Chapter 47

By the firelight, Lin Jue studied the massive rock before him—strange, yet stubbornly blocking the path, its intent unclear.

He had heard of benevolent spirits and deities who, sensing human danger, would block progress with various means; he had also heard of spirits using transformation arts to toy with people, exhausting them, wearing down their spirit until they lost courage, then striking.

He did not know which this was.

Third Shixiong glanced around on both sides.

The fox cub stared ahead.

The others all fixed their eyes on Lin Jue.

After a brief pause, Lin Jue stepped forward: “We are traveling by night to Xiao Chuan Village. Why do you block our way?”

His tone was neither fearful nor angry.

When he finished speaking, silence fell all around.

Only the crackling of torches remained.

“The village ahead is plagued by yin ghosts—we are here precisely to expel them. If you block us out of fear we will meet danger, then please leave, for we are the ones seeking the ghosts.” Lin Jue paused, then added, “We appreciate your goodwill. Tomorrow, when we pass here in daylight, we will leave incense and candles in your honor.”

There was no response. The rock remained.

A breeze even stirred.

“Huu…”

The torch flames tilted sideways.

“Master, perhaps… perhaps we should detour?” a villager ventured timidly.

Where would they detour to?

If it refused to let them pass, and they took another path, wouldn’t it simply follow?

Then they’d be even more vulnerable!

Lin Jue offered no explanation, paid no heed; instead, after another pause, he stepped forward boldly, a hint of anger rising on his face:

“If you do not move, I will take it as deliberate obstruction—intent on harming us.”

“Then you’ve met your match!”

“To be honest, we come from Fuqiu Peak of Yishan. Our mountain teaches seven arts, and my little sister studies the ‘Pulverize Stone’ technique—have you heard of it? It turns stone to dust!”

The little sister blinked in surprise, though her expression remained perfectly still.

“As for that large tree just now…”

Lin Jue paused again, raising his right hand.

In his palm, under the torchlight, gleamed a bright, sharp object—not a Daoist artifact for exorcism, nor any treasure, but a razor-sharp firewood axe.

“My elder brother is a carpenter. My room needs a bookshelf and a long bed—this tree looks like fine timber!”

His voice remained solemn, echoing through the night.

A quiet aura arose—his words sounded both like a threat and a simple truth.

Everyone looked at him, then at the rock ahead.

At that moment—

“Peng…”

The rock exploded into a cloud of black smoke, instantly merging with the darkness; only by torchlight could one see it slowly dispersing.

“Wind—come!”

As soon as the words left his lips, a clear breeze arose.

The black smoke was instantly blown away.

“Let’s go.”

Lin Jue murmured, then walked forward, even taking the torch from the villager at the front and leading the way alone.

Everyone involuntarily stared at him, following behind, yet couldn’t help stealing glances at the surrounding darkness.

For miles afterward, the spirit did not reappear.

Until the village was nearly in sight.

“Little brother, you’ve got guts,” Third Shixiong finally spoke. “I was still thinking how to make them retreat, but you spoke a few words and scared them off.”

“This is how ordinary people deal with demons and ghosts. My cultivation is still crude—I can only rely on these tricks,” Lin Jue replied honestly.

“That’s not weaker than magic. Little sister, you must learn well from your eighth Shixiong ’s tactic. When Master passes away and we leave Fuqiu Peak for other places, whether facing humans or demons, you won’t always rely on magic. Especially when you can’t tell if your opponent is good or evil, or whether conflict is truly necessary.” Third Shixiong said, “Besides, no matter how many spells you learn, their transformations are limited. Every spell has strengths and weaknesses. Unless you master them all, the best way to avoid losing a magical duel is to avoid it entirely—and the second best is to use your mind.”

“Understood!”

The little sister said seriously.

She glanced toward Lin Jue ahead.

She knew what skills her elder Shixiong possessed—merely Yanhuohufeng , wood evasion, breath expulsion—all basic, nothing profound. Just now, she too had been pondering how to handle this sudden spirit.

Especially since they knew nothing about it—even whether it was one spirit or two—and weren’t sure if their spells would even work.

Who could have imagined that her Shixiong used no spell at all—only presence and a fabricated technique she hadn’t even begun learning, “Pulverize Stone,” to drive it off?

The little sister thought deeply, silently memorizing.

“Know this: Dao is Dao, cultivation is cultivation, skill is skill. Dao is the power you cultivate; cultivation is the virtue and character you accumulate; the spells and abilities you train are your skill. There is no rule that higher Dao earns respect, nor that higher Dao guarantees victory in magical duels. Many elders deep in the mountains who cultivate Golden Core are poor at combat.”

“Spells mutually generate and counter each other—no one is always victorious. Take your ‘Pulverize Stone’—once mastered, if you meet a spirit born from stone, relying on its natural hardness, which few Daoists can break—even if its Dao is ten times yours, it cannot withstand a few blows from you.”

“Conversely, if you learn spells like ‘Summon Wind’ or ‘Paper Man,’ no matter how high your Dao, you cannot harm an ordinary stubborn rock.”

“...”

Third Shixiong spoke as he walked.

He sounded like he was teaching them.

But as they walked and talked, he pulled out his wine flask and took a sip—luckily, the wine was weak, so he treated it like a playful drink.

Soon, they neared Xiao Chuan Village.

“We’re almost there.”

A villager raised his torch, identifying the bamboo grove ahead, his voice trembling: “Beyond this bamboo grove lies the village’s graveyard mound. If you want to come by day, you can detour around the dam pond. At first, we always took that route at dusk. Now, we dare not go near the pond at dusk—we dare not even leave our homes. At least this path is better.”

Beyond this bamboo grove lies the village’s burial mound; if you want to go there during the day, you can detour around the dam pond. In the beginning, we always took this route at dusk. Now we dare not walk near the dam pond at dusk—we dare not even step outside. At least it’s better than this side.

It was a winding path. The bamboo grove was small, directly blocking the way—nothing visible in the darkness.

It was a winding path, the bamboo grove small but directly blocking the way; in the darkness, nothing could be seen.

“Two or three hundred steps.”

“Then let’s go through the bamboo first.”

Lin Jue knew his Dao was slight and his spells rudimentary—clearing these yin spirits on the road would be ideal, but he remained cautious.

So he raised his torch and walked forward slowly.

He wasn’t even leading—the fox cub walked slightly ahead of him.

He wasn’t leading, not really—his little fox walked just a step ahead of him.

The fox cub cried again, stopping and turning back to look at him.

At the same time, Lin Jue heard movement.

He cautiously took a few more steps forward—and suddenly saw over a dozen flickering lights ahead: four or five orange-yellow torches, mixed with pale green will-o’-the-wisps, intertwining to illuminate the night. Though it was summer, mist drifted through the air; the movement of the mist between the trees was clearly visible, and faint, unreal shadows swayed within it.

Carefully inching forward a few more steps, he suddenly saw a dozen flickering lights ahead: Siwu were orange-yellow torches, and some pale green will-o’-the-wisps, intertwining to illuminate the night sky. Though it was a summer evening, mist drifted through the air; the movement of the fog between the trees was clearly visible, and faint, unreal shadows swayed within it.

“They say ghosts rarely invade yang dwellings, but you’ve grown bolder—daring to enter my home! And you’re all former villagers! Pah!”

“As the saying goes, ghosts rarely intrude upon living homes—you’ve grown bold indeed, daring to come into my house! And you’re all former villagers! I spit on you!

A tiny flame flashed and vanished in the night.

Then several more followed, crisscrossing through the grove.

The drifting shadows in the mist scattered instantly—even the mist itself seemed to thin.

“If you dare come into my home again and frighten my old mother, I’ll summon my friends to dig you up three feet deep, then pile up firewood and burn this entire grove to ashes!”

His words carried both fury and boldness.

Lin Jue immediately thought of Luo Seng.

Seeing this, there was no need for further observation—he hurried forward with his torch.

In the grove stood seven or eight men—all young and strong. Three or four wore black robes, carrying swords and bows; the others looked like villagers, holding hoes and firewood axes.

Seeing Lin Jue’s group, they grew wary.

“Who are you?”

Some arrows even leveled at them.

“It’s me! Zhang Da! We’re back!” a villager shouted loudly. “We’ve brought three masters from Fuqiu Temple!”

“It’s me! Zhang Da! We’re back!” a villager shouted loudly, “We’ve brought the three true masters from Fuxiu Abbey.”

The arrows were lowered.

Two torches converged.

The leader among them was a man in his twenties, also in black, holding a bow. He had been furious moments before, but now greeted them with great courtesy.

“Uncle San, why return at night? Oh! You’ve truly brought the Fuqiu Temple masters!”

“These three masters are truly skilled. On our way here, a spirit blocked our path—the masters spoke a few words and scared it off!”

“Really? Then please, masters, examine this place quickly! This is one of our village’s haunted grave mounds—how do we expel the ghosts? They’re growing bolder, even entering homes!”

The many torches dipped low, illuminating the ground ahead.

Lin Jue looked down.

It was a grove of poplar trees.

This was a grove of poplar trees.

Sparse trees with straight trunks dotted the ground with crude burial mounds, and signs of fire could be seen everywhere. The earth had clearly sunk in patches, revealing wooden planks beneath in some places, exposed poplar roots in others, or dark, deep holes.

“Zhang Da, weren’t we supposed to wait until we invited True Ones from Yishan and Qiyun Mountain? Why are you bringing more people here to fight ghosts again?”

“What else can I do? Didn’t I say? Last night, a ghost actually came into my house, standing right outside my mother’s window and nearly scaring her to death! I was still up on the mountain when Wang Er from the village came running over at dawn—I thought I’d come home for a funeral! Luckily my mother wasn’t killed by fright, but she still hasn’t recovered. If this happened to you, could you just sit still?”

As he spoke, he stepped forward and kicked stones into the sunken pit ahead.

The villager said nothing.

Of course he could endure it—he had none of Zhang Da’s abilities, nor did he have these strong, martial-trained friends who could shout and come running to help.

Still, to fly into a rage and charge the graveyard at night to curse ghosts for his mother’s sake—that was no small courage.

No one could dare question it.

“But how did the ground sink like this?”

“This afternoon, I brought firewood here and set it ablaze, hoping to burn them clean. But as it burned, the ground collapsed. I never expected they’d still come out at night—fine, then. This time I’ve replaced the arrowheads with fire-tipped ones…”

Before he finished speaking, dark shadows suddenly rose all around.

As if enraged by his words, the black shadows they had just scattered with fire-arrows reformed, drifting around them and surging straight toward them.

“Again?”

“Good!”

Zhang Da showed not the slightest fear—he swung his fist forward.

Ghosts were insubstantial; ordinary people with blades or swords couldn’t strike them. But humans had blood qi and yang qi, and some even carried lethal qi—strong blood qi and heavy lethal qi could indeed strike and harm ghosts.

Yet before he could touch one, a burst of flame exploded.

“Boom…”

Flames erupted through the grove, lashing outward.

In a wide semicircle ahead, the ghostly shadows were nearly incinerated.

Lin Jue turned his head.

Behind them, three or four ghostly shadows had been scattered by his junior sister’s breath of yang qi—two or three gone, the remaining one was the little fox cub leaping forward, clumsily biting and wrestling with the shadow as if it could touch it, letting out low, fierce whimpers.

Handling it was easy enough.

But then, a dark shadow flickered beneath the ground.

The shadow was nearly invisible—only visible in the firelight—rising from below like a ghost, rushing straight toward Zhang Da ahead.

“Damn thing!”

Zhang Da was trained in martial arts and reacted quickly. Even as he faced the other shadows, he noticed this sudden attack and immediately moved to dodge and block, even seeking a chance to counter.

But the shadow was too fast, and he held only a bow and arrows—not a blade. Though he thrust the bow forward, a gap remained.

The shadow slipped through.

“Ahh!”

A scream rang out as the shadow fled far into the night.

When they looked again, Zhang Da’s chest bore several deep claw marks.