Emily Foster's eyes sparkled as she looked at Brian Carter with deep gratitude. She bowed gracefully and said, “Emily Foster was in trouble and only survived thanks to your help, young master. I truly don’t know how to thank you. You left just now—why have you returned?”

Brian Carter had been startled to see the black-robed Daoist transform into a black wolf upon death. By now, he had guessed that Emily Foster was probably not human either. Still, since he was bold by nature and Emily Foster had such gentle features, he managed to keep his composure. Waving his hand, he replied, “With my meager skills, how could I possibly have saved Miss Emily Foster? I merely startled that Daoist by chance—pure luck, nothing more. But do you know who that Daoist was?”

Emily Foster hesitated slightly, then reached down to pick up the hun tian banner that the black-robed Daoist Charles Walker had dropped. In a low voice, she said, “That Charles Walker was an iron-backed gray wolf from the Ten-Thousand Mountains of Miaojiang, who became a spirit after three hundred years of cultivation. My sister and I also live in the Ten-Thousand Mountains, and he was our neighbor. But Charles Walker cared nothing for true cultivation and always sought shortcuts. He fought with my sister and me many times, and though he always lost, my sister was generous and let him go. But this villain was vicious at heart—he colluded with George Young of Heshan Dao, and together they captured my sister to perform a forbidden evil ritual.”

“It just so happened that the emperor of the Li family was about to hold a grand water and land assembly. George Young heard that any cultivator chosen at the event could be granted rank and reward, so he coveted the glory and came to Chang’an from Miaojiang. I followed the two of them all the way, hoping to rescue my sister. But in Chang’an, I was a stranger, and George Young’s magic is formidable. I tried several times but failed, and nearly fell into their hands myself.”

Brian Carter was struck by a thought and asked, “Is that George Young the evil beggar with a snake coiled around his waist?”

Tears welled up in Emily Foster’s eyes as she softly replied, “Exactly!”

In his spare time, Brian Carter most enjoyed reading tales of gods and monsters. From the founding emperor of this dynasty to the current Son of Heaven, Li Ying, all revered Buddhism and Daoism, so many frustrated scholars liked to write such stories. Though not part of the mainstream literary world, these tales were widely circulated, and there were always the so-called Four Great Masters of the East, South, West, and North.

Brian Carter’s favorite, “Records of the Yu Ding,” was compiled by Wu Cheng’en, the foremost master of the South. In the North, the most famous was Pu Songling, who called himself the “talent among foxes.” His “Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio” told countless stories of scholars falling in love with fox spirits, flower sprites, and beautiful ghosts—often moving readers to tears. But since Brian Carter was still young, he didn’t care for such romantic tales, preferring stories of peerless heroes and earth-shaking magical duels.

Still, he had read “Strange Tales,” and seeing Emily Foster like this, he thought of the evil beggar George Young and the red-scaled serpent coiled at his waist. He wondered to himself, “Could this girl be a snake spirit? Is that red-scaled serpent actually Miss Emily Foster’s sister?”

Since Emily Foster was unwilling to reveal her identity, Brian Carter didn’t press her. Instead, he said, “Since that iron-backed wolf learned his evil arts from George Young, then George Young of Heshan Dao must be even more powerful. Miss Foster, how do you plan to rescue your sister?”

Emily Foster rubbed her hands together, shrinking the hun tian banner in her palms to just a few inches and tucking it into her sleeve. With tears in her eyes, she shook her head and said, “I don’t know. I can only hope that villain will be careless, giving me a chance to save my sister. Then I’ll flee back to the Ten-Thousand Mountains, deep into the wilderness, so he’ll never find us again.”

Although Brian Carter liked strange and unusual things, he was kind-hearted. Seeing Emily Foster so pitiful, he wanted to help her, but since he had no real skills himself, he didn’t know how to comfort her.

Chapter Two: The True Art of Black Water (VI)

Brian Carter looked at the black wolf’s corpse on the ground and frowned. “After all, the Dapeng Mingwang Pagoda is the private property of Minister Yan’s family. We can’t just leave this thing here. But the black wolf is so huge—how can we move it out?”

After the iron-backed wolf demon Charles Walker died, his Daoist robe could no longer contain him. Emily Foster reached out and took a beast-skin pouch from his waist, saying angrily, “No need to worry about that. Disciples of Heshan Dao all carry this Five-Yin Pouch. Not only can it store magical treasures and personal items, it can also dissolve flesh and blood. It’s quite a formidable artifact.”

Emily Foster shook the beast-skin pouch, and a stream of half-red, half-black mist poured out, wrapping around the iron-backed wolf’s corpse and swallowing it up, even cleaning away the bloodstains on the ground. She then casually stuffed the pouch into Brian Carter’s hand and said cheerfully, “Although Charles Walker joined Heshan Dao, he was still a non-human and never learned any advanced techniques. He only mastered this Five-Yin Pouch and the hun tian banner. I’ll keep the banner, and the Five-Yin Pouch is yours.”

Brian Carter was about to refuse, but Emily Foster giggled and said, “You looked so dazed just now, but who would have thought you’d be so clever? With just a single spell, you managed to defeat Charles Walker. I bet he’s not happy about it, even in front of Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva—defeated by a puff of water vapor! Who taught you magic? Just now, I saw a misty aura around you, and even I couldn’t see through your origins. That’s why I gave you a push. Who knew that a bit of mischief would turn out to be such good fortune?”