"Three liang, nine qian."
Zhou Wuji glanced at the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment, and only after confirming the bear demon was dead did he reach down to draw his sword.
The Seven Stars Sword was buried deep in the bear demon's head, the blade wedged firmly into the skull. When he pulled on it casually, it did not even budge. Channeling force through his wrist, he sent a shuddering vibration down the hilt and through the blade before the Seven Stars Sword slid free like a streak of cold light.
Zhou Wuji sheathed the sword with a fluid motion. Looking down once more at the bear demon's colossal carcass, he could not help but praise himself. That strike had been exquisite and fierce—truly magnificent!
Moreover, had he not rushed here through the night, he would never have made it in time for this fight. If the bear demon had been allowed to run amok, who knew how many would have died? With this single stroke, he had accumulated great merit and gained Primordial Profound Essence to boot. It could not have turned out better!
Zhou Wuji felt rather pleased with himself, but he allowed himself to savor the satisfaction for only a fleeting moment. Inwardly, he dared not let his guard down in the slightest.
Through his Six Yang Dharma Eyes, he could see a murky, deep pocket of yin qi lingering in the White Bamboo Forest. It was similar to the aura of the Yin-Yang Dao demonic cultivator he had encountered on Red Flower Ridge, only deeper and far more unfathomable.
Had his Six Yang Dharma Eyes not reached the realm of perfection, he never would have spotted the faint, wispy yin qi drifting outward. The yin qi hung like a mist, like a haze. If he had not already been prepared and convinced that the bear demon incident was far from simple, he might have overlooked it even with the Six Yang Dharma Eyes.
That fact alone showed that the person's cultivation far surpassed that Rank 7 demonic cultivator.
*Could it really be a Rank 6?*
Unable to see through the enemy's true depth, Zhou Wuji was unwilling to take unnecessary risks.
Yet before he could retreat, a sharp screech tore through the air as a crossbow bolt shot straight toward him from the bamboo forest.
Catching sight of the bolt with his Six Yang Dharma Eyes and pinpointing its trajectory, Zhou Wuji sidestepped behind the other side of the bear demon. The beast was immense; even sprawled on the ground, its massive bulk was nearly as tall as a man, serving as excellent cover.
*They have a helper...*
Zhou Wuji could not gauge his enemy's depth and had already been disinclined to face them head-on. Seeing that there was backup made him even less willing to take chances.
Hunting bows were common enough, but crossbows were strictly controlled contraband. The bolt fired just now had been blazingly fast and packed with power, tipped with a triangular pyramid arrowhead—unmistakably a powerful military crossbow. An expert from the Iron Clothes Guard was very likely lurking in the White Bamboo Forest.
Just as Zhou Wuji looked for a chance to slip away, he noticed a faint black mist spreading all around him.
Before he realized it, the villagers nearby had completely vanished from sight. Even the sliver of crescent moon in the night sky was gone.
His heart tightened. *What formidable sorcery...*
Zhou Wuji did not know what demonic art the opponent was using. It appeared similar to the Five Yin Pouch, isolating him from the outside world while warping and obscuring his six senses. However, the area blanketed by this spell was far larger than that of a Five Yin Pouch, spanning nearly twenty zhang from the White Bamboo Forest to his current position.
Zhou Wuji did not act rashly. His Six Yang Dharma Eyes were not distorted by the enemy's spell; his sight was merely compressed down to a range of ten zhang.
He then cast the Pure Heart Divine Incantation upon himself. Although his sword intent was enough to protect his consciousness from interference, the Pure Heart Divine Incantation offered magical defense for his divine sense, saving him a great deal of effort. The Six Yang Dharma Eyes in particular possessed a profound subtlety that bordered on perceiving all things.
Zhou Wuji was pleasantly surprised. It seemed that even low-tier spells, once trained to perfection, could yield marvelous and unimaginable uses. On that strength alone, he would not be at a disadvantage in this fight.
As long as the enemy remained concealed and still, Zhou Wuji could not see their situation. But now that the opponent was casting a spell, their dharmic power could not help but leak out, and its traces were naturally picked up by his Six Yang Dharma Eyes.
Through the thick mist, Zhou Wuji spotted two glowing auras of life.
He understood immediately: there were only two people. One was the archer, and the other was a Yin-Yang Dao demonic cultivator.
Judging by his aura, the one with the crossbow was merely a Rank 8 martial artist—hardly a concern. The demonic cultivator's aura, however, was profound and difficult to read, showing no discernible depth. Yet the harder it was to fathom, the more formidable it proved him to be.
Drawing on his experience fighting numerous Rank 7 experts, Zhou Wuji judged that the man was either a peak Rank 7 demonic cultivator or a Rank 6.
The Yin-Yang Dao followed a path similar to Daoism: reaching Rank 6 required opening the Baihui point and the seven apertures, differing only in specific techniques and terminology. If the opponent truly was a Rank 6 demonic cultivator, his divine sense would certainly be immense, and his true qi far more robust.
Abbot Zhiyuan of the Lower Monastery was a Rank 5 Scripture Master, but Zhou Wuji's cultivation had been too low at the time to perceive his depth. After sustaining heavy injuries, Zhou Wuji had met Daoist Yizhen and secretly channeled his Six Yang Dharma Eyes to observe him. That Rank 6 Master of Refinement possessed a resolute divine sense and a naturally steady circulation of true qi; observing him in a normal, static state of daily life, Zhou Wuji had been entirely unable to gauge the true scale of his power. Going by his own quantitative scale, Daoist Yizhen's divine sense was roughly around five hundred. Having absorbed several Primordial Profound Spirits in succession, Zhou Wuji's own spirit attribute had reached four hundred, making his divine sense equivalent to eighty percent of Yizhen's.
Calculated purely by divine sense, that was naturally a massive disparity. Yet Zhou Wuji possessed distinct advantages in his physical body and essence-qi—especially his body, which was certainly much stronger than Daoist Yizhen's. Using Daoist Yizhen as the benchmark for Rank 6, there was no way this demonic cultivator could be stronger than him. Demonic cultivators were what they were precisely because they fell short of orthodox cultivators in every respect, which was why they were hunted down like rats and forced to hide in gutters.
Having analyzed the situation, Zhou Wuji felt a surge of battle intent. This was not an unwinnable fight!
The only real worry was that the opponent had prepared an ambush in advance and might have erected an altar, vastly magnifying the power of his spells. If he truly was a Rank 6 demonic cultivator, even underhanded spells could not be underestimated.
Just as Zhou Wuji was weighing whether to take the gamble, the sharp whistle of an arrow cutting through the air sounded once more.
The martial artist had fired another crossbow bolt, his aim remarkably true. Zhou Wuji tilted his body aside, letting the bolt graze past his flank.
Inside the bamboo forest, Jin Chuan saw his shot miss again. Puzzled, he turned to Fang Boxiong. "Can Zhou Wuji actually see the arrows?"
Fang Boxiong was also somewhat surprised, though his expression remained unruffled. "His swordsmanship is superb, and his six senses are sharp. Seeing the arrows is hardly unusual."
Jin Chuan remained uneasy. They had gone through so much trouble to lay an ambush for Zhou Wuji; if he got away, the consequences would be dire. He knew full well the young Daoist's methods—the boy killed without batting an eye. If this operation was exposed, Jin Chuan would have to hole up in the garrison office all day, not daring to step past the front gate.
Seeing Jin Chuan's fear and anxiety, Fang Boxiong felt deep contempt. Those men from the Iron Clothes Guard were all bullies who cowered before the strong, shrinking back faster than anyone whenever trouble arose. Things had hit a minor snag, and Jin Chuan was already scared out of his wits!
Fang Boxiong could not be bothered to explain anything to him. Holding the Mystic Yin Mirror in his left hand, he used the blood from his right fingertip to trace a talisman across its surface.
The black mirror rippled with light as it swallowed the blood talisman, and a pitch-black ghost soldier rose from the depths of the glass. Clad in black war armor and gripping a broad saber, it had no nose, mouth, or ears—only a pair of eyes burning with lifeless, emerald ghost fire.
Fang Boxiong had cultivated with the Mystic Yin Mirror as his natal magical artifact for twenty years, expending endless effort and methods before finally nurturing a single Rank 6 ghost soldier. The Yin-Yang Hundred Spirits Banner he had lent to Fang Jing was originally meant to serve as nourishment for the Mystic Yin Mirror; once the primary spirit in the banner reached Rank 6, the mirror would devour it to refine a Rank 5 ghost general. At that point, he would have been able to stand his ground even against a Rank 5 expert.
Yet the banner had been lost. Left with no choice, Fang Boxiong had allied with the Iron Clothes Guard to ambush Zhou Wuji. He knew it would be difficult to recover the banner; his main goal was simply to kill Zhou Wuji and vent his fury. But seeing how exquisite Zhou Wuji's Daoist arts and swordsmanship were, he had changed his mind. A youth of such supreme talent was the perfect candidate to serve as the ghost master of the Mystic Yin Mirror.
Fang Boxiong channeled the mirror to unleash the ghost soldier. In the next instant, the eight-foot-tall figure surged forward upon a plume of black qi, charging straight for Zhou Wuji.
A ghost soldier could shift between the corporeal and incorporeal at will, flying swift as the wind with peerless velocity.
Having witnessed the baleful ghosts from the Hundred Spirits Banner, Zhou Wuji was not surprised by the apparition lunging at him. Through his Six Yang Dharma Eyes, he could see the dense, tangible black-and-red baleful qi clinging to the ghost soldier. Clearly, this was a genuine Rank 6 ghost soldier—wholly different from the makeshift ones temporarily summoned by the banner!
Zhou Wuji immediately felt an immense pressure. A ghost soldier bolstered by a magical artifact drew upon an inexhaustible reservoir of power; even if temporarily shattered, it would be difficult to destroy completely. Within the boundaries of the enemy's dharmic domain, shaking off its pursuit would be nearly impossible.
To command a Rank 6 ghost soldier practically confirmed that the opponent was a Rank 6 demonic cultivator.
Zhou Wuji had still been deliberating whether to advance or retreat, but with the appearance of the Rank 6 ghost soldier, he knew he was left with only one choice: kill that demonic cultivator!
Chapter 68