Unintended Immortality
Chapter 460: The Thunder God Banishes Demons in Broad Daylight

Chapter 460: The Thunder God Banishes Demons in Broad Daylight

In the depths of winter, the green mountains had aged, their colors faded to bleakness.

Beyond Yangdu City, dry grass blanketed the rolling hills. A narrow dirt path wound its way along the foot of the mountains, its origin unknown, its destination uncertain.

In the distance, atop a mountain, the faint outline of a pagoda-like structure emerged through the mist. Wisps of smoke curled skyward, piercing the thick clouds—evidence of a well-frequented temple or Daoist monastery.

The small path eventually merged into a larger road.

“Flap, flap, flap...”

A flock of wild birds soared across the sky.

A little girl, dressed in three-colored garments, was descending from a desolate mountain. Behind her followed a jujube-red horse, its back burdened with two large bundles of firewood, one on each side.

Suddenly, a noise echoed from above.

Almost instinctively, she halted in her tracks and tilted her head upward, her gaze tracking the flight of the wild birds. Her expression remained unreadable—only an intense focus shone in her eyes.

Thankfully, she didn’t start doing an evil laugh.

She continued watching until the birds disappeared into the misty sky. Only then did she lower her gaze, glance at her horse, and then turn her head toward the far end of the path below.

“Ding ding...”

The faint chime of bells could be heard, distant yet distinct.

It sounded quite similar to the bells hanging from her horse’s neck.

But a cat's hearing was keen, and she could easily discern the subtle differences between the two.

As the sound of bells grew closer, the first thing to emerge from the winding path was the head of a donkey. Its ears flicked as it walked, nodding slightly with each step. Soon after, the figure of an old Daoist came into view, seated atop the donkey’s back.

The old Daoist had graying hair and beard, holding a horsetail whisk in his hand. His posture was perfectly straight, his expression calm and composed. His loose and spotless Daoist robes draped over his body, completely concealing both his legs and the donkey beneath him.

The donkey was thin, and the Daoist himself was not particularly robust—together, they formed a picture of harmony, both ethereal and unassuming, soft yet firm.

When Lady Calico saw him, she was momentarily stunned.

The image that surfaced in her mind was of Mr. Cui, whom she had once met on Yunding Mountain.

Mr. Cui’s robes were loose and draped—so were his. Mr. Cui rode a donkey—so did he. Only, Mr. Cui wore a hat—this Daoist did not.

Mr. Cui appeared frailer—this one seemed more natural. Mr. Cui wore red—this one wore Daoist robes.

Beyond these details, her memory grew hazy. At that time, she had been much younger, not as sharp as she was now, and many things from those days had blurred over time.

Yet, as she observed him now, even though she had first encountered Cui Nanxi on Yunding Mountain, she did not instinctively assume that this old Daoist was imitating Cui Nanxi. On the contrary, her intuition told her that it was the scholar who had been imitating the Daoist.

So, Lady Calico simply stood there in silence, watching him approach.

At the same time, the old Daoist had also noticed her. There was a hint of surprise in his gaze as he, too, stared straight at her.

“Neigh...”

The old Daoist pulled his donkey to a stop before her. The two young Daoists following behind him also halted in place.

“Lady Calico, what are you doing here?”

“The firewood at home ran out, so I came out to chop some and bring it back.”

“Why come so far just to gather firewood?”

“The closer ones belong to other people.”

“I see...”

The old Daoist lifted his gaze to examine the mountain.

There weren’t many tall mountains outside Yangdu City—this was one of the higher ones. Jagged cliffs dotted its slopes, not high enough to be fatal in a fall, but certainly enough to break a leg.

Though the land beyond the city appeared to be rolling hills, covered in grass and trees along the roadsides, most of the mountains had actually been cultivated long ago.

And it wasn’t just the farmlands—every patch of grass and shrubbery along the fields, even the wild vegetation in uncultivated areas by the roadside, had owners. The locals had long settled who owned what, drawing clear boundaries. Even the smallest row of yellow dogwood had been claimed.

For the local villagers, gathering firewood meant strictly staying within their own allotted land—chopping in someone else’s territory would only lead to disputes.

Naturally, no one could truly challenge her. But still, she chose not to break these unspoken rules. Instead, she deliberately avoided the disputed areas and climbed to cliffs and steep slopes, places ordinary folk wouldn’t dare venture, to gather firewood.

Wenpingzi withdrew his gaze and looked at the little girl again. It seemed that the Immortal Master who raised this child was not entirely negligent of her upbringing.

A thought surfaced in his mind. The Daoist was unconcerned with petty rules, yet deeply understanding of greater principles.

“It looks like you’ve made quite the haul.”

“This wood burns really well!”

“This morning, I received a message from Daoist Song,” Wenpingzi said. “He informed me that the Jile God visited last night. He has already marked it and requested my assistance in entering the city to invite the gods and exorcise the demon. I have contacted the Duke of Thunder Zhou.”

He glanced at the little girl. “Are you planning to continue gathering firewood, or are you heading back to the city?”

“I need to go back and start the fire.”

“Then we shall travel together.”

“Mm...”

The little girl took a step down from the yellow hill onto the narrow path below. She turned her head slightly to glance at the Daoist, scrutinizing his pristine and spotless Daoist robes. After giving her head a small shake, she continued walking forward.

The jujube-red horse followed in silence.

Wenpingzi, still seated atop his donkey, trailed behind them, watching the bundles of firewood on the horse’s back sway with each step. The girl strolled leisurely, and the subtle tension he had initially felt began to ease.

As she walked, the girl casually swatted at the tall grass with a stick, playing as she went. At the same time, she animatedly recounted the events of the previous night. She spoke with clarity, her words vivid and well-structured, her voice soft and crisp. Unfortunately, she had a slight accent.

At times, Wenpingzi struggled to fully understand her and had to rely on guesswork. Even so, a clear image of last night’s events formed in his mind.

While the slow-moving donkey remained on the road, wild birds had already flown into the city.

The search across the entire city for the immortal master’s mark had begun.

***

The morning mist had not yet fully lifted, but sunlight was beginning to break through.

Faint beams of light filtered through the lingering fog, illuminating the streets of Yangdu. For this bustling southern city, bathed in the crisp chill of winter, the long-awaited sunlight felt almost foreign.

White walls basked in the golden glow, yet remained shrouded in mist. The endless rows of dark-tiled rooftops looked exceptionally clean, their surfaces reflecting a quiet luster. As the wind dispersed the fog, the scene unfolded like a painting, ethereal and poetic.

Even the plum and willow trees lining both sides of the Yang River, when touched by the sunlight, seemed to sprout fresh buds—yet upon closer inspection, there were none.

“What a beautiful day!”

“It’s been so long since we’ve seen the sun.”

“Today’s weather is wonderful!”

“Perhaps yesterday’s purification worked well...”

Many people, who usually stayed indoors for long stretches—even reclusive scholars engrossed in their studies—stepped outside, their faces unconsciously breaking into smiles upon seeing the rare, clear sky.

A stone arch bridge spanned across the river, basking in the warm sunlight.

Beneath the bridge, the river’s clear waters flowed gently. Painted boats drifted along, some carrying delicate young women cradling pipas, others with elegant gentlemen engaged in carefree conversation.

Along the banks, women pounded laundry against the stones, while countless pedestrians traversed the bridge. Upon stepping into the sunlight, many paused instinctively, taking in their surroundings before tilting their heads upward to savor the golden warmth.

“What a truly beautiful day...”

Yet, no one noticed the faint red mark on a stone slab beneath the bridge—a cinnabar stain shaped like a plum blossom.

“Clang! Clang! Clang!”

Suddenly, the sharp clatter of armor rang out.

From both sides of the river, an elite unit of heavily armed soldiers marched forward.

The men at the front bore large shields and sheathed long sabers at their waists. Behind them followed warriors wielding long spears, and further back, another row carried powerful crossbows. Each soldier was clad in thick armor, their movements precise and disciplined. At the head of each formation, two towering, formidable generals led their respective squads as they advanced toward both ends of the stone bridge.

The sight sent an immediate ripple of unease through the gathered citizens. Hearts pounded in fear.

With the soldiers’ harsh shouts, the bridge was swiftly cleared, and the once tranquil and picturesque scene changed in an instant.

The common folk, confused and unsure of what was happening, reacted in different ways—those who were timid hurriedly ducked into nearby shops or rushed home to bolt their doors and windows, while the bolder ones lingered along the riverbanks, watching from a distance.

“Flap, flap, flap...”

A flock of wild birds passed overhead. Beneath the bridge, two generals stood waiting.

A group of officials approached, among whom some keen-eyed onlookers recognized the prefect of Yangzhou. Accompanying the officials was an old Daoist riding a donkey, followed by two younger Daoists.

“Clang...”

Suddenly, the soldiers stepped aside.

The old Daoist and his two disciples walked forward without a word, merely gesturing with their hands—

The two disciples moved quickly. One of them set down a low wooden table with a heavy thud on the flat ground beneath the bridge, while the other swiftly pulled incense burners and offerings from his pouch. The old Daoist, meanwhile, took three sticks of incense from his sleeve, waved them briefly in the air, and in an instant, thin wisps of smoke curled upward.

The three worked in perfect synchronization—within the span of a single breath, a small incense altar was fully prepared.

“Exalted Thunder Supreme of the Celestial Heavens, I humbly call upon you to descend and banish this demon!”

“Exalted Thunder Supreme of the Celestial Heavens...”

Before the second invocation was even complete, a sudden and dramatic change erupted on the bridge above.

It was as if the slumbering Jile God had sensed something amiss.

With a sudden explosion, a stone slab on the bridge shattered, releasing a thick cloud of white smoke. As the surrounding townsfolk gasped in shock, the smoke coalesced into a towering, fearsome deity—over a head taller than a man, its face blood-red, its entire body covered in long white fur. Its eyes gleamed like those of a tiger or leopard, locking onto the Daoists below with a piercing, predatory glare.

“Exalted Thunder Supreme of the Celestial Heavens...”

“Whoosh!”

The Jile God merely lifted its head, and instantly, a violent gust of wind tore through the bridge.

Wenpingzi flicked his sleeve in response, summoning a counterforce of wind to meet it.

“Boom...”

In an instant, a storm of dust and debris engulfed the bridge.

On both riverbanks, the people cried out in terror, scattering in all directions to find shelter.

Even the bravest among them now dared only to peek from their hiding places, too frightened to remain out in the open.

The two generals, sturdy as oxen, were fully occupied trying to restrain their panicked warhorses, unable to advance recklessly.

Meanwhile, the officers under their command raised their shields, blocking off the bridge. Whether it would be of any use was uncertain, but these were battle-hardened warriors—none showed signs of fear or retreat. Instead, they peered cautiously over their shields, straining to witness the unfolding confrontation.

Before their eyes, the Jile God and the old Daoist clashed repeatedly, exchanging blows in rapid succession.

Wenpingzi had clearly come prepared, throwing talismans and enchanted pearls as if they cost nothing. The battle remained evenly matched, neither side gaining the upper hand.

However, despite holding his ground, the old Daoist had yet to complete his invocation of the Thunder God. Each time he tried to recite the sacred words, the Jile God forcefully cut him off, preventing him from finishing the chant.

The citizens and soldiers of Yangdu had never witnessed such a spectacle before—though they had often heard tales in teahouses and storytelling halls, seeing it with their own eyes was another matter entirely.

Expressions of shock and disbelief filled the crowd. Even the Prefect of Yangdu, standing among the officials, was visibly shaken. He was forced to retreat several steps as flames erupted from the Daoist’s talismans, and wind-driven debris lashed against the stone bridge. His face tensed with fear, unable to hide his distress.

The once bustling street emptied in an instant.

Only one remained—a little girl in three-colored garments, leading a jujube-red horse laden with firewood.

Not only was she unafraid, but she even stood on her tiptoes, craning her neck forward with an expression of pure curiosity as she watched the battle unfold.

“Exalted Thunder Supreme of the Celestial Heavens...”

“Pfft!”

Before the chant could be completed, the old Daoist was sent flying.

The officers holding shields behind him had not even been struck directly, yet the sheer force of impact hit them like a tidal wave. Those with exceptional martial skill barely managed to brace themselves, sliding backward on one knee. Those with slightly weaker footing were sent tumbling, rolling uncontrollably across the ground.

Even the generals on horseback nearly lost control, their mounts rearing in fright.

Regaining his balance with great difficulty, one general gripped his weapon tightly and looked down—only to see the old Daoist struggling to rise, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

How could mere mortals ever hope to stand against such an evil deity?

“Exalted Thunder Supreme...”

The invocation of the Duke of Thunder was still unfinished.

“Boom!”

But this time, the interruption did not come from the Jile God.

A deep, resonant boom echoed across the sky—like thunder, yet sharper and more piercing than any natural lightning strike.

Even the bravest warriors and generals felt their hearts jolt violently at the sound, their instincts sharpened by years of battle forcing them to look up at the sky in shock.

Above them, the wind howled, carrying away the mist.

Dark clouds surged in, swallowing the sunlight.

Before their very eyes, the once-clear sky darkened at an unnatural speed, heavy storm clouds rolling together, their shadows shifting ominously across the ground.

This was no ordinary storm... This was divine intervention.

Amidst the swirling thunderclouds, a faint figure loomed, its silhouette flickering like a shadow within the storm.

“I am Zhou Kangbo of the Thunder Division! What demon dares to act so brazenly in the mortal realm?”

The voice rolled like thunder, deep and resounding, echoing across the entire city of Yangdu. Everyone—everyone—must have heard it.

“It’s the Duke of Thunder?!”

The generals and warriors were stunned.

Glancing downward, they saw the old Daoist release a long breath of relief.

But the fierce and arrogant Jile God, who had been so menacing just moments ago, suddenly lost all will to resist. In an instant, it transformed into a swirling storm of wind and dust, attempting to flee into the distance.

“Hmph!”

With a single cold snort—

“BOOM!”

A thunderbolt split the sky, crashing down like a divine hammer.

Lightning struck the ground with the force of an explosion, and the windstorm that the Jile God had turned into barely managed to travel ten zhang before the Heavenly Thunder struck it squarely.

For a brief moment, the sheer brilliance of the impact illuminated the demon’s true form.

“AAAH!!”

A shriek of pure agony tore through the air.

The raging wind instantly dispersed, and the Jile God collapsed to the ground. With one single strike, its soul was utterly annihilated.

The Duke of Thunder’s demon-slaying was swift and absolute.

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