Metaphysics’ Public Enemy 89

Chapter 89:

Breaking the Array – He Held His Hand Aloft, Letting the Blood Drip…

Chen Henian stood there, a moment of silence, the mention of Jiang Li’s name a chilling reminder.

The blade that had once pierced them was now stained with their blood.

Yu Lin gently lowered Zuo He’s body to the ground, his shadow stretching across the alley, the umbrella closed, his footsteps echoing as he approached Chen Henian, taking his hand.

Chen Henian looked up at him, his eyes dark and unreadable.

Yu Lin gently uncurled his fingers, taking the crumpled note.

A flash of blue flame, the smell of ash, Jiang Li’s message reduced to nothing.

Yu Lin’s eyes were cold, like a frozen sea, a dragon stirring beneath the surface, its scales sharp and menacing.

“Zuo He first,” Chen Henian said, his voice calm and focused, picking up Zuo He’s backpack, leaving his body undisturbed. “If his soul is gone too long, he’ll be lost, even if we retrieve it.”

“The Southern sect has a technique, the Huayang Five Needles, sealing three yin acupoints and two yang acupoints, inducing a death-like state,” Jiang Wan said quickly. “It can preserve his body, prevent his soul from dissipating.”

“He always carries special needles with him.”

Chen Henian found the needles, a small bundle of soft, flexible needles, his hand hesitating as he held one, kneeling beside Zuo He’s body. “I know the technique, but I’ve never used it on a human before.”

Jiang Wan tore open Zuo He’s shirt, exposing his chest and abdomen. “You can do it, Brother, you’re the only one who can.”

Chen Henian sighed, his gaze lingering on Zuo He’s face, his eyes dull and lifeless, Jiang Li’s doing, his own fault.

A cold breeze, a pair of hands covering his eyes, plunging him into darkness, Yu Lin’s shadow enveloping him, the ghost’s eyes, blood-red and glowing.

The ghost’s eyes became his eyes.

In the darkness, he couldn’t see Zuo He’s body, only the flow of qi within him, the pathways of blood and energy, the five acupoints, like stars in the night sky, bright and clear.

“Do it,” Yu Lin’s voice, a low rumble in his mind.

He inserted the needles, his fingers precise and steady, the fine needles piercing the skin, the light at each acupoint dimming as the flow of energy was disrupted.

Yu Lin’s hands remained over his eyes, their senses linked, his focus unwavering, undisturbed by external distractions, his guilt a distant whisper.

The last needle, for Zuo He’s forehead, the acupoints there delicate and numerous, like a tangled thread.

A single mistake, and Zuo He’s body would be paralyzed.

He hesitated, then, his resolve hardening, his hand steady, the other four needles already in place, their precarious balance dependent on the fifth, no time for doubt, his fingers pressing down.

The last acupoint sealed, the technique complete, but the energy from the other four points converged, pushing against his hand, the needle already inserted, he couldn’t release it.

His hand trembled, his breath catching in his throat, his grip tightening, the resistance strong, the needle unwavering.

He couldn’t ask for help, the slightest deviation disastrous.

A hand, warm and steady, covered his, its touch a surprise, its strength reassuring, not a woman’s hand, but a man’s, rough and calloused.

“Focus, my disciple,” his master’s voice, a calming presence.

Zhou Xianzhi’s hand pressed down, his strength adding to Chen Henian’s, the needle finding its mark, the last acupoint sealed.

The energy within Zuo He’s body dissipated, his life force dimmed, like a dying flame, his body still and lifeless.

Chen Henian’s hand relaxed, his breath escaping his lips, Yu Lin’s hands leaving his face, and he blinked, seeing Zhou Xianzhi standing before him.

*How did you get here? *

He didn’t ask, his gaze fixed on his master’s head, his surprise evident.

Zhou Xianzhi, his hand on his hip, his fingers twitching, smiled. “I consulted the I Ching in the spring, foresaw this tribulation, I couldn’t just leave you to face it alone.”

His hair was streaked with white, like snowflakes, a chilling sight, a bitter taste in Chen Henian’s mouth.

“Don’t do that anymore,” he said, his head lowered.

“I won’t, not anymore,” Zhou Xianzhi pulled him up, patting his shoulder. “If anything happened to you, I wouldn’t be able to face anyone. Heal your wounds, find what’s lost, but stay alive.”

“I’ll retrieve his soul within twenty-four hours,” Chen Henian said. “Master, it’s here, you can track it, can’t you?”

“That jiangshi is powerful, it evaded the Southern and Northern sects, its methods unknown, its sudden reappearance a calculated move,” Zhou Xianzhi warned him. “Its increased power is unsettling. Be careful.”

Chen Henian nodded. “This is my responsibility, I have to resolve it.”

“It’s not worthy!” Jiang Wan’s voice was filled with rage, her frown as sharp as her sword. “I’ll carve it into a thousand pieces!”

Her fury was a warrior’s fury, but Zhou Xianzhi held her back. “This is dangerous, only Henian and Yu Lin can go, that’s the Grand Celestial Master’s decree,” he said, handing Chen Henian the compass. “Go.”

“Xiao Niannian, we’ll be waiting for your return,” he chuckled. “I’m counting on you to take care of me in my old age.”

“Alright,” Chen Henian took the compass, its needle pointing towards the northeast.

Yu Lin lifted him into his arms, his black mist enveloping them, rising into the air, above the rooftops, their ascent swift and silent.

The mist, thicker than any mountain fog, obscured their forms, Chen Henian’s body weightless, his hand gripping Yu Lin’s arm, the flight smooth and steady, their presence, to ordinary eyes, like a flock of crows, or a swarm of black insects.

The sun was setting.

“Will we arrive before nightfall? We don’t have much time,” Chen Henian asked.

“We will,” Yu Lin replied, his voice certain.

“I can smell it now,” he said.

A few minutes later, they descended, their feet touching the ground, Yu Lin’s hand steadying him.

Chen Henian looked around. They were on a hillside, a desolate, uninhabited place.

Night had fallen.

Or rather, darkness had consumed this place, the grass withered and brown, the trees bare, the air filled with the scent of ash, a single, tall, dead tree silhouetted against the dark sky.

He couldn’t see the figure beneath the tree clearly, but he heard its voice, Jiang Li’s voice, cold and mocking. “Brother, it’s been a while. How have you been?”

Chen Henian frowned, his gaze not lingering on Jiang Li, the distance between them a hundred meters.

“An array,” Yu Lin said, stopping, his arm preventing Chen Henian from approaching.

“Underground.”

“Be careful,” he added.

Chen Henian looked at the ground. “Is Zuo He’s soul trapped within the array?”

“Yes,” Yu Lin replied. “Sealed inside a jade bottle.”

“You see it too, Brother,” Jiang Li’s voice, slow and deliberate. “There are a hundred ghosts down there. I can crush that mortal’s soul with a thought.”

“I’m not the same as before, even that pathetic slave, despite its past glory, is no match for me now.” Its voice was a taunt, its lips curling into a cruel smile.

Yu Lin didn’t reply, his fingers twitching, the red string swaying between them.

Chen Henian glanced at him, and he took his hand, their fingers intertwining, his eyes, blood-red and sharp, meeting Chen Henian’s, his aura, like a brand, marking him.

The ground beneath Jiang Li pulsed with a hidden energy, a hundred ghosts trapped within the array, a dangerous truth.

A single step closer, and Jiang Li would shatter Zuo He’s soul.

Yu Lin could easily overpower him, but the ghosts were a problem, a powerful bargaining chip.

Is there a way to break the array? Chen Henian’s voice echoed in Yu Lin’s mind.

Kill Jiang Li, Yu Lin replied.

But I need Zuo He alive.

Their hands parted, Chen Henian’s face hardening, Jiang Li’s gaze fixed on him, watching his every expression, his laughter growing louder with each flicker of anger or frustration on Chen Henian’s face, his amusement evident.

“Brother, let’s make a deal,” he said, his laughter fading. “We’re brothers, family. I won’t harm your friend, if you agree to form a pact with me.”

Chen Henian smiled coldly. “You’re still as arrogant as ever.”

“I’m not afraid of you, or your array.”

“Jiang Li, you’ll be disappointed again.” He took out a silver needle from his sleeve.

As he raised the needle to his palm, about to draw blood, Yu Lin grabbed his wrist.

“It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have involved him,” he said, his voice filled with regret.

“I’m getting Zuo He back,” Chen Henian’s voice was cold and firm. “And I won’t be controlled by anyone.”

“Let go,” he glared at Yu Lin.

Yu Lin exhaled, his face darkening, releasing his grip.

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll crush his soul?” Jiang Li sneered. “Brother, you haven’t changed at all. He cares about you, yet you treat him like dirt.”

“We’ll see.”

“I wonder, which is more tempting, your array, or my blood?” Chen Henian said, the needle piercing his palm, the blood flowing freely, a crimson stream.

Jiang Li’s eyes widened, his throat convulsing as he smelled the blood, its scent intoxicating.

Yu Lin stared at the wound, his own desire a distant echo, the ghosts beneath the ground, their hunger less controlled, their movements growing frantic.

“Come, drink my blood, eat my flesh.”

“What are you waiting for? It won’t last forever.”

Chen Henian held out his hand, his smile cold, his eyes as dark and unreadable as the blood flowing from his wound, his posture straight and proud, like a benevolent deity offering a sacrifice.

He held his hand aloft, letting the blood drip, the pain not touching his face, his gaze unwavering.

As the blood landed on the ground, the earth trembled, and a hundred ghosts emerged from the broken array.