Volume Two: A Season of Turmoil, Twists and Turns Chapter Eighty-Six: Excessive Blood Loss, Spirit of All Beasts

Yang Chengzi was astonished that the man in the black robe had survived a direct strike from the Heavenly Fire sword, standing back up with only his hands pressed to the ground, rather than being utterly obliterated. Though the Heavenly Fire had not been completely absorbed, it was impossible for any ordinary person to block it—unless this creature was no human at all.

Behind him, a pair of eyes, casting a gaze over all living things, suddenly opened. The moment the divine consciousness entered Chen San’s body, Yang Chengzi sensed that Chen San’s soul had become far more domineering. Golden ripples shimmered from his form, something Yang Chengzi had never seen before. How could a divine consciousness carry such soul power?

Before Yang Chengzi could feel any relief, seven or eight more black-robed figures appeared behind the malevolent spirit—among them the old reprobate his master had mentioned, the very man who had forced even his master to flee, failing to slay him. Now, it seemed, the calamity of Mount Mao had truly arrived.

Seizing the moment as Dao Yi engaged the evil spirit at close quarters, Yang Chengzi turned back and tore away the talisman from the spirit tiger’s brow. Instantly, the spiritual energy surged from the talisman back into the tiger’s body. The spirit tiger, clearly enraged, struck the ground with a mighty paw and rose to its feet.

Yang Chengzi glanced at the black-robed figures. “Spirit Tiger, you must go. You are no match for these foes. Do not let your fate be wasted here.”

Yang Chengzi prepared to invoke the spirit-summoning rite. Since Dao Qing and Dao Ming’s souls were in turmoil and unable to perform the ritual, he could only sit cross-legged and begin chanting the Soul-Stabilizing Mantra.

A roar shattered the night, the spirit tiger’s cry surging across the heavens. Though Yang Chengzi had told it to leave, the spirit tiger did not vanish in a flash of light. Instead, it let out a fierce, unusual roar, its eyes burning with wrath, devoid of fear, locked on the black-robed adversaries as if they were its prey. Deep in the forest, other beasts began to howl.

“What a grand spectacle,” came an aged voice from Chen San’s mouth, “Time to stretch my limbs.”

As Dao Yi and the evil spirit fought desperately, a blood talisman, aglow with gold and infused with soul power, shot forward from behind. Chen San, now channeling an ancestor of the Daoist lineage, raced forward. The talisman had been drawn by Chen San slicing his left hand across his right palm; as blood welled up, he sketched the rune in the air, soul power clinging to it. With a thrust, he launched it toward the evil spirit.

Seeing the talisman before him, the evil spirit raised a ghostly saber to block, but the blade dispersed instantly into ghostly vapor. The talisman tore through the miasma and struck the spirit’s body like a branding iron, white smoke hissing as it bored inside.

At that instant, a black soul burst from the evil spirit’s body, leaving it limp. Deprived of its host, the black soul streaked toward a black-robed man lying on the ground, vanishing into his body.

But the Daoist ancestor within Chen San had no intention of letting him escape. In a flash, he appeared before the black-robed man, drawing another blood talisman in midair, its golden light pressing directly into the man’s body.

This time was different. Chen San’s palm slapped directly onto the black-robed figure, the force so great that the man was flung through the air, feet leaving the ground. The black soul did not reemerge; the man lay prone and did not rise again.

In a matter of moments, both the evil spirit and its host were dealt with. Two black-robed figures, who had retreated to a distance, saw their allies arrive and no longer hid but leapt forward.

The Daoist ancestor inhabiting Chen San’s body was unafraid of these petty villains, strolling forward unhurriedly. The spirit tiger leapt to Chen San’s side.

Chen San stroked the tiger’s head. Only now did the beast sense the awe-inspiring soul within Chen San.

“Let’s go.”

Chen San broke into a run, his speed so great that even the spirit tiger struggled to keep up. With another roar, the tiger bounded forward, swiping at the black-robed foes.

As Chen San darted past, he chanted, “My mind leads my soul, my soul not bound to my body. As my body moves, so moves my soul. I alone shall break their souls.”

A golden blood talisman appeared in his hand.

“Break!”

As the talisman struck a black-robed adversary, there was a thunderous boom. Soul crystals scattered, and in a breath, that man’s soul dissipated, sending him to his knees.

The other black-robed figures scattered in terror, even the silver-haired elder springing back several paces.

“Drawing blood talismans in the air—who are you?” the elder demanded, retreating even as he moved his hands, releasing a ghostly servant from a bone-white instrument.

The others produced their own ritual tools, and dozens of spirits appeared before Chen San. The spirit tiger pounced, tangling with two black-robed men.

Chen San gave a sardonic laugh. “Your ancestor,” he replied, forming hand seals and closing his eyes to sense his surroundings.

With that supernatural speed and the lethality of his airborne blood talismans, none dared approach—even with his eyes shut. Only the ghosts rushed forward.

Dozens of spirits, black as storm clouds, swarmed around him, claws bared, a surge of baleful resentment upon them.

Suddenly, a sword soul descended from above, piercing through Chen San and stabbing into the earth, righteous energy bursting forth. White ripples swept away the encircling spirits, shattering their souls.

Behind, Dao Yi held his ritual sword aloft, retreating to stand before Dao Qing and Dao Ming.

Yang Chengzi had already begun his incantation. “Spirit follows the soul’s movement, soul follows the spirit’s path. As I walk, the realms clear; as I act, my body and soul are pure. Ancestors of the Three Realms, aid me to slay demons and exorcise evil.” With a step of mystical force, golden spiritual awareness plunged into Yang Chengzi’s body.

A pair of eyes, gazing into the abyss, opened. Before him stood Chen San’s sword soul and a circle of black-robed foes.

“A lively scene. Then none of you shall leave.” With that, he charged forward, gathering speed, forming hand seals, the Supreme Purity Sword flashing ahead. He leapt high and brought the blade down on a black-robed figure grappling with the spirit tiger.

The black-robed man realized too late. Agonizing pain spread through him, and he dropped to his knees, trembling. The tiger’s massive paw smashed his head, blood pooling on the ground.

“What a sword.”

Before he even landed, he formed another seal with one hand.

“Heavenly Thunder, descend.”

Just as the previous Daoist ancestor had summoned thunder with his hands, this one called it down through the Supreme Purity Sword. A thunderous whip cracked the air, sweeping across the field. Those quick enough fell back; the slow were annihilated, four black-robed men charred and smoking on the ground.

Yang Chengzi’s spirit-summoning was unlike Chen San’s; his own consciousness remained clear, allowing him to witness everything. He saw Chen San staring motionless at his own hand.

The ancestor within Chen San examined the deep gash in his palm, the entire hand pale from blood loss after so many talismans. Shaking his head in resignation, he muttered, “Lad, your body is just too weak.” Forming the seal for a final strike, the sword soul soared heavenward, descending like a weapon of the gods, showing no mercy as it cleaved downward like a giant’s axe.

The two at the center could not evade; their souls were shattered in an instant. The silver-haired elder and another sorcerer tumbled far out of harm’s way.

The silver-haired elder glared at Chen San with gritted teeth. He knew this was no ordinary ancestor summoned by the spirit ritual and was preparing to flee.

In a heartbeat, the sword soul vanished, and Chen San collapsed, falling unconscious. The spirit tiger rushed to shield him.

With a brief respite, the remaining three men retreated together. They flung black-purple talismans skyward, forming seals with their hands.

Another thunderous whip lashed out. The Supreme Purity Sword glowed red-hot, its soul nearly spent—Yang Chengzi could feel it trembling violently, but as the thunder struck, the tremors ceased.

One black-purple talisman was incinerated on contact, drifting to the ground. The other two now leaked baleful and ghostly energy.

“Carry him away or he’ll be buried here.”

With a roar, the spirit tiger grabbed Chen San by the clothes and dragged him back.

As the ghostly and baleful energies gathered, two spectral forms materialized—one, the fiend released earlier by the silver-haired elder. Its face was half-rotten, the nose a pitted cavity, a long, snakelike tongue darting from its mouth, viscous drool dripping to the earth. A lump the size of an eyeball protruded from its brow, its hands skeletal and clawed.

As the ghost’s body solidified, its legs slowly emerged, beast-like feet with long talons anchoring it to the ground, murderous intent in its gaze.

The other specter, radiating overwhelming resentment, appeared as a beautiful yet expressionless woman. Her hair, nearly trailing the ground, and her tattered ancient robes gave no clue to her era. The character “Death” emblazoned on her chest was chillingly conspicuous.

Both ghosts landed simultaneously. The silver-haired elder and his companion swung their ritual tools, sending the phantoms hurtling toward Yang Chengzi.

Drawing the Supreme Purity Sword across his finger, the blade glowed red-hot. “Since you’re here, you shall remain.”

The aged voice rang with vigor, soul power making Yang Chengzi blindingly swift. In a blink, he was before the onrushing phantoms.

The resentful spirit’s aura surged as she conjured a great executioner’s blade, a long scar visible across her neck. The silver-haired elder’s corpse-ghost, half-human, half-beast, wreathed in vapor, its claws razor-sharp, joined the fray. Yang Chengzi faced both at once, his blade flashing like lightning, matching their ferocity though his sword soul was damaged.

The resentful spirit flickered in and out of sight, her executioner’s blade radiating murderous intent, her long hair poised to ensnare. The corpse-ghost’s speed and bloodlust bordered on madness.

The Daoist ancestor within Yang Chengzi pushed his soul power to the limit, fusing their strengths. The Supreme Purity Sword moved faster than the eye could follow, each swing scattering ghostly and baleful energies. Although not overwhelmed, even Dao Yi, watching, was anxious for his senior.

The spirit-summoning ritual had its limits; even the strongest spirit could last only as long as a single stick of incense. If the senior could not finish them before the spirit dissipated...

With Dao Qing and Dao Ming still recovering, Dao Yi drew a deep breath, preparing to perform the spirit-summoning himself. If he could restrain even one, his senior might prevail. Yet he sensed the spirit’s presence flickering, unsure if he could succeed.

Just as Dao Yi was about to close his eyes and focus, something incredible caught his eye. He doubted himself and stepped closer—his eyes had not deceived him.

Though it was night, beneath Yang Chengzi and the battling ghosts, a vast rune slowly appeared on the ground. The Daoist ancestor had been weaving talismanic power underfoot all along.

As the rune spread, Yang Chengzi leapt high, driving the Supreme Purity Sword into the rune. In midair, his hands formed seals rapidly; as he landed, he stamped the Heavenly Dipper step, golden ripples radiating outward, the rune flaring with golden light.

The two ghosts, seeing him land, leapt at him, claws and blade poised.

With a flash, a golden sword soul burst from the rune, piercing the corpse-ghost and pinning it in the air. Wounded by the sword soul, vapor poured from its body, ghostly miasma threatening to blot out the moon. Beneath the resentful spirit, the rune revealed a barrier, drawing her baleful energy into itself as if it were a black dragon drinking. She landed atop the barrier, struggling as her resentment was drained, her face and body crumbling like dust.

A chorus of wild beasts sounded from the forest behind. The spirit tiger raised its head and unleashed another furious roar, echoing to the sky.

Dao Yi jumped in alarm as the ground trembled—something was charging down the mountainside. Dao Qing opened his eyes. “It’s another mighty beast spirit, just like the spirit tiger.”

Shadows streaked overhead; massive forms plummeted from the sky. Roars resounded, and ten thousand beasts stampeded toward the black-robed foes.

Spirit bear, wolf spirits, and leopard spirits swept in with overwhelming force, surging spiritual energy pressing hard on the black-robed men. Seeing their ghosts and spirits trapped or destroyed, the silver-haired elder and his companion furrowed their brows, forming seals in a frenzy. They had barely finished when the spirit tiger, spirit bear, and countless wolf and leopard spirits charged.

Shocked, they could only flee, but lacking powerful souls, they stood no chance against the stampeding beast spirits.

With fury blazing in its eyes, the spirit tiger leapt high, its massive paw smashing down on a black-robed man, scattering his remains in a rain of shredded robes. The silver-haired elder was torn to pieces by the spirits as well, another tiger’s roar proclaiming the beast’s dominance.

The spirit beasts, all enormous like the spirit tiger, were fearsome. The spirit bear, when standing, towered nearly twice as tall as a man; a single swipe sent a black-robed figure flying dozens of paces, where wolf and leopard spirits, faster still, shredded him before he hit the ground. Three black-robed men were torn apart in an instant.

Dao Yi glanced back at Chen San, slapping his face. Chen San’s complexion was deathly pale, foam flecking his lips, unconscious. Dao Yi quickly crushed a warming, restorative pill and fed it to him, tearing a strip of cloth to bind the bloody wound on his hand.

The black-robed men were annihilated, and the mighty beast spirits did not linger, vanishing back up the slope. The spirit tiger disappeared with them. Yet the battle was not over. Though the corpse-ghost and resentful spirit were trapped, as the old man and his companion finished their seals, a change occurred.

The resentment drained from the female ghost as it was drawn into the barrier, but the remainder poured into the corpse-ghost pinned by the sword soul. Slowly, the vapor ceased, and the ghost’s figure grew faint.

“Whatever you become, none of you shall leave here today.” The Daoist ancestor began his footwork, forming seals.

With a thunderous crash, the corpse-ghost vanished, then, in an instant, reappeared before the sword soul, resentment coalescing around it. It raised the executioner’s blade and swung at Yang Chengzi.

Ghostly and baleful energies entwined like three spears, stabbing at Yang Chengzi.

He raised his gaze, soul power flaring, and with one final step, shattered stones rippled outward. Dozens of rune-inscribed chains shot forth and entwined the ghost and its blade, dragging them down. The spectral form tried to escape, but in the blink of an eye, runes spread across it.

A wave of weakness swept over Yang Chengzi as the spirit dissipated. He collapsed, gasping, crawling backward a few paces.

Dao Yi rushed over and pulled him up. The ghost struggled desperately, but the sealing spell—one of the Daoist sect’s strongest, the Earthly Seal of Eight Gates—was the same as that once used by the Great Master of Taiyuan. Though not as powerful as the Buddhist seals, once a fierce ghost or demon was caught, there was no escape. As the baleful and ghostly energies faded, the ghost was dragged down into the Third Cold Hell.

Dawn began to break. Yang Chengzi slowly stood, and Chang Yu ran from the house, throwing her arms around him. Dao Yi, momentarily stunned, didn’t know where to put his hands and awkwardly averted his gaze.

Not far off, six men hurried over. Closer inspection revealed them to be Daoists of Dragon Tiger Mountain, and Yang Chengzi finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Chang Yu supported Yang Chengzi as he saluted, and the six Daoists returned the gesture.

“Is the Sect Leader of Mount Mao present?” one asked.

Yang Chengzi stared in astonishment at the speaker, who was Lu Yiming, the chief disciple of Dragon Tiger Mountain. The other five were all skilled in the arts of Yin and Yang.

“Senior Brother Lu!” Dao Yi called out with excitement.

“Dao Yi? Didn’t you return to Mount Mao with Dao Qing and Dao Ming? Why are you here?”

“We came to deliver medicinal pills. After returning to Mount Mao, Master sent us with pills to Chen Family Town, so here we are.”

Lu Yiming’s eyes widened. “Oh? Were the pills for Master Taiyuan?”

Yang Chengzi, surprised, asked, “May I ask what brings you here, Brother?”

“You must be Senior Brother Yang Chengzi? I am Lu Yiming, disciple of Dragon Tiger Mountain. We have long heard of your reputation. By order of our Sect Leader, we have come to aid Mount Mao’s Master Taiyuan.”

Yang Chengzi grew more puzzled. “Forgive me, but how did Dragon Tiger Mountain know we were here? My master’s soul is gravely wounded and he is recuperating.”

The group’s faces darkened with concern.