Volume One: The Journey of the Useless—Blazing Demon-Slaying Chapter Thirty-Six: Dissipation of Divine Sense—The Eight Great Incantations

The Daoist ancestor heard the sound of chanting scriptures and the tolling of a great bell echoing above the village. Turning to Yang Chengzi, he said, “This is the Buddhist art of Universal Salvation. He should have already lost consciousness. If this technique is not interrupted, it will burn away all his Buddhist cultivation. Let’s go up first and discuss the rest later.”

Chen San leapt before Yang Chengzi, grabbed him, and with two swift steps up the stone wall, landed in front of the meditating Monk Suichang.

Yang Chengzi had never been lifted up by anyone in his life. After regaining his footing, he looked at the Daoist ancestor beside him—Chen San—and felt an incredulous awe. If these Daoist ancestors were still alive, could they all walk on walls and water, employ arts never recorded in Daoist texts, and with but a wisp of divine spirit, aid their descendants in vanquishing demons and safeguarding the world?

But his attention was quickly drawn to the phantom of a Buddha statue. Indeed, Monk Suichang had lost consciousness; though still seated cross-legged, his head was bowed as if in nirvana, his hands limp at his sides.

Suddenly, Yang Chengzi sensed a surge of pure ghostly energy. He turned instinctively to defend himself, but, weaponless, was struck by the rushing ghostly aura and sent rolling away. Another surge was blocked by the Daoist ancestor’s raised sword. At that moment, thunder rumbled in the sky like a dragon’s roar—deeper, more resonant than before.

Yang Chengzi climbed to his feet. This was no ordinary thunder; a bolt of silver-black lightning shot down, striking the phantom.

With a deafening crash, the spectral figure was hit squarely. Though not obliterated, it staggered, halting the flow of ghostly energy, and slowly descended into the collapsed tomb chamber below.

Yang Chengzi’s eyes widened. Why had a Heaven-Calamity Thunderbolt descended? Could there be another Daoist casting spells nearby? As the ghostly aura faded, the Daoist ancestor flashed to Monk Suichang’s side and thrust his sword into the monk’s thigh. Suichang instantly regained consciousness, the Buddha’s phantom vanishing behind him.

Drawing out the Shangqing Sword, the Daoist ancestor said to Yang Chengzi, “The bone’s not harmed—just bandage it. You all retreat; leave this place to me. This ghost’s fate is sealed—the heavens will claim him.”

He turned and leaped back into the collapsed tomb. Yang Chengzi frowned at his words but dared not hesitate. Tearing a strip of cloth from his robe, he hastily bandaged Monk Suichang and, dragging him along, pulled the master back into the village and propped him against a wall.

The master, now fully awake, murmured, “This Daoist ancestor knew how to break my technique. Perhaps he truly can slay that ghost. If even he fails, we may never make it to Chen Family Town.”

Yang Chengzi replied resolutely, “Master, we face dire peril, but we must go to Chen Family Town—an ancient demon awaits your seal there. This ghost is so defiant of heaven that only one of the Eight Divine Mantras could destroy it. I beg you, Master, if I do not survive, please return my Shangqing Sword to my master.”

With that, he turned and walked toward the collapsed tomb. Monk Suichang, shocked, wanted to stop him, but pain immobilized him. He sighed, closed his eyes, and said no more.

Within the tomb, the Daoist ancestor, Shangqing Sword in hand, watched the ghostly phantom as if awaiting something. Since being struck by Heaven-Calamity Thunder, the ghost had shrunk to the edge of the chamber.

Chen San glanced at the thunder-laden sky and muttered, “Time is short. Let’s put an end to this.”

He formed a seal with one hand. “Heavenly Thunder, descend.”

A bolt of thunder struck the phantom. The ghostly aura shielded it, but ever since being hit by Heaven-Calamity Thunder, the ghost had not been able to solidify its form.

The Daoist ancestor’s furrowed brow relaxed into a smile. “Why fear? Your fate is annihilation. I’ll play with you a little longer.”

He ran a finger along the Shangqing Sword, stepped into the air, and charged at the phantom like lightning at dawn, striking with his sword.

Without its armor, the ghost could only dodge. The ancestor’s attacks grew swifter, forcing the ghost back against the wall, until, cornered, it exploded with ghostly energy in a final stand.

Suddenly, the Daoist ancestor leapt back.

With a thunderous boom, another silver-black Heaven-Calamity Thunderbolt struck the phantom dead-on, shattering its forming aura.

After this blow, the phantom fully manifested. Glancing at the retreating ancestor, it grinned wickedly, ghostly energy swirling tighter around it.

A weapon, sword-like yet blade-like, slowly formed in its hand, surrounded by pure ghostly energy. As the weapon took shape, its aura faded, leaving only the phantom gripping the weapon.

No sooner had it formed than the ghost swung at the Daoist ancestor with blinding speed. The ancestor, undaunted, began chanting the Meteorite Fire Incantation, forming seals with one hand while fending off the ghost’s flurry.

The spell completed, the ancestor parried with the Shangqing Sword, the clash ringing clear and sharp. The force sent him sliding across the chamber.

At the same time, meteorite fire rained down from the sky. Using the impetus, the ancestor slid to the wall, casting another thunder seal: “Heavenly Thunder, descend.”

A bolt shot down at the phantom, who raised its weapon to block.

A resonant boom echoed through the chamber. Seeing the meteorite fire descending, the ghost lunged low, leaping high to strike.

Yet another silver-black Heaven-Calamity Thunderbolt crashed into the airborne phantom.

This time, the ghost could not defend itself. The thunderbolt struck the weapon it had raised to cleave at the ancestor. In an instant, the ghost’s aura exploded, dissipated, and then reformed, the phantom retreating back to the corner. Its weapon fell, embedding heavily before the ancestor.

Now the meteorite fire was fully drawn into the Shangqing Sword. As the ghost retreated, the ancestor brought the sword down with all his might.

The shadow of the Big Dipper Divine Mantra appeared again, piercing the ghost and scorching the chamber’s stone wall. The ghost flickered, and a final silver-black Heaven-Calamity Thunderbolt struck, dispersing its aura once more. This time, the ghost’s reformation was sluggish.

Yang Chengzi saw all this—the relentless thunderbolts, the ancestor’s declaration that the ghost’s fate was sealed—and felt a glimmer of hope.

This ghost had defied the heavens, using some dark art to become a monstrous spirit. Not yet fully emerged, it had already been targeted by celestial thunder. Those two villagers had died such wrongful deaths, struck down by Heaven-Calamity Thunder meant for the ghost.

One thunderbolt after another crashed down, leaving the ghost nowhere to hide. It could only recall its weapon to defend itself against the ancestor’s sword and withstand the thunderbolts.

Yet it dared not fully unleash its power, lest it hasten the thunder’s descent. The intervals between thunderbolts grew shorter, and the ghost’s aura reformed more slowly.

The ancestor’s spirit was nearly depleted—half a stick of incense’s time had passed, the limit for the invocation. Yet the ghost still endured, weapon in hand, parrying the thunder.

The ancestor turned to Yang Chengzi. “There’s no time. My spirit will soon dissipate. You’ve seen the moves—there are forty-nine Heaven-Calamity Thunderbolts. Thirteen remain.

If they all fall and it isn’t destroyed, it will survive the tribulation, becoming immortal like the heavens—a calamity spirit that cannot be slain, only forcefully sealed. So you must destroy it before the last thirteen bolts fall.”

Yang Chengzi was alarmed. Once the ancestor’s spirit vanished, he alone would face the monstrous ghost. Though the thunder limited its power, he still did not know how to defeat it. “Ancestor, how do I destroy this ghost?” he asked.

Before he could finish, the ancestor’s spirit dissipated, leaving Chen San’s body limp and unconscious.

Yang Chengzi, realizing the spirit was gone, steeled himself. His own condition was little better than Monk Suichang’s—his soul was gravely wounded, his organs shaken by the ghost’s assaults. But the ancestor’s struggle had bought him time to recover somewhat.

Another thunderbolt fell; the ghost’s weapon began to crack, pure ghostly energy leaking from it.

Yang Chengzi saw his chance. How could a man live in the world and cower from death? If he could destroy this monstrous ghost, his life as a cultivator would not have been in vain.

With this resolve, his Daoist blood surged, his eyes filled with killing intent. He formed the thunder seal and charged at the ghost.

Leaping into the collapsed tomb, he reached out, and the Shangqing Sword flew from Chen San’s hand into his own. In midair, he brought it down on the ghost, channeling the thunder.

With a roar, the ordinary thunder had little effect on the ghost, but it damaged the weapon in its hand—the cracks widening. Yang Chengzi, mind blank from exhaustion, did not relent. He kept forging thunder seals, striking the weapon again and again.

As he approached his limit, nearly unable to cast further thunder spells, another Heaven-Calamity Thunderbolt struck.

With a majestic roar, a silver-black bolt cleaved the ghost. Pure ghostly energy burst from the weapon, which shattered and could not reform. As the aura dissipated, the weapon vanished.

Deprived of its weapon, the ghost was fully exposed to the thunder. Fiercely, it began to gather its aura, its shadowy form becoming more substantial.

Black ghostly energy, like a dragon, coiled around it. Without its silver-black armor, its body appeared with patterns like stone, ghostly energy still surging.

With a final crash, the fourth-to-last Heaven-Calamity Thunderbolt shattered the gathering aura. The ghost, preparing for a last stand, unleashed its full power. The thunder was inescapable, the shattered weapon gone, its overwhelming aura turning the dim daylight to utter darkness.

Three thunderbolts remained. The ghost, no longer conserving its strength, prepared to withstand them all. Judging by its current ferocity, three bolts might not suffice to destroy it.

Feeling the ghost’s aura closing in, Yang Chengzi relaxed his clenched jaw, sat down cross-legged, and drew a deep breath, summoning the last of his soul’s strength. He began to recite the Calming Spirit Incantation: “Calm the heart, spirit ascends, myriad changes stilled, mind serene, petals and leaves fall…”

When he had used the Return to Origin technique earlier, his soul had been critically injured. Now, forcing his soul to cast the greatest of Daoist spells—the Big Dipper Divine Mantra, one of the Eight Divine Mantras—he intended to perish together with the ghost. But as his weakened soul surged, he only managed half the incantation before fainting.

His vision blurred as he closed his eyes, knowing the mantra had not been fully cast, yet powerless to continue. With a dull thud, he fell backward.

Several streaks of white light flashed through the night sky before him as he slipped into unconsciousness.

When Yang Chengzi awoke, two days had passed. He sat up abruptly, disoriented in a room that looked like a villager’s house.

With a creak, the door opened, and Chang Yu entered with a basin of water. Seeing him awake, she dropped everything and ran to him, weeping as she embraced him.

“You’re finally awake! I was so worried—I thought I’d be widowed before I was married!” she sobbed loudly.

Yang Chengzi, stunned by the sudden embrace, sat speechless for a long while. Only when Chang Yu’s tears subsided did he gently push her away.

“Miss Chang Yu, I am a Daoist—I cannot indulge in such intimacy. When the matter in Chen Family Town is settled, I will return with you to explain everything to Master Chang.”

Chang Yu cried even harder, mumbling incomprehensible words through her tears.

Yang Chengzi shook his head. “Let’s not speak of this now. Tell me, how were we saved? What became of the ghost?”

Sniffling, Chang Yu replied, “When they found you, all of you had fainted. After they dealt with the ghost, they carried you three back to the village.”

She continued, “I woke up and found you all gone—thought you’d left me behind, so I searched the village and met them on the road. They brought me here. I’ve cared for you for two days—you never moved, it was terrifying. I thought you were going to die.”

She burst into tears again. Seeing her so distraught, Yang Chengzi’s head throbbed—his injured soul required rest.

He clapped his hand over her mouth. “Please stop crying—my soul is wounded and needs quiet. Your sobbing is making my head split. And who are ‘they’ you mentioned?”

Chang Yu pulled his hand down and blinked her large, tearful eyes. “Your junior brothers. Don’t you know?”

Yang Chengzi was astonished. “My junior brothers? You mean the Maoshan Daoists?”

She nodded. “They’re dressed like you, only in white robes. They said you’re their senior brother, so I don’t think they’re mistaken.”

Yang Chengzi was surprised. “Where are they? Take me to them.”

Chang Yu finally released his hand, reluctantly letting go. “They’re at the ancestral hall. Yesterday, they buried the two coffins. Since there are many of them, they’ve stayed at the hall, watching over you. Chen San is there too, talking with them. I’ll fetch you some water to wash your face before we go.”

Before Yang Chengzi could object, Chang Yu had picked up the basin and run out. He wanted to stop her, preferring to wash himself, but for some reason, watching her leave, the words caught in his throat and his outstretched hand fell.

When Chang Yu returned and he had washed his face, they went together to the ancestral hall. Along the way, he saw that Fu Family Village was unchanged from when he had arrived, and his worries eased—the ghost had brought no disaster to the village.

Children played by the roadside, pulling faces at him. Yang Chengzi smiled, his spirits lightened. At the ancestral hall, the village chief greeted him, and his junior brothers stood to salute him with Daoist courtesy.

“Yang Chengzi!”

Chen San pushed through the junior brothers to grab Yang Chengzi’s arm.

“Ah, thank goodness you’re alive! If you’d died, how could I face your master in Chen Family Town? Are you hurt?” he said, patting Yang Chengzi all over.

Chang Yu couldn’t help but laugh at Chen San’s fussing. Yang Chengzi, seeing Chen San hale and hearty, smiled as well and teased, “I thought we’d all die here, but you, you rascal, have a tough life—even this ghost couldn’t send you to the underworld. Seems even Yama finds you too annoying!”

Everyone burst out laughing.

Chen San, a bit embarrassed, retorted, “Still the same old attitude—your head’s clearly fine.” Then, pulling Chang Yu along, he wandered off into the village, leaving the brothers to talk among themselves.