Hunters Always Take Their Seats as Ingredients

“Ling Yi, did you hear something?”

The voice in the darkness seemed magnified a hundredfold. In an unfamiliar place, this sensory amplification only deepened the psychological pressure.

After walking for so long, Wen Jinge couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the Mystic Continent at all, but rather some extreme survival reality show set in a haunted house.

And they were trapped in an endless trial.

Demons! Monsters! Immortals!

Since leaving Xuan Yun Sect, she hadn’t encountered many formidable foes—mostly just trivial pests. This gave her a whole new understanding of her own strength.

Yet, despite her powerful cultivator’s physique, inside she harbored a timid, fragile heart.

When faced with situations without clear narrative cues, where her brain had to be constantly on edge, she still felt fear. She still screamed. She still wanted to run away.

“Sounds like something’s crawling on the ground,” Ling Yi said, tilting his ear and listening intently before confirming it wasn’t a hallucination.

Wen Jinge waited anxiously for this reply, almost convinced the boy would be the first to perish in her arms.

“Is it coming this way?”

Though she appeared relaxed, swinging her legs while sitting on the coffin, inside she was a bundle of nerves, her mind repeating: “Evil spirits be gone, I mean no harm.”

And now, she had an even more terrifying feeling.

The coffin lid beneath her seemed unable to hold down whatever was beneath.

Thanks to multiple lightning tribulations, she occasionally shared a sensory connection with Acai.

Acai seemed fond of this place. While the demon harp darted about like a mischievous child, it remained rooted to the spot, as if waiting for something.

High-level prey always made a grand entrance.

And high-level hunters always ended up as the meal.

Wen Jinge guessed it was waiting for something.

“Master, the sound is getting closer.”

“I know.” If the lighting technician were present, they would witness Wen Jinge’s face pale as death.

“Master, it’s getting nearer, feels like it’s all around us.”

“I know.” If one listened carefully, they could detect a tremor in her voice.

“Master, my foot itches.”

“I know.” Wen Jinge paused, cleared her throat, then said, “Hmm? You have athlete’s foot?”

“Master, are you tickling me?”

“I only have two hands! Are you scratching my back?”

“I have only two hands too, and I’m holding you!” Ling Yi stammered, his innocent tone betraying considerable fear. “Master, then, who’s pinching me now?”

“Not me.” Wen Jinge shook her head, gradually regaining her senses from the vigorous spa-like grip. That hand was too soft, almost sending her to the afterlife. “You didn’t scratch my back either?”

“Nope!” They answered in unison.

“Master, someone just touched my butt,” Ling Yi whispered tearfully, as if deeply wronged.

Wen Jinge, holding him as she stood, suddenly froze, nearly falling off the coffin. She wanted to tease him but noticed the hand on her back gripping tighter.

“Demon harp!” Wen Jinge called out.

Perhaps it was too far to sense or slow to respond, as it did not immediately fly over.

She dared not be complacent; the cave was pitch black. Though Acai was right beneath her feet, its presence was growing faint.

“Ling Yi.”

“Master, why are you calling my name?” The boy sniffled.

Wen Jinge closed her eyes and imagined the child wiping away tears. Then, she was stunned.

This boy was wiping her tears—so whose hand was hanging around her neck?

Ling Yi was still a mortal, incapable of floating mid-air.

“Get lost!” She glared at Ling Yi, as if he were a ball tossed in the air in a graceful arc, but the basket was nowhere in sight.

Everything happened swiftly. Just as she planned to fling the bracelet away, she felt a transparent hand in the void preventing the beads from falling.

“Playing tricks on me, huh,” she spat, clearly irritated.

Not that she lacked defenses. She’d brought along demon-binding ropes and monster-locking chains. How could she not carry other protections against the Dao?

People in this world valued righteousness, some even dying for it.

But Wen Jinge cared little for such ideals; she believed: shamelessness conquers all.

After all, she was a peculiar type who compared formations with sword cultivators. Would she care about cheating when her life was at stake?

Only a cultivator could tamper with her, and since she’d encountered demons before, she was prepared for them.

The fact that whoever was following knew she could unleash her full power once the bracelet was removed proved they had been tracking her for some time.

Especially since neither Acai nor the demon harp could be used, indicating targeted interference.

But who said she had only those two treasures?

Wen Jinge sat down and silently chanted a new round of incantations.

“Namo Amitabha, Mani Nanihong!”

As the last syllable left her lips, a dazzling Buddhist light illuminated the cave, as if a deity had descended.

Darkness finally dissipated, the world brightened, the deity looked upon her followers, then at the sacred artifact before her.

A fragrant expletive slipped from the deity’s lips: “Damn! This actually works?”

The god, full of disbelief, stared at the purple-gold alms bowl, excitement gleaming in their eyes.

The purple-gold bowl was the begging bowl of Tang Sanzang from Journey to the West. Wen Jinge had once thought three disciples would suffice, likening herself to the self-sacrificing Tang Sanzang.

That’s why she occasionally read Buddhist scriptures, but she never imagined a simple sutra could wield such terrifying power in her hands.

“Is this talent?” She lifted the purple-gold bowl like a massive 30-million-lumen spotlight.

Her followers piled in as much as they could, but in the end, the cave was empty and no demon appeared.

Wen Jinge looked utterly dejected.

Acai was gone, the demon harp absent, and even Ling Yi’s whereabouts unknown.

The cave fell silent briefly before a tremor shook the earth, and before Wen Jinge could straighten up, she collapsed again.

The scene shifted.

When Wen Jinge opened her eyes again, a transparent jade wall stood before her.

The purple-gold bowl radiated a stellar light, allowing Wen Jinge to see clearly beyond the jade wall.

On the other side, Ling Yi was patting the wall, mouthing “Master.”

Also there were the demon harp, desperate to enter but unable, and Acai lying quietly on the ground.

She descended several steps, rounded a corner, and the scene changed once more.

This time, Yang Wen Nan was speaking with a grimy, dark-skinned man. Nearby stood two giant moths hatching—no, not moths, but Qiao Yu and the Joyful and Sad Buddha.