Xieling

"Zhu Ping, Brother Zhu Ping!" Zhu Gui shouted several times, and the seven who had left the temple doors with Zhu Ping gradually came to their senses. Looking left and right, there was no trace of Zhu Ping. The man who had caught the boar no longer spared a glance for the squealing little beast in his hand. He tossed it aside, drew his blade, and meant to follow the others out of the temple again. "Wait!" Old Huang reached out to stop them, suppressing everyone's movements. He turned sideways toward the temple door, his ears twitching. Silence fell at once within the temple, only the irregular crackle of torch flames and firewood. Everyone heard strange rustling sounds from outside the temple. Including Old Huang, twenty-six jianghu men in all drew their weapons, eyes fixed on the temple door, retreating with quick, short steps. Footsteps... Footsteps were approaching outside the temple door! "Creak~~" The temple door was pushed open from outside, and a gray-clad man with a gaunt face and sturdy build strode in. He glanced at this group, poised as if facing a great enemy, and asked: "What are you doing?" The speaker was none other than Zhu Ping, who had just disappeared. Zhu Gui recognized him at a glance—this was indeed Zhu Ping—but given the situation, to be safe, he asked one more question: "You... you are Zhu Ping?" "Who else could I be?" "Where did you go?" "Relieving myself by the wall." "Then I'll ask you: what does our master prize most of all these past two years?" Zhu Gui finished, staring hard at Zhu Ping, only to hear him say: "A cat." Zhu Gui breathed a sigh of relief and signaled everyone to lower their weapons. The master of Lian Yun Villa prized cats; no one outside the household could know that. "Gentlemen, this is Zhu Ping, no mistake." Those men sized up Zhu Ping and found nothing amiss, then sheathed their weapons. Such small misunderstandings were commonplace for men who wandered the jianghu year-round. Without a little caution, several lives would not be enough. The temple door was closed again. Zhu Ping followed Zhu Gui to sit by the campfire. There, rations were being roasted and a small jar of yellow wine warmed. Geng Zhi was taking the half door frame that Zhu Gui had just dropped and feeding it into the fire as wood. Jinyanshu the Taoist and Jinghui the monk sat in meditation seven paces from Geng Zhi. Qin Xuan, a little farther away, suddenly raised his eyes and looked toward Zhu Ping before the monk and Taoist did. "Brother Zhu, what's wrong with your foot?" Liu Xi and Yu Han turned to look. Only to see that the farther Zhu Ping walked, the higher he raised his rear heel, and the softer his footsteps became. After three steps, he was walking on tiptoe, making not a sound. The two felt a chill in their hearts, but they reacted in time: "Geng family head, be careful!" There was no need for their warning—Geng Zhi had already grown wary upon hearing Qin Xuan's voice. Zhu Ping's pupils had at some point turned a cloudy, dead ash-gray. He drew his double axes and hacked straight at Geng Zhi. Zhu Gui, blocking in front, felt a jolt. He turned into a rolling ground mantis along the axe line, rolling two and a half turns, nearly hacked into two segments. "Whoosh~!!" A blade light suddenly rose from the side as Old Huang lunged forward. The blade edge went straight for Zhu Ping's face. Zhu Ping crossed his double axes to parry—"Clang!"—sparks flew. He suddenly exerted force, pushing the blade aside, then his right ax followed through, chopping down with a sinister wind. Old Huang's body flickered; he turned and evaded. His thick-backed blade turned against his arm and slashed upward from below. Zhu Ping's arm was gashed, yet he felt no pain. His double axes came one after the other, chopping ferociously, pressing closer with each step. Old Huang's eyes burst with sharp light, and true qi gathered in his long blade. "Hold back—he can still be saved, don't kill him!" Qin Xuan shouted. Old Huang's blade edge withdrew from Zhu Ping's throat. Suddenly he ducked low, slipped through the gap between the double axes, and his long blade carved an arc, swinging left and right to knock Zhu Ping's double axes from his hands. Two burly men rushed out at once, using the "Deadly Mandarin Duck Lock," exerting force with both hands and arms to pin Zhu Ping from behind. Old Huang heard wind behind him and sidestepped. Qin Xuan stepped forward, his movements no slower than a blade expert like Old Huang. Liu Xi cast out a "Warding Evil Talisman," and Qin Xuan touched it with a point from afar. The talisman ignited on its own, a flash of golden light striking Zhu Ping's forehead. "Kree~!" Accompanied by a shrill, miserable cry, a gray shadow bounced off Zhu Ping's body and fled hurriedly outward. "Don't let it get away!" The surrounding men shouted as one, each biting his fingertips, using true qi to force out qi and blood and smearing it on their blades. Even ordinary mortals' qi and blood possessed yang fire, let alone these martial artists. Wu Xuanshu took out a bronze mirror, shining it on the gray shadow. Seven or eight blade lights carrying blood qi wove into a net of blades, crisscrossing, directly slaying the yin spirits. A puff of gray mist exploded in the air, and something fell down. Yu Han picked it up. Qin Xuan glanced at it—a broken piece of gray bamboo whisker. "Senior Brother, what is this?" "A corpse whisker." Qin Xuan handed it to Geng family guest Wu Xuanshu, and said: "I've heard that after the Xieling Sect opens a coffin, they jab the stiff with a bamboo pole, cover it with a fishing net, and hang it upside down in a Yin-Gathering Formation. The bamboo pole can grow corpse whiskers within the corpse, thereby controlling yin ghosts and evil things." "The Xieling Sect appears around Copper Mountain north of Yunzhou Prefecture, about two thousand li from here." After speaking, he looked at Geng family head. "Geng family head, have you ever offended anyone of the Xieling Sect? They may not be a major demon sect, but they are very troublesome." "The Xieling Sect?" Geng Zhi shook his head. "I swear, I have never had any dealings with this sect." He felt Qin Xuan was mistaken, and pointed to Wu Xuanshu to explain: "Old Wu does have ties to the Faqiu Sect through his ancestors, but for nearly a hundred years, his line has never had dealings with such powers." He had not finished speaking when a "Creak!" rang out! A strange wind blew open the temple door, followed by thick white mist that could not be dispersed. As the mist pressed in, the flames suddenly shrank, and in the blink of an eye, more than half was swallowed. "Not good, retreat quickly!" Everyone was startled and hastily fell back, clustering together. Within the white mist, many gray shadows stirred, dense and thick, like a crowd of drowned people struggling underwater. They hissed and writhed, and along the mist they pounced on everyone. For a moment, the ruined temple seemed like a cold pool seething with wandering souls. "Amitabha." Master Jinghui produced a prayer bead the size of a pigeon's egg, and at once Buddhist light rippled. It was a Buddhist dharma implement that temporarily halted the yin creatures' attack. However... A gray arrow, using the white mist as cover, suddenly shot out. The Buddhist light was pierced. A "crack" was heard, and Master Jinghui's prayer bead shattered on the spot. Now even his face showed a look of disbelief. Jinyanshu lost his composure: "Evil qi!" He extended his hand, and an inkstone appeared in his palm. He infused spiritual qi into it, and a layer of golden liquid floated on the inkstone—this was a method recorded in Guanjiang Mountain's "Bone-Changing Golden Fluid Method." "Go!" Jinyanshu shook his hand, and the golden liquid sprayed out like a fan, piercing through large swaths of white mist layer by layer. The yin spirits wailed miserably. As the mist thinned, the fire in the temple blazed up again. Everyone now saw clearly: in the center of the thick mist walked a figure shrouded in a gray hemp robe, two ghost fires flickering in its skull's eye sockets. "Huo... Brother Huo!" The men in the temple were all alarmed. This yin creature was none other than Huo Yu, whom they had dug up and reburied the previous night! At this moment, his whole body was wrapped in a layer of pale white vapor. The golden liquid Jinyanshu threw was shut out by the white vapor and could not harm its true body. Evil qi came in many types: flower evil, gang evil, earth evil, abyss evil... The ones most prized by Qi Refining cultivators were the Seventy-Two Earth Evils, each with yin-yang attributes, bearing the thick earth-pulse qi of the great earth, possessing the wondrous effect of communicating with yin spirits. "Not good, this is a kind of yin evil." As Jinyanshu spoke, the skeleton's finger was already aimed at him. The gray arrow shot out again, astonishingly fast. The golden inkstone in his hand was also a dharma implement, not only more precious than Master Jinghui's prayer beads but also tempered by the Bone-Changing Golden Fluid Method. Even so, under the gray arrow's strike, its golden light dimmed and was stained with a black halo. The dharma implement seemed to have been contaminated. Jinyanshu cried out in anguish. Taking advantage of the opening, those around them, including Liu Xi and Yu Han, all struck out. Talisman light and blade light blazed brightly around the skeleton, causing the surrounding yin spirits to scream, but they could not break through that layer of white vapor. After prolonged attack without success, Old Huang's expression changed slightly. He felt his qi and blood gradually coagulating, true qi difficult to circulate. Of his ten-tenths of skill, only six-tenths remained, and still dropping. "Don't inhale that mist!" Everyone covered their mouths and noses, but that was no long-term plan. When they tried to break free, the skeleton mobilized the surrounding yin spirits to entangle them and would not let go. "This is serious," said Jinyanshu, knowledgeable and, after sensing the strange mist, both startled and doubtful. "This is the Soul-Eroding Cold Evil among the Seventy-Two Earth Evils." Such evil qi required a special yin-cold earth abyss combined with numerous corpses of demons and monsters. A hundred years to form frozen soil, a thousand years to nurture cold evil. Once formed, the evil qi possessed the strange effect of corroding spiritual qi. Master Jinghui put away his broken prayer beads, full of doubt: "Even if Brother Huo was parasitized by a yin creature, look at this fiend's power—how could he activate yin evil?" Jinyanshu didn't understand either. Not to mention the Qi Refining stage—even the Foundation Building stage could not refine evil. What merit or ability did this ghostly thing have? Geng Zhi heard their words and knew these two couldn't resolve it. Seeing Old Huang and the others stuck in a stalemate, with several already injured, he was about to consult Qin Xuan. But he saw that the young man in blue had already risen from beside the fire and was walking toward Brother Huo with great interest. "Senior Brother!" Liu Xi and Yu Han each held a peachwood magic sword. Quite a few mist yin spirits had already died at their hands, yet they could do nothing about the evil qi around Huo Yu. When Qin Xuan came, the two made way and tacitly guarded against yin spirits harassing from the front. Qin Xuan took out a wide-mouthed porcelain bottle from his hundred-treasure pouch. This was a wind bottle, used for stoking fire when refining pills, nothing special. The ghost creature that Huo Yu had become fixed on Qin Xuan, about to strike. Old Huang led the men in another charge. Liu Xi and Yu Han blocked several surrounding yin spirits. Qin Xuan took the opportunity to pull out the wooden stopper. "Whoooosh~~!!" A gale dozens of times more violent than an ordinary wind bottle suddenly rushed out from within. Everyone's clothes flapped loudly, and a few who couldn't keep their footing were blown to the ground and rolled. The temple flames roared; outside the temple, sudden rain blew wildly. Qin Xuan had observed for a long time. This ghost creature indeed could not control the evil qi. The Soul-Eroding Cold Evil on its surface was like a piece of clothing; blown by this great gale, the clothing billowed and immediately exposed the flaw. Qin Xuan moved from bottom to top, directly blowing away the white vapor around the skull. The next instant, he picked up the axe Zhu Gui had dropped and struck with one axe blow before the white vapor could close back together. The axe technique and angle were not something an ordinary jianghu expert could manage. Crack! Brother Huo's head flew up, the ghost fire in his eyes dimmed, and the evil qi around him dissipated at once. The yin spirits caught up in it, freed from their bonds, scattered in all directions. From his skull fell a white bead, and also a broken corpse whisker. Qin Xuan finally understood. This thing was not only parasitized by Xieling Sect's yin spirits but also carried something else. "Amitabha. So it was an evil bead." Master Jinghui stepped forward and praised: "Benefactor Qin, excellent technique. This evil bead hidden in a corpse is extremely inauspicious and may spawn evil transformations. Why not let this humble monk take it back to the temple to suppress it on the purification altar?" "No need to trouble yourself, Master. You'd best first nourish your own Buddhist treasure." Qin Xuan couldn't be bothered with nonsense and directly put the evil bead into his hundred-treasure pouch. Jinyanshu was also envious, yet he admired Qin Xuan's methods—being able to see through this yin creature's flaw showed truly extraordinary discernment. A core disciple of the great sect—indeed not one of them was ordinary. "Daoist Friend Qin, what powerful wind from this wind bottle!" "Nothing remarkable. The wind stone in this bottle is ten times that of an ordinary wind bottle. Useful now and then, but it can only be used once." Jinyanshu knew he wasn't lying. The wind bottle was already broken. But at the price of an evil bead, one could get at least ten wind bottles—a profitable deal no matter how you figured it. Old Huang led men to clean up the mess. Qin Xuan ignored all that. Carrying the axe, he walked toward Geng family head. "Geng family head, I need to ask you something." "Please speak." "On this trip, is it truly to find the Patriarch's grave?" Geng Zhi let out a long breath, cupped his hands, and said: "I, Geng, guarantee with my head—absolutely no false words."