Under One Person: The Taoist Priest Descends the Mountain

Cola Novels: This is where dreams begin, and where dreams come true.

The person was squatting in a strange posture, with their buttocks half a foot off the ground and their heels on tiptoe, as if they had only squatted halfway down in a horse stance.

His costume dragged on the ground; it was a red robe with black flowers, the cuffs and hem were torn, revealing loose threads that fluttered in the wind.

His face was painted with three colors: black, red, and white. The black was for his eyebrows and beard, the red for his cheeks and forehead, and the white for his eye sockets and nose. But half of the face paint was gone, and the paint was smeared everywhere, revealing the face of a middle-aged man underneath.

He was muttering something under his breath, his voice very soft and indistinct, as if he were talking to himself, or perhaps to someone else.

Cheng Mo and Xia He released their hands and slowly approached each other.

My feet crunched on the gravel.

The man suddenly raised his head.

His facial expression changed several times—first it was fear, his eyes widened and his lips trembled; then it turned into majesty, his eyebrows furrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down; after a while, it became blank, his eyes unfocused, his mouth slightly open, and drool dripping from the corners of his mouth.

Several expressions shifted across his face, and as they changed, the man suddenly stared fixedly at Cheng Mo.

His eyes were cloudy, like the water in a stagnant pool, with no bottom in sight.

"Are you a human or a ghost?"

His voice was hoarse, as if his throat had been rubbed with sandpaper.

Cheng Mo stopped, standing three steps away from him.

"people."

The man tilted his head and stared at him for several seconds, the angle of his head tilting wider and wider, his neck seemed boneless, and his head was practically touching his shoulder.

He suddenly laughed.

"No," his voice turned shrill, like fingernails scratching a blackboard, "you're not human. I've been catching ghosts my whole life, I can tell at a glance."

He slowly stood up, his costume making a rustling sound.

He took a step forward, his foot landing firmly on the moss without slipping. His gaze remained fixed on Cheng Mo, his face painted with an eerie expression in the moonlight, the black background contrasting with red and white, like something out of a traditional Chinese New Year painting.

Cheng Mo stood there, motionless.

He was observing the man.

The opponent's Qi was sometimes strong and sometimes weak, unlike that of "Zhuge Liang".

Zhuge Liang's aura was stable and not very deep; it remained at a constant level from beginning to end, without any fluctuations.

Cheng Mo shifted his attention from the Qi to the person and carefully examined the guy's face.

It's confirmed.

That's Zhao Dezhu.

According to the information provided by Xu Si, this person is just an ordinary superhuman, not even ranked in the superhuman circle, the kind whose strength is at the bottom.

But now—

When his Qi was at its strongest, it was so powerful and intense that it distorted the air around him.

It's just too mixed up, like pouring oil, vinegar, and soy sauce into a bowl of water, stirring it all together. It looks like a full bowl, but one sip would be so cloyingly sweet it would kill you.

While Qi quantity may not be a direct measure of combat strength, it is still an important indicator.

Is this guy's Qi level breaking through to such a high level in such a short time due to the enhancement brought by the divine weapon, or because he absorbed the essence, Qi and spirit of others?

Cheng Mo asked with great interest, "Are you Zhao Dezhu or Zhong Kui now?"

The expression on the man's face began to change again.

Fear took over; her brows furrowed, her eyes drooped, her lips trembled, and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth—it was hard to tell whether she wanted to laugh or cry.

"I...I am Zhao Dezhu..." His voice became hoarse again, trembling with sobs, "Save me...it...it won't let me go..."

As soon as he finished speaking, his cheek twitched, as if someone had whipped him across the face, from his chin to his forehead, and his whole face trembled.

The mask on the right half of his face seemed to come alive; the black background with red flowers suddenly shrank and then suddenly expanded.

The fear receded, and the majesty rose.

His eyes were sharp, like two knives piercing straight in.

Even the voice changed, becoming deep and resonant, with a strange echo, as if someone was speaking in a vast hall, the sound lingering on the beams three times after each word.

"I am Zhong Kui, the Celestial Master! You mortals, why do you not retreat!"

In that instant, a tremendous aura emanated from him.

A cold wind swept through the ditch, surging in from all directions, colliding and squeezing against each other, making a whooshing sound.

The cold wind swirled, whipping up withered leaves and bits of soil from the ground. It spun faster and faster until it finally coalesced into a column of wind, lifting up plastic bags, rags, tattered cardboard boxes, and broken tiles. They tumbled and rolled in the air, drifting towards the mouth of the ditch.

Cheng Mo and Xia He glanced back at the pile of junk, then turned back to look at Zhong Kui.

The sharpness in Zhong Kui's eyes gradually faded, replaced by confusion.

He tilted his head and stared at Cheng Mo for several seconds.

"You...aren't a ghost?"

Cheng Mo didn't say anything.

Zhong Kui began to circle around the two of them.

He took large strides, each step covering more than a meter, his costume dragging on the ground with a rustling sound, the hem of his robe kicking up bits of dirt.

He turned around, stopped, and tilted his head to look at Cheng Mo: "Not human either."

Continue forwarding.

Second lap, third lap...

He circled around the two of them, but only stared at Cheng Mo.

After completing the fourth lap, Zhong Kui's confusion deepened, his brows furrowing deeply: "What exactly are you?"

Zhong Kui was stunned.

Cheng Mo changed the subject: "Of course, it's not certain who's the prey between us, but your behavior is very strange, haven't you noticed?"

A look of confusion flashed across Zhong Kui's face, which quickly turned into anger: "Waaaaah!"

He flicked his sleeves, spun around in place, his robe billowing out like a blooming flower. He stomped his left foot on the ground, then followed with his right, stomping again. He gestured with his hands in front of him, his left hand forming a mudra, his right hand raised above his head, as if performing a play.

Everything looked so ridiculous.

Sudden--

Zhong Kui's hand emerged from his sleeve and reached out to grab Cheng Mo.

A surge of energy emanated from his palm, like a net, enveloping Cheng Mo.

That energy had no color or shape, but you could feel its bone-chilling cold.

Zhong Kui tightened his grip on his five fingers, drawing Cheng Mo closer to him with his inner energy...

It didn't move.

Cheng Mo stood still, his feet not moving an inch, not even the hem of his clothes fluttering.

Zhong Kui seemed to have anticipated this situation. Since the other party had not been caught, he used that force to leap forward and rush towards Cheng Mo.

Cheng Mo didn't hold back either, raising his fist and punching Zhong Kui on the head.

While in mid-air, Zhong Kui reached for his waist with his right hand, pulled out a whip, and swung it at Cheng Mo's head.

The whip was black, with a red rope wrapped around the handle. The whip itself was about three feet long, and it made a whooshing sound when it was swung.

This whip, if you add your hand to it, would definitely be longer than your hand.

The whip arrived first.

Instead of retreating, Cheng Mo advanced, pushing upwards with his shoulder to lock Zhong Kui's wrist, causing the whip to miss its mark, and then punched him in the head.

boom!

Zhong Kui flew backward and crashed his back into a pillar of the stage.

The pillar swayed, and several roof tiles fell off with a crash, smashing to pieces on the ground.

Zhong Kui slid down from the pillar, sat on the ground, leaned against the pillar, and panted heavily.

The costume was askew, the soft towel fell to the ground, and the expression on his face changed again. Fear took over again, his features were all squeezed together, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were twisted together, and his mouth was wide open, revealing his yellow teeth.

"Stop...stop hitting it..." Zhao Dezhu's voice came again, "It's coming out..."

He shuddered as soon as he finished speaking.

It felt like something was pushing out of his body; his back arched, the veins on his neck bulged, and his fingers dug five marks into the ground.

The fear on his face disappeared, and Wei Jingxin gained the upper hand.

He stood up straight, as if a rope was pulling him upwards from the top of his head, his whole body taut and straight, his center of gravity shifted to the balls of his feet, his whole body like a taut bow.

A surge of powerful energy erupted from his body, even more intense and fierce than before, like water bursting from a dam.

Zhong Kui raised his head and looked at Cheng Mo, his eyes showing no anger, no hatred, and not even hostility.

"You're not a ghost, I won't eat you."

After saying that, he turned and left.

Large strides, fast pace, tattered strips of cloth fluttering behind...

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