Metaphysics’ Public Enemy 62

Chapter 62:

The Jiang King’s Tomb (Part 5):

Chen Henian Was Stunned, His Eyes Wide…

It had no warm body, yet it spoke of a heart, vibrant and full of emotion, though it no longer beat.

Chen Henian leaned against its hand, its fingers cold and hard as iron, his gaze fixed on the ghost, noticing a change in its demeanor, its usual coldness tinged with something new, something he hadn’t seen before.

Its form flickered, like a cicada shedding its skin, a surge of power rippling through it, pushing back the blood ghost and the jiangshi, the other sounds fading, his attention captured entirely by the ghost.

The red string on his finger glowed, like a firefly, its end lengthening, a thread connecting him to the ghost, a visible link, though the ghost wasn’t truly tangible.

Its eyes deepened, as if speaking.

He waited, expecting words, but there were none.

A sudden force pushed him towards the ground, his landing gentle, but the impact sent dust and debris swirling around him, momentarily blinding him, a cold wind chilling him to the bone.

He opened his eyes, seeing a golden light, bright and dazzling, like the rising sun, emanating from the ghost.

Surprise and confusion warred within him.

The ghost’s form exploded, the black mist dissolving into dust.

His eyes widened. A dragon! The ghost had transformed into a five-clawed golden dragon, its massive form filling the chamber, its scales shimmering, its roar shaking the tomb, its claws pinning the blood ghost to the ground, its power undeniable, its presence overwhelming.

It opened its mouth, its roar louder than any natural sound, but its form grew transparent, its head turning towards the jiangshi, a deafening roar shaking the tomb, the ceiling collapsing, a large chunk of stone falling towards Chen Henian, but he couldn’t move, his body frozen.

The golden dragon transformed back into its human form, catching him, lifting him into the air, carrying him to safety. He heard a man’s voice yelling, “Don’t be afraid, Nephew!”

It was Wang Laosan, his voice coming from above, their arrival signaling the gathering of the three sects.

As expected, a beam of light, a sword, descended from the opening in the ceiling, piercing the blood ghost, a Bagua array expanding beneath it, ropes falling from above, the disciples rappelling down.

The sword had arrived, and so had they.

The three sect leaders jumped down, their descent swift, their feet landing on the rubble, their movements agile, more disciples following, their shadows flickering like ghosts, but their auras righteous.

Wang Laosan, his broadsword raised, swung at the blood ghost, his heavy frame creating a small crater in the floor.

The blood ghost retaliated, three large blood worms rising from the pool of blood, lunging at him.

Wang Laosan didn’t move, his broadsword planted firmly before him, the worms striking it with a dull thud, his body protected by the Diamond Body technique, his eyes smiling, then he swung his sword, the blood spraying across the floor.

The blood ghost retreated.

Grandmaster Yongjian, after checking on Chen Henian, Jiang Wan, and Zuo He, turned to his disciple. “Foolish disciple, are you alright?”

“Go save the others!”

Zuo He, thinking he had misheard, then seeing his master’s face clearly, his tension finally breaking, coughed up blood, his body collapsing.

Southern Daoist disciples rushed to his side, lifting him up. “Take them back to the tents! They need medical attention!”

The jiangshi laughed, its gaze still fixed on Chen Henian, its obsession unwavering. “Brother, you can’t escape me.”

“Damn beast! Preying on children!” Hu Busun yelled. “A millennial jiangshi? So what! Form the array! Destroy this evil!”

“Yes—!” The disciples’ voices echoed through the chamber.

The tomb was dark, the disciples raising their artifacts, their eyes gleaming, their fingers moving in a series of hand seals, chanting, “Yin and yang converge, borrow the power of heaven and earth, unite the two poles, the Three Yin Cauldron!”

The oppressive yin energy filled their lungs, the jiangshi’s power threatening to overwhelm them, but they stood firm, their voices rising in unison, their fear replaced by resolve.

Grandmaster Yongjian stood at the front, the Bagua beneath his sword expanding, its rotation pushing back the darkness.

More disciples descended from the opening in the ceiling, the triggered traps now pathways, their arrival swift, joining the array, their voices a powerful chorus. “Five elements intertwined, destroy evil, restore balance.”

“Seal—!”

Seventy disciples now, their hands pointing at the jiangshi, the three sect leaders at the front.

The jiangshi, unafraid, raised its hand, and the terracotta soldiers moved, their bodies crashing against the array, their growls echoing through the chamber.

It was daylight, the three masters powerful, their combined strength holding back the jiangshi army. Chen Henian, relieved, his hand covering the red string, spoke to the ghost. “Come back, we’re safe now.”

He waited, but there was no response.

“Come back, do you hear me? Where are you?” His anxiety grew.

It reappeared, its voice in his mind. “I can’t.”

It stood behind the disciples, its presence alarming Chen Henian. He didn’t want the Daoists to see it. But what surprised him more was its appearance.

It no longer looked like a ghost, its form human, its body draped in golden silk, its long hair flowing past its waist.

Its features were clear now, no longer a blurry mass. Chen Henian saw its face.

It was Yu Lin, Jiang Wuwen, perhaps in his twenties, his features strong and defined, his eyes like amber in a pool of ink, his jawline sharp, his expression cold and aloof, his tall frame that of a warrior king.

Chen Henian inhaled sharply, his heart pounding, a strange and unsettling feeling.

Yu Lin, the true dragon emperor, his robes falling around him, his hand extended towards Chen Henian.

Chen Henian stared at him, his mouth open, his heart racing, a strange mix of emotions, placing his hand in Yu Lin’s, letting him pull him up.

Yu Lin held him steady, his head resting against his shoulder, a brief moment of contact.

Then Chen Henian pushed him away, his mind reeling, the ghost now human, the transformation shocking him.

Yu Lin’s hand tightened around his, his touch lingering. He paused, then said, “I have to go.”

“Go?” Chen Henian’s voice was sharp, his surprise turning to confusion. “What do you mean? Where are you going? Are you crazy?! Where can you go?”

“I’m returning to my resting place,” Yu Lin replied. “My coffin is buried in a lake in the Manshou Mountains, a cold and lonely place.”

His eyes were filled with sorrow, a profound sadness that made Chen Henian’s heart ache. He had just transformed into a magnificent dragon, yet his spirit was fading, his form growing transparent.

Was he injured? Chen Henian remembered the blood blade piercing his heart. His voice was still strong, but his spirit was weakening.

No!

He didn’t want this. He grabbed Yu Lin’s hand, the coldness of his skin unwelcome, but familiar.

Yu Lin looked at him, his silence frustrating. Even as a human, he couldn’t speak.

Chen Henian’s frustration turned to anger.

“Young man, are you alright?”

Unfamiliar voices, hands on his arms, trying to pull him away.

“Don’t touch me!” he yelled, his eyes fixed on Yu Lin, his voice filled with rage. “Our pact! It’s still valid! How dare you… how dare you break your promise!”

Yu Lin’s eyes brightened, his gaze softening as he looked at Chen Henian’s frown, his hand reaching out, not to touch his face, but to take his hand, their fingers intertwining.

The touch was cold, unfamiliar, yet comforting, Yu Lin’s eyes filled with a complex mix of emotions, his gaze unwavering.

Chen Henian’s lips trembled, his voice a mixture of anger and despair. “You’re the most foolish ghost I’ve ever met!”

“So powerful, yet you can’t even speak properly!”

He took a deep breath, his body swaying, Yu Lin’s form fading before his eyes, disappearing.

He didn’t want the ghost to die. That was his true desire, but his words betrayed him.

He didn’t understand his own anger, his outburst shattering his usual composure, his words unfair, his heart heavy. He didn’t want the ghost to die.

If it died, it would be its fault!

He shouldn’t care about a ghost’s life or death, especially this ghost. If it died, the pact would be broken, he would be free.

But he couldn’t let it go.

His world was one of twilight and shadows, surrounded by evil, the ugliness of humanity a constant presence, forcing him to hide, to endure.

And the ghost had entered his world, a cold, distant sun, bringing a touch of color to his darkness, its coldness a welcome change.

He had never read fairy tales, never cried over love stories, but he took a deep breath, the words unfamiliar, embarrassing even to his own ears. “If you die, I’ll cry for you,” he said, his voice rising, his face flushed. “But I’ll also be disappointed! I’ll hate you! You useless emperor!”

Before he could finish, his words were silenced, his breath stolen, his face burning as Yu Lin’s lips pressed against his, its tongue licking his lips, then parting them, invading his mouth, a dizzying, disorienting sensation.

Chen Henian was stunned, his eyes wide, his anger forgotten.

“I won’t die, I’ll never leave your side,” Yu Lin said, his voice filled with longing, his lips brushing against Chen Henian’s fingers. “I’m returning to my resting place, but it’s not death. I need to become stronger. I’ll be waiting for you, only you can awaken me.”

His time was up. His form, already transparent, dissolved into golden dust, falling to the ground like rain.

Chen Henian watched him vanish, his hand instinctively reaching for the red string, its color faded, but still unbroken, still tied to his finger.

The ghost wasn’t dead, it had simply left.

He didn’t know whether to be relieved or afraid, his mind in turmoil.

His strength faded, and the disciples rushed to his side, supporting him, the sounds of the battle, the chanting, the jiangshi’s roars, a distant hum.

It was really gone.

He wasn’t used to this feeling, his body lighter, his footsteps unsteady, his breath shallow, his throat constricted.

Then, the ceiling collapsed, the darkness engulfing him.

He lost consciousness.

“Young man! Are you alright?”

“Wake up—!”