The Duskveil Yaoguai Kings
Location
The final boss of the Purple Cloud Mountain secret area can be found near the Cloudnest Peak shrine.
Description
He lay on the ground, still unsure of how he had been defeated. The previously unremarkable Daoist-robed insect guai, whom he had previously dismissed as insignificant, now stood before him with a smirk on this face.
Seeing the guai holding a radiant golden hairpin, he suddenly understood. He wanted to ask a question but found he couldn’t speak. The pain was unbearable; it seemed that his throat was slit by the ville insect with the hairpin.
He should be dying. He closed his eyes, not wanting his last sight to be that hideous face.
Unexpectedly, someone turned him over and carefully applied decoction to his wound. He could breathe again, but this brought him no relief.
The guai clicked its tongue in amazement. “The medicine Master gave is truly remarkable. It has mended the severed part completely. What a pity to use it on this one.”
He opened his eyes and tried to ask a question, but the guai stopped him. “Don’t rush. External medicine can’t heal internal injuries. Besides, I don’t intend to cure you.”
With that, the guai waved its hand, and two fake Daoists in green robes carried over a jade box covered with brocade.
The guai took out a golden cocoon and said, “We mountain guais are unworthy of this item. It’s best to test it on you.”
Panic-stricken, he coughed up blood, which splattered onto the golden cocoon.
The cocoon broke upon contact with the blood, and a worm with a human head and a golden body emerged, quickly squirmed into the grass and disappeared.
The guai remained unperturbed and pulled out another golden cocoon from the jade box. “Master was truly wise to have prepared two golden cocoons.”
He tried to struggle, but his body was tightly bound by cobweb. The guai commanded, “Pour it down his throat.”
The fake Daoists brought several buckets of water and forced his head back, pouring some foul-smelling concoction into his mouth. He felt something go down his throat.
After swallowing it, he felt as if he were floating on clouds, his mind becoming hazy.
Apart from a lingering concern for his mother, he could hardly remember anything. He silently recited one last prayer, hoping that a glimmer of survival would be bestowed upon his mother.
Poetry
A brief song stirs the valiant heart,
Long crows pierce the night apart.
Leaping high, then falling low,
Drifting like duckweed in the flow.
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