Chapter 190: Fighting the Demon Dog

Little Rascal was covered in black fur. Recently, with his mother’s improved diet, he had been eating well, making his coat especially glossy. But from the moment he flicked his cap just now, there were no more than ten dogs in the world capable of such a move.

Sorry, Little Rascal is one of them.

Abe Lips didn’t say a word, and neither did I. Shikigami are like external tools for onmyoji—when facing evil spirits, they jump out to assist, sharing the same fate. Shikigami come in all forms, from minor spirits to monkeys.

Abe Lips was a dog. But this dog was different from Little Rascal. Little Rascal had a physical body, while the demon dog was incorporeal. The demon dog had been nurtured by devouring many minor spirits, making its power formidable. Back in the Golden Triangle, it had been a zombie, so Abe Lips’ demon dog seemed a bit sluggish. If a fierce ghost had come, Abe Lips might have put up a better fight.

Behind Abe Lips stood only Zuo Shan. I didn’t see anyone else, but I was certain there were many hidden in the shadows and upstairs.

Zuo Shan praised, “Looking across the world, the solar system, even the entire Milky Way, no one dares claim first place in the Abe family’s mystical arts. I was blind in my younger years, foolishly apprenticing under Ye Guyi. Had I studied under Mr. Abe, things wouldn’t be like this. Truly, my eyes were clouded…”

Abe Lips said nothing, and neither did I.

Little Rascal stared at the demon dog—this monster, like Abe Lips, fed on spirits—as it bared its teeth and launched its first attack.

Little Rascal was grinding his teeth. Hearing the sound, the demon dog barked back. But unlike Little Rascal, its voice was downright unpleasant.

Zuo Shan continued his flattery, “The noble-born demon dog sings like a nightingale emerging from the valley. Just hearing it makes one lose their appetite for meat for three months. That little black dog is just lowly scum, too scared to even bark…”

Most dogs bark before a fight, but there’s one kind that never makes a sound—yet they’re the fiercest in battle. As the old saying goes, “It’s the quiet dogs that bite.” Those who boast endlessly about having a hundred brothers are the first to run when real danger comes. The truly terrifying ones are those who act without a word, pulling a blade the moment they see you.

Abe Lips said nothing, and neither did I.

There are many dogs in the world, and Little Rascal is one of them. At this moment, this not-so-heavy, even tiny dog didn’t make a single sound—just kept grinding his teeth.

The first clash ended in an instant. Little Rascal didn’t waste words. *You’ve been yapping forever—show me what you’ve got or just charge already.* Maybe he was tired of listening. The moment he leaped forward, his move was something only seven dogs in the world could pull off.

Sorry, Little Rascal was one of them.

Before this, I’d hung him from a tree, driven him into an abandoned building, thrown him into water. In the biting wind, he had suffered, despaired, lost faith in life, grieved, and missed He Qingling. But in that instant when he leaped, admiration flashed in my eyes.

He was Little Rascal, the peerless black dog. From now on, he would have a new name—Brother Dog—standing by my side.

Because he had grown. Because he had learned resilience.

Little Rascal lunged, spreading his limbs mid-air as a stream of his signature ghost-repelling urine rained down.

The demon dog yelped twice, caught off guard by the attack—and the urine. It was too late to dodge. A heavy downpour drenched it. Zuo Shan praised, “A perfect counterattack, truly impeccable.”

Little Rascal landed and spun around. The demon dog recoiled two steps in fear. Zuo Shan, momentarily speechless, hadn’t expected things to go this way. The demon dog’s body slowly turned red—it was cornered, forced to retaliate.

The demon dog’s aura burned crimson, radiating lethal power. I wanted to step in—Little Rascal was just flesh and blood—but Abe Lips smirked at me. If I interfered now, Little Rascal’s pride would be shattered. I shouted, “Fight like a true warrior, and I’ll prepare a 30-square-meter grave for you, plus thirty beautiful female dogs. Brother Dog. Little Rascal.”

Little Rascal didn’t quite understand, probably thinking, *If I die, just don’t stew me.*

The fight seemed long in words, but in reality, it lasted just two minutes. The demon dog, glowing red, pounced, and the two locked in fierce combat. Little Rascal’s left eye burned crimson, his claws sharp as ever. As they clashed, red marks slowly appeared on his back.

The ground was splattered with blood—a battle fought with abandon. This was the kind of fight fought at Marco Polo Bridge, at Taierzhuang, at Niangzi Pass, at Zhongtiao Mountain. Dogs possess a certain spirit—a kind of shameless grit. At its peak, it becomes a sublime state of existence.

*A worthless life—why fear death? A worthless life—why cling to survival? Charge forward with a blade, never retreat even in death.*

Little Rascal barked sharply, seized the moment, and clamped his jaws onto the demon dog’s neck, putting all his strength into it. His left eye burned even redder—power, pure power. Little Rascal had finally become Brother Dog.

With a final, savage twist—

Little Rascal landed steadily, covered in blood. The demon dog collapsed, twitched twice, and lay still.

Abe Lips’ face darkened. I muttered an incantation, urging Little Rascal on.

Little Rascal shook himself off—regal. In the world, there were no more than two dogs capable of reducing a demon dog to this state.

Sorry, Little Rascal was one of them.

There’s only one like him in the world. Even for fifty grand, I wouldn’t sell him. Little Rascal limped back victorious, three of his four legs injured, a patch of skin torn from his ear. How ugly would he look once healed? But it didn’t matter—ugly was fine.

Little Rascal, Dog Rascal, Brother Dog—you’re too damn cool.

As Little Rascal turned toward me, I crouched, spreading my arms to welcome him. But the supposedly lifeless demon dog on the ground hadn’t forgotten Little Rascal’s mercy. Summoning its last strength, it lunged, its head barely attached.

Zuo Shan shouted, “Now *that’s* a counterattack!” Abe Lips’ eyes burned red. “Kill that damn mutt!”

I was furious. *I* could call Little Rascal a mutt, but Abe Lips? Never.

I sprinted forward to shield Little Rascal, but the demon dog, desperate to save face, was about to strike.

I wouldn’t make it in time.

A streak of light descended from above. Before the demon dog could touch Little Rascal, it was pinned beneath a pair of claws. A few swift strikes later, the demon dog was torn to pieces—limbs scattered mid-air, utterly destroyed. Abe Lips spat a mouthful of blood.

The demon dog was finished. Little Rascal turned to see who had saved him.

And so did I.

He Qingling—Pretty Cat—her gem-like eyes gleaming, her jet-black fur dusted with snowflakes, had descended from the sky, landing perfectly to crush the ungrateful demon dog beneath her paws. Two swipes of her claws, and it was over.

It was her. He Qingling, Pretty Cat. After half a year wandering, she had returned. Little Rascal yelped joyfully. Pretty Cat pranced forward, swiping at the floating limbs in the air, erasing them completely.

Zuo Shan was struck dumb.

I looked at He Qingling. “Where have you been all this time? Little Rascal missed you terribly.” She licked the wound on Little Rascal’s ear, then gently patted his head with her paw.

Abe Lips snarled, “Damn you, Xiao Qi! You killed my shikigami!”

I shrugged. “Sneak attacks deserve death.”

Zuo Shan gasped. “That’s the cat! The one we’ve been searching for—the one that escaped the tomb!” Abe Lips’ eyes gleamed with greed. “Is that so? *This* is the cat?”

Zuo Shan nodded. Abe Lips stared at He Qingling, momentarily forgetting the loss of his demon dog.

“Where did you get this cat? Hand her over, and I’ll spare your life, Xiao Qi,” Abe Lips demanded.

Zuo Shan chimed in, “Xiao Qi, Mr. Abe is showing mercy. Let the black cat go, save yourself, and leave now.”

I scoffed. “She doesn’t belong to me. She’s independent—belongs to no one. Don’t ask me. Ask *her*. Oh, and her name is He Qingling.”

Abe Lips gazed at the beautiful black cat. “Hey there, gorgeous. Come with me—I’ll find you a big tomcat.” He Qingling didn’t respond. Zuo Shan added, “We’ll feed you fish every day. Pickled fish. Spicy fish head. Sashimi—whatever you like.”

He Qingling didn’t make a sound.

I said coldly, “Zuo Shan. Abe Lips. Return Liu Jun to me. Or else, I won’t be polite.”

Abe Lips’ phone rang. He glanced at it and laughed. “What’s the rush? My uncle’s stuck in traffic—he’ll be late. Just wait. If I don’t deal with you today, I’m not Abe Lips.”

Zuo Shan praised, “Mr. Abe’s Chinese has improved so much—even using slang like ‘deal with’ now.”

I smirked. “Zuo Shan, I’m curious—did you ever get that thing replaced? Does it still work?” Zuo Shan puffed his chest proudly. “Mr. Abe found me a young man’s. Works just fine—once a night, at least.”

I spat in disgust. “Eighty years old, yet you’d betray your ancestors for lust. And you brag about it? Zuo Shan, have you forgotten Grandmaster Ye Guyi’s teachings?”

Zuo Shan, his legs unsteady, the blood spider long dead, knew ordinary curses wouldn’t work on me. He could only glare, trembling with rage, but didn’t dare step forward.

I knew his type well—scheming at heart, clinging to the Abe family just to oppose me.

Abe Lips, defeated in the first round, roared that Abe Muryukawa was coming.

Sure enough, a horn blared outside. Muryukawa, seated in a wheelchair, slowly appeared at the warehouse entrance, his face wooden. The moment he entered, he called out, “Xiao Qi. Who would’ve thought we’d meet again in less than six months? Heaven’s grace—you’re still alive.”

I smirked. “You’re not dead yet—how could I die first?”