Chapter 140: Useful Second Brother

Thud!!!

Chu Tianshu leapt left-forward into the air, adjusting his posture mid-flight, bending his waist and knees, then kicking off the streetlamp to his left-front.

The streetlamp bent visibly.

He had previously smashed one of these poles and had a general sense of their material.

This push-off precisely exploited the limit where the pole wouldn’t break but still delivered tremendous recoil.

With a hum, the lamp straightened.

Chu Tianshu exerted force simultaneously, his figure shooting outward, directly scaling the five-story building to his right-front.

His shadow raced across the rooftops, terraces, and air-conditioner units, using each as a foothold.

Within seconds, he had drawn near the building where Mo Laosan was located.

Mo Laosan was at the southwest corner of the rooftop.

Chu Tianshu approached from the south; once close enough, Mo Laosan’s own line of sight was blocked by the building’s bulk, rendering him unable to see Chu’s figure.

It was at this moment that Mo Laosan suddenly shuddered, realizing the truth.

That man had truly heard his cry of “Big Brother” and was now deliberately hunting him down.

He, a practitioner of gu magic, could never match the speed of the man who had killed his elder brother.

“I’ll fight you to the death!!!”

The three incense sticks in Mo Laosan’s hand had not yet burned out; he suddenly shoved them into his mouth, chewing them to pulp, then pulled out numerous thumb-sized red-and-white candles from his pockets.

He gnashed wildly, and in moments, his mouth was stuffed full, frantically swallowing, wax smeared all around his lips.

“One inch of flesh, one inch of incense; three inches of marrow, three inches of light; five inches of oil-grease gleaming bright, seven inches of drilling pain, seven orifices dead…”

Mo Laosan chanted incoherently, speaking at breakneck speed; his expression twisted in agony, he tore open his shirt, jabbed a finger into his navel, and yanked outward.

Sssshhh!!!

His navel became like a flamethrower, spewing a vivid red flame.

The fire shot out over twenty centimeters before curving and flickering upward.

A figure suddenly leapt up from the rooftop’s edge.

As Chu Tianshu’s foot touched the rooftop’s edge, he sidestepped three meters, then abruptly surged forward, standing squarely at the rooftop’s center.

His movement was fluid, maximizing avoidance of ambushes the moment he landed.

Yet Mo Laosan had collapsed to the ground, making no other motion.

Only the flame from his navel changed color.

Fluctuating between red and green.

From within his body came the fluttering chirps of insects and a heavy stench of burning.

As if countless tiny insects were hidden inside him, now all entangled and burned to death by wax oil.

Chu Tianshu’s expression changed; he sensed a warm aura, filling the rooftop saturated with the stench of burning, wrapping toward him.

The night wind and air twisted and shimmered, as if countless transparent, minute shadows coalesced into a vast, shapeless monster.

These were the burned gu insects, temporarily manifesting as vengeful spirits, swarming and attacking in unison.

Such gu insect spirits could not survive long—they would disintegrate within moments.

But within that brief span, their ferocity far surpassed ordinary spirits.

By burning them with the cultist’s body oil mixed with candles, these gu insect spirits gained both yin energy and a deep infusion of yang energy.

Many techniques specifically designed to repel evil and dispel insects became useless against these spirits.

Normal martial artists relying on their own yang energy to forcibly suppress or attack spirits found such methods nearly ineffective here—and far more likely to be infiltrated.

“Lin Bing Dou Zhe!”

Chu Tianshu uttered the true words, yet did not shift into spirit-attunement mode, nor did he intend to duel slowly.

He merely used these four syllables to regulate his body and mind, then struck directly with his fist.

Bam!!

In midair, it sounded like a giant watermelon bursting, or a jar full of insects shattered by a blow.

The clustered, clawing gu insect spirits were instantly blasted with a jagged rift.

Chu Tianshu stepped forward, his gaze shifting left and right, his hands darting left and right, throwing punch after punch.

Each time the semi-transparent swarm coalesced into a sharp, attacking point, a punch struck it, leaving more and more gaps.

Even without entering spirit-attunement, with his current “Golden Stillness” martial foundation, he seemed able to see the spirits with his eyes.

And when he struck the spirits with his fists, he no longer felt the old sensation of his power passing through emptiness, most of it wasted.

Every ounce of force struck the insects directly.

Shattering and extinguishing the tiny spirits.

This feeling—so satisfying!

Recall: mental force originates in the heart and brain; though exceptionally sensitive and adaptable, with many advantages,

if one directly attacks evil spirits with mental force, the backlash rushes straight back, crushing one’s own spirit.

If one performs a spell with multiple intermediaries, even if the spell fails, the backlash is diminished through successive layers.

But in fierce combat, spellcasting always feels cumbersome.

Even with treasures like the Three-Seven Divine Sword, which channels condensed mental force to kill, there are still subtle discomforts—like grabbing fire barehanded or slashing with fire itself.

How different now—he only needed to swing his fist, and the force reached its target fully.

Every strike was solid, direct, true to essence, with not a single wasted ounce.

In just a few steps, Chu Tianshu moved swiftly, ruthlessly, and stood before Mo Laosan.

All the gu insect spirits along the way had been obliterated.

Even the foul stench of the dark art had greatly faded.

The rooftop was clean, the night wind crisp.

Mo Laosan’s face twisted in shock and resentment: “How? My ultimate technique… how could a martial artist’s fists crush these spirits so easily?”

Chu Tianshu said nothing, kicked him square in the chest.

Mo Laosan slid backward, crashing into the low wall at the rooftop’s edge, his heart and lungs ruptured, dead.

Having used the body-oil taboo technique, Mo Laosan was already doomed.

But Chu Tianshu had no intention of waiting another moment, granting him even the slightest chance.

As his head drooped, his cracked neck skin revealed a white-bone centipede, struggling to crawl out half its body before tumbling to the ground.

Chu Tianshu’s kick had also shattered this centipede.

When he had fought Wang Bo and his men, Chu Tianshu had used both strength and mental force but detected no trace of the white-bone centipede.

Yet now, with one kick, he instantly felt the insect clinging to the cervical vertebrae.

Just as when he killed Mo Lao Da, he had inadvertently ground the insect to death.

Chu Tianshu exhaled, swept his gaze across the area, and spotted another battlefield in the western district—he leapt down immediately.

As he fell fifteen meters, he reached out, gripping the wall to slow his descent; another fifteen meters down, he reached out again.

He hit the ground at high speed.

But by the time he arrived, the battle there was already ending.

The heavy golden blade spun midair and slashed down, severing the long sword.

The blade then flipped instantly, striking Mo Lao Er’s head with its flat side.

Mo Lao Er crashed to his knees, eyes glazed, unconscious.

Feng Jianhua landed, immediately plunged the golden blade into the ground, then reached out with his right hand, drawing a handful of snow through the air into his mouth.

Only then did Chu Tianshu realize the old principal’s left hand was gathering blue internal energy into a sphere—not to attack, but to contain a spirit within.

“Perfect timing.”

Feng Jianhua spotted Chu Tianshu and smiled, “Didn’t you say that if a spirit’s aura stabilized, you could trace the altar?”

Chu Tianshu nodded, then said, “But this one won’t work.”

The spirit was a fat monk draped in a cassock, reduced to only its upper half, compressed within the blue internal energy.

It seemed slower than some spirits, yet its vile form writhed continuously, its aura violently turbulent.

“Not now—but I have an idea.”

Feng Jianhua pointed at Mo Lao Er.

“This man consorts with spirits, yet cultivates the Hemai Ink-Splatter Sword Art, which holds considerable subtlety.”

“Especially after mastering the Hemai Heart Method, any attack reaching him is blunted; external perception reaching him is also blunted—he becomes undetectable.”

"So-called passivation is merely a way of saying its nature becomes stable."

Feng Jianhua grabbed another handful of snow and stuffed it into his mouth, as if parched, yet his expression was exhilarated.

“If we insert this spirit into Mo Lao Er’s body and guide it, could his internal energy slowly dissolve the spirit while stabilizing it?”

“Internal energy doesn’t strike spirit vital points like spirit-attunement spells do—if you, someone who understands, offer slight protection, perhaps we can preserve a trace of its aura for your ritual?”

Feng Jianhua had conceived this idea after his first exchange with Mo Lao Er.

He was a man who had endured hard times, always adhering to thrift, frugality, and maximum utility.

Even enemy-given items could be used—and used well.

To use the enemy himself? Even better.

“Oh?!”

Chu Tianshu’s face brightened with delight.

"That's right, this might actually work."

(End of Chapter)