Chapter 102: The Yellow-Headed, White-Bodied, Broken-Tail Demon

The squeaking sound suddenly came from nearby, starting faint but gradually growing denser and more piercing.

Everyone inside the ancestral hall was immediately drawn to the noise, and someone, somewhat dazed, asked aloud, "What... is that sound?"

Fear showed on their faces, and several scholars hastened to pour their literary energy into the inscription stele.

Song Mu and Kong Zong had already reached the entrance of the ancestral hall. Both gazed into the darkness outside, exchanging a glance filled with solemnity.

"This sound is strange. Could it be... that demon?" Kong Zong whispered beside Song Mu.

Song Mu nodded slightly, replying in a low voice, "Brother Kong, you’ve studied the Golden Tome of Literary Power, haven’t you?"

Kong Zong nodded.

"My father had me memorize it long ago, and I’ve practiced it these days," Song Mu said, nodding again before quietly instructing, "Then prepare the brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone."

Kong Zong agreed and looked at Song Mu, asking, "What about you?"

Song Mu fixed his gaze resolutely on the outside, explaining softly, "I’ll try to locate that creature first."

Upon hearing this, Kong Zong suddenly realized Song Mu possessed the mysterious ability of mind force, which he had forgotten.

Kong Zong turned to open a wooden box, arranging brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone to prepare for writing poetry, while Song Mu closed his eyes and released his mind force.

Sweeping the area outside the hall, Song Mu gradually concentrated his mental energy, scanning several spots from which the sound originated.

All those places were empty.

Clenching his teeth, Song Mu scanned repeatedly with his mind force but found no satisfactory result. His heart grew uneasy.

If the demon had really come and was so elusive, that was troubling.

Song Mu’s expression was grave. Meanwhile, Kong Zong, with the help of several scholars, arranged several boxes containing paper and ink.

Those present watched the scholars’ actions with puzzled expressions. The venerable and aged Patriarch Fan, reclining in his chair, muttered, "Writing poetry on the spot—this demon might be difficult to handle."

Hearing this, fear spread among the crowd. Several children clung to their parents, faces pale with fright.

Once ready, Kong Zong called out to Song Mu.

Song Mu turned his head, his face serious, and stood beside Kong Zong at the writing box, saying, "Let’s write several war poems just in case."

Kong Zong nodded knowingly and began writing on cut strips of paper.

The other scholars watched Kong Zong and Song Mu anxiously.

Song Mu bent down and took up his brush, composing his own poems.

"To live as a hero among men, to die as a ghostly warrior; still pondering Xiang Yu, refusing to cross the river eastward."

He completed the poem "Wu River" in an instant, and a literary aura immediately appeared—a privilege only an original author like Song Mu could command.

This scene caught the attention of the half-reclining Patriarch Fan, who opened his eyes to look on.

"An original composition—this young lad is formidable."

Others looked at Song Mu with approval, and the villagers and boatmen displayed joy.

After all, having such literati present should mean they could handle this crisis.

Song Mu kept writing, producing two more poems: his own versions of "Wu River" and the "Cultivation Hymn," though they had yet to be used.

Suddenly, the noise outside erupted again. Song Mu shot up his head and exchanged a glance with Kong Zong, who was still writing.

They shouted to the scholars behind them, "Protect the ancestral hall!"

Hearing this, Shao Le and others gritted their teeth and continued pouring literary energy into the inscription stele.

Song Mu and Kong Zong approached the hall’s entrance.

"Where is that thing?" Kong Zong asked Song Mu.

"I don’t know. I can’t find its location," Song Mu shook his head, his expression tense as he stared outside.

"Doesn’t it fear the inscription stele? The entire village should be protected by it," Kong Zong wondered.

"Not sure. Maybe it has some strange tricks."

Outside, the squeaking sound rapidly approached the hall.

Song Mu released his mind force again, this time going all out—his mental energy swiftly probing within a fifty-meter radius.

In that instant, a smile appeared on Song Mu’s face.

He turned and pointed to a cattle shed some distance from the hall’s entrance, exclaiming to Kong Zong, "Found it! On the left!"

Song Mu pointed loudly as he activated a literary talisman, throwing it forth.

Under the influence of his literary energy, the talisman rapidly dissolved, and simultaneously a faint, ghostly figure appeared on the ground before the hall’s door.

It was a tall man, gripping a long sword, bare-chested, and letting out a fierce roar toward the outside.

But it was only a spectral illusion; Song Mu’s energy was insufficient to make it more solid.

Still, Song Mu knew this phantom must be Xiang Yu.

Beside him, Kong Zong threw out another literary talisman, which burst into flames and transformed into several fireballs flying toward the spot Song Mu indicated.

In the next moment, flames flared, and the squeaking ceased.

Yet Song Mu’s brows tightened. His hand moved, and the white phantom lunged into the darkness.

A wave of energy not belonging to Song Mu’s literary power surged forth, causing shock on both Song Mu and Kong Zong’s faces.

They threw out the remaining literary talismans again.

Gentle breezes swept through, and more phantoms formed, all lunging into the darkness.

Inside the hall, people screamed in alarm. The scholars exerted themselves, pouring waves of literary energy into the inscription stele.

"Song Mu! What shall we do?" Kong Zong shouted after using up his talismans.

Song Mu flicked out his last talisman. He saw the phantom struggling with an unknown creature in the darkness, clearly losing ground, then turned and walked back inside.

"Keep writing—wait until Master returns!"

Song Mu said firmly and picked up his brush again, composing another "Wu River." Then he paused, realizing his poems either lacked sufficient power or required tremendous literary energy to sustain.

This battle demanded a better, faster method.

He racked his mind, recalling several poems previously taught by Scholar Sun, and began writing them down.

"Killing aura forms battle clouds thrice daily, cold cries carry through the night."

"Facing gleaming blades amid swirling snow, dying honor charges forth regardless of fame."

He was quoting from Gao Shi’s "Yan Song Xing." Once finished, Song Mu wasted no time and released the poem outside the hall.

Sword and spear shadows surged at the entrance, and waves of killing intent swept outward.

Yet the squeaking in the darkness persisted.

Song Mu unleashed another talisman, preparing to continue writing poetry when Kong Zong suddenly shouted, "Watch out!"

Startled, Song Mu felt something strike the back of his head and halted mid-step.

At that moment, warmth flooded his body, every hair standing on end, followed by a violent wave of energy surging outward.

It was the righteous qi bestowed upon Song Mu by Du Sheng!

The wave dispersed, and a sharp, agonized scream echoed from the darkness.

Kong Zong had just formed a fireball and finally caught sight of the creature in the dark.

It was a yellow-headed, white-bodied weasel with a broken tail.

...

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