Ch. 347 - Taotie Breeding Ground

The group stood there, eyes locked on Taotie’s massive shape trudging off into the distance, trading unsure looks.

All of a sudden, Lu Ziming’s face twisted. “Damn it—he’s going back to Whitestone to block the gate! We’ve got to hustle, or we’re shut out!”

Panic hit the others like a spark. Without a word, they took off, blurring toward town in a flash.

Taotie wasn’t quick. Fang Xiu perched on its head, looking down as Lu Ziming and the crew zipped by him, darting into Whitestone. He didn’t mind. Blocking the gate wasn’t his goal—he was hunting Specters.

Once he’d called up a whole pack of Taoties, the gate wouldn’t matter—he’d have the entire town boxed in.

He’d let the fight drop because it was a waste of time. Wen Jinglong had a point: Taotie couldn’t die, but it couldn’t nab them either. Too sluggish.

In the real world, they could split up across the planet and hide, a real headache to chase.

But here, in the Land Between, every fourth-tier and fifth-tier had to roll back to Whitestone sooner or later.

So, a swarm of Taoties ringing the town? They’d be trapped. Blocking the inn was petty—Fang Xiu had his sights set higher. Lock down the whole place.

Five Taoties already had them shook. By nightfall, he’d double that. In a few days? Too many to count. A full-on Taotie army would rise.

And deep inside, a crazy plan was brewing.

The Land Between could be his Taotie farm—its endless Specters a feast to bulk up his crew.

Then, if Specter attacks spiked out there, throwing the world into a mess, he’d stroll back with thousands of Taoties behind him. They’d steamroll the globe, smashing every Specter in sight.

But it all depended on one thing: stacking a billion Spirit Money bills to break out of the Land Between. No way out, no army set loose.

…

Back in Whitestone, Lu Ziming and the others had slipped into the town’s dark nooks, eyes fixed on the entrance. They waited, edgy and restless, for Fang Xiu to roll in.

“What if that jerk really blocks Yue Lai Inn?” Wen Jinglong grumbled, worry lining his face.

Lu Ziming’s look turned steely. “Let him try. We’ll squeeze into whatever’s around—rent extra doghouses, toilets, woodsheds. Whitestone’s got tons of spots like that.”

Tong Yang kept quiet, his face flickering with nerves as he chewed on a thought. Then, out of nowhere, his eyes popped wide. “Oh no!”

His yell snapped the group to attention.

“What’s with the meltdown, Tong Yang?” someone barked.

His tone was dark. “What if Fang Xiu doesn’t block the inn—or any place we crash? What if he blocks the pawnshop instead?”

“What?!” Their faces went pale. “That’s a nightmare! There’s just one pawnshop in Whitestone to swap for Spirit Money bills. If he blocks it, we can’t cash out—no cash, no beds. We’re screwed!”

Someone grasped at straws. “The pawnshop’s hidden, tough to track down. He’s green—maybe he hasn’t found it yet.”

Lu Ziming shifted, a hint of shame flashing across his face. “He knows.”

“He knows?” Wen Jinglong’s eyes tightened, suspicion cutting through his voice as he glared at Lu Ziming. “How’s a rookie know that already? You didn’t tell him, did you?”

Lu Ziming’s gaze flicked away, dodging the heat as he shifted the topic. “This isn’t the time to bicker. We need to figure out what happens if he blocks the pawnshop.”

Tong Yang chewed on it, his voice quiet. “At this stage, we might have to pay him off. Fang Xiu’s wild and cocky—working with him won’t come cheap.”

“Fine, we’ll pay,” Wen Jinglong shot back, smirking at Lu Ziming. “But you’re covering most of it.”

Lu Ziming’s face went red with fury. “What? When we split the cash earlier, you all clawed for your piece—nobody handed me the big share. Now it’s time to chip in, and I’m stuck with the tab? Keep dreaming!”

Wen Jinglong grinned. “If you hadn’t tried to fleece him first, we wouldn’t be stuck with this unkillable nutcase.”

Lu Ziming’s anger spiked, ready to snap back, when something clicked. His scowl flipped into a crazy grin. “Hahaha!”

“Lu Ziming, what’s so damn funny?” someone barked. “You cracking up over paying?”

“What’s funny?” Lu Ziming’s look turned smug, like he’d just solved a puzzle. “I’m laughing at Fang Xiu’s dumb move! If he tries blocking the pawnshop, he’s burying himself.”

“How so?” Tong Yang leaned in, curious.

“You all got rattled by his ‘undying’ show, right? Forgot what it’s built on?”

“You mean…”

“Wait, you’re saying…”

The group caught on, their eyes lighting up.

“Spot on,” Lu Ziming said, nodding. “He’s only untouchable because of Specters. But Whitestone’s clear in the daytime—no Specters anywhere. If he rolls in to block the pawnshop, we can drop him right there!”

“Perfect! That’s the move!”

“He steps in today, he’s not walking out!”

They hunkered down to wait, setting up an ambush like hunters eyeing a prize. They even spent half the day planting traps around town, stacking their odds.

But hours crawled by—day faded to dusk—and Fang Xiu didn’t show. Lu Ziming’s smug grin twisted into a frown. “Typical. He’s got enough brains to take my Chief Commander spot. I thought of it, and he did too. He’s not dumb enough to hit Whitestone in daylight when he can’t play his immortal card. Good news and bad news, folks.”

“What’s the good news?” someone asked.

Lu Ziming let out a breath. “Good news is, we don’t have to sweat him blocking anything. He’s too scared to show up in Whitestone during the day. At night, we’re locked in rentals or the inn anyway—he’d just be spinning his wheels.”

“And the bad?” Wen Jinglong pushed.

“The bad news,” Lu Ziming said, “is solo Specter hunts are done for now. He won’t come here, so if he’s gonna hit, it’ll be out there—waiting for a shot. Don’t get caught by yourself.”

The group nodded, faces tight. Only the three fifth-tiers—Lu Ziming, Wen Jinglong, and Tong Yang—felt solid about dodging Fang Xiu. The fourth-tiers? Not a chance.

Lu Ziming stood tall, voice steady. “Alright, since we’ve got him pegged, let’s lay out a plan. Two tracks: we talk peace on one side, and gear up for a drawn-out fight outside Whitestone on the other. We know this place inside out—hit-and-run’s our strength.”

He yanked out a rough map of the Land Between, and the group crowded around, scheming. They traced the land, marked tight spots, and cooked up moves deep into the night.

Meanwhile, the guy they were sweating over—the one they saw as some cunning mastermind—was out there casually tearing through Specters without a second thought.

Fang Xiu had eight Taoties now, and the number was climbing.

The gap was almost funny. Lu Ziming’s crew braced for a big showdown, wrestling a ghost of their own making, while Fang Xiu didn’t even glance their way.

Strategies? Plans? He didn’t bother. His aim was dead simple: grow a Taotie army and flatten everything.

Maybe when Lu Ziming and the rest finally nailed their hit-and-run game, they’d look up to find a wall of Taoties circling the town. The shock on their faces would be gold.

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