Chapter 48: A Small Test of Skill

"Are you sure this is a malevolent ghost? Don't mistake the wrong person and end up embarrassed," Gu Zhao asked.

"Definitely malevolent!" Bai Ke patted his chest in assurance.

Gu Zhao looked curious. "Then why doesn't he go into town? Why hide in this abandoned village?"

"Because he's half a corpse-ghost—half his lingering soul is trapped inside his corpse and can't escape. He can't stray far from the village," Bai Ke murmured, resting his chin on Xiu Niang's shoulder. "Like a chain tied around his neck—he can't run far."

Bai Ke added, "Of course, there's an advantage: if you can't completely destroy his corpse, you can't kill him."

"Where's his corpse, then?" Gu Zhao asked.

"I don't know," Bai Ke shook his head. "But I saw him kill two lost travelers, draining their vital energy completely—he's definitely not a good person… or a good ghost."

Daoist Yan Song narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

Gu Zhao asked, "Ghosts usually consume Qi—why does he suck in blood?"

"Generally, ghosts consume spiritual essence and Qi; spirits devour essence and blood. But there are exceptions," Bai Ke flicked his tail. "Some spirits consume spiritual essence too—like the painting spirit you met in Xiuyue County. Some powerful ghosts consume blood too—like…"

"Corpse-ghost?" Gu Zhao thought. "Does his corpse need living blood?"

"His lingering soul is bound to his corpse. His body is stiff and immobile, so he can't leave here. That's why he consumes blood—to refine the corpse. If he can revive it, he'll be free to roam," Daoist Yan Song said.

Bai Ke nodded. "Something like that."

As they spoke, the three men and the fox stood outside the abandoned village.

Looking around, the surrounding trees grew in strange shapes; the path they'd taken was already buried under wild grass. Had it not been slightly lower than the surrounding shrubs, they might never have found it.

It was high noon, yet mist rose thickly through the woods. Sunlight filtered through the dense fog, casting only faint glimmers that illuminated the area but brought no warmth.

"This abandoned village clearly feels wrong. How did those lost people dare walk in?" Gu Zhao could sense the ominous aura emanating from within.

Bai Ke sighed. "They got lost, caught in heavy rain—what else could they do but take shelter in these ruined huts?"

Gu Zhao glanced at Bai Ke. "Did you try to stop them?"

Bai Ke didn't deny it. "But they ran faster."

The three fell silent. In the wild mountains, under unseeing skies, with white shadows flickering and a fox whispering—any normal person would be terrified.

"Are you sure this ghost isn't too powerful?" Gu Zhao asked again.

This was the first time he'd actively sought out trouble from another being. Honestly, he wasn't used to it—if he lost again, he'd look even more foolish.

"Relax. Even if I wanted you to die, I wouldn't let Xiu Niang walk into danger," Bai Ke gently brushed a strand of hair from Xiu Niang's ear with his tail. "I've faced him twice. As long as we leave the village, he won't follow."

"Then let's go!" Gu Zhao waved his hand.

The three men and the fox stepped into the village.

The village had once been surrounded by a dirt wall, now collapsed and scattered. But the wooden gate at the entrance, bearing a plaque, remained relatively intact. The three black-painted characters "Liu Family Village" flickered faintly through the mist, radiating menace and strangeness.

Inside the village, silence reigned.

The thin mist didn't impair vision much. Though abandoned, the houses remained intact—only half-open doors, torn window paper, overgrown weeds, and faint psychic ripples drifting through the air revealed the village's true state.

"Their flesh and blood were drained; their souls devoured. With no sunlight for years, only lingering resentment remains," Bai Ke murmured.

Xiu Niang shivered. "Such deep resentment… how many people did he kill?"

Bai Ke glanced around. Everyone fell silent.

"The mist is thickening," Daoist Yan Song suddenly said.

As they ventured deeper into the abandoned village, the trees thinned, yet the sunlight above didn't increase at all—it was blocked by a layer of mist, as if it could never reach the village.

"Why hasn't he shown himself yet?" Gu Zhao asked.

They hadn't released their spiritual senses, hoping to lure the ghost into revealing himself. According to Bai Ke, everyone who entered the village was killed by the ghost.

Bai Ke yawned. "Who knows? Maybe he knows no one comes here during the day, so he sleeps all day?"

Xiu Niang asked, "Do ghosts even sleep?"

"People and spirits sleep—ghosts sleep too!" Bai Ke said as if it were obvious. "Don't ghosts hunt at night and hide by day? That proves they sleep during daylight."

Gu Zhao and Daoist Yan Song exchanged glances.

It sounded odd, but on modern Blue Star, there were no ghosts. They had no expertise like Bai Ke's—they truly didn't know if ghosts needed sleep.

So much knowledge still needed filling!

"Whoosh—"

A sinister wind howled, rattling the dead branches of ancient trees. Suddenly, a chilling ghostly aura surged from nearby.

"Over there?"

"Why doesn't he come closer? Hasn't he noticed us?"

"That spot is the village's central axis—not a meeting hall, then a clan ancestral shrine."

"Let's go see."

The three men and the fox moved quietly toward it. As they drew nearer, the thin mist no longer obscured their view: beneath an ancient locust tree stood a clearly dilapidated large house, its carved eaves and engraved pillars unmistakably an ancestral shrine.

The shrine's doors were tightly shut; not a blade of grass grew before them.

"That ghostly aura just now came from inside the shrine," Bai Ke said.

"He's inside the shrine?" Xiu Niang whispered, uneasy.

"Is he meditating and didn't notice us?" Daoist Yan Song asked.

"Enough talk. Let's go!" Gu Zhao rubbed his hands, stepped forward, and shoved open the shrine's doors.

"Creeeak—"

The doors swung open instantly. Four pairs of eyes stared into the shrine—and saw two pairs of eyes.

A young man in a white robe, refined in appearance but with a bluish face and sinister eyes, stood on the left.

An elderly man in brocade robes, like a wealthy landowner, stood on the right, subtly facing off against the youth.

Six pairs of eyes locked in silent stare.

Gu Zhao turned to Bai Ke. "Didn't you say there was only one ghost in the village?"

The elderly man in brocade narrowed his eyes as well, looking cautiously at the white-robed figure. "Who are they?"

The white-robed figure stood stunned for a moment; a faint blush even appeared on his already pale and greenish face.

In the next instant, the white-robed figure's eyes sharpened. He extended his right hand and grasped at the empty air. The mist drifting around seemed to transform into prison bars and iron chains, pressing down on Gu Zhao and the others.

Feeling the pulse of the Five Thunder Talisman in his sea of consciousness, Gu Zhao could not help but silently praise it; not a single word of nonsense this time.

In that case...

"Act!" Gu Zhao shouted.

The embroiderer struck first. Raising her hand, she summoned the Sky Fox Nail, which flew out and darted back and forth through the mist. Yet, aside from the magic power it carried punching small holes in the mist, it could hardly resist the mist's encirclement.

The white-robed figure snorted coldly and increased his force. Everyone felt that, besides the crushing pressure, the mist now carried a subtle suction, as if it intended to suck the blood from their bodies.

"Young Master!" The embroiderer, powerless, could only call for help.

"This old Daoist will give it a try." Daoist Yan Song chuckled, took two steps forward, and swept his sleeve before his face.

In the next instant, Daoist Yan Song had changed his face. This new face had a blue base, black lines, gold outlines, and white accents, looking both majestic and solemn, yet somewhat eerie and terrifying.

With this transformation, even the white-robed figure, who was originally a ghostly entity, was startled. "You are..."

"Of course, Daoists from Green Chengshan must change their faces before a fight. Have you seen 'The Smiling, Proud Wanderer'?"

Daoist Yan Song shook his head and swayed, formed the Laojun Seal before his chest, took a deep breath, then pursed his lips into a whistle and blew gently.

"Shoo—"

A sharp whistling sound suddenly rose. A violent wind blew out from Daoist Yan Song's mouth. He merely shook his head, and this violent wind scattered all the surrounding mist.