Chapter 31:
School Specter (Part 5):
The Great Ghost Descends…
“Twelve years ago, in Huapu, so many sects searched for you, but you escaped. It became a joke.” The Huang Ling Daoist remembered it clearly. The news of a Tai Yin body appearing in the world had spread like wildfire. Such a rare treasure, yet it had slipped through their fingers. A mere child had escaped them!
“Now that you’re eighteen, you can’t hide anymore. I came here on a whim, thinking I’d only find some minor ghosts to slaughter.” The Daoist grinned, spitting on the ground. “But you delivered yourself to me. Those old fools will never guess you fell into my hands. Tonight, I’ll devour you and gain immortality.”
“I’ll cut off your head first, then your hands and feet, split you open from chest to groin, sever your ribs, and carve your flesh from your bones. I’ll keep your head, your eyes, your tongue. Those are valuable treasures, worth a fortune! What can those old geezers do then?”
He spread his hands as if already holding the coveted flesh.
This was why Chen Henian couldn’t return to Dongpi Village, even after all these years. The celestial phenomenon, the appearance of the evil entity, had attracted not only his master, but all sorts of people, some with genuine skill. The Tai Yin body wasn’t a secret. Many had kept watch over his hometown, waiting for him to return, to capture him.
Eighteen. His master had said that after eighteen, his constitution would mature, and every day would be a trial.
With Zhou Xianzhi gone, he would encounter many like this Daoist. There was no escape.
Looking at the Daoist’s greedy expression, Chen Henian beckoned him. “Try it.”
The Daoist gripped his cleaver, his large frame snapping out of its reverie. He didn’t approach, but stepped aside, swinging the blade at the ground.
Chen Henian heard the shattering of porcelain. He narrowed his eyes. This wasn’t a good sign.
The Daoist had smashed a ceramic jar filled with murky water and…
Shredded flesh, putrid and viscous, mixed with corpse fluid.
It looked like human remains, decomposing, the stench of death filling the air.
“This vengeful spirit, she was beheaded in life, her body chopped up and discarded like trash. Later, her killer died, and I performed the ritual for her. I’ve only been feeding her animal remains, but if she gets a taste of you, her power will increase significantly. If she becomes a powerful ghost, I’ll have to thank you.”
Aside from ghost control, all other methods of raising ghosts were considered dark arts. This man had likely taken a piece of the murder victim’s flesh, trapped her soul with a summoning ritual, bound her head with a copper mask and talismans, and kept her in a wine jar, nurturing her resentment, turning her into a malevolent spirit.
Either to be used as a tool, or consumed to prolong his life.
Such practices were forbidden by the orthodox sects, practiced only by rogue cultivators.
This was disrespectful to the dead, to the deceased’s soul!
The longer a ghost was nurtured like this, the more ferocious it became, devouring both humans and ghosts. If not properly controlled, it could even consume its master, a dangerous practice, a menace if left unchecked.
The evil spirit within the jar was released.
A cold wind blew, the copper mask jingling, the ghost’s laughter echoing through the room. It moved with incredible speed, a blur of red silk in the darkness, its form incomplete, missing a hand and its lower body. The stench of rotting fish filled the air, the smell of disemboweled corpses, their guts spilled onto rocks, hundreds of them, the smell of blood and decay, sickeningly sweet.
The smell alone was enough to make one dizzy and nauseous. The ghost’s raspy voice, like a strangled cry, echoed through the room, disorienting him.
Chen Henian stood alone in the darkness, his posture straight and unwavering. The evil spirit lunged, and he reacted instantly, his fingers gripping the red string, his teeth biting down on it.
His lips moved, silently chanting the exorcism mantra:
By the decree of the Highest, protected by primordial yang.
Evil spirits and demons, be swiftly reborn!
He exhaled, the breath a sharp blade, leaving the ghost no room to dodge, the red string cutting through the air.
But the evil spirit, its grotesque face contorted in a snarl, blew the attack back at him with a shriek.
It wasn’t ordinary breath.
The mirror ghost appeared above Chen Henian, shielding him with its body, taking the brunt of the attack, the ghostly wind burning through its sleeves, tearing holes in its robes.
Its face darkened in displeasure. The force of the attack sent the woodpile scattering, and the mirror ghost was thrown back, landing in a corner. It scrambled up, its pride wounded. It had been a powerful ghost itself, feared by many, but the old Daoist had captured it, sealing it in the mirror, its malevolence purged over the years.
Otherwise, how could it be defeated by such a minor spirit?
This evil spirit was pure, unadulterated malice, a different league altogether.
“You’re a Tai Yin body, pure yin. How much power can you wield with those righteous Daoist techniques?” the Huang Ling Daoist mocked. “Who taught you these things? It seems someone found you first, but they’ve been remarkably patient, keeping you alive for so long.”
The Daoist began sharpening his cleaver, a smug look on his face. One human, one ghost, a difficult combination.
The mirror ghost returned, intending to attack the evil spirit, but Chen Henian stopped it.
“Before dealing with the dog, we deal with its master,” he said coldly, taking out two talismans inscribed with the characters for “heavenly thunder” and “earthly fire.” These talismans could summon lightning and fire, unlike the traditional thunder techniques requiring a special sword. These were drawn with Zhou Xianzhi’s blood, his most powerful talismans, but they consumed a significant amount of yang energy, depleting his strength and vitality.
The evil spirit had insulted the mirror ghost, and Chen Henian wouldn’t let that stand. He would show them his true power.
After all, it was just a newly formed ghost.
He stood his ground, the wind ruffling his hair, but his stance remained firm.
The tarp covering the woodpile lifted, taking on a human shape, the evil spirit hiding behind it.
Chen Henian turned, his eyes narrowing, preparing to use the thunder talisman, when a hand grabbed his wrist, a large, cold hand, its skin grotesque and decaying, a face emerging from the darkness.
He was startled, the face familiar, its eyes staring into his, their gaze intense, the red string on his finger pulsing with warmth.
Its appearance was unexpected, even for Chen Henian. He was engulfed by darkness, his vision momentarily fading, a strange amusement flickering within him. Three powerful ghosts had gathered in this desolate place.
A mirror spirit, an evil spirit, and…
He couldn’t define it yet, but its power was undeniable, its presence chilling the air, its formless body like black snow, the ashes of destruction, bringing silence and death.
The great ghost’s arrival cast a dark shadow over the area, its form immense, standing between Chen Henian and the evil spirit. There was no violent clash.
The evil spirit had likely intended to attack, but it was instantly subdued.
The great ghost took a step forward, and the evil spirit was crushed against the concrete floor, its copper mask shattering, the talismans on its body dissolving. This should have made it even more ferocious, but it was trapped, its limbs twisted and broken, the sound of cracking bones echoing through the room, black blood oozing from its wounds. It shrieked, its eyes wide with pain and terror.
Agony wracked its body as an unseen force lifted it into the air, trapped in an invisible cage, helpless.
Its malevolence was swallowed by the great ghost’s yin energy, tendrils of black mist piercing its body like needles, its form convulsing, cracks appearing on its face like a rotting fruit, its body shrinking, becoming a stick figure wrapped in skin, then engulfed by the mist, disappearing without a trace.
The evil spirit had become a part of the great ghost, devoured, its yin energy absorbed, leaving nothing behind.
“This… this is impossible! How can you have—” The Huang Ling Daoist’s smug grin vanished, his eyes wide with terror as he stared at the great ghost, his breath catching in his throat, his words incoherent. “The Yin Ancestor, returned?”
“Impossible!” He roared, his denial a desperate attempt to cling to reality.
The great ghost moved towards him in an instant.
The Daoist swung his cleaver wildly, but a hand caught the blade, the great ghost’s hand, its grip like a vise. He felt a sense of suffocating dread.
Crack—!
A merciless sound.
His cleaver snapped in two.
The Daoist fell to the ground, his composure shattered, the great ghost’s hand closing around his neck, lifting him into the air.
His righteous qi, his Daoist skills, were useless.
The great ghost didn’t make a sound, its face impassive, its power evident to all.
Its form wasn’t grotesque like the evil spirit’s. It resembled a human, but its coldness was inhuman. Chen Henian saw it clearly now, its power immense, its cruelty calm and calculated, a force far beyond human or ghost.
The Daoist’s body was consumed by yin energy, his veins bulging like worms, his skin turning black and blue.
