Volume One: The Useless Sets Out — Blazing Demon-Slaying Chapter Fifty-Six: Stalling for Time—Invoking the Spirit

Yang Chengzi had already begun absorbing the meteor fire. Tens of thousands of blazing meteors fell like the end of days, but the Shangqing Sword acted as a barrier, swiftly absorbing the falling fire. Meanwhile, the black-robed man restrained by the Ghost Hand lifted his ritual implement. With a single-handed incantation, a towering ghost servant leapt from the implement, wielding an illusory broadsword. Before anyone could see clearly, the sword swept in a mighty arc, cleaving the Ghost Hand, which instantly melted into magma and seeped underground. The black-robed man, his expression unchanged, leapt backward, escaping the circle on the ground, and cast a cold, sinister gaze upon Yang Chengzi.

With a faint clink, the ancient coin on Chen San’s chest fell to the ground. Following Yang Chengzi’s previous instructions, there were no elaborate hand seals or incantations; he simply pressed his two fingers together and placed them horizontally atop the coin. In a short moment, the flow of spiritual energy from heaven and earth was blocked from entering his body. Deprived of this energy, the coin was no longer suppressed and naturally slipped off his body.

The coin was the array’s core; with its removal, the great formation was broken. Last time Yang Chengzi had removed the coin, Chen San felt nothing unusual, but this time he distinctly sensed the surging, roaring spiritual energy within him. Staring at the black-robed figures, whose true faces remained hidden, Chen San could no longer contain his mounting fury.

His hands swiftly formed seals—Chou, Shen, Zi, Hai, You, Mao, Wei—in the blink of an eye, entering the state of divine perception. His senses expanded infinitely between heaven and earth, countless golden spirits swept past in his awareness. Knowing the old master was wounded and could not be summoned, he decided to seek the spirit of a Daoist ancestor. With this intent, he began searching among the passing divine presences.

Monk Suichang had already finished his incantations. The wrathful Vajra held the vengeful spirit, giving it no chance to resist. At the same time, a faint golden halo appeared beneath his feet, about the size of a meditation mat, with indistinct scriptures emerging within. The halo rose like a coiling dragon and twined itself around the vengeful soul.

Outside, the shortest of the black-robed men started in alarm, sensing that the vengeful spirit was about to be sealed. He drew from his waist an object shaped like a flute, pale with a hint of purple and a black feather dangling from its end. Using both hands and the implement, he formed a seal. Instantly, the three vengeful spirits swept from three directions like wind-blown sand, converging on his implement.

One spirit was in the wrathful Vajra’s grasp. Though the scriptures beneath began to coil, the spirit flowed like sand from the Vajra’s hand and drifted toward the door, breaking Suichang’s sealing art in a flash.

The other two spirits did likewise, drifting like sand—one from the east of the village, one from the north. In the blink of an eye, the three vengeful spirits had reassembled, now standing before the black-robed man.

The three spirits, now like puppets, stood motionless. The black-robed man stared coldly in the direction of the house, murderous intent in his eyes. Lu Qichang, seeing that all three spirits had gathered and no more ghosts lingered behind him, grew bolder. He bit his finger, smearing blood on his peachwood sword.

Against mere vengeful spirits, the peachwood sword would allow him to hold out for a time. The short black-robed man seemed to see through his intentions, sneered wickedly, and waved the implement. As the black feather swayed, all three vengeful spirits raised their heads, malevolence surging, and charged at Lu Qichang.

The oppressive aura made Lu Qichang struggle to breathe. He knew his own strength: he could not destroy a vengeful spirit, but he had to draw them away to buy Yang Chengzi time. He pulled out a handful of talismans and flung them into the air, chanting and making a gesture. With a series of loud explosions, the talismans burst in midair, dispersing the suffocating resentment before the spirits reached him.

With his sword now stained with blood, he slashed at the spirits. Though incorporeal, the blood was deadly to them—every strike that touched a spirit made their form sizzle and steam, the malevolence streaming to the wounds to repair them, steadily draining Lu Qichang’s strength.

Monk Suichang had meant to seal the first spirit, but his spell was broken halfway by the unseen black-robed man. He was surprised; the sounds of battle outside made it clear that the struggle had erupted in full.

Glancing at Chang Yu and the other youths behind him, Suichang had no choice but to expend soul force, conjuring a golden bell’s phantom to shield them, wary of a sneak attack from the cunning shamans.

With this in mind, his frown eased. He pressed his palms together to form a seal, stomped his right foot, and struck down with his palm. In an instant, a tremendous golden bell manifested, descending through the roof to enclose the group.

Standing, Suichang turned to Chang Yu and said, “Don’t be afraid, children. Stay inside the golden bell—no ghost can approach you. If you notice anything wrong, shout immediately.” With that, he ignored the pain in his thigh, leapt, and strode outside in three long steps, locking eyes with the shortest shaman.

One look told him this was the one who had broken his seal. Glancing again at Lu Qichang, Suichang’s hands began to form seals at lightning speed.

The black-robed man’s brow furrowed, just as the wrathful Vajra burst through the wall, reaching for one of the vengeful spirits. At the same time, the illusory prayer beads scattered and coiled around another spirit, binding it tightly. With the Vajra’s intervention, Lu Qichang’s predicament was instantly reversed.

Lu Qichang watched as a giant Vajra phantom appeared behind him, seizing the spirit before him. Almost simultaneously, another spirit was ensnared by the prayer beads, bound and immobilized. Only one spirit remained, raging as it charged back toward them.

Lu Qichang raised his sword to parry, but the Vajra’s other hand swiftly grabbed the last spirit. In a moment, two spirits were subdued in its grasp.

Lu Qichang was stunned; all three spirits had been controlled in the blink of an eye before he could react.

Suichang did not pause; his hands flickered with seals. The third and fourth hands of the wrathful Vajra appeared, each holding a demon-subduing pestle. With a metallic ring, they extended outward.

The hands lifted the spirits high, then plunged the pestles toward them. The black-robed man was aghast, urgently forming seals to recall the three spirits.

But Suichang was prepared. He continued his incantations; as before, the spirits dissolved into drifting sand, returning to the black-robed man. But the Vajra stamped its foot, summoning another golden bell to enclose itself and the spirit bound by prayer beads. The dissipating spirit was trapped inside the bell.

Still, much of the malevolent energy had already returned to the black-robed man, who now gritted his teeth, dodged the spirit tiger’s assault, bit his finger, and smeared blood on the black feather, muttering an incantation. Black mist drifted from the feather, coalescing around the three damaged spirits, which then began to merge into the darkness.

Seeing this, Suichang realized the danger. The wrathful Vajra snatched Lu Qichang back, casting a glance at Chen San and Yang Chengzi.

Yang Chengzi had finished absorbing the meteor fire, while Chen San was still searching for a divine spirit. Neither could be disturbed; Suichang resolved to draw attention himself. The Vajra, now wielding four demon-subduing pestles, strode through the golden bell and slashed at the merging mass of darkness.

The wrathful Vajra contained most of Suichang’s soul force. As it leapt and struck, its form solidified, landing a mighty blow on the black mist with a thunderous boom.

Suichang’s brow tightened—he was too late. A black spectral hand shot from the mist, grasping the Vajra’s pestle, black smoke hissing from the contact. As the mist rose, a head, shoulders, and body gradually emerged. This was no ordinary ghost.

The Vajra clenched its fists, merging the two pestles into one and brought it crashing down. The ghost raised its other hand and caught the blow. Such strength—any ghost able to resist the Vajra’s strike must not be taken lightly.

Suichang did not hesitate. He rapidly formed seals, exhausting the last of his soul force. The Vajra stamped its foot, summoning a golden bell to enclose itself and the ghost.

Sweat poured down Suichang’s face; the drain on his soul was immense for a man of his age. Gritting his teeth, he finished the incantation and seals. Chains of scripture unfurled from the Vajra’s feet, binding both itself and the ghost tightly.

The short black-robed man bellowed, “No!”

He tried to recall the ghost formed from the three spirits, but the golden bell severed all connection, rendering him powerless. He could only watch in fury.

As the scriptures wrapped tightly around the ghost and Vajra, the Vajra suddenly vanished. Suichang, as if a heavy burden had been lifted, seemed revitalized.

The scriptures continued to wind, swiftly binding the ghost completely. It had no chance to break free before being sealed by Suichang.

The short black-robed man tried to rush forward to break the bell, but Yang Chengzi slashed his sword. The Beidou Deity’s incantation swept out like a colossal axe, cleaving into the charging man. In an instant, his soul was forced from his body, branded with the Beidou incantation. The evil energy clashed violently with the incantation, black smoke billowing, until it dissipated into soul crystals that drifted away on the wind. The black-robed man collapsed to his knees, then slumped forward, motionless.

Yang Chengzi bit his finger; a drop of blood flew into the golden bell, landing on the sealed ghost. Forming seals with both hands, a magma-coated hand shot out within the bell, seized the ghost, and dragged it underground.

The other three black-robed men could only watch helplessly, not daring to act rashly. The spirit tiger stood imposingly before the golden bell. When the ghost was pulled below, the master breathed a sigh of relief, and the two golden bells faded away.

At that moment, Chen San finally sensed a divine presence. He began an incantation and stamped the ground, invoking the spirit: “With a steady step, I invite the Divine Lord. Across ten thousand miles, the soul leads the way.” He stomped his right foot, and with a resounding thud, the invocation went forth.

In the desolate wilds, a golden divine presence shot skyward, streaking from the distance and swiftly merging into Chen San’s body.