Chapter 18: The Snow Demon

Wei Li supported Guangzong’s nearly melting body and led him to the nearby pond. Without a moment’s hesitation, she pushed him in. The icy water seeped into Guangzong’s feverish frame, calming his restless spirit in an instant.

Guangzong feigned composure as he crawled onto the bank, yet the events that had just transpired left him uneasy. He wrung the moisture from his damp robe and, resigned, looked at Wei Li, who appeared as if nothing had happened. For a moment, Guangzong was at a loss for words.

“Monk, how do you plan to deal with Miss Azhong?” she asked. In a mountain devoid of tigers, monkeys become kings; how could the little Azhong possibly be her match?

“Miss Azhong acted without intent,” Guangzong replied, his words inciting a surge of anger in Wei Li, who wished she could kick him then and there. She watched as Guangzong retreated. Wei Li lingered amidst the tangled, overlapping trees—a canopy of palm-sized leaves densely covering all. Suddenly, Azhong appeared behind her.

“Sister, I’ve completely replaced you now. If you want to drive me away, I advise you to give up that hope.” Azhong’s face was no longer gentle but twisted into a wild, arrogant smile.

Wei Li’s expression hardened, and at last she spoke: “Hell won’t take you—I will!”

Her words struck a tremor in Azhong’s heart. Before she could react, Wei Li’s palm came down like a blade. Azhong felt a surge of agony—her scream echoed as her body was split in two, blood spraying over the trees and leaves, then crashing to the ground.

Wei Li revealed a victorious smile, dusted herself off, and strode away.

Urgent knocking came from Wen Bai’s house. He opened his sleepy eyes, sensing a metallic tang in the air. He opened the door and saw Azhong’s body, grotesquely fused together, intestines wrapped around her wrists to keep them from spilling out—blood and fat dripped onto the wooden boards with a sharp patter.

Wen Bai’s brows knotted tightly. “I've spent nearly fifty years making this body—how could you turn it into such a mess?”

“It’s all because of Wei Li!” Azhong’s fury flared.

Tang Ying’s soul floated from her body, the beauty’s form separating as it fell to the floor. “Master, I was so close to succeeding, but Wei Li actually struck me down!”

“She’s always been a wolf in sheep’s clothing—she was then, and she is now!”

Since neither Guangzong nor the fox pleaded for Wei Li to return, and Wei Li was no gentle soul, she settled in the Mountain God Temple.

These days were strange; though the solstice hadn’t yet passed, a biting wind howled. Wei Li opened the door and saw small snowflakes drifting slowly down, like silvery butterflies dancing in the air. She was puzzled: snow in June? She’d only read of such things in history—the scholar Dou Tianzhang, too poor to travel for the imperial exams, sold his young daughter Dou E as a child bride. After marriage, Dou E’s husband died, leaving her and her mother-in-law alone. When her mother-in-law went to collect debts, she encountered the rogue Zhang Luer and his son, who threatened her. Zhang Luer tried to force Dou E to submit; when she refused, he attempted to poison her mother-in-law to coerce her, but accidentally killed his own father instead. He accused Dou E of murder, and the government tortured both women. To save her mother-in-law, Dou E confessed and was sentenced to execution. Before her death, she swore to the heavens: her blood would stain white cloth, snow would fall in June, and there would be three years of drought to prove her innocence. All came to pass.

Was another injustice unfolding now?

But the snow only grew heavier. Suddenly, Wei Li seemed to realize something—she bit her finger, allowing blood to drip. Instantly, the swirling snow vanished. “Nightmare!” she murmured, then hurried to find Yue Shi, who lay peacefully on his bed, unresponsive no matter how Wei Li called him. Wei Li rushed from the temple to seek Guangzong, but the soft, delicate snowflakes—dense, swirling, like millions of jade scales descending from the sky—made every step difficult.

Suddenly, Wei Li felt a wave of discomfort—she longed to sleep, her lips cracked, face flushed red, hands pressed to her chest as she gasped, supporting herself against a wall. Someone steadied her. She painfully opened her eyes—it was Guangzong!

“What is this?” Guangzong shielded Wei Li from the snow with his body, urgently asking.

“Nightmare… has come for me…” Wei Li clung desperately to Jia Hang’s clothes. “Thank goodness you’re awake… thank goodness…”

“What nightmare?” Guangzong removed his robe to wrap Wei Li’s frail body, carrying her back to the temple. He shut the door, seeing the blizzard battering against it, as if desperate to tear Wei Li apart.

Guangzong laid Wei Li on the bed. She gripped his sleeve tightly, darkness gathering overhead. Her lips cracked in a grimace; though fear nearly froze her blood, she stared steadily as the Nightmare found her.

Snowflakes drifting through the door crack suddenly morphed into a little boy—delicate skin, cheeks soft as dough, smiling at Wei Li. “Sister, I finally found you! Come with me.”

Guangzong rose, scrutinizing the boy. He was neither human nor beast—a being Guangzong had never seen, though ancient texts described such entities: Nightmares, emissaries of the Underworld, weaving dreams, ruthless and skilled at killing within them.

“Sister, don’t resist. The Underworld is lots of fun!”

Wei Li fought off her drowsiness, mocking him with a smile. “If I follow you, will I suffer the torment of cold in the seventeenth layer of hell, or be condemned as a beast for eternity?”

“Then you…” The Nightmare’s voice shifted from a gentle boy to the voice of hell itself: “If you refuse the wine, you’ll drink the punishment!”

Countless snowflakes attacked Wei Li, transforming midair into sharp weapons. She instinctively closed her eyes, but the pain never came. When she opened them again, she saw ice spikes surrounding the bed, and Guangzong’s broad figure standing before her. The Nightmare seemed surprised. “You have Buddhist fate; with sincere cultivation, you could accomplish much—why are you so stubborn?”

“She is a soul I vowed to redeem. I have not given up on her—no one can take her away!”

Being sheltered by Guangzong felt rather nice. Wei Li hid behind him, peeking out with a mocking gaze. With Guangzong present, the Nightmare would find it harder than climbing to heaven to take her—not because Guangzong was a martial master, but because the rules of the Underworld forbade conflict with Buddhists. The Nightmare would not violate millennia of tradition just to drag her away.

When Wei Li agreed to help Guangzong redeem ninety-nine souls, it had been partly because of his ability to ward off Nightmares.

The Nightmare recognized Guangzong’s resolve. Helpless, he sat at the tea table. The blizzard outside dissipated instantly, sunlight flooded the room, and Wei Li finally felt the oppressive weight lift. She let out a breath and collapsed against Guangzong’s back. “Monk, I owe you.”

“Before you met me, how did you escape him?”

Before Wei Li could answer, the Nightmare complained indignantly, “The first time, she cried and begged me, saying she wanted to bid her beloved farewell. I softened and gave her a day. She never returned. The second time, she jumped off a cliff. I thought her soul would go to the Underworld, so I waited for her there—for over one hundred years! I never saw her soul, and the King of the Underworld docked fifty years of my wages. This time, I finally found her, only for a Buddhist to interfere!” The Nightmare looked utterly defeated.

“It’s just fifty years’ wages—we have money, we’ll pay you,” Wei Li said with a cheerful grin.

“Your money is not the same as Underworld money! I need to marry, have children, buy a house—it’s all ruined!” The Nightmare looked as if he might cry.

“You fancy some ghost girl?”

“No, not yet!”

“Then what are you complaining about? Marry, have children—with your looks, which ghost girl would even notice you?”

Wei Li’s “bullying with backup” attitude left the Nightmare frustrated, determined to prove himself. “I appear as a child because the human world’s atmosphere doesn’t suit my true form. In the Underworld, I am strikingly handsome—female ghosts crossing the Bridge of No Return can’t take their eyes off me!”

“Oh, and words are cheap—just as you once claimed my past self rivaled the Four Beauties. Do you believe that?”

Wei Li continued her relentless teasing, prompting the Nightmare to insist, “I’m close with Granny Meng—I’ll bring her up here to prove what I say is true!” With that, he turned into snowflakes and vanished.

Guangzong burst out laughing. Wei Li poured herself some tea. “Have you ever seen such a naive emissary?”

“Thankfully, the King of the Underworld sent him to catch you.”

“Should I take that to mean, if it hadn’t been him, you wouldn’t have seen me again?”

Wei Li’s clear eyes met Guangzong’s, stirring a wave within him. He suddenly recalled that night, and a flush crept up his cheeks, spreading all the way to his eyes and brows.

Guangzong turned away, no longer looking at Wei Li. Suddenly, she spoke softly: “Monk, everyone says you have a Buddhist destiny, that you’ll become an extraordinary master in the future. The fox said the abbot at White Horse Temple wants you back to worship the Buddha and let other monks redeem me. Why not go back? You shouldn't let me hold back your future.”

Guangzong stiffened, while behind him, Wei Li wore a triumphant smile. This move—retreat to advance—was truly brilliant.

Guangzong turned abruptly, his expression solemn as he looked at Wei Li. At last, he spoke: “If I cannot redeem you, how can I hope to redeem the world?”