Volume One, Chapter Three: The Celestial Master in the Purple Robe

"Help me, help..." Old Daoist Wang's voice grew short and broken, the veins bulging on the man's purplish hands as if he were exerting all his strength.

Tong Yan and the woman recoiled in terror, while Tong Wuji tried to step forward to intervene, only to have a hand block his path.

"Don't go near them. The outbreak of baleful energy isn't something an ordinary person like you can handle." With that, Jiang Chen raised his hand, sending a beam of golden light hurtling toward the crazed man.

The maddened man was struck head-on by the golden light and slammed against the wall.

Old Daoist Wang, whose face had turned purple from being strangled, now witnessed something even more terrifying.

"The Golden Light Incantation?! The Golden Light Incantation of Mount Dragon and Tiger?!" Old Daoist Wang gasped for air in disbelief.

The Golden Light Incantation was never taught to outsiders. As a mere follower at the foot of the mountain, he had seen it before and knew it was reserved only for direct disciples.

Who on earth was this person?

Jiang Chen ignored Old Daoist Wang after a brief glance and turned to the frenzied man. "I don't care what grievance lies between you and this person. Deepening resentment only destroys your lifespan—Heaven will not tolerate it. Leave at once, or don't blame this Celestial Master for shattering your foundation and ending your path forever!"

The crazed man froze, as if lost in thought.

The mass of baleful energy detached from him and became visible to the naked eye. Freed from it, the man collapsed limply to the ground like a boneless doll.

"Spare me, Celestial Master—I have been wronged! Please, seek justice for me!"

That dark, shadowy mass of resentment croaked out its plea.

"Wronged, are you? So there is indeed a hidden story behind this boundless resentment." Jiang Chen's tone softened. "At midnight tonight, come to the rooftop of Fortune Community. I will ensure justice is done."

"Thank you, Celestial Master!"

With those words, the baleful energy vanished into thin air.

At once, awe overtook every face present. Even Tong Yan, who had earlier been dismissive, now gazed at Jiang Chen with admiration, her eyes sparkling with stars.

Jiang Chen turned to them. "It's settled. Your father will be fine. Just let him drink more goji berry tea these days to replenish his energy and blood."

Tong Wuji clasped his hands respectfully. "Young man, I've offended you before. Please forgive me."

Jiang Chen waved his hand. "Punishing evil and upholding justice—isn't that what we're meant to do? No need for formalities."

Tong Yan, too, now looked at Jiang Chen with nothing but reverence in her eyes.

Old Daoist Wang, prostrate on the ground, scrambled up, trembling with fear as he looked at Jiang Chen.

"Ce...Celestial Master..."

Jiang Chen narrowed his eyes. "If you hadn't spoken, I'd have forgotten about you."

Old Daoist Wang's legs shook uncontrollably as he finally recalled the young man's identity.

Last year, at the Grand Celestial Gathering, Zhang Lingfeng, the contemporary Celestial Master of Mount Dragon and Tiger, had introduced this very same young man—the youngest Celestial Master in a purple robe—to all the honored guests of the Daoist world. Nearly every notable figure in Daoism had seen Jiang Chen in his Daoist robes up close. Old Daoist Wang had only glimpsed him briefly through binoculars from the outskirts and hadn't memorized his face.

But the events just now had jolted his memory—the face of this Celestial Master from Mount Dragon and Tiger.

A Celestial Master in purple robes, versed in yin and yang, master of the Eight Trigrams, bridging Heaven and the Underworld.

He dispels evil and destroys demons, slays monsters and banishes spirits. Though not above the law, a Celestial Master has the authority to act first and report later.

Such a man is at the pinnacle of the pyramid—not someone a charlatan like him could ever afford to offend.

All dignity forgotten, Old Daoist Wang knelt and trembled, oblivious to the image of ethereal detachment he had tried to project just moments before.

Jiang Chen calculated with his fingers. The man's birth date, fate, and fortune were all revealed in his palm.

To know what others do not—this is the way of the Celestial Master.

"Wang Guisheng, you deceive and exploit others, your misdeeds countless—are you aware of your crimes?!"

At Jiang Chen's stern rebuke, a puddle of yellow liquid formed between Wang Guisheng's trembling legs.

He had wet himself out of fear!

His voice shook as he pleaded, "I...I...know my crimes. Please, Celestial Master, spare my wretched life. In the future, I will do everything in my power to repay you!"

Jiang Chen replied coldly, "Spare your life? Do you know how much karmic debt you carry? And what about the countless souls you deceived who died because of you—who will clear their names? Will their deaths be in vain?!"

Wang Guisheng protested, "I...I didn't kill anyone. I just tricked them, that's all."

Jiang Chen almost laughed out of anger. As a Celestial Master, he would never casually peer into someone's fate, but the man before him was wreathed entirely in murderous energy and resentment, the number of lives stained on him beyond counting.

To call all that 'trickery'—to dismiss his crimes so lightly—was the greatest of jokes.

"You lured an innocent family of three abroad and orchestrated their deaths. You may not have wielded the knife, but you orchestrated it. Do you dare claim you're blameless? Because of you, your entire village was wiped out. Do you dare say you're innocent?"

Wang Guisheng crawled forward desperately, raising his hand. "I...I have money! A lot of money! I can compensate the families—I have fifty million, really!"

Behind him, Tong Yan could no longer restrain herself and longed to kick him for relief.

"You despicable priest! Who would have thought you've done so many evil deeds—you truly deserve to die," she spat in fury.

Jiang Chen glanced at her—though she was not speaking of him, he too was a Daoist, after all.

"I'll give you two choices: take your own life, or I'll do it for you."

This was the last mercy he would offer as a Celestial Master—at least leaving him an intact corpse.

Old Daoist Wang hung his head, his expression obscured, but in that instant, he made his decision.

If he couldn't live, he would drag another down with him!

With one hand pressed to the ground, Old Daoist Wang sprang up. From his sleeve—no one knew when—he produced a short dagger, taking even Jiang Chen by surprise.

The knife flashed toward Jiang Chen's chest. Tong Wuji and Tong Yan were too stunned to react; they could only watch as the blade stabbed into Jiang Chen's chest.

"Hahaha! Celestial Master? You're nothing! You still died by my hand! And you call yourself a Celestial Master? It seems the whole of Mount Dragon and Tiger is full of useless cowards if you can't even handle me, someone who never even entered the sect!"

He stabbed Jiang Chen several more times, just to be sure.

But then—"Wait! This isn't real—it's an illusion!" Old Daoist Wang finally realized something was wrong. The "Jiang Chen" before him had neither flesh nor blood—he wasn't even alive.

From the doorway, Jiang Chen's voice drifted in. "Well, what do you think? The Scarecrow Technique of Mount Dragon and Tiger—quite realistic, isn't it?"