Chapter 577: Re‑Entry

Nation‑stabilizing artifacts of this sort have also been sought by Western countries—since China managed to find a peerless general's weapon as a nation‑stabilizing artifact, Europe must also have long‑standing heroes, and around the same era there should be various mythic heroes, right? Like the Homeric epics? Unfortunately, the so‑called "divine weapons" passed down from those contemporaneous generals are almost all fakes, and they truly show no miraculous effect.

England has its share of ghosts, France has quite a few, and Germany is practically overrun by fierce ghosts—what else but thirty years of war plus two world wars? Central and Eastern Europe are a realm of demons and monsters, so Russia is comparatively better. Even though officials keep denying it, the people know that hostile spirits lurk everywhere… they're just helpless; since there aren't that many fierce ghosts, life can still go on.

Bai Lang's Yunshui Spear took more than two months to roughly clear the anomalous sites in the nation's major cities; smaller fourth‑ to seventh‑tier cities have fewer of these oddities, so they're being left alone for now—if the impact is minor, they'll be sealed off first. Meanwhile, the other side can't hold on any longer and keeps shouting for help; in Kyushu's Fukuoka, strange creatures have emerged from the water—fish with legs… but the eyewitness reports are unreliable.

The same phenomenon appeared at Lianyun Port on the continent, but just as the return high‑speed train passed, the Long Spear let out a fierce whistling, accompanied by a faint "Nièzhàng Gǎn'ér!" roar; the Long Spear sliced through the air, shedding a flash of light that turned the metal‑footed sea creature that had crawled ashore back into a wisp of black smoke—those beings were originally formed from such a miasma black smoke… only this time the smoky stench was completely swept away, and the sharp killing aura made the sea churn as if a pot were boiling for half a day.

Hong Kong and Kowloon and Wan Chai finally decided to leave them alone for now; both are troublemakers, but after the Long Spear made a run through Guangzhou–Shenzhen, the situation in Hong Kong and Kowloon improved a bit, and some fierce ghosts stopped moving, probably fearing being cut down—by the way, the White Emperor Temple has suddenly resumed construction; pity that Bai Lang's title isn't as revered as the later Lord Guan, and now he's become an emperor…

And Wan Chai is even more aggressive, directly expanding the Han Zhao Lie Temple and reshaping the golden statues…

Sending the Yunshui Spear abroad? That doesn't seem like a question worth pondering—how does the death of countless "books" relate to the continent? This can't be called a humanitarian disaster; it's more like a natural calamity. Although the cause of these fierce ghosts is still unknown, it now looks like this phenomenon will have to coexist with humanity for a while. Fierce ghosts grow; the more lives they claim, the stronger they become, so from that angle, they can't simply be ignored…

So it's still necessary, worth dispatching an entire unit to escort—many people died at the U. S. bases in Yokosuka and Dong Jing, yet none are listed as KIA; they're all considered missing. A number of U. S. families have also vanished, and their fleet and weapons are helpless—after all, even aircraft carriers have turned into ghost ships drifting at sea. The news is being tightly suppressed, but the countries across the ocean are already in a frenzy.

It's just that relations are poor, the hook was cut long ago; go scramble on your own. With the Pacific Ocean in between, your fierce ghosts can't wreak havoc here for now; if they ever do cross over—later discussion.

"Whoa, it's this world again." A towering man stood on the rooftop, looking down at the bustling city. "How many years have passed since the last visit… Fortunately this time I'm here thanks to the Thief's Assigned Army, so I don't need to wait ten years to get back with Yu Yu. You see, that Thief's Assigned Army, the moment they meet Bandit Bald they start fighting, and it blew me here with the after‑effects."

Bai Lang vented about his cheap master and the golden‑glowing muscular demon monk, but he only dared to complain across worlds; otherwise, in front of those two—at least cave‑heaven big‑shots, possibly even beings above this place—Bai Lang was sure his modest inner‑scene couldn't even swallow them whole. "A guy who dares to punch the Buddha… such a modest cave‑heaven can't possibly manage," he muttered.

"Huh? Why does this world feel leaky? Last time I came I could at least stir up battle‑Qi." Bai Lang sensed the ambient vital energy here was considerably thinner, and as Divine Sense unfurled, "Sure enough, only these weakest ghosts can still move on this scant Qi—pitiful. If a blood‑Qi‑rich soldier lets out a shout, these ghosts will have their souls ripped apart." Bai Lang sighed, feeling rather sympathetic toward those frail ghosts.

Anyway, all his martial arts reside within himself, so the thin celestial Qi barely affects him—just a wave blast that can reach a hundred miles. Triggering a heavenly anomaly isn't hard; he just can't amplify his power using this momentum. Inner‑scene masters have long been able to casually replace the surroundings with their own "world," and Bai Lang's so‑called world is nothing but a raging, clamorous wind, a Bifeng that tears the earth and sky, blowing everything into ash.

Within the wind roams the White Tiger; the White Tiger controls everything—that's the state when Bai Lang projects his inner scene outward.

"Whoa, after the last fake‑death escape, even Kong Ming and his crew still couldn't restore the Han house? Useless guys! Hey, human strength sometimes runs out; perhaps the Han family's fate truly has run its course." Regardless, the Former Han, Later Han and even the Jih Han have already spanned five hundred years, and no subsequent unified dynasty has enjoyed such longevity. Bai Lang knows that if the late‑Han Three Kingdoms had no other factors, Shu Han's situation would be worse and its dynasty would last only about forty‑odd years; now Kong Ming living to sixty is already far better than his historical fifty‑four.

"Fine, never mind him; since I can come and see my own tomb, that's not bad." Bai Lang chuckled, but then glanced at his own clothes and appearance—"Going out a hundred meters like this would get me stopped by the police for ID checks at least eight times!" He needs new clothes, but unfortunately Bai Lang isn't a spell‑caster; his martial‑fist style can persist for centuries and even reshape a region's heavens and terrain, yet he can't conjure a set of clothes out of thin air.

And his hair and beard need a trim, otherwise he'd look like a wanted man on the streets. Handsome as he is, this is a sissy era… Bai Lang's decision is made: he'll break into an Empty Gate, hit a mall to borrow some clothes, even if it means leaving a bit of yellow‑white stuff behind. "I recall there should be some family weapon in this tomb, but I forgot to take it." Bai Lang strode down from the rooftop, sliding toward what looked like a mall.

After business closes, he'll break into the Empty Gate, get a proper set of clothes and maybe make some cash—he has no identity and no money, so he has to hustle for cash. "Just wish electronic payments weren't so advanced; cash hasn't vanished yet…" Bai Lang sighed.