Chapter 93: Ghost Hitting the Wall

The tiger claw swipe caught nothing. Bai Lang had already risen to his feet, his hands crossed in readiness. 'Huh, where are the others?' Bai Lang suddenly realized he couldn't hear anyone else breathing; this was his first encounter with a ghost, so he thought, 'Maybe it's just some highly skilled martial artist playing tricks.'

Bai Lang thought to himself, convincing himself that it was a lightness-skilled expert causing trouble—'Self-deception might help a bit, but I recall the White Tiger can devour ghosts and souls?' He stopped worrying about others and fully unleashed his White Tiger Killing Aura. The aftermath of killing hundreds, that ferocious killing intent erupted, and Bai Lang also gathered his internal force near his eyes.

Although he couldn't see anything in the pitch‑black night, Bai Lang immediately leapt to the sturdy door and window panels and smashed a few boards with a punch—relying on his Golden Bell Shield, he wasn't afraid the opponent could break his defense. Moonlight streamed in through the broken boards, and the first thing Bai Lang saw was a shadow flickering past.

The sound of the smashed boards was extremely loud in the midnight hour, yet Bai Lang had been standing in the moonlight for a while and still no waiter appeared. 'It's a bit cold…' Bai Lang stood in the moonlight, goosebumps rising on his skin.

He lifted his head to look at the night sky through the broken boards; the moon was a pale bluish white. 'Strange—why is the temperature so low?' His breath turned white, though the weather shouldn't be this cold. Bai Lang thought staying in the room was probably not a good choice, for he saw that the place where his companions had been was now empty……

Having made up his mind, Bai Lang smashed the door before him and leapt onto the street. Seeing no one around, he thought, 'In ancient times a curfew was enforced, so empty streets at night are normal—but this feeling is just awful.' He also felt something was off: 'I actually get the sense that nobody's left here at all……'

He waited on the street a moment, then crossed over and smashed the door with a crash. Inside, though pitch black, moonlight illuminated it, and Bai Lang likewise found no one. 'This should be an ordinary dwelling, yet upon entering there's nobody.' He rushed into the house in the courtyard; it was truly empty—though the bedding was spread out, no one was sleeping.

The tiger-killing aura brought by slaughtering multitudes, supported by Bai Lang's slowly circulating internal force in his Golden Bell Shield, caused a vague tiger‑like figure standing upright to appear on his body. At that instant, his eyes coincided with the eyes of the tiger‑form phantom, and he finally saw something……

It drifted like fluff, and upon closer inspection those threads seemed to form individual shapes. 'What is this? A ghost?' Bai Lang swiped at the shape with a claw; this strike of his Black Tiger Fist, bolstered by internal force, felt noticeably stronger than before.

His strike carried a vicious wind, and the force detached from his body, taking the shape of a huge tiger's paw. 'The force condenses and can extend about three feet from the body; though the internal force cycles smoothly and can be maintained, it is still somewhat inferior to actual contact, yet its power is not low.' This claw could easily smash a human body, its power comparable to his previous punches and kicks.

Sure enough, with internal force adding to the qi, and with vigorous blood‑qi martial arts effective against these 'ghosts,' Bai Lang tore apart a pile of them with ease—but nothing happened, and the situation before him remained unchanged. 'Strange?' He stopped his hands and began looking around.

After thinking for a while, Bai Lang decided to leave and have a look, but when he employed his lightness skill he discovered the true anomaly—no matter which direction he ran, he ended up merely running back and forth in front of, behind, to the left and right of the inn, and before the gate of the courtyard across from it.

This situation, too, I had heard of; it was formerly called 'ghost hitting the wall.' Ghost hitting the wall isn't dangerous, but what ghost is causing all this? Bai Lang pondered left and right, then decided to enter the inn first, saying, 'The footsteps are coming from inside the inn; they'll probably end up there as well.'

Bai Lang swiftly smashed all the door and window panels, then rushed inside. As expected, the inn's first floor was empty; the resting places of the waiter and the proprietor likewise had bedding laid out but were vacant, and after charging to the second floor every guest room was completely empty.

As he retreated from the guest room and was about to go downstairs, he exclaimed, 'Hey, didn't I just smash all those door and window panels? Why is it pitch black down there, with no moonlight?' Startled, he didn't go down the stairs but leapt from the second‑floor corridor straight outside the inn. From that spot, the smashed doors and windows were still broken, and the moonlight illuminated the interior of the first floor just as before.

He grew more and more bewildered.

What good is this? Aside from making Bai Lang a bit confused, it does no harm at all. If you want to devour his essence and energy, do whatever you like—at least show something; what's the use of hiding and playing ghost tricks? Bai Lang re‑entered the first floor, this time not rushing to find anything; he simply sat down and waited, even closing his eyes to cultivate his internal force. No matter what the other side does, Bai Lang prepares to meet change with constancy.

While continuing his cultivation, Bai Lang noticed an anomaly. Within his meridians and body there was a special chill; where it passed, his internal force grew slightly sluggish, and it seemed vitality was being devoured. The chilled spots had skin that felt a bit dry and withered, and the muscles appeared to atrophy……

Not long after, Bai Lang found that ten percent of his internal force was not circulating properly, and his bodily feeling was off. 'Perhaps that's it? Hah!' He exhaled sharply, rose to his feet, kicked aside the surrounding tables and chairs, and began throwing punches in the cleared space.

His martial art originally followed an external‑to‑internal path: when punching, he circulated blood and qi to move his internal force, and while training his tendons and bones he also cultivated internal force. Bai Lang burned his blood and qi, driving his internal force to oppose the yin‑cold intrusion into his body.

This was not the Black Tiger Fist but Bai Lang's own cultivated Thirty‑Two Route Long Fist; as his proficiency in the Golden Bell Shield deepened, the fist's trajectory changed considerably. This fist technique, specially devised for training his Golden Bell Shield, is Bai Lang's forte—probably also a benefit from his War God's plug, though he is unaware of it.

The shadow of a golden bell gradually appeared outside Bai Lang's body; the cold within him had been dispelled somewhat, but it remained firmly lodged in his meridians, still siphoning his internal force and vitality to grow on its own. 'Pah!' Bai Lang snorted, then ran his Golden Bell Shield's internal force at full power, filling his meridians with its energy to drive out that cold.

But he still couldn't dispel it; just then Bai Lang had a flash of insight! He thrust his palms together, slamming them hard against his chest. 'Boom……' A deep, resonant bell rang out across the night‑shrouded city.