Chapter 68: Stop Complimenting Me!

To be fair, the xuan cultivators of Lu Cheng County were indeed reliable; from Mo Ying’s plea for help to their arrival, no more than ten minutes had passed, and over a dozen xuan cultivators—including the priest and Master Yijing—had rushed over en masse. But when they arrived, all they saw was the charred, headless corpse, the ruined two-story villa, and the still clearly perceptible traces of thunder magic.

“Such powerful thunder magic!” The Daoist priest, clad in his robes and with a relatively youthful face, sniffed the ozone’s acrid stench and immediately raised an eyebrow. There were only a handful of xuan cultivators in Lu Cheng County who had entered the Dao, and he naturally knew all four on night watch: a paper-cutter, two shaman-priests, and his own disciple—none of whom could possibly possess such mastery of thunder magic.

Thinking this, his gaze immediately locked onto the young man with an awkward expression.

He had heard of this youth—apparently a wandering scholar who had entered the county just the day before, and who had even been suspected as a prime suspect upon rumors of zombies infiltrating the city.

But seeing the lingering thunder aura still clinging to his body, along with the elegant female ghost beside him and the woman dressed in a Western maid’s uniform…

“Hss!”

The Daoist, who had just been about to remark that rich people had such fancy tastes, suddenly sucked in a sharp breath—what was that supposed to be a maid? That was a shape-shifting spirit demon!

Though her aura was not strong, even a spirit demon who had achieved shape-shifting through oral sealing must have cultivated for at least a hundred years to awaken its spirit and learn the method. What was even more remarkable was the purity of her Yin energy—simply standing beneath the moonlight, tiny fragments of lunar radiance spontaneously flowed into her body.

Such cultivation could not possibly be weak. Her current faint aura must be due to heavy depletion from the prior battle.

He realized that such a pure spirit demon must have been guided since childhood by a high-level master to avoid even a trace of impurity. Moreover, the ghost beside her also had a solid, refined ghostly form, with firm attachment but no resentment or blood miasma—only possible through a century of orthodox veneration.

“She’s surely a direct disciple cultivated by some prestigious sect! And one accompanied by a guardian! Such mastery of thunder magic… could she be from the Shenxiao Sect, whose lineage vanished since the Yuanming era?”

Master Chen made his judgment, yet his feet still moved to join the other cultivators gathering near the scene.

But not everyone recognized true power. A man clad in garish, multicolored robes, upon seeing the fatal wound on the zombie’s neck, grinned and said:

“Brother Zhang, your spirit-invoking incantation has grown even more refined!”

“No, no, no!” The xuan cultivator called Brother Zhang turned pale, terrified of stealing the spotlight from this true master, and hurriedly replied:

“When we arrived, the mutated soul-binding zombie puppet was already severely wounded. All I did was deliver the final sword strike—I dare not claim any credit!”

Upon hearing this, the other three cultivators nodded vigorously. Master Chen, however, was startled—he leapt forward, pushing through the crowd to reach the corpse, and asked:

“Mutated soul-binding zombie puppet? Yue Shui! Tell me everything!”

The xuan cultivator who had been too frightened to react promptly hurried over and vividly recounted how the soul-binding zombie puppet had withstood Feng Xue’s mighty Five Thunder Orthodoxy, how it had effortlessly torn apart the paper-cutter’s paper effigies, and how it had finally been beheaded by a sword strike from the Zhang shaman-priest, who had invoked Master Lü.

Feng Xue, listening nearby, wanted nothing more than to crawl into a crack in the ground. But the arriving cultivators all nodded in agreement—the soul-binding zombie puppet was notoriously sinister. Zombies had corporeal Po but no soul; bound ghosts had soul but no corporeal Po . When combined, they formed a peculiar complementary duality. If they absorbed enough blood and fully merged, they became the legendary zombie demon—impervious to the Five Elements, beyond Yin and Yang, inhaling and exhaling miasmic desires and dark miasma, self-contained. Only a high-ranking elder from the Underworld’s Ghost King level could possibly suppress such a creature.

But…

“The corpse is fine—just a century-old zombie. The problem must lie with the bound ghost… That makes sense. Normally, a soul-binding zombie puppet uses a fresh ghost to suppress an ancient tomb, with the zombie as the main force and the ghost as auxiliary. But if reversed—if an ancient resentful ghost was already sealed underground, and a normal corpse buried there later turned into a zombie, that’s understandable. Too bad—even this zombie is from the previous dynasty; tracing the ghost’s origin is impossible.”

Several senior cultivators gathered around the utterly ordinary century-old corpse, offering their opinions. Feng Xue desperately wanted to say: this was just an ordinary zombie plus a fierce ghost, and his thunder magic was all show. But before he could speak, everyone already wore the expression: “Master, you’re truly incredible [BEEP]—such powerful thunder magic, we felt it from miles away.” Feng Xue was thoroughly embarrassed.

Fortunately, Master Yijing had keen insight. Seeing Feng Xue’s discomfort, he thought the young man was just shy, and said:

“Regardless, the soul-binding zombie puppet has been slain. We can finally breathe easy. Let’s first secure the corpse, then report the incident and details to the County Magistrate tomorrow. It’s late now—Master Feng has just endured a great battle and needs rest. Let’s return!”

“Ah, yes, yes! Master Feng hasn’t even entered the Dao—using such a technique must have been exhausting! We shouldn’t disturb his rest!” As if awakened by this remark, many others suddenly realized, and began respectfully securing the remains and restoring the land’s qi—even the isolated priests pulled out holy water and began sprinkling it.

Feng Xue finally exhaled in relief. He bowed to the cultivators and prepared to return to his newly rented villa, which had suffered such a disaster within days. Fortunately, he wasn’t short on money—he thought he might as well pay the toothpick in full and buy it outright.

Some had noticed the state of Feng Xue’s residence and immediately invited him to stay elsewhere. But Feng Xue knew his own limits—he was half-illiterate in xuan cultivation. One wrong word and he’d be exposed.

Even if everyone was polite now, who knew what schemes might arise if his deception was revealed?

After Feng Xue declined, the inviter didn’t press further, assuming the master didn’t wish to owe others karmic debts. Soon, the cultivators cleared the battlefield and dispersed one by one, leaving only the original night patrolmen to resume their posts. Yes, though the zombie puppet had been slain, no one dared confirm this was the only supernatural entity—they’d need to reset the town’s protective talismans with the sun’s power tomorrow to ensure true safety.

…

After his disciple finished his shift, Master Chen grabbed him and hurried toward his temple, whispering:

“Yue Shui, did you see that great demon in action?”

“Great demon?” Hearing the term, Yue Shui’s face paled: “Master, you must be mistaken. She’s a shape-shifting spirit demon, but her cultivation feels like only three or four years!”

“Idiot!” Master Chen slapped the back of his disciple’s head, rolling his eyes: “If she had thirty or forty years of cultivation, I’d assume she’d swallowed the Emperor’s Dew. But three or four years? Could you have run around town at three or four years old?”

“… ” Yue Shui wanted to say, “When I was three or four, you already had me washing rice, boiling porridge, and fetching soy sauce,” but after being slapped, he stayed Qingxing and merely shook his head.

Master Chen nodded approvingly: “She draws lunar radiance simply by standing beneath the moon—clearly she’s reached an advanced stage in cultivating the Yin Body. Such a great demon would exert immense suppression over ghostly entities. Combined with that terrifying thunder magic, even if the ghost was extraordinary, it shouldn’t have resisted!”

“But when we saw her earlier, the spirit… uh, great demon was already injured—she was carried out by Master Feng…” “Ah! Master, why are you hitting me again?!”

“Do you call him ‘Master’? Disrespectful! From now on, address him as Master Feng—do you understand?” Master Chen glared at his disciple, then frowned: “Only a great demon could injure her… A century-old zombie couldn’t do it. Could the ghost be a cultivator? Of course—if it’s a demonic cultivator’s residual soul, that could explain why thunder magic and spirit aura failed to suppress it. But even if wounded, it shouldn’t have been beheaded by a single sword strike… This is bad!”

Master Chen’s face darkened: “If it’s a demonic cultivator’s residual soul, it likely used a substitution technique—no good. Yue Shui, go fetch the Earthly Fiend Needles!”

But when we saw him before, that spirit... ah, the great demon was already injured, and it was Master Feng who carried him out... Oh! Master, why are you hitting me again?

“I’m going to find that stinking monk! What are you staring at? Do you want your master to die alone?”

I wanted to say earlier, but the schedule was full—I had to delay it two chapters. Mainly about firearms.

Please, don’t get your ideas about black markets from some cheap pulp novels!

Whether modern or ancient, entering a black market has thresholds—it’s not like you just wander down an alley and find one. Forget the channels—even if you know where one is, they likely won’t deal with you. Without a referral, no one sells firearms. Not just because you might be a snitch, but if you’re an idiot who botches the job and the cops come sniffing, you’re done for.

In modern times, he’s just a stupid college kid who played mahjong for a few days and thinks he can just stroll into a black market. Where’s his confidence he won’t get double-crossed?

After reincarnation, it’s even more absurd. He just had a conflict with a gang, and he’s already forgotten? Buy a gun? Laughable. You’ve been in the county for days—you dare buy? Who dares sell? You shoot the magistrate or a wealthy landlord, steal the money, run off—then they trace it back. Will the black market still operate?

The underworld operates on boundaries. Weapons are for deterrence. Without connections, no one will sell you a gun—and no one dares.

“Be cautious”? Buying a gun is the ultimate act of recklessness!

That’s not a firestick—it’s a killing tool. If you don’t buy, no one notices you. But if you hint you want one, everyone will watch you—do you understand?

In modern times, he was just a stupid college student—who played mahjong for a few days and thought he could just stroll into the black market? Where did he get the confidence he wouldn’t get swindled?

After crossing over, it got even more absurd—he’d just had a clash with a gang, and already forgot? Buy a gun? Laughable. You’ve been in town for barely a few days—dare you buy it? Who’d dare sell it to you? If you went and shot the county magistrate and the wealthy gentry dead, stole the money, and ran, do you think the black market could keep operating once they traced it back?

In the martial world, one must know one’s place; weapons are for deterrence. Without connections, no one will—nor dare—sell you a firearm!

Careful? Selling guns is itself the biggest lack of caution!

That’s not a firestick—it’s a killing tool! If you don’t buy one, no one notices you. But if you so much as hint you want to buy a weapon, everyone will be watching you. Do you understand?





(End of Chapter)