Volume One: The Useless Sets Out — Blazing Demon-Slaying Chapter Eight: Evil Spirits and Malevolent Shades — Death and the Dissolution of the Dao

The Daoist ancestor was startled, unable to believe his eyes. The two phantom figures before him were none other than the demons recorded in ancient scrolls—fiends that even Zhong Kui, upon attaining the Way, had been unable to slay, sealing them instead out of necessity. Though a thousand years had passed, how could these spirits appear here? Why had so many sinister entities gathered in this desolate land?

There was no time to ponder. He swiftly drew the last two black-gold talisman papers from his robes, affixing one to the body of the Crimson Sun Sword and the other to its tip. Once again, he used his own blood as the medium, smearing it on the sword, then touching it to his brow, murmuring the Lightning Summoning Incantation.

With a thunderous roar, the talisman on the sword’s tip burned to ash. Thunder rumbled, yet no silvery lightning appeared, only the sense that something vast was churning above. Sweat poured from the Daoist ancestor’s brow, yet his gaze was resolute as he pointed the sword at the fiends and brought it down with a shout: “Descend!”

From ten thousand feet above, a streak of silver-black lightning twisted like a dragon, soaring downward in an instant. The Daoist ancestor guided it with his sword, directing the lightning to strike the fiends. But just as the bolt was about to hit, the demons vanished, slipping into the surrounding mist.

The silver-black lightning struck the ground like an axe cleaving a mountain, shattering earth and stone. The Daoist ancestor brushed his robe, now certain these were the fiends of legend. As the scrolls described, their forms were ethereal, adept at concealment, and even Heaven’s tribulation thunder could not destroy them. It was no wonder Zhong Kui had been forced to seal them rather than slay them.

As he pondered, the demons reappeared, their translucent blue forms drifting eerily in the moonlight, still swimming with closed eyes, twin bodies entwined.

While the Daoist ancestor considered how to destroy them, the fiends exuded pale white mist, like two hands floating toward him. The mist was strange indeed; he formed an incantation seal with his hands and prepared to take a mystical step, but something seized his foot. Without time to look, he plunged the Crimson Sun Sword into the ground. The grip on his foot released at once; he drew the sword and leapt back several paces.

In that instant, the white mist nearly enveloped him. With no talismans left and his spellcasting restricted, all he had was the sword—while the fiends pressed their attack, the Daoist ancestor found himself at the end of his strength.

With no other recourse, he invoked the Summoning Art, closing his eyes and forming the summoning seal, reciting: “Gods move with my soul, soul walks with the gods; clarity of the Three Realms follows my soul, my body follows my god; ancestors of the Three Realms, aid me in slaying evil and punishing demons.”

He sensed powerful divine wills across the Three Realms, retreating step by step as he cast the summoning spell. When he felt that divine presence, he stamped the celestial step, inviting the god to descend upon him.

With the stomp, golden light burst above his head, illuminating the night sky. A golden divine will shot from afar like a meteor, merging into his body—then the light faded.

He opened his eyes, now shining with a gaze that pierced worlds, staring directly at the fiends.

A deep, commanding voice spoke: “Fiends? Were these ancient demons not sealed by Zhong Kui? How do they appear here?”

With that, his right hand extended. The Crimson Sun Sword, as if summoned, flew into his grasp with a shriek that split the air. With the sword in his right hand, he formed an incantation with his left, channeling soul power into the blade. The sword’s black-red body shone as if burned by fire; stepping through the air, he struck toward the fiends.

Hearing the commanding voice, the fiends opened their eyes. One looked at the other, then they split apart, slipping to either side, then simultaneously reappeared and charged at the Daoist ancestor.

One fiend lured into dreams, exuding white mist that swirled around it. The mist bewitched the soul—once the soul was enveloped, the mind would fall into dreams, and the body into sleep.

The other fiend drew the mind into illusion, its ever-expanding form spreading toward the Daoist ancestor, embodying all his regrets and unfinished business.

As the three were about to converge, the Daoist ancestor hurled his blazing sword at the dream fiend, biting his left forefinger for blood, touching it to his brow as he formed a seal with his right, channeling soul power, and reciting the Soul Shattering Curse: “Heart follows my will, soul not bound by body, body moves, soul stirs, break the soul alone—break!”

In midair, he resonated the soul energy within the sword, detonating it with the Soul Shattering Curse.

A surge of golden ripples swept away the white mist surrounding the Daoist ancestor. The dream fiend's form grew even more ethereal under the impact, while the illusion fiend’s expanding realm engulfed the ancestor, spreading in his mind and plunging him into illusion.

He remembered climbing the mountain to study the Dao at seven, achieving progress at twenty-seven, forty years spent slaying demons—his life devoted to righteousness. Memories and regrets filled the illusion, wrapping around him.

At the critical moment, the commanding voice sounded within the illusion: “This is the realm of the illusion fiend, born of its demonic body.”

The forceful voice snapped his consciousness awake, though he remained trapped in the illusion.

The divine will continued: “These fiends are ancient calamity demons, their lives as long as heaven and earth; even I cannot slay them. I have grievously wounded the dream fiend, and shall break the illusion realm. Whether you can seal them now depends on you alone.”

With that, the divine will spread from his soul sea, and another golden ripple burst from him, shattering the illusion fiend’s form.

The illusion fiend retreated and gathered nearby, while the ancestor’s soul sea returned to clarity. He fell from the air, weakened.

The dream fiend was gravely wounded, fading in and out; the illusion fiend converged toward the dream fiend. Soon they swam together like twin fish, closing their eyes.

The Daoist ancestor gasped, reflecting that even forbidden arts might not defeat such ancient demons. After much deliberation, he realized he had no other choices.

He paused to catch his breath, as the fiends began to form an eerie four-handed seal. Though not a Daoist seal, it was clearly no ordinary spell. Sensing danger, the ancestor watched the surroundings intently.

Once the seal was complete, silence fell. Soon, behind the fiends, innumerable ghosts and spirits surged forth like a tidal wave, like a flood or tsunami, rushing toward him.

He hesitated no longer, sitting cross-legged and channeling soul power, reciting the Calm Mind Curse—one of the Eight Divine Incantations.

“Calm heart and spirit, energy surges to the heavens; unmoved by change, the spirit remains tranquil; falling flowers and leaves, pure and still; heart like still water, mind clear.” When finished, his soul sea grew clear and his spirit united.

This Calm Mind Curse was the foremost of the Eight Divine Incantations, the key to entering the Divine Spell state, uniting soul and spirit. The other seven incantations could only be cast in this state.

But entering this state meant the soul would be heavily wounded, death inevitable. With the flood of spirits imminent, he had no choice. Burning away his Daoist power, he recited the Purification Spell:

“Heaven and earth are natural; foul energy disperses; divine power from all directions makes me pure; evil vanishes, Dao energy endures; swiftly, as decreed!”

At this moment, his whole body shimmered with a faint golden glow, calm and composed. As he finished, a silver-white beam shot down from the black sky, piercing through him and into the land below. The tsunami of spirits was struck by the beam, its ripples purifying them, turning them to soul crystals that vanished.

The power spread outward, boundaries unseen; even the corpses of the Daoists were purified, their remaining souls becoming white crystals, drifting away on the wind.

The fiends had no place to hide, their bodies and souls shattered by the Purification Spell, falling to the ground unable to entwine, though not destroyed.

As the spell ended, the ancestor lost consciousness, collapsing.

Within his soul sea, a drop of clarity fell, and his broken soul forced its way out of the body, riddled with wounds and holes.

Looking at the fallen fiends nearby, not yet dissipated, he endured the agony and, with unwavering resolve, formed one last seal.

With his Daoist power spent and body gone, he used his shattered soul as the medium, driving it with immense force to cast the Four Symbols God-Sealing Curse, gathering his soul bit by bit into his hands.

When the spell was complete, only a broken half of his soul remained. This sealing art required soul as the medium and soul power to drive it; when finished, heaven and earth would shift, gods sealed, demons subdued.

As the spell took effect, several silver-black bolts fell from the sky, writhing like serpents to encircle the fiends. The black lightning bound them tightly, dragging them into the triple inferno, sealing them in an instant.

The fiends had no strength to resist and soon vanished, leaving behind the marks of black lightning on the earth.

Thus, their broken souls were sealed beneath this wasteland, which would later become Chen Family Town.

After casting the Four Symbols God-Sealing Curse, the ancestor’s soul shattered, his body perished, and his spirit dispersed—for the salvation of the world and the common people.

A few days later, villagers and Daoists returned to the wasteland, confronted by a field of corpses—fellow disciples now cold and lifeless. Tears flowed uncontrollably.

Each searched for loved ones; Changyin and his senior brothers hunted for their master—the one who, at the moment of crisis, expelled them to face the demon alone.

They knew he had transcended; otherwise, he would have sought them after defeating the demon. It was not that they could not die together, but the master’s command could not be defied. This demon was beyond their power; staying would have meant certain death.

There were still villagers on the mountain who needed protection. The mountain had protective formations; perhaps villagers could survive. With no other choice, they obeyed their master and guarded the villagers.

Suddenly, Changyin cried out, “Master is here—he has transcended!”

Hearing his cry, everyone rushed over and knelt. Though they had expected it, seeing their deceased master, tears broke like a flood, impossible to control.

Changyin clung to his master, refusing to let go.

This Daoist ancestor had spent his life subduing demons and guarding the land, beloved by the villagers. Now, to save ordinary people, he sacrificed himself.

Unable to voice their gratitude, hundreds knelt three times: once for the life-saving grace, twice to send off the ancestor.

The Daoists instructed villagers to take their fellow disciples’ bodies home for burial, while they carried their master’s body into the mountain, never to be heard from again.

Years passed, generations of villagers lived by the sun, never approaching the wasteland—whether by ancestral decree or its lack of value, few set foot upon it.

Until one day, villagers saw wild rabbits and deer on the land. These beasts were not domesticated, but their pelts and antlers could be traded for food and cloth in nearby towns.

Thus, villagers began to migrate, hunting in the mountains, relying on rare animals for wealth.

They built better houses and yards, raised livestock and fowl.

As the settlement grew, it became a town. After a hundred years, it was known as Chen Family Town.