Chen Ji’s vision swam in crimson. Blood tears gathered along his jaw, dripping slowly. His ears rang as if muffled by water, every sound distorted and faint. Each step dragged at him like he’d been stripped naked and pummeled in a snowfield.
There were simply too many ghost fiends here—far more than this body could withstand. He sensed it clearly: even without the Red-Clothed Ghost seizing him, his body could collapse at any moment.
The fierce battle showed no signs of letting up. Chen Ji watched expressionlessly as Chang Xu fought desperately.
A hand clamped onto Chen Ji’s shoulder, yanking him into the enveloping shroud of a humanoid black mist. It seemed to say something, but Chen Ji couldn’t make it out. A hand coalesced from the black mist, pointing toward Chang Xu as it spoke more, as if relishing the spectacle.
Chen Ji offered no resistance.
Chang Xu noticed. His eyes locked onto Chen Ji—or perhaps the black mist looming behind him—and he barreled forward through the onslaught of barriers!
Chen Ji reached up and wiped the blood from his jaw.
Perhaps his motion seemed too calm and unhurried, the black mist made no move to stop him.
Chen Ji’s hand fell, vanishing into his sleeve.
In the next instant, a streak of blue lightning erupted from his cuff. It blazed through the gloomy temple, cleaving space and time itself before burrowing into the black mist!
A scream pierced the air. The black mist writhed and boiled like overheated water.
—It worked.
—It actually worked.
An indifferent calm settled into Chen Ji’s bloodshot eyes. He twisted the power dial to its limit and plunged the device deep into the roiling black mist!
His ears thrummed with the thunder of his own heartbeat. Cold sweat slicked his grip on the high-voltage electric baton. At its tip, dark red talisman runes glimmered faintly amid the azure electric glow.
The black mist addressed him again, only to dissipate after three breaths. Chen Ji curved his lips into a polite smile, as courteous and rigid as a mask.
“Farewell,” he said.
All at once, the red-clothed ghosts whipped their heads around, their eerie grins fixed on Chen Ji.
A profound sense of reality grounded him at last. From this moment, he was no longer a bystander—he was prey once more.
Chen Ji charged toward Chang Xu. Pale hands burst from the soil, the flagstones, the very void, snatching at his arms and legs. Breathing grew labored…
Pushed to the brink of terror, clarity and courage surged like never before. Chen Ji didn’t even glance as he thrust the electric baton outward. Any hand it touched charred black on contact, vanishing amid shrieking wails.
He tracked the battery levels. Maximum output turned the baton scalding hot; blue sparks erupted amidst the blood-red horde of ghost fiends. Abruptly, a snarling beast face shoved past the ghostly limbs, lunging at him with jaws full of razor fangs aimed at his throat.
An arm interposed itself. Chang Xu, soaked in blood, materialized before him. His Tang blade flickered like a shadow. One hand braced the beast’s maw while the other pinned the sword through the spirit’s chest. Veins bulging, Chang Xu shoved the creature backward.
“What are you doing back here?” he demanded without looking.
Chen Ji hadn’t caught the words, but sensed it was his turn to reply, so he smiled. “Came back to help you.”
The instant those slender ghost shadows blocked the door, everything had shifted. Chang Xu meant to save him, but Chen Ji cherished his life and knew he was dead weight, so he’d fled without a second thought. With the exit sealed, though, death loomed for them both.
If they were dying anyway, one kill broke even; two meant profit.
A sharp sizzle marked the baton’s tip as it charred. Chen Ji refused to abandon it, wielding it like a crowbar. The red-clothed ghosts adapted, splitting their assault: half swarmed Chen Ji, the rest hounded Chang Xu.
Chen Ji swung with mechanical precision. Tinnitus crashed over him like an endless cicada swarm, but his strikes sharpened, each aimed at a likely killing blow.
Sadly, a ghost’s vitals differed from a human’s.
A pale hand soon clamped the baton. Crimson nails raked his throat. A livid face materialized beside his arm; red lips parted, ripping a chunk of flesh free!
More red-clothed ghosts piled on, mauling his shoulders, calves, and flanks. Chen Ji registered nothing, merely chuckling. Then the baton’s tip detonated in a fireball!
Blazing fluid sprayed outward, flames racing across the horde. The heat wave scorched Chen Ji even as it devoured his attackers.
The battery had overheated and combusted.
Chen Ji flailed the baton, splattering electrolyte and chemicals. The surroundings ignited with ease. Flames filled his world. The red-clothed ghosts howled and thrashed in the blaze, bounding desperately to smother it.
At last, fire licked at Chen Ji himself. He ignored it.
He watched as fresh blood gushed from his mouth and nose again, then threw his head back in wild, unrestrained laughter.
Agony, long suppressed, slammed into him. He crumpled without a sound.
Thankfully, the arcane arts upheld a code of honor—the Profound Penetration Talisman etched on the baton empowered its self-ignited blaze as well.
In the haze, something hurtled toward him—whatever. It didn’t matter.
…
Chen Ji snapped awake, blinking at the ink-black sky, lost as to his location. Hadn’t he… died?
The realization hit. He yanked up his sleeve. His arm gleamed pale and unmarred, devoid of burns or bites.
【Chen Ji, what’s with your heart rate? It’s through the roof!】 The System Cat’s voice rang in his head. Then comprehension dawned, laced with alarm: 【Fuck, what are you doing outside in the dead of night? Suicidal much?!】
Chen Ji parted his lips to reply and coughed up blood. He dabbed it away with his clothes before firing back: 【Xiao Ba, anything going on at the temple? Pin my location.】
System Cat: 【Nada! Zip! How the hell did you end up in the back mountains? You bored of dying slow?! Your vitals are tanking—what are you doing?! Want me to call the cops?! Yellow talisman! You got it on you?!】
【…I lived.】 Chen Ji stated flatly.
Silence fell over the System Cat, shattered by a string of ancestral invectives. The bedroom door splintered inward from a kick. The System Cat bolted out the temple entrance, egg yolk pastry clamped in its jaws. It yowled into the night. Two little yellow weasels popped up promptly; the System Cat nipped one by the scruff and hauled toward the back hills.
Petite as they seemed, the little yellow weasels were spirits of decades past. One trailed the System Cat; the other bayed at the heavens, answered swiftly.
Chen Ji clutched his chest, heaving for air. His limbs dangled limp as noodles. After a moment’s respite, he hauled himself up. The System Cat had placed him in the back mountains—he’d somehow bypassed the shaded summit path. A bit farther lay the Old Mulberry Tree’s domain.
A bitter laugh escaped Chen Ji, thick with mockery. Whatever force had lured him out and orchestrated that near-fatal farce—he’d pulled through.
Unyielding. Pity, if it was disappointed.
He shuffled homeward at a snail’s pace.
【Chen Ji—! Chen Ji! Where are you?!】 Second Master Huang bellowed from the distance: 【Stay put! I’m coming for you—!】
Blood tainted his mouth; Chen Ji sank to the ground.
A foul charred reek rode the breeze. Chen Ji’s gaze snapped to its source. He rose and tracked it without pause.
A mere dozen paces in, he shoved aside thick roadside foliage. Fetid stench assaulted him. There, in the underbrush, sprawled a massive beast drenched in gore—crimson welts and char riddling its torso, wounds splayed grotesquely. Chen Ji regarded it icily, recognition dawning.
White Tiger.
White Tiger lay wounded.
【Chen Ji!】 Wind whipped, depositing the eight-foot-tall Second Master Huang at his side. He scanned Chen Ji’s ashen face with worry before spotting the prone White Tiger. 【Chen Ji, what happened? How’s Grandpa Tiger here?!】
Chen Ji shot him a sidelong glance and laid a hand on Second Master Huang. Exhaustion weighed his voice: “Trouble Second Grandpa to carry me and Grandpa White Tiger back…”
Second Master Huang fell quiet a beat, then replied: 【Sure.】
“What happened to me?” Chen Ji murmured, strength ebbing.
【Your essence is wrecked. Rest easy—sleep.】
Chen Ji blacked out. Second Master Huang eyed the limp form slumped against him, then the mangled White Tiger, and heaved a sigh of resignation. He rose, slinging White Tiger across his back and piling Chen Ji atop—Grandpa Tiger could take a human’s weight, yeah?
Grievous as the injuries were, it wouldn’t kill from a little pressure… right?
Nothing for it.
The System Cat arrived then, little yellow weasels in tow. It craned up at hulking Second Master Huang. He bared a savage grin, jaws parting to shred the foul cat—then snapped shut.
Eh, whatever. The cat had brains—bribed the underlings with egg yolk pastries when Chen Ji vanished, fetched him quick. Worth keeping…
Second Master Huang grumbled: 【Cat, reckon we drag Chen Ji to a doc… damn, forgot you don’t get words…】
The System Cat shot Second Master Huang a look of utter contempt. Were it not for hauling Chen Ji to safety tonight, it’d have him shipped to the zoo!
Jostling—or perhaps the reek—roused Chen Ji midway. White Tiger’s blood had slathered his face.
Or so it felt; stickiness coated every inch.
Chen Ji felt Second Master Huang’s speed, swift as the wind, as the scenery on either side blurred into streaks flashing past. The System Cat chattered incessantly in his mind, demanding to know exactly what had happened, but he turned a deaf ear to it. Suddenly, a thought struck him—if only it would rain today.
A weasel supercar dash through the rainy mountain forest would be something he’d remember for a lifetime.
