Happy Little Farmer
Chapter 730

Chapter 730: Chapter 730

Yang Fan stared in shock at Mr. Fan, who was standing by his bed, and muttered speechlessly, "Old man, do you know scaring people can really scare someone to death? At least make a sound or something! You showed up silently—I almost thought some mysterious being was plotting to kill me."

"Keep your voice down, we’ll talk outside," Mr. Fan said in a low voice.

Yang Fan threw Mr. Fan a sour look, shook his head, and started putting on his clothes. But then he noticed Mr. Fan opening the window behind him and, with a swift leap, jumping straight out.

Startled, Yang Fan immediately ran to the window, only to see Mr. Fan already standing outside Yun Miaoyi’s courtyard wall, waving at him.

Yang Fan’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor in astonishment.

Not only was this old man full of vitality, but this was outright supernatural.

This was the second floor, and Yun Miaoyi’s house has quite tall ceilings—at least over four meters. Yet Mr. Fan managed to land gracefully without making a single sound.

"The old man really knows how to keep his talents hidden," Yang Fan muttered to himself, and with a leap, he also jumped out of the window.

However, he landed inside the courtyard instead of effortlessly clearing it.

At that moment, a new question popped into Yang Fan’s mind: How did Mr. Fan manage to pull it off?

The distance between the courtyard wall and the wooden building was about two meters. Unless one could glide across, it was impossible not to land inside the courtyard. Leaping straight over two meters without any aid seemed implausible.

"This old man definitely has some serious tricks up his sleeve," Yang Fan thought to himself before taking a running start. Using both hands and feet, he clambered onto the wall.

Mr. Fan, already growing impatient, scoffed at him upon seeing his efforts. "Young man, how is it that you’re slower than an old man like me?"

Yang Fan: ...

"Old man, if I were as capable as you, I’d be much faster too."

Truly, it was easy to talk big when standing on the sidelines.

The old man could run faster on foot than a car—how was Yang Fan supposed to compete with that?

"I’ve got no real skills; just an old man with one foot in the grave," Mr. Fan said faintly. "Follow me. We’re heading to Siwa Cave."

"Old man, Siwa Cave is by that old locust tree. If we head there now, it’ll definitely notice us," Yang Fan cautioned. "Didn’t you say we shouldn’t give that ghostly thing the terrain and timing advantage? Isn’t this walking straight into its trap?"

"It doesn’t matter. I just remembered that Siwa Cave holds the Dong Mansion of an ancient sage and still exudes spiritual energy. There must be formations in place to shield against such malevolent spirits, or perhaps even suppression techniques. Since spiritual energy continues to escape, it indicates the mansion appeared after the old locust tree, meaning the tree had already gained some level of sentience when the sage carved out the mansion."

"Spiritual energy, a coveted treasure for such malevolent entities, has been seeping out while the tree resided right next to the cave. There’s no doubt it’s been yearning for that energy. We’re going to dig at the root of that ghostly thing!"

Yang Fan nodded and laughed. "As long as you’re confident, old man, I’m here to assist however I can."

"Quit the chatter. Stay close and watch my steps," Mr. Fan said in a deep tone. "Focus carefully—don’t miss a single step. If you do, shout immediately. Don’t hesitate, not for even a second."

Knowing that Mr. Fan was about to use some magic, Yang Fan responded gravely and fixed his gaze on Mr. Fan’s heels. The moment Mr. Fan started walking, he followed closely.

The entire time, Yang Fan’s eyes were glued to Mr. Fan’s heels, copying his exact steps. He didn’t have time to spare for the surroundings. What puzzled Yang Fan was how Mr. Fan walked nimbly without a light, his footsteps steady as if traversing flat terrain. Though they seemed slow, their pace was astonishingly swift.

Within just two or three minutes, Mr. Fan came to a halt, and Yang Fan was startled to find that they had already reached Siwa Cave, standing before one of the stone caves.

This mountain path normally took over an hour to traverse.

"Old man, what do you call this move? No wonder you said cars were too slow. This speed is absurd—you crossed mountains and forests like it was a stroll in the park," Yang Fan asked.

Mr. Fan gazed quietly at the stone cave ahead, replying nonchalantly, "What I said about being faster than a car wasn’t about this. This move is in the book I gave you. If you were earnest in your studies, you would’ve known."

"Now’s not the time for this. Head into the cave first—don’t speak. I’ll locate the roots of that ghostly thing and probe its depth."

Yang Fan nodded and crawled into the stone cave that had been opened earlier.

Instantly, an overwhelming surge of spiritual energy enveloped him, agitating the inner Qi within his Dantian.

At the cave entrance, Mr. Fan paced a few steps back and forth, then pulled a green flag from the cloth bag he was carrying and planted it firmly in the ground.

Just then, sudden changes occurred. Piles of old fallen leaves and decayed soil on the ground began to shift, forming an enormous, grotesque, even somewhat abstract, human face.

The green flag was planted right at the forehead of the human face.

Mr. Fan stepped into the cave, eyes sharp as lightning, fixed intently on the ground.

The heavy atmosphere made Yang Fan hold his breath, not daring to make a sound.

The human face let out eerie wails from its mouth, swaying its head around frantically, attempting to dislodge the flag stabbed into its forehead. However, the seemingly fragile flag stood as solidly as an immovable mountain. No matter how much the distorted face struggled, it couldn’t shake the flag loose.

Mr. Fan suddenly took an ancient-looking compass from his bag. The needle on it spun wildly, as if powered by an overclocked motor running at maximum speed.

At that moment, the grotesque face’s reaction grew violent, and the sky above seemed to darken further.

Looking up, Yang Fan saw countless dense branches above the cave, like a mass of writhing snakes, slithering toward it.

It was the old locust tree.

Its branches were reaching toward the cave.

The wind carried furious howls of rage—it seemed enraged.

All Mr. Fan did was plant a flag in the ground, causing such a massive reaction from the old locust tree. Clearly, this wasn’t an ordinary object and posed a significant threat to the tree.

Mr. Fan handed the compass to Yang Fan and swiftly grabbed a palm-sized box from his bag.

Opening the box, he sprinkled some black powder from within onto the grotesque face, then bit his own finger, letting a few drops of blood fall.

After this, Mr. Fan pulled out a large seal and slammed it forcefully onto the ground.

"Be still!"

With Mr. Fan’s commanding shout, golden light erupted from the ground. A complex golden sigil affixed itself to the grotesque face, pressing it down with a seemingly immense weight and slowly forcing it underground.

The needle on the compass began to slow its frantic spinning.

The grotesque face thrashed violently in defiance, but against the dual suppression of the sigil and the flag, its efforts were in vain. It was gradually driven into the earth, disappearing from sight.