Volume One: The Path of the Useless Awakens - The Fiery Demon-Slaying Chapter Seventy-Five: Unable to Invoke the Gods, Trapped in a Deadlock

Chen San was blocked by Qu Lao Er, unable to fully see what was happening, but he caught sight of Master Suichang spitting blood and became deeply anxious, clenching his fists tightly.

The ghost before Master Suichang lacked a physical form, but its pure ghostly energy gave it the potential to materialize at any moment. Its build was similar to Chen San’s—about the same height and build. The swirling ghostly aura around it pressed upon Master Suichang, creating a sense of oppression.

Ghostly energy surged across its face, obscuring all features; only the missing portion of its face was visible, with the ghostly energy never condensing over that vacant side. Its emaciated frame appeared frail, almost sickly, but its tussle moments ago with the Wrathful Vajra revealed its true ferocity.

Its severed ghostly hand had already regenerated, gripping a blade forged of ghostly energy—the very blade that had parried the Wrathful Vajra’s demon-subduing staff moments before.

Ferocious as it was, exuding an unstoppable aura, the ghost wasted no time and swung its sword at Master Suichang, who was now without the protection of his golden bell phantom. The Wrathful Vajra still lay on the ground, unable to rise, but as the ghostly blade reached the monk’s head, there was a deep, resonant thud.

The Wrathful Vajra, who had just been lying there, had vanished. Its phantom now appeared, hands pressed together, catching the descending ghostly blade and shielding Master Suichang, slowly materializing from head to toe. The third and fourth hands extended from its back, fists clenched, hammering down upon the ghost.

With Master Suichang’s soul force waning, the Wrathful Vajra could no longer unleash its full power; each blow was blocked effortlessly by the ghost. Master Suichang’s hands moved rapidly, forming a series of mudras, and the third and fourth hands of the Vajra followed suit, weaving Buddhist seals that gleamed with golden light, completing the incantation in a flash.

As the mantra was completed, the Vajra’s phantom was encircled by scriptures, and the sound of chanting echoed from the sky, just like the golden bell’s apparition. The mantra seal descended upon the Vajra and the ghost, and Chen San watched in astonishment as a golden seal pressed down from above.

The moment it landed, a suffocating pressure swept out, scattering the ghostly energy in all directions. At last, Master Suichang saw the ghost’s true face: a mark on its forehead like his own, one cheek missing, the other side hollow, with lifeless white eyes.

The mantra seal crashed down with a thunderous force, but Master Suichang remained vigilant—the ghost’s pure energy made it seem armored, and it withstood the seal without a scratch.

A seal that could directly damage the soul had failed to harm the ghost in the slightest. This was far beyond Master Suichang’s expectations.

The silver-haired elder behind the ghost laughed mockingly, his voice arrogant: “Let’s bring another to play with you.” With that, he cast a black-violet talisman skyward, reciting an incantation with a raised finger. In an instant, the spell was complete, and even the wind seemed to halt.

The talisman drifted down to the ground. Master Suichang frowned, watching it. The Vajra phantom dissipated, breaking free from the ghost’s grasp. The demon-subduing staff, accompanied by a golden shadow, slashed down at the ghost’s head as the Wrathful Vajra reappeared, leaping high.

Now, Master Suichang was left without the protection of the golden bell or the Wrathful Vajra. Though he switched from defense to offense, he was in grave peril.

The black-violet talisman lay on the ground for a long moment without reaction. Just as Master Suichang was puzzled, a shadow burst from it, vanishing in the blink of an eye.

Suddenly, golden light flashed beneath his feet—a heavy blow from the Wrathful Vajra, striking the ghost’s head with the demon-subduing staff, causing ghostly energy to spurt from the hollow of its face.

The Wrathful Vajra, landing, moved to seize the ghost with its four arms for a forceful suppression, but the ghost, recognizing Master Suichang’s vulnerability, instantly condensed its energy into a massive blade and swung it at the monk.

The immense drain on his soul force left Master Suichang gasping, nearly powerless. The ghostly blade was right before him; his body did not react at all. If this blade struck his flesh, the damage to his soul would be the least of his worries—complete annihilation was possible.

At that critical moment, “Wind as the east, Sparrow blocks the Axis!”

The golden light beneath Master Suichang’s feet was the Celestial Eight Trigrams Formation. Yang Chengzi appeared by his side in an instant, raising the Supreme Purity Sword to block the ghostly blade that was nearly upon Master Suichang.

“Heaven as the north, Power turns the Pivot!”

The formation shifted, placing the Heaven Trigram beneath Yang Chengzi’s feet. He swung his sword at the ghost; the crimson blade did not wait for the ghost to dissipate into energy but cut it cleanly in two, the force so great that the sword’s energy surged toward the silver-haired elder behind the ghost.

The elder was startled, eyes wide, shoving the black-robed figure beside him away and retreating through the air, landing atop a tree. The sword’s momentum was unstoppable, splitting the tree in two, and before the tree could fall, the elder returned to his original spot, gazing at the Eight Trigrams Formation below with surprise in his eyes.

Yang Chengzi’s sword had dealt a heavy blow to the ghost, which had not yet dissolved into energy but was cleaved in two. Only then did it dissipate, reforming before the silver-haired elder—a much more ethereal form than before.

Meanwhile, Chen San, in the time it took for a cup of tea, stood dumbfounded, watching Qu Lao Er suffering. This time, it truly wasn’t cowardice—he wanted to invoke the spirit-summoning technique, but after seeing the spirit tiger knocked back, he doubted it could withstand Qu Lao Er.

If he closed his eyes to sense the divine, he’d be defenseless against attack, unable to retaliate. The spirit-summoning technique could not be performed; he might be killed outright, making it worthless.

Qu Lao Er stood motionless for so long, and Chen San was helpless. Yang Chengzi and Master Suichang were fighting ghosts behind Qu Lao Er, with no time to spare for Chen San.

Qu Lao Er stood between Chen San and Yang Chengzi, keeping them apart. Behind Chen San was the house, where Chang Yu and the four young men were.

At this moment, no one could help Chen San. He placed his hand on the spirit tiger’s back, eyes fixed on Qu Lao Er, and solemnly said, “Tiger brother, give me some time. Hold on a bit longer.”

The spirit tiger roared, poised for battle. Chen San released the great formation around him, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes to sense the divine.

With a flash, the spirit tiger shot out like an arrow, raising its paw to strike the suffering Qu Lao Er. Qu Lao Er parried twice before swatting the tiger back again, this time with even greater force, sending it crashing into the wooden wall of the adjacent house.

With a thunderous crash, the spirit tiger’s massive body smashed nearly the entire wall.

The noise jolted Chen San from his spiritual trance. He’d barely begun and already the tiger had been knocked back—so much for buying time, it was barely a moment.

As Chen San brooded, Qu Lao Er’s painful expression vanished, and he lunged at Chen San like a wild beast.

He wielded no weapon, just brute force—having knocked the tiger back twice, Chen San’s frail form stood no chance.

Chen San hoped the spirit tiger might rush out to defend him, but the house remained silent.

Just as despair set in, a wave of panic swept over Chen San, and Qu Lao Er suddenly halted as if bewitched. His murderous gaze turned vacant, as if he could no longer see Chen San, glancing around before heading toward the tiger’s house.

Chen San felt uneasy, but Qu Lao Er’s abrupt change left him baffled—was he blind? How could he not see a living person standing there? Why walk away?

As he puzzled over it, the spirit tiger leapt up in a flash of silver light, its paw gripping Qu Lao Er’s head, dragging him out and pressing him down before Chen San.

The tiger struck hard, burying most of Qu Lao Er’s head in the earth, turning the situation on its head in an instant.

Chen San was stunned, muttering, “Why weren’t you this fierce before? Finish him off—what are you waiting for?”

The spirit tiger roared and struck Qu Lao Er’s chest, its claws digging in like hooks. Strangely, since Qu Lao Er spared Chen San, he put up no resistance, not even reacting as the tiger’s claws pierced his chest, as if he were a different person.

Chen San found it odd—the body was not originally Qu Lao Er’s, but the soul inside was unmistakably his, though the murderous intent vanished, replaced by confusion.

The spirit tiger seized the opportunity, tossing Qu Lao Er into the air, then sprang onto the roof, leaping skyward to slash at him. With a force that could split mountains, the tiger cleaved Qu Lao Er in two, ending all movement.

The tiger returned to Chen San, roaring so fiercely that Chen San’s scalp tingled, snapping him out of his shock.

In a flash, Chen San had nearly been killed by Qu Lao Er—now he’d been torn apart by the tiger?

The silver-haired elder stared in disbelief at Qu Lao Er’s bisected body. Though Qu Lao Er’s soul had just fused, an ordinary man had managed to tear him apart with a spirit beast? How had such an impossible thing happened?

In a hoarse voice, he said, “Go meet him—I underestimated that boy.”

The black-robed figure beside him grunted and walked toward Chen San. Neither the elder nor Chen San or the tiger understood what had happened.

Yang Chengzi saw the black-robed figure approaching Chen San and tried to strike first, “Wind as the east—”

Before he finished, a black shadow swept over, a chill rushing toward Yang Chengzi and Master Suichang.

With Master Suichang’s soul force nearly exhausted, his reactions were sluggish. Yang Chengzi could not protect both Chen San and Master Suichang at once.

“Mountain as the northeast, hold firm against the opening sun!”

Yang Chengzi’s guess proved correct—the shadow rushed at Master Suichang, its claw striking the monk’s head. The formation beneath their feet shifted to the Mountain Trigram, and as the claw reached Master Suichang’s face, there was a dull thud, but no blood splattered. Though struck by the force, Master Suichang merely stepped back, unharmed.

It was not as steady as Chen San’s earlier display, but the Mountain Trigram’s barrier was like a mountain range—no matter the force, not a hair was harmed. This left Yang Chengzi, using the Celestial Formation for the first time, deeply amazed.

He forgot that two ghosts remained unvanquished; as he hesitated, a barrage of claws swept in, overwhelming both Yang Chengzi and Master Suichang, forcing them to rely on the Mountain Trigram’s immovable defense.

The ghosts moved so fast their forms could not be discerned. In such circumstances, if Chen San’s Daoist ancestor were summoned, it would have been the Thunder Trigram, unleashing the celestial dragon.

Yang Chengzi knew the incantation well, but lacked the power to summon lightning between his fingers as the ancestor did.

When celestial thunder falls, without a soul strong enough to dominate all beings, it would mean annihilation—not only failing to slay the ghosts, but dragging Master Suichang down as well.

For now, Yang Chengzi was trapped in a deadlock. The silver-haired elder, observing Yang Chengzi’s unusual formation, squinted, quietly calculating, but made no move.