"Damn coward, why's this unlucky bastard here now!"
Shali Fei shouted in alarm, grabbing his knife and darting to hide behind the ritual altar.
Zhao Facheng saw this and grew anxious. "You look tough, yet you're such a coward. You're supposed to guard the altar—why are you hiding?"
Shali Fei peeked out nervously, his heart shaking. "That guy's too strong. I can't beat him. Just a few moves and I'd be dead."
Zhao Facheng wasn't good at fighting either. He had thought Shali Fei was a fierce warrior, loudly vowing to personally slaughter the demon, but instead he turned out to be a coward.
The ritual altar summoning couldn't be stopped halfway or it would have to start all over again. So Zhao Facheng had no choice but to say, "What's there to be afraid of? I'll find you some help!"
He formed hand seals with one hand and swung his magical sword with the other, picking up several yellow talismans. Lighting them, he waved them over the altar and chanted, "By the decree of the Three Nether Spirits of Nine Origins—Summon the troops—hurry, by the law!"
Clap! Clap! Clap!
In front of the altar, a row of spirit pots suddenly opened.
Immediately, chilling winds howled and dark smoke billowed out.
The way of spirit troops is divided into three altars: upper, middle, and lower.
The upper altar, also called the Talismans Soldiers, are heavenly generals—only the orthodox and ancient Daoist sects can command them. They are powerful but difficult to summon, requiring official petitions, grand ceremonies, and skilled masters.
The middle altar mostly contains ancestral soldiers, amassed over countless years by sects, nurtured by incense offerings and trained regularly. They're quite powerful and obedient to orders. Disciples granted talisman authority can command them, but must apply for permission.
The lower altar consists of troops gathered by the priests and sorcerers themselves. They are easy to command, but their origins vary, and if the user's cultivation is insufficient, they risk backlash.
Zhao Facheng also had some spirit troops, but unlike Chen Fakui, his didn't use puppetry arts—only attacking the enemy's spirit.
These shadow soldiers were still formidable, materializing as dark mist and smoke, visible to the naked eye.
Seeing this, Shali Fei's confidence surged. Waving his knife, he charged again, shouting, "Yuan, eat my blade!"
His footsteps were swift, and his mind hopeful.
Martial artists—even someone like Zhou Pan, who had mastered energy transformation—was still flesh and blood, not invincible.
Taking advantage of Yuan Qu being tangled with the shadow soldiers, Shali Fei thought a single clean cut could sever his head, so he followed closely behind the black mist.
Across from him, Yuan Qu didn't dodge.
The Jitong (spirit medium) method uses the mortal body with the power of ghosts and gods for divine insight, disaster prediction, object searching, and protection—many functions.
Since ancient times, many sorcerers carried Jitong.
But it had drawbacks. Yuan Qu, infected by the shadowy killing aura, had lost his usual calm. Seeing the dark smoke rushing at him, he roared loudly, making no evasive moves, shielding his head with both arms and charging forward.
Puff! Puff! Puff!
Several crisp sounds rang out as the smoke was shattered.
Though the shadow souls weren't destroyed and regrouped nearby, they clearly couldn't stop Yuan Qu.
Zhao Facheng's expression changed sharply. "Jitong puppets!"
But Yuan Qu was in even worse shape.
The Jitong technique requires years of practice. Sometimes the user maintains self-awareness; other times, they fully surrender their body to the spirits, gradually gaining freedom to advance or retreat.
Yuan Qu, already corrupted by shadow qi, barely held onto clarity. Now, after the impact by shadow soldiers, his mind went blank, losing all reason.
His eyes rolled back, bloodshot and bulging veins marked his face twisted into a beast's snarl as he charged on.
The shadow soldiers in front scattered, and Shali Fei was caught right in his path. Seeing Yuan Qu's feral look, he was terrified, crouching down holding his head.
Normally, that would be a death wish.
But Yuan Qu, mentally confused, kept advancing.
Bang!
He tripped over Shali Fei, flailing wildly, flying backward and crashing hard into the ritual altar, face-planting in the dirt.
"Well done!"
Zhao Facheng immediately grabbed a handful of rice offered on the altar. Chanting quickly, he blew over the grains and scattered them.
Puff! Puff! Puff! Puff!
A series of cracking sounds like snapping bamboo.
The white rice grains landing on Yuan Qu quickly blackened and exploded.
This method came from the Five Grains exorcism ritual.
The five grains are essence of heaven and earth, offered to deities since ancient times, with many related exorcism spells.
For example, folk people use grains to purify houses, red beans to ward off evil in the south, glutinous rice to treat zombies, and the so-called "Rice Granny" who practices divination and exorcism.
Zhao Facheng's jar of rice was regularly offered at the ancestral altar, infused with incense energy, greatly enhancing its power.
Yuan Qu, with shadow spirits clinging to him, felt the pain as if hot coals scattered on his back, screaming in agony.
Zhao Facheng didn't stop. With his left hand forming seals, his right grabbed some pine resin powder and flung it into the flame.
Boom!
Flames surged, instantly engulfing Yuan Qu.
He writhed in pain on the ground, desperately trying to put out the fire.
This was the relationship between sorcerer and martial artist.
With Yuan Qu's skills, if he closed in on Zhao Facheng, he could easily kill him. But relying on just his body made him vulnerable to the shadow soldiers' attacks, clouding his mind.
Chen Fakui's Jitong puppetry boosted Yuan Qu's strength using shadow souls, making him immune to the shadow soldiers' strikes but also causing spirit confusion, limiting his martial power to about thirty percent.
Dazed and off-balance, Zhao Facheng seized the chance to attack.
Shali Fei, seeing this, didn't miss the opportunity.
He tripped Yuan Qu, rolled on the ground himself, then grabbed his long knife and dashed forward in three quick steps, swinging down with both hands.
"To hell with you!"
Slash!
Knife light flashed, and an arm flew off.
Yuan Qu reflexively flipped to dodge a fatal blow but lost an arm.
"Ah—!"
Yuan Qu's pain was excruciating, but he used the momentum to climb like an old ape and twisted midair into a neat side kick.
Because of the pain and shadow spirit interference, his breath was uneven and he couldn't release hidden force, but the possessed Jitong's leg strength was still fierce.
Shali Fei was kicked hard in the chest, flying backward, nearly smashing the altar.
"Ah!"
The kick roused Shali Fei's fighting spirit. Gritting his teeth through the pain, he got up to grab his knife and press the attack.
"Wait!"
Zhao Facheng hurried to stop him, voice grave. "He's using Jitong—he's immune to pain. Going in is suicide."
Sure enough, Yuan Qu extinguished the flames on him and stood up again, holding a dagger in one hand, eyes rolled back, face contorted with bulging veins, like a demon.
Shali Fei swallowed nervously. "What do we do?"
Zhao Facheng said grimly, "To break this spell, we need boy's urine!"
Shali Fei was speechless. "Brother Yan isn't here. What good is saying that…"
He trailed off, shooting Zhao Facheng a strange look.
Zhao Facheng's face darkened. "The urine must be from a child just one month old. I have black dog blood curse; that works too but takes time to prepare."
"You hold him off!"
He kicked Shali Fei away.
"Damn you, you ugly face!"
Shali Fei was furious but saw Yuan Qu charging again. He rolled like a lazy donkey to avoid the attack and took off running.
Yuan Qu's mind was still unclear, full of hatred for the arm lost to Shali Fei, relentlessly pursuing him.
Shali Fei's fighting skills were weak but his fleeing skills were sharp: darting, rolling, weaving—barely dodging attack after attack.
Meanwhile, Zhao Facheng pulled a leather pouch from behind a box, poured black dog blood into a bowl, lit a yellow talisman, cast a spell, and stirred it.
"Coward, hurry up!"
Shali Fei, desperate and cornered, ran toward the altar.
"Duck!"
Zhao Facheng shouted, leapt over the altar, and splashed the black dog blood.
Shali Fei rolled on the ground again. Yuan Qu, chasing behind, was doused head to toe.
"Ah! Ah!"
This time the damage was worse. Yuan Qu smoked and scratched his face madly; the blood talisman symbols on his skin blurred and twisted.
"Still not dead!"
Shali Fei flipped up, lowered his stance, and with a wrist twist, reversed his Guan Shan knife, slicing past Yuan Qu's neck.
Slash!
A gash appeared instantly, blood spraying.
Yuan Qu dodged instinctively but lost an artery.
"Ah!"
Yuan Qu howled in pain but used the momentum for an old ape's leap, flying into a hard kick.
Shali Fei was kicked in the chest and flew out, almost crashing into the altar again.
"Ah!"
But Shali Fei's fury surged. He forced himself up, clutching the knife to continue fighting.
"Wait!"
Zhao Facheng held him back, voice cold. "He's using Jitong. He's immune to pain. Going in is death."
Yuan Qu crashed headfirst into the altar's giant stone, brain splattered, dead.
Shali Fei exhaled, collapsing.
Zhao Facheng quickly set defenses, casting again, his face dark. "Guard, wait for my final command!"
Shali Fei grabbed his knife and stood, glancing anxiously at the sky.
"Not good, midnight's almost here…"
In the dense forest on the mountain, the battle was nearing its end.
Huff, huff...
Zheng Heibei was a bloodied gourd.
His entire body was covered in sword wounds, bleeding profusely, especially both arms with deep cuts to the bone.
He was also possessed by several shadow spirits, having lost his humanity. His eyes rolled back, bulging veins twisted his face, and his body's potential was fully unleashed.
Still, he was no match for Luo Mingzi.
If he hadn't instinctively guarded his vital spots, he'd be dead already.
But Luo Mingzi looked grim as well.
He hadn't expected these two to be so foolish.
A martial artist's body is precious, especially those skilled in hidden force. Using Jitong increases battle power but leads to early death without proper recovery.
Yet this man listened to Chen Fakui's ghostly commands and let several shadow spirits possess him. His speed was like a ghost, leaving Luo Mingzi no time to perform exorcisms.
Though it only took half a cigarette's worth of time, it still wasted precious moments.
Thinking this, Luo Mingzi took out a yellow talisman folded into a triangle from his left hand and secretly placed it on his back. Concentrating his spirit, he quickly formed several hand seals.
The aura shifted, alerting Zheng Heibei, possessed by the shadow souls.
Roar!
A beastly roar, like an old ape, charged forward.
Luo Mingzi advanced instead of retreating. His right hand performed a Seven Star Sword feint, then he spun and slashed downward.
Zheng Heibei's left leg was cut clean off, losing balance and toppling forward.
Luo Mingzi's left hand had also finished the seals and he stepped to the side, slamming his palm hard onto Zheng Heibei's back.
Bang!
A loud crack echoed as several shadow spirits attached to Zheng Heibei were completely shattered.
Luo Mingzi also used hidden force. The powerful strike cracked bones, breaking Zheng Heibei's spine.
With a heavy thud, the giant body fell, lifeless.
Without looking back, Luo Mingzi charged toward the tomb chamber.
Halfway there, his expression changed.
Chen Fakui stood behind the altar, hair disheveled, holding a dagger. He carved three pairs of bloody marks on his forehead like twin pairs of blood eyes.
Blood streamed down as he muttered, "The altar holds the netherworld, the great Dao unhindered, Western White Day Demon forbidden, Red Three Clear…"
*(End of Chapter)*