Zhang Banshan had roamed the martial world for the first half of his life, encountering all manner of monsters and demons, and possessed rich combat experience.
The ghost entity that emerged had a body pitch-black as iron and a pair of crimson eyes—unmistakably a Rank Six ghost soldier.
What made ghosts formidable was their ability to come and go without a trace, shifting freely between the incorporeal and the tangible.
When it came to head-on combat, however, there was a vast disparity between ghosts and martial artists. Far from a mere Rank Six ghost soldier, he was confident he could cleave even a Rank Five ghost general to pieces in two slashes.
The Flying Tiger Saber in his grip was also a fine, custom-forged weapon imbued with the essence of pure yang dark gold; not only was it razor-sharp, but it was also particularly effective against evil spirits and ghosts.
Zhang Banshan knew a Rank Six ghost soldier posed no threat; the true danger lay in the demonic cultivator manipulating it from the shadows.
Though his Flying Tiger Saber seemed to cut across the air like a thunderbolt with thunderous force, Zhang Banshan had only committed seventy percent of his strength.
What he had not expected was that the black ghost soldier would actually raise both palms to catch his Flying Tiger Saber head-on.
Zhang Banshan had dealt with ghosts many times before. Even when controlled by disciples of the Heavenly Ghost Sect, ghosts ultimately suffered from numerous limitations and could never wield weapons with the seamless fluidity of a martial artist.
A mere ghost soldier was eschewing its innate ability to shift between physical and ethereal forms to compete against him in martial skill?
The fifty-five-year-old Zhang Banshan sneered internally. He had painstakingly cultivated his saber techniques for nearly fifty years—if a ghost could actually catch his blade, it would be an absolute mockery!
Seeing the ghost soldier clap its hands together to trap the goose-feather saber, Zhang Banshan twisted and wrung the Flying Tiger Saber. It was a foundational saber maneuver, yet after decades of practice, he had honed it to consummate perfection.
The twist and wring flowed with extraordinary speed and grace. The opposing rotational forces carried both the fierce, explosive power of flesh and sinew and the deep, steady heft of Hunyuan true qi.
Paired with the exceptional craftsmanship of his Flying Tiger Saber, he was confident it would shred the ghost soldier to ribbons.
The ghost soldier's palms clapped against the saber's spine, but followed the twisting motion, appearing as if glued to the blade.
Zhang Banshan felt his saber grow heavy, sticky, and piercingly cold, engulfed layer upon layer by an intricate, gloom-laden force that completely swallowed the power he had infused into the weapon.
This sudden development sent a jolt of alarm through Zhang Banshan's heart. There was something wrong with this ghost soldier!
He immediately stimulated his Hunyuan true qi once more and surged his blood and qi. The supreme yang energy within the Flying Tiger Saber was awakened, casting a radiant glare of saber light.
At that moment, the full might of a Rank Six martial artist was unleashed.
Black miasma billowed from the ghost soldier's hands across from him, and its iron-solid body slowly began to turn incorporeal.
Knowing the ghost was suppressed by the supreme yang energy, Zhang Banshan lunged forward with his saber without hesitation.
The brilliant blade pierced straight through the ghost soldier's chest. Just as he flicked his wrist to grind it to pieces, a sheen of cyan-gold suddenly surfaced across its body.
The Flying Tiger Saber lodged inside the ghost soldier was clamped tight by its cyan-gold flesh.
Zhang Banshan did not know what this was, but reacting swiftly, he immediately invoked the power of the Heart Tiger. His skin flushed crimson all over, and gathering strength in his left palm, he slammed it hard against the saber's pommel.
Heart Tiger Intent Refining: the martial spirit he had tempered over many years burst forth like a ferocious tiger. That strike against the pommel drove all of his violent force through the blade and directly into the ghost soldier.
The glowing saber light surged brilliantly, emitting a resonant, violent vibration. But the ghost soldier brought its palms together once more, and an intricate, frigid true qi swallowed all the explosive power of the blade like a sea of ice.
Zhang Banshan instantly sensed disaster. This ghost soldier could actually use true qi? And its tier of true qi was far superior to his own!
He had never imagined a ghost soldier could be so troublesome, and had made a string of consecutive misjudgments.
Now, locked in a clash of true qi through the Flying Tiger Saber, he was caught off guard and suffered a grievous disadvantage.
Worse yet, that sinister, dense true qi had already seeped into his body, freezing his fiery blood and qi and thoroughly suppressing his profound Hunyuan true qi.
Now he was freezing all over, as if encased in ice.
The ghost soldier, however, advanced straight along the saber, thrusting its iron-black hands forward to strike directly at Zhang Banshan's chest.
Zhang Banshan barely managed to raise his palms to block. As all four palms collided, he could not withstand the rigid, sinister palm force, and his hands were knocked aside.
Seizing the opening, the ghost soldier slammed both palms onto Zhang Banshan's chest. The icy, sinister palm force penetrated directly into his internal organs.
Even with his muscles and organs purified into seamless unity, Zhang Banshan could not endure such a devastating blow.
His internal organs felt as if pierced by ten thousand icicles, leaving him unable to muster even a shred of strength.
Just as Zhang Banshan prepared for a desperate, final struggle, the ghost soldier pressed a palm against his lower dantian. The sinister palm force completely shattered the true qi condensed within his sea of qi.
Under the consecutive heavy blows, Zhang Banshan had no strength left to resist. The black ghost soldier dissolved into dark smoke and burrowed into his body.
In an instant, Zhang Banshan's internal organs were soaked and corroded by ghostly qi into a mass of rotten pulp, stripping away every ounce of his life force.
Zhang Yunfeng, who had just rushed over, saw with his own eyes his Third Uncle possessed by the ghost soldier, his face blanching in sheer horror.
He knew full well that Zhang Banshan's martial arts were formidable, ten times superior to his own.
For such a powerful figure to fall to a ghost soldier—what was he supposed to do?
Zhang Yunfeng had sailed through life with smooth winds and calm waters, never facing any true peril. In this moment of crisis, his mind went completely blank.
Reason dictated he ought to rescue his Third Uncle, but if even his Third Uncle could not withstand the ghost soldier, how could he? Moreover, he had no means of rescue.
Turning and fleeing like this would betray his Third Uncle, as he and Zhang Banshan had always shared a close bond.
After a moment's hesitation, Zhang Yunfeng thought of summoning reinforcements. Reaching down, he fished a specialized signal rocket from his waist and tossed it high into the air.
Friction ignited the rocket midair, and over a hundred feet up, it detonated with a boom into a cloud of seven-colored flame, its thunderous blast echoing across half of Yunyang City.
Having launched the warning flare, Zhang Yunfeng drew his saber, preparing to fight. But a black ghostly shadow emerged from behind him, pressing a palm against his upper back.
Sinister palm force plunged straight through Zhang Yunfeng's body, siphoning out every shred of his vitality.
In the blink of an eye, Zhang Yunfeng's face turned deathly pale, his skin wrinkled and shriveled, and his entire frame shrank by nearly a quarter.
When the ghost soldier faded away, Zhang Yunfeng collapsed limply to the ground. As the light in his eyes slowly dimmed, he saw a white-clad figure approaching at an unhurried pace.
Zhang Yunfeng strained to widen his eyes, but saw only that the figure wore a bamboo hat and had his face covered with white hemp cloth.
Yet he saw the person's eyes—bright black and keen as a blade, yet strikingly calm.
"Zhou Wuji!"
At the brink of death, Zhang Yunfeng suddenly recognized those eyes, recognizing his identity.
Knowing he was dying by Zhou Wuji's hand, his thoughts raced like lightning. The missing Zhang Xinhu, the vanished Fang Boxiong of the Yin-Yang Dao, Wu Di slain by Jin Chuan, and Cui Wancheng, whom he had just met and who had surely been killed as well—all of them were connected by Zhou Wuji!
Zhang Yunfeng was struck by an epiphany: Zhou Wuji had been orchestrating every murder from the shadows! Yet he still could not fathom how Zhou Wuji could be so formidable, or how his methods could be so elusive and inscrutable.
He recalled Cui Wancheng's words: Zhou Wuji might possess a divine artifact or an extraordinary treasure...
"Could it be that Zhou Wuji truly answers Heaven's decree, and our generation is nothing but stepping stones beneath his feet...?"
The thought flashed through Zhang Yunfeng's mind. He gasped, wanting to speak, but darkness had already engulfed his vision, and his consciousness rapidly dissolved...
Zhou Wuji merely cast a glance at Zhang Yunfeng. In the brief crossing of their gazes, he had caught the realization dawning in Zhang Yunfeng's eyes.
Yet it did not matter.
Zhou Wuji glanced at the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment and confirmed that both Zhang Yunfeng and Zhang Banshan were thoroughly dead.
Only then did he make haste to search Zhang Yunfeng and Zhang Banshan. There were no special items on them, just some silver and coins.
He did not touch the money—not for any other reason, but because currency from the Iron Clothes Guard often bore special markings, which would only invite trouble.
Zhang Banshan's saber was an excellent blade, but keeping it in his hands would easily raise suspicion.
This matter involved a Rank Seven Hundred-household Officer; by contrast, whether Zhang Banshan lived or died was of lesser consequence.
After some thought, Zhou Wuji took the goose-feather saber anyway. Leaving Yunyang City, he reached the riverbank, destroyed the Soul-Calling Banner, and converted that ghost soldier into primordial profound qi.
The six-foot spear and the goose-feather saber were both hurled into the river.
The river depths plunged two to three hundred feet; unless the river altered its course, the blade and spear would likely never see the light of day again.
And whenever that might be, who could say...
Agents of the Pacification Office held torches aloft, illuminating the alley entrance until it was bright as day.
Originally, some onlookers had gathered after hearing the commotion, but at the sight of a troop of agents arriving on horseback, the crowd instantly scattered in all directions.
The agents showed no leniency, seizing several idle onlookers and forcing them to kneel to the side awaiting disposal.
The idle men wore bitter expressions, kneeling in fear and pain, yet dared not utter a peep.
The one who had shouted the loudest earlier had over a dozen teeth knocked out; he now lay prone, clutching his mouth, not daring to let out so much as a squeak.
About a quarter of an hour later, the onlookers saw another contingent of agents arrive.
The leading man wore a gauze cap and a cyan brocade robe, riding slowly on a tall steed, flanked before and behind by a large escort of agents.
Idle onlookers loved spectacles and had some eye for status; one look at the leading man was enough to know he was a Thousand-household Officer—the supreme chief of the Pacification Office.
How could the onlookers dare look further? They hurriedly bowed their heads to the ground, terrified to steal another glance.
Zhai Jun, Commandant of the Pacification Office, cast a sidelong glance at the onlookers. An agent beside him quickly stepped forward to report, "Just a few bystanders looking for excitement. They might know something, so we detained them first."
Zhai Jun waved his hand. "Take them back and interrogate them thoroughly."
A group of agents acknowledged the order, promptly shackled the onlookers, and hauled them all away.
Only then did Zhai Jun dismount and approach the two corpses. He examined them back and forth for a while; the features of both bodies were crumpled and distorted, their skin blackened, looking like desiccated mummies freshly exhumed from the earth.
Yet he recognized Zhang Banshan and Zhang Yunfeng; he had even spoken with Zhang Yunfeng during the day.
He had never liked Zhang Yunfeng. This scion of an established family was arrogant and conceited, with mediocre capabilities.
Fortunately, the young man knew his place and kept a humble posture before him, so Zhai Jun hadn't bothered to take issue with him.
After all, the Zhang family wielded great influence, and having someone around who maintained ties with them made handling certain matters more convenient.
He had never expected Zhang Yunfeng to die just like that! Even less had he expected Zhang Banshan to be dead as well!
Zhang Yunfeng possessed only mediocre ability and was unremarkable even among Rank Seven martial artists. Zhang Banshan was a different story—a genuine Rank Six true qi martial artist.
In the vast expanse of Yunyang City, those capable of killing Zhang Yunfeng were countless, but those who could slay Zhang Banshan could be counted on one hand.
Zhai Jun turned toward Hundred-household Officer Li Fei, a capable subordinate, and asked, "What do you make of this?"
Li Fei bowed and cupped his hands. "Your subordinate can only tell this was the work of a demonic cultivator. To kill Zhang Banshan, it must have been a Rank Five demonic cultivator."
"As for the exact manner of their deaths, we will need experts from the Lower Court and Golden Leaf Temple to examine them..."
"Mm."
Zhai Jun considered this approach prudent. A demonic cultivator capable of killing a Rank Six martial artist was by no means to be trifled with.
In the dead of night, it would be even more impossible to track their trail.
Li Fei added, "There was also a battle between experts in the west of the city. It caused some damage to the shantytown, but no casualties—only some clutter was burned away. According to the local residents, they saw a blinding white light, as if dawn had broken."
"Are the two incidents connected?" Zhai Jun asked.
"The distance between them is no more than a thousand paces; they ought to be related." Li Fei dared not jump to conclusions and kept his answer cautious.
"In the middle of the night, what were Zhang Banshan and Zhang Yunfeng doing running out here?"
Zhai Jun said, "Go and investigate this thoroughly."
After a brief pause, he added, "Transport the bodies back first. Once they've been examined tomorrow, send them over to the Zhang family..."
Chapter 135