"Goddammit, why is this jinxed bastard here?!"
Sha Lifei cried out in shock, clutching his saber as he ducked behind the ritual altar.
Seeing this, Zhao Facheng grew furious. "You look imposing enough, yet you're such a coward! I asked you to protect the ritual—what are you hiding for?"
Sha Lifei poked his head out, his heart quailing. "He's terrifying! I can't beat him. He'd kill me in a few moves."
Zhao Facheng was likewise no martial artist. Seeing Sha Lifei's ferocious demeanor earlier and hearing him shout all the way about hacking the cultist down with his own hands, he had never imagined the man was a useless coward.
Yet the altar's soldier-summoning rite could not be abandoned halfway, or it would have to start all over again. Helpless, he could only coax him, "What are you afraid of? I'll get you some help!"
With that, he pinched an incantation seal with one hand and brandished his ritual sword with the other, spearing several yellow talismans. Igniting them, he swept them across the altar. "By the decree of the Nine Primes Returning to Truth, Divine Lords of the Three Nether Realms, order the soldiers of all camps—swiftly as the statutes and ordinances!"
Clack! Clack! Clack!
In front of the altar, a row of wandering soul jars popped open.
Instantly, a sinister wind howled, and plumes of black smoke billowed out.
In the Dao of spirit soldiers, there were three tiers of altars: upper, middle, and lower.
The upper altar, also known as register soldiers, consisted of heavenly soldiers and divine generals. Only orthodox Xuanmen sects and ancient lineages could command them. Immensely powerful, they were equally arduous to summon—memorials, sacrificial rites, and the presiding presence of numerous high priests were all indispensable.
The middle altar mostly comprised patriarch soldiers, accumulated by great sects and major orders over countless years. Fed regularly with incense and trained at set intervals, they possessed formidable power and obeyed commands strictly. Disciples granted registers obtained the authority to direct and control them, though petitioning memorials were still required.
The lower altar consisted of spirit soldiers gathered by Daoists and masters themselves. They could be commanded with ease, but their origins were varied and uneven; if one's cultivation was insufficient, it would invite a terrible backlash.
Zhao Facheng kept some of his own as well, but unlike Chen Fakui, his spirit soldiers were not combined with puppet sorcery; they could only attack the soul.
Yet these yin soldiers were by no means weak, coalescing into a dark, smoky mist visible even to the naked eye.
Seeing this, Sha Lifei's confidence surged. Brandishing his saber, he charged out again. "Yuan, eat a slash from your Grandpa Sha!"
His feet moved swiftly, and his thoughts were full of optimism.
A martial artist, even one who had achieved transformative jin like Zhou Pan, was ultimately flesh and blood, incapable of an invulnerable, adamantine physique.
While Yuan Qu was entangled by the yin soldiers, all Sha Lifei needed was one well-placed stroke to lop off his head. Thus, he trailed closely behind the plumes of black mist.
Opposite him, Yuan Qu did not bother to dodge.
The art of the spirit medium used a mortal vessel empowered by ghosts and deities to divine visions through circular scrying, foretell fortune and calamity, locate lost objects, protect rituals, and perform myriad other feats.
For this reason, many masters throughout history had kept spirit mediums at their side.
Yet the art had its drawbacks. Plagued by sinister sha qi, killing intent flooded Yuan Qu's mind, stripping away every ounce of his waking composure. Seeing the black smoke hurtling toward him, he bellowed, neither dodging nor yielding, his arms raised to guard his head as he charged straight ahead.
Puff, puff, puff!
With a series of crisp impacts, the black smoke was scattered instantly.
Though the yin souls were not destroyed and gathered again in the vicinity, they clearly had no power to halt Yuan Qu.
Zhao Facheng's face fell at the sight. "A spirit medium puppet!"
Yet Yuan Qu was having a rough time of it as well.
The way of the spirit medium required years of practice.
At times, one had to retain self-awareness, while at others, surrender the body entirely to ghosts and deities. Only over a long period could one learn to move between the two states at will.
Yuan Qu, already corrupted by the sinister sha, had barely been clinging to a shred of sanity. Now, struck by several yin soldiers, darkness seized his mind, and he lost all reason.
His eyes rolled back, shot through with blood; blue veins bulged across his face, contorting it into a hideous snarl as he sprinted forward, roaring like a beast.
The yin soldiers ahead having dispersed, Sha Lifei found himself face-to-face with the man. Terrified out of his wits by Yuan Qu's demonic appearance, panic seized him, and he clutched his head and dropped into a crouch on the ground.
Under ordinary circumstances, such an act was tantamount to suicide.
Yet Yuan Qu's mind was in utter chaos, and he merely kept barreling forward.
Thud!
Tripped up by Sha Lifei, he went flying, flailing wild hands and feet straight toward the altar behind, crashing face-first into the dirt in an undignified heap.
"Splendid!"
Seeing this, Zhao Facheng grabbed a fistful of consecrated rice from the altar, chanted a rapid incantation, blew a breath over it, and hurled it out.
Crack, crack, crack, crack!
A barrage of sharp pops erupted like snapping bamboo.
As the white grains struck Yuan Qu, they rapidly charred and burst.
This technique stemmed from the Five Grains Evil-Dispelling Art.
The five grains were the essence of heaven and earth, used since antiquity as offerings to the gods, and so there were numerous evil-dispelling arts associated with them.
Folklore used the five grains to cleanse rooms and ward off calamity; the south used red beans to expel evil and glutinous rice to counter jiangshi; and there were even rice crones who specialized in divination and exorcism using grain.
Zhao Facheng's jar of rice had long been consecrated before the patriarch's altar, infused with the scent and power of incense, making its efficacy all the more extraordinary.
The yin souls possessing Yuan Qu felt the searing pain as their own, as though glowing embers had showered across their backs, and he shrieked in agony.
Zhao Facheng's onslaught did not let up. Pinching an incantation seal with his left hand, he scooped a handful of rosin powder with his right and flung it toward the candle flame.
Whoosh!
A torrent of flame surged forth, instantly engulfing Yuan Qu.
Writhing in excruciating pain, he rolled frantically across the ground in an attempt to douse the flames.
Such was the relationship between masters of sorcery and martial artists.
With Yuan Qu's martial prowess, had he closed the distance with Zhao Facheng, he could have dispatched him with ease; yet relying solely on flesh and blood, he would inevitably be battered by yin soldiers and have his senses befuddled.
Chen Fakui had used the spirit medium method to bless Yuan Qu with yin souls, granting him tremendous strength and immunity to the disruption of yin soldiers, but it also deranged his mind, preventing him from bringing even thirty percent of his martial arts to bear.
Dazed and off balance, he had given Zhao Facheng the opening to strike.
Sha Lifei, lingering behind, was naturally not one to let the opportunity slip by.
He had tripped Yuan Qu and rolled across the ground himself, but seeing his chance, he snatched up his long saber, closed the distance in a few swift strides, and brought the blade hacking down with both hands.
"Go to hell!"
Schlock!
A flash of blade-light, and an arm flew through the air.
Yuan Qu had instinctively rolled, dodging a fatal strike, but lost an arm in the process.
"Aaargh!"
The agony was unbearable, yet driven by instinct, Yuan Qu used the momentum in an Old Ape Climbs the Branch maneuver, flipping his body upright to deliver a magnificent side kick in midair.
Hindered by pain and the interference of the yin souls, his breath did not circulate smoothly, preventing him from channeling hidden jin into the kick; yet the raw leg strength bestowed by the spirit medium possession was fierce enough on its own.
Sha Lifei took the blow to the chest and flew backward, nearly crashing through the ritual altar. "Oof!"
His ferocity aroused, Sha Lifei endured the pain, scrambled to his feet, and gripped his saber to charge once more.
"Hold on!"
Zhao Facheng quickly held him back, saying in a low voice, "He's under the spirit medium art and feels no pain. Going up there is suicide."
Sure enough, having snuffed out the flames on his body, Yuan Qu rose to his feet once more. Clenching his dagger in his remaining hand, eyes rolled back and blue veins twisting hideous across his face, he looked like a malevolent demon.
Sha Lifei swallowed hard. "What do we do?"
Zhao Facheng said solemnly, "To break this art, we need boy's urine!"
Sha Lifei was speechless. "Brother Yan isn't here, what's the point of saying..."
Before finishing his sentence, he shot Zhao Facheng a bizarre look.
Zhao Facheng's face darkened. "The boy's urine must come from an infant barely a month old! I have incanted black dog blood—it works decently well, but I need time to prepare it.
"Stall him first!"
With that, he kicked Sha Lifei forward.
"You black-faced bastard!"
Sha Lifei was fuming with rage, but seeing Yuan Qu already lunging at him, he executed a lazy donkey roll, scrambled to his feet, and took off running.
Yuan Qu's mind was completely muddled, yet full of burning hatred toward Sha Lifei for severing his arm, and he gave relentless chase.
Sha Lifei's combat skills were mediocre, but his knack for fleeing was second to none: sprinting, side-rolling, weaving in serpentine patterns, he evaded strike after strike by a hair's breadth.
On the other side, Zhao Facheng had already retrieved a leather pouch from a chest behind the altar. Pouring the black dog blood into a bowl, he lit a yellow talisman, chanted an incantation while forming seals, dropped the burning paper into the bowl, and stirred it with his finger.
"Damn it all, are you done yet?!"
Hounded to his wit's end, Sha Lifei bolted toward the altar.
"Get down!"
Zhao Facheng bellowed, leaping over the altar while hurling the black dog blood.
Sha Lifei rolled across the dirt again, and Yuan Qu, charging right behind him, was instantly doused head and face in the black dog blood.
"Aaargh! Ahhh!"
The harm was far worse this time. White smoke hissed from Yuan Qu's entire body as he clawed frantically at his face, the bloody talismans inscribed upon his skin blurring into a smeared mess.
"Still not dead?!"
Sha Lifei rolled to his feet and lunged forward low to the ground. Flipping his wrist, he gripped his Guanshan blade in a reverse hold and swept past Yuan Qu in a flashing blur.
Spurt!
A gaping gash opened across Yuan Qu's neck, spraying crimson blood.
Taking advantage of the momentum, Sha Lifei wheeled around and planted a heavy kick.
Yuan Qu flew backward, his head slamming into a boulder before the altar. Brain matter burst forth, and his breath ceased on the spot.
Sha Lifei let out a long breath and collapsed onto the ground.
Zhao Facheng, meanwhile, quickly made arrangements and resumed his ritual, his expression somber. "Protect the altar—wait for my final command!"
Sha Lifei hurried to pick up his saber and clamber to his feet. Glancing up at the sky, his eyes filled with worry.
"Damn it... the zi hour is almost upon us..."
...
Up on the mountain within the dense forest, the battle was likewise drawing to a close.
Gasp... gasp...
By now, Zheng Heibei had become a gourd of blood.
He was covered from head to toe in sword cuts, bleeding without pause; his arms in particular were crisscrossed with several bone-deep lacerations.
Possessed by multiple yin souls at once, all humanity had left him. His eyes rolled back and blue veins bulged wildly across his face, pushing his body's potential to its absolute limit.
Yet even so, he was no match for Luo Mingzi.
Had his instincts not protected his vitals, he would have perished long ago.
Even so, Luo Mingzi's expression was grim.
He had never anticipated these two fools would be so utterly reckless.
A martial artist's body was as precious as gold, especially for an adept of hidden jin. Though using the spirit medium art boosted combat power, if the body was not nurtured with supreme care afterward, it would inevitably lead to an early grave.
Yet this man had actually swallowed Chen Fakui's deceit and allowed several yin souls to possess him at once. His speed was as blistering as a specter's, leaving Luo Mingzi no time to cast evil-breaking arts.
Though it had only taken the time to smoke half a pipe, precious time had still been wasted.
At this thought, Luo Mingzi drew a yellow talisman folded into a triangle with his left hand, concealing it behind his back. Focusing his mind in spirit preservation, he pinched several incantation seals in rapid succession.
The shifting gang qi instantly alerted the possessed Zheng Heibei.
"Roar!"
With a guttural roar, he lunged like an old ape.
Instead of retreating, Luo Mingzi advanced. His right hand feinted with a cloud-wiping slash of the Seven Stars Sword, followed by a pivot of his body and a fluid upward slash toward the ground.
Zheng Heibei's left foot was severed clean off, sending him pitching forward as he lost his balance.
By then, Luo Mingzi's left-hand incantation seal was complete. Stepping aside with the motion, he slammed his palm viciously against the man's back.
Boom!
With a deafening thud, the several yin souls infesting Zheng Heibei were utterly shattered.
Moreover, Luo Mingzi had channeled hidden jin into the strike. The ferocious blow, accompanied by the sharp crunch of shattering bone, snapped Zheng Heibei's spine clean through.
With a heavy thud, Zheng Heibei's massive frame crashed to the earth, entirely devoid of breath.
Luo Mingzi did not spare him a second glance, charging straight toward the tomb.
Yet barely halfway there, his expression shifted abruptly.
There stood Chen Fakui, hair disheveled, behind the altar. Dagger in hand, he had carved three pairs of bloody gashes across his forehead, resembling three pairs of blood-red eyes.
Blood poured down his hideous face as he muttered an incantation: "The altar abides in the Netherworld, the Great Daluo unimpeded, Western White Heavenly Demon whose taboo name is Crimson Three Brightness..."
Chapter 75