Sudden Death

Outside Longxing County. Clang, clang! As the final soul-quelling nail pierced the skull of the straw effigy on the altar, dark brownish blood suddenly welled out of the ordinary-looking straw figure. "It is done!" Seeing this, the paper figure Li Yiran beamed with joy. "The effigy weeps blood; that gold-bearing armed cavalryman is dead! Battalion Commander Yan, march back to Longxing County!" Hearing this, Yan Weichuan, who had been watching from the side, felt no relief whatsoever. Instead, a heavier weight settled in his chest. Though their stances differed, both were martial artists, and that man was the newly crowned number one on the Mortal Ranking—yet through a mere straw effigy, he had been effortlessly cursed to death from afar. Faced with such sorcery, what use was martial arts? As a fellow martial artist, the mere thought sent a chill through Yan Weichuan's bones. Not daring to show the slightest hint of it, he merely sighed, reached into his robes, and drew out the Weapon Register. Then he froze. A moment later, Yan Weichuan let out a long breath and looked toward the paper figure Li Yiran on the altar. "My lord, that gold-bearing armed cavalryman isn't dead." "...What did you say?" Before his words fully faded, the smug paper figure Li Yiran whipped around, his voice a mix of shock and fury while the triumphant grin still lingered on his face. The two contradictory expressions intertwined, making him appear all the more uncanny. Yet in the next second, the expression on the paper figure Li Yiran's face shifted rapidly to match his emotions, as if the contradiction a moment ago had been an illusion. Yan Weichuan swallowed hard at the sight, then spread the Weapon Register open in his hands. "My lord, he truly isn't dead. His name is still on the Weapon Register." The Weapon Register, a divine artifact governing all prestige under heaven, had its master roster located in the imperial capital of Dashun, while sub-rosters were distributed across the regions. Not only could it sense the life and death of every listed martial artist, but it also reflected changes in real time. Once a warrior died, their name was immediately struck from the master roster, and the sub-rosters followed suit. The one in Yan Weichuan's hand was a sub-roster. The paper figure Li Yiran strode forward and snatched it away, only to find the name Dragon Fist Wang Ping prominently displayed, without the slightest sign of removal. "How can this be..." At that moment, the expression on the paper figure Li Yiran's face froze entirely, turning into a motionless portrait until another hand reached out from thin air. The newcomer casually took the Weapon Register and examined it closely. "Interesting." Hearing the voice, Yan Weichuan jumped in fright. When he came to his senses, he realized that a red-robed figure had appeared beside Li Yiran without him noticing. It was none other than Perfected Youshen. "Greetings, Perfected One!" Yan Weichuan hurriedly bowed. Ignoring him, Perfected Youshen merely scrutinized the Weapon Register before turning to take down the straw effigy bleeding from its seven orifices on the altar. "As expected, one of the seven po souls was missed." Perfected Youshen's voice held intrigued amusement. "Interesting. Did he separate one po soul in advance? For a mere mortal to possess such means... and even detect the soul-drooping straw effigy's lock ahead of time? Could he possess a peculiar physique?" Yan Weichuan could not understand his muttering at all. Thus, he could only ask cautiously, "Perfected One, since that gold-bearing armed cavalryman isn't dead... what should we do now? Do we still head to Longxing County?" "Of course." Perfected Youshen said indifferently, "Rest assured. Though he is not dead, with only one of the seven po souls remaining, he is like water without a source. It merely prolongs his agony before death." ... Inside the Longxing County yamen official residence. In the quiet room, Wang Ping's scalp tingled—or rather, he could only feel his head now; everything below his neck had completely lost connection. Worse yet, he wasn't dead. Even though his head had separated from his neck, not a single drop of blood had leaked out. The cut was smooth and even, and blood circulation continued normally. Why? This half-dead state was the worst possible situation for Wang Ping, as the Fiend from Beyond could only be triggered upon his death. If he lingered on like this, neither truly dead nor properly alive, he would never be able to activate the Fiend from Beyond. Having only a head left made suicide impossible... Thinking of this, an almost irresistible thought sprang up in his mind: Did they do this intentionally? Purposely leaving him half-dead to smother his resurrection in the cradle? Was the Fiend from Beyond exposed? Wang Ping immediately thought of that old bastard Shouchong. After all, the White Lotus Sect Master knew he could resurrect. Could it be him? No, that makes no sense. The ones targeting me should be whoever is backing Xu Bingzheng and Li Yiran, while that old bastard Shouchong is a seasoned old rebel—their identities don't match up. Wang Ping rolled his head, thinking furiously. So... an accident? In truth, they wanted to kill me, but failed. Was it... because of something I did that allowed me to survive their technique by sheer luck? This method of beheading someone from afar was undoubtedly sorcery. Thus, martial arts could be ruled out first. The only thing capable of countering sorcery was another, superior sorcery—and soon, the answer surfaced: It's Soul Seizing! The paper double! I used Soul Seizing earlier to create the paper double. If that's the reason... then the sorcery targeting me now must also attack the soul! At this realization, the fog in Wang Ping's mind cleared. Case closed! So that's how it is! An art that attacks the soul. Because I made a paper double and shifted away a portion of my soul, I didn't die on the spot! Fear stems from the unknown. When the truth was unclear, Wang Ping had been helpless. But now that he understood the enemy's method, the problem became simpler. Soul Seizing was also a spell targeting souls, and combining that knowledge, Wang Ping swiftly reached a conclusion: This kind of long-distance death curse that attacks the soul must require a medium. The best way would be to obtain that medium and destroy it... but for now, that plan isn't feasible. So I can only settle for the next best thing. Rather than destroying the medium directly, find a way to sever the connection between myself and whatever they are using... What did the caster use as a medium? Hair? Name? Appearance? Thoughts raced through Wang Ping's mind. Hair... unlikely. I have already cultivated the flawless true body; after shedding my mortal shell, there's zero chance of losing hair. That leaves my name and appearance. A name alone definitely wouldn't suffice; there are too many people with the same name. They must have used my appearance as well to lock onto me. Wang Ping felt this guess was right on the mark. With that thought, he focused his concentration entirely, attempting to control the only part of him that still had sensation—his head. His eyes, ears, nose, tongue, facial features, and seven orifices began to distort under his will. Flesh shifted, bones ground against one another, until he transformed completely. He had forcibly changed his face! This was something achievable only by martial artists whose external conditioning had reached a certain height, who possessed divine intent, and whose mastery over their bodies had attained its pinnacle. Even so, the practical combat value of this trick was actually poor. Such a disguise was far too forced, a blunt feat of brute strength riddled with flaws in the eyes of true experts, and over time, one might not even be able to revert. Yet it was the only way Wang Ping knew to alter his face. Since he was already literally headless of body, he might as well gamble on it and treat a dead horse as a live one. The next second, a miracle occurred. The moment his features shifted, Wang Ping finally sensed his body below the neck. Though faint, he was no longer completely numb! It really worked! Appearance truly was one of the mediums! Altering my face weakened the connection, drastically reducing the effect on me. Overjoyed, Wang Ping strained with all his might to send commands to his body, urging it to reach out a hand bit by bit and lift his head from the floor. The entire process was agonizingly difficult, as if his body carried an invisible mountain. Never mind reaching out, moving even a single finger demanded every ounce of strength he could muster. The progress was sluggish; nearly an hour passed before Wang Ping barely managed to place his head back atop his neck. Immediately, Wang Ping tried to execute Qi Restriction to reattach the severed head. Yet the result deeply disappointed him. No matter how much true qi he channeled, the neck and head remained separated, showing no sign of knitting together. It seems the severed head is merely a symptom; the root cause still lies in the soul. What should I do next? By now, Wang Ping had calmed considerably. On one hand, he had identified the source of the crisis; on the other, he was now capable of committing suicide. He could make a triumphant retreat to the Immortal Gate at any time. With a way out, one did not panic and had leeway to consider countermeasures. After all, he had gotten lucky this time, but luck might not favor him again next time. Thus, he had to ensure such an incident never happened again. Looks like I can't show my real face in public anymore. That's fine too. If I always resurrect with the same face using the Fiend from Beyond while being involved in the same events, the risk of exposure is simply too high. Of course, Wang Ping wouldn't stop at mere prevention. He wanted to strike back! And as luck would have it, he held just the right tool for the job. Taking a deep breath, Wang Ping channeled his spiritual sense to dispel the paper double from afar, drawing the separated soul back into himself. Crack! Almost instantly, the smooth, bloodless neck suddenly erupted with bloody light, and intense dizziness washed over Wang Ping's consciousness. Indeed. The moment the paper double was dispelled, my sole remaining soul not locked by the enemy was locked onto, triggering my death. With that thought, Wang Ping's fading consciousness swiftly sank into the Mortuary. Time seemed to grind to a halt. Wang Ping's gaze fell upon the towering tome before him, only to see it wreathed in radiance as it slowly turned to its second page. Scroll Two: Perish with the Sun! Upon activating this scroll, every wound inflicted on him by an enemy would be synchronously converted into retribution and mirrored back upon the attacker! This life can't be saved. In that case, before I die, I'll hit them with everything I've got! Clinging to this resolve, Wang Ping decisively triggered Perish with the Sun. His consciousness returned to reality, only to plunge swiftly into darkness. ... Outside Longxing County. Dressed in red robes, Perfected Youshen sat upright on the altar, gazing with interest at the straw effigy bleeding from its seven orifices as though admiring a fine work of art. "Good, very good." "This person clearly understands a fair bit about soul arts. He didn't panic before death, and his judgment was remarkably accurate—he even realized that appearance was the key." Perfected Youshen seemed able to deduce Wang Ping's actions and state on the other side through the changes in the straw effigy. His words brimmed with unreserved praise, yet carried a casual air, like an ordinary person amused to see their cat do a backflip—surprising, but nothing more. Watch it enough times, and it loses its novelty. "In the end, it's all in vain." With that, Perfected Youshen brushed his sleeves and stood up, intending to watch no further—yet in the very next second, his movement froze abruptly. Immediately after, an invisible might descended from above. "Hngh... Aaaaargh!" In an instant, the paper figure Li Yiran standing beside Perfected Youshen let out a shrill shriek, and raging flames spontaneously erupted across his entire body! The process was blindingly fast. The inferno raged for mere moments before the paper figure Li Yiran was reduced to ashes drifting across the air, while a wisp of a wandering soul slipped into nothingness. "...Oh?" Watching the scattering paper ash, Perfected Youshen's attitude finally changed. "To dare drag his foe down with him at the threshold of death... What a waste of one of my soul-summoning talismans." "Th-this..." Meanwhile, having witnessed the entire scene with his own eyes, Yan Weichuan was thoroughly spooked. He hurried forward and whispered, "Perfected One, are you all right?" Hearing this, Perfected Youshen shot him a half-smile and replied nonchalantly, "What could happen to me? I wasn't the one who executed the death curse. Even if there's a counterattack, tracing the medium wouldn't lead back to me... Enough. This straw effigy is useless now; find some random spot to burn it." At those words, Yan Weichuan fell completely silent. Though he did not understand sorcery, he was far from stupid. With Perfected Youshen being so explicit, how could he fail to realize that Li Yiran had served as a scapegoat? He did it on purpose! This sorcery capable of killing across distance would have been far more potent if he had cast it himself, yet he deliberately had Master Li take charge of it. All to guard against a counterattack! At the realization, Yan Weichuan felt a prickle of horror. Clearly a thaumaturge with fantastical means, capable even of bringing the dead back to life... yet his methods are still this cautious! Using an ox cleaver to slaughter a chicken; firing a cannon to swat a mosquito. To go to such meticulous lengths even when bullying weaker prey—just which sect or school did this thaumaturge hail from?