The Yin-Yang Hundred Spirits Banner was the most renowned Dharma artifact of the Yin-Yang Dao.
Cultivators who practiced the Yin-Yang True Scripture could craft one for themselves. By gathering various apparitions, such as fierce ghosts and baleful ghosts, they could continuously enhance the banner's might.
Though Fang Jing was at Rank 7, all his wealth had been spent refining the Yin-Yang Dharma Robe and the Black-and-White Lotus Mask. This time, to forge the Thousand-Poison Ten-Thousand-Fiend Arrows, he had borrowed the Yin-Yang Hundred Spirits Banner from Libationer Fang Boxiong.
Within this banner resided an exceedingly formidable baleful ghost, already very close to a Rank 6 ghost soldier.
With this baleful ghost commanding a host of fierce and malicious ghosts, a hundred spirits unleashed at once, subduing a swarm of gold-ring poison bees of negligible spirituality was as easy as turning one's palm.
The two cultists sent to destroy the hives and lure the bees were clad in straw rain capes and had ingested excessive doses of Yellow Flower Powder in advance. In their state of extreme delirium and excitation, they would not perish immediately even if stung.
Fang Jing formed a hand seal and pointed forward. A baleful ghost of so deep a red it bordered on black led a throng of ghostly apparitions charging forward.
Myriads of gold-ring poison bees gathered together like a rolling black fog, presenting an imposing spectacle.
Yet as the ghostly gale conjured by the hundred spirits swept through them, the poisonous bees clattered down like falling rain, and their piercing buzzing dispersed at the same time.
Fang Jing looked upon this with great delight. Gathering tens of thousands more gold-ring poison bees would suffice for him to forge the Thousand-Poison Ten-Thousand-Fiend Arrows.
As for the expenditure of the banner's energy, he would simply slaughter all these followers; their resentful spirits would be more than enough to sate the Hundred Spirits Banner.
Killing dozens of people in one go would amass a terrifying concentration of resentful, baleful Qi from the throng of spirits. Were he not hard-pressed, Fang Jing would not resort to such measures. But borrowing the Hundred Spirits Banner did not come free; a price had to be paid.
Seeing success at hand, Fang Jing immediately ordered the followers to go forward and collect the fallen bees.
Jiang Sangu was likewise beaming. "With these poison bees, it will be plenty for Incense Master to forge the Thousand-Poison Ten-Thousand-Fiend Arrows!" she said.
Exceedingly pleased with himself, Fang Jing was about to reply when he suddenly sensed the intrusion of an anomalous aura.
Though the erected ritual altar was crude, it enshrined the Yin-Yang Dharma King and had the Yin-Yang Hundred Spirits Banner as its hub, enabling him to detect aberrant currents of Qi circulating around the perimeter. Augmented by the Black-and-White Lotus Mask, his five senses were heightened as well.
Sensing trouble, Fang Jing spun around. Several torches planted around the altar cast flickering light across the surroundings.
The figure bursting in was still dozens of paces away. Even with Fang Jing's eyesight enhanced by the mask, he could make out only a blurred silhouette closing in at astonishing speed.
"Who goes there?!" Fang Jing barked sharply. At the same time, he shook the Yin-Yang Hundred Spirits Banner and formed a hand seal, recalling all the ghosts.
Jiang Sangu's eyesight was not as keen; she saw nothing, yet realized something was amiss from Fang Jing's stern and menacing expression. Though she knew a few spells, she could not cast them in haste. She could only draw two flying daggers with one hand while unsheathing a longsword with the other to guard Fang Jing. As a Rank 9 martial artist who had mastered Mingjin, augmented by the true Qi cultivated through Rank 8 Qi Ingestion, her martial skill was genuinely quite formidable.
Zhou Wuji refreshed the Six Yang Dharma Eyes upon himself, observing the reactions of Fang Jing and Jiang Sangu with absolute clarity. He could even see the two flying daggers pinched in Jiang Sangu's left hand and the cold gleam reflected from their tips.
A Rank 9 Mingjin martial artist capable of circulating true Qi might seem comparable to his own current state on paper, yet was vastly inferior across every dimension. With a mere glance, Zhou Wuji determined that the alluring woman posed no threat. He needed only to swiftly dispatch the demonic cultivator leading them.
Fang Jing, having opened the altar, cast his spell with remarkable speed. With a shake of the black-and-white banner, the blackish-red baleful ghost led a horde of spirits straight toward Zhou Wuji.
The hundred ghosts moved like the wind, lunging before Zhou Wuji in the blink of an eye.
Zhou Wuji could clearly see the leading baleful ghost, watching it manifest into a black-and-red skeleton brandishing a flaming saber as it slashed at him, while the following ghosts all assumed skeletal forms, assaulting him with sabers, spears, swords, and halberds.
Ordinary people could not see ghosts; only upon reaching the rank of a baleful ghost could an apparition actively manifest a physical form. Yet under the empowerment of the Yin-Yang Hundred Spirits Banner, every ghost took visible shape, charging like hundreds of ghost soldiers. Though accompanied only by howling yin winds, they carried the momentum of an entire army.
The concentrated spiritual force of the hundred ghosts battered Zhou Wuji's divine sense as well. An ordinary person would have been frightened to death simply upon witnessing the spectral manifestations. It was not that their courage was lacking, but that the hundred ghosts possessed the dreadful power to directly seize one's spirit. Even if Wuzheng were here, he would surely have to grip his ritual sword and invoke the Eight Divisions of Troops to withstand an assault on the soul.
Yet Zhou Wuji, relying on the Pure Heart Divine Incantation at Great Accomplishment, barred every force seeking to invade his mind. This conserved his energy and divine sense, allowing him to focus entirely on wielding the Seven Stars Sword.
Ordinarily, the Golden Light Incantation would counter such spectral entities. However, these ghosts were anchored by the Hundred Spirits Banner, unlike ordinary baleful ghosts. Moreover, their gathered momentum was overwhelmingly ferocious; even the Golden Light Incantation at Great Accomplishment would not be very effective. The Seven Stars Demon-Slaying Sword was better suited, but it required an extended incantation chant, which was far too cumbersome.
Zhou Wuji discarded the idea of casting spells; he would cut down these hundred ghosts with the Seven Stars Sword in his hand.
The black-and-red baleful ghost brought its flaming saber down. Though a ghost, once manifested, it could interact with physical reality; this strike was lethal enough to kill.
The Seven Stars Sword in Zhou Wuji's hand dissolved into brilliant beams of sword light, illuminating the mob of ghosts in an instant.
This was none other than the Sunset Sword, the most splendid stance of the Xiaoxiang Sword, capturing the grandeur of a slanting dusk setting river, sky, and forested clouds ablaze.
Its momentum was grandest of all, yet grand without cruelty, fierce without savagery, the radiant sword light trailing an endless lingering grace.
The leading black-and-red baleful ghost was ferocious and domineering, but it killed solely through baleful Qi, lacking formed spells and having no martial arts to speak of. Under the fiery, continuous brilliance of the sword light, the baleful ghost was instantly shredded into wisps of red baleful Qi.
The rest of the ghosts met the same fate. Wherever the radiant sword light passed, clusters of black mist shattered and dispersed.
By the time the sword light converged back into a sharp, gleaming blade, the violent, frenzied hundred ghosts had dissolved into thin wisps of black smoke and retreated into the Hundred Spirits Banner.
Fang Jing considered himself experienced and knowledgeable, yet he had never witnessed such consummate swordplay. Though deeply unnerved, he forced himself to stay composed and shouted, "Fine sword, fine swordplay!"
Then he added, "Friend, everything can be discussed. There's no need to come to blows!"
At this distance, he could finally make out the swordsman's appearance. The figure wore a bamboo hat and a straw rain cape, his face mostly hidden in the shadow of the brim, looking enigmatic. Yet Fang Jing could still vaguely discern that he was a handsome young man.
Fang Jing was thoroughly bewildered. 'When did Siming County produce such a formidable swordsman?!'
Jiang Sangu's face had gone paper-white, her hands trembling uncontrollably. As a Rank 9 martial artist, she knew all too well how terrifying that swordsmanship was. If she stepped forward, she feared she would lose her life before she could even see where the sword was!
Having unleashed a surge of true Qi, Zhou Wuji needed to regulate his breath. He had initially considered declaring a few high-sounding words about slaying demons and executing justice in heaven's name, but he was wary that opening his mouth might expose him to hallucinogenic powder or toxic vapors. At this moment, he relied entirely on internal Qi circulation, bypassing respiration through his nose and mouth altogether.
Once his breath was steady, Zhou Wuji surged forward with explosive force, heading straight for Fang Jing.
Seeing him draw near, Jiang Sangu was terrified, yet dared not flee. She raised her hand and flung two flying daggers.
Zhou Wuji did not even dodge; he simply flicked the straw cape in front of him, letting the raised coir deflect the daggers.
As the cape lifted, Zhou Wuji unleashed six White Brow Needles.
His Tianshu Hand at the Perfection realm rendered his needle-casting technique subtle and exquisite. Empowered by the fusion of finger strength and true Qi, the six White Brow Needles traveled at blistering speed.
The two sides were separated by barely a dozen paces. The male attendant in robes could not even react before the White Brow Needles pierced straight through his eyes, killing him on the spot.
Jiang Sangu did not see the needles either, but she caught the faint, sharp whistle cutting through the air. Experienced with concealed weapons, she immediately deduced what was coming. Unable to discern their trajectory, she instinctively jerked her head back to evade, but she was a step too slow. Two White Brow Needles punched straight through bone and drove deep into her cranium.
The surging shock of true Qi carried by the needles blasted Jiang Sangu's brain into bean curd dregs. Without uttering a single sound, the alluring woman fell flat on her back, completely lifeless.
Fang Jing's martial arts were only around Rank 8, but his Qi cultivation was accomplished, making his six senses far keener than Jiang Sangu's.
With a flick of his long sleeve, he caught the two oncoming flying needles.
The Yin-Yang Dharma Robe was woven from ice silkworm silk, cloud-radiance brocade thread, and other materials. Impervious to blades, water, and fire, it could also amplify the power of true Qi within certain bounds—a truly formidable Rank 7 Dharma artifact. Sharp as the two White Brow Needles were, upon striking such a powerful artifact, they were deflected instantly by the vibrating true Qi.
Zhou Wuji saw that the robe was out of the ordinary, but he had never counted on killing Fang Jing with the needles anyway. Seizing the opening, he leapt onto the altar, thrusting his sword straight at Fang Jing.
Fang Jing did not retreat. He understood clearly that leaving the prepared altar would diminish the potency of his spells by more than half.
While the Yin-Yang Dharma Robe could ward off ordinary blades, the weapon in his opponent's hand was clearly extraordinary. Furthermore, with his foe's Qi flowing in harmony with the blade, Fang Jing dared not withstand it directly. At this moment, only by casting spells from the altar did he stand any chance of victory.
In the nick of time, Fang Jing spun the Hundred Spirits Banner, aiming its black side at Zhou Wuji while triggering his cult's secret technique: the Yin-Yang Mirror.
Thrusting forward, Zhou Wuji saw the long black banner transform into a dark mirror. Within the mirror stood a swordsman wearing a bamboo hat and a straw rain cape—his own reflection.
He could even see the red rings encircling his eyes in the mirror, an effect born of empowering himself with the Six Yang Dharma Eyes.
Without the slightest hesitation, he thrust his sword forward; his reflection in the mirror raised its blade as well, and the two swords clashed upon the mirror's surface...
Chapter 45