Chapter 311: Easy Capture

Just as Feng Xue was pondering the connection between the water-elemental pulse anomalies and the usual tricks used by the Japanese devils, Liu Po suddenly spoke:

"Be careful—I'm going to draw a bit out…"

"Oh!" Feng Xue heard her, but before he could even move his foot, Bai Yi grabbed him and yanked him aside; throughout the entire motion, Feng Xue didn't even register how she moved, making him realize with a sigh that capturing her before had been pure luck.

Hmm, maybe she'd even held back a bit.

Feng Xue muttered to himself, but his eyes never left Liu Po—her movements weren't graceful at all, even looked slightly mad, and paired with her already ancient, withered face, it made one instinctively feel repulsed.

She clutched a bamboo incense stick as thick as a finger, pinched the Japanese devil's jaw open, and with a single mouthful, the stick slid in like a sword-swallowing act, fully vanishing into his mouth.

Watching that palm-length stick vanish entirely inside, Feng Xue nearly thought the man's skull had been pierced clean through.

Fortunately, the life-span fluctuation above his head remained stable, and Feng Xue saw no sign of imminent decline, so he watched quietly: Liu Po rubbed the incense stick's shaft like twisting a rope, while her left hand gestured as if catching insects in midair.

Though it seemed bizarre, this was the "Seal" of the spirit-medium lineage.

In the xuan cultivation system, whether performing formal ritual ceremonies or folk incantations, all involve five elements: the person, the altar, the incantation, the steps, and the seal. The person is the ritual master; the altar is the ritual platform; the incantation is the scripture or chant spoken aloud; the steps are the footwork; and the seal, naturally, is the hand gestures.

The first three vary little between sects—differences lie only in the scriptures recited, altar design, or attire—but the incantation and the seal are unique transmissions of each lineage.

The exact same seal, in different lineages, might carry entirely different meanings.

For instance, the wild, jerking dances of shamans are essentially their "steps," while this claw-like motion of snatching at air is the spirit-medium's "seal."

As her fingertips kept snatching, Feng Xue's aura-viewing technique saw multicolored spiritual lights gathering toward her—not only the ambient votive energy, but even the Japanese devil's fragmented consciousness, weakened by the Hu Tian Bag, slowly leaked out through these motions.

As if the timing was right, Liu Po slowly pulled her fingers upward; the entire bamboo incense stick, thrust deep into his throat, emerged gradually with wisps of smoke, and with every inch drawn out, more smoke surged forth—soon, smoke poured not just from his mouth, but also his nostrils, eyes, even his ears.

"The incense tip's almost buried in his stomach and still hasn't gone out? And it doesn't look like he's using any spiritual power to protect himself! Could this really be pure technique?"

Feng Xue inwardly gasped, finally understanding what "an artisan's skill lies in his hands" meant—this craft, even if given away for free, couldn't be learned without decades of grueling practice.

No wonder magic in this world could be taught for money, yet xuan cultivators still managed to run businesses.

Just as Feng Xue was lost in thought, Liu Po's hand suddenly trembled—but it wasn't a shake; based on Xiao Lingdang's analysis of her hand muscle changes, it was clearly "a struggle."

Knowing the critical moment had arrived, Feng Xue held his breath, watching as Liu Po pulled the incense like in a tug-of-war, slowly drawing it out; over time, the smoke pouring from the Japanese devil's orifices gradually diminished, yet Liu Po's movements remained steady.

Through muscle-state analysis, Liu Po's muscles had been under constant tension for nearly half an hour—even with spiritual power aiding her, one could still feel the sheer willpower and patience.

"Pop!"

Suddenly, a sound like a wine cork being pulled rang out—the bamboo incense stick, now only three-quarters its original length, fully emerged from the Japanese devil's mouth; the missing portion hadn't broken off—it had burned away during the struggle. Now fully extracted, the tip still glowed faintly, but immediately after, a wisp of black mist surged out behind it.

Liu Po swung the incense like a dragon pearl dancer, the white smoke tracing a cloud-like trail in the air, luring the black mist to follow; with her other hand, she pulled out a bamboo tube, flicked her fingertip, and the white smoke instantly formed a swirling circle—the black mist slammed into it, merging into one mass. In that instant, the bamboo tube shot backward as if ignoring air resistance, sealing the black mist over the Japanese devil's mouth with a dull, painful-sounding thud.

The bamboo tube covered his mouth; Liu Po pushed her palm downward to clamp his jaw shut, then casually stuck the incense into the table, snatched up a yellow paper, and shoved it straight into the gap between the bamboo tube and his lips.

"Done!"

As Liu Po's youthful voice rang out, she pinched the edge of the yellow paper, plucked a red string from her hair, and tightly bound the paper to the bamboo tube. She glanced at the Japanese devil, whose mouth looked as if he'd been punched, then turned to Feng Xue and said—

"This thing's foul—freeze it!"

"Ah, oh!" Perhaps because Liu Po's entire sequence had flowed so seamlessly, Feng Xue was stunned for a moment before grasping her meaning—he pointed a finger, and an ice sword condensed in midair, striking precisely at the Shanzhong acupoint; in the blink of an eye, the Japanese devil, who had only just thawed, was frozen again into a solid block of ice.

Seeing the operation succeeded without error, Bai Yi exhaled in relief, quietly releasing the spell she'd been holding, and stepped forward two paces to ask:

"What the hell is that thing?"

"Not a ghost—a nature spirit," Liu Po replied with a solemn tone, painting symbols on the bamboo tube with cinnabar ink as she spoke:

"Ancients saw thunder splitting the clouds like a celestial dragon spitting lightning, and fell prostrate in terror; they saw hurricanes snapping giant trees like a white tiger roaring through the forest, and bowed to heaven in prayer. This is the origin of faith—the natural world deified by humans."

"That's too roundabout—can you say it plainly?" Compared to the shy Feng Xue, Bai Yi, who knew Liu Po better, clearly served as the best interpreter; hearing this, Liu Po realized explaining this to a demon was too complicated, and cut straight to the point:

"Simply put, this man's mind holds a deity born from a natural disaster. Though we'll need to check back to confirm exactly what, from the water-pulse distortion on him, it's clearly water-related…"

Here, Liu Po fell silent. Those in her line of work, who often summoned spirits and consulted the dead, typically cultivated word-spirit arts; at such moments, one must not speculate freely—hinting was enough, lest one's words become prophecy.

But Feng Xue and Bai Yi weren't fools—they understood perfectly. A water-related natural disaster in a coastal city? What else could it possibly be?

(End of Chapter)