Chapter 549

"San'er!"

Sha Lifei, seeing this, was stunned and leapt forward.

He held the Divine Fire Gun, but flames churned, obscuring his vision and hiding the clown's figure.

Afraid of injuring Lu San, he dared not fire.

All he could do was rush in for close-range rescue.

Since awakening his spiritual ability, Sha Lifei had felt he could stand on his own—but at this moment, he realized how weak he truly was.

Just like before, when he carried the talisman he'd taken from Xiong Baodong in Chang'an City, it offered no resistance against a master's spell.

And now, even with a firearm in hand, he was caught off guard.

Of course, these thoughts flashed through his mind and vanished.

As Sha Lifei drew near, he suddenly drew his swift blade, wrapped his cloak around himself, and without hesitation charged straight into the flames.

Flames surged, thick smoke rolled.

"Hahaha…"

From beside them came the clown's wild laughter.

Without a word, Sha Lifei raised his gun to fire.

But at that moment, a hand suddenly gripped his arm, and Lu San's voice rang in his ear: "Left!"

Sha Lifei understood instantly, spun the gun's muzzle, and pulled the trigger.

Boom!

A deafening blast scattered the surrounding flames.

A scream rang out as a short figure flew eight or seven meters away, rolling several times in the snow—it was the clown.

Sha Lifei felt a flicker of confusion.

Lu San's spiritual ability had been broken; he was now as deaf as a stone—how had he located the enemy's true form?

But he had no time to ask; he raised his gun again to fire.

The clown's abdomen had been pierced by shrapnel, leaving a massive wound—another shot would surely kill him outright.

But something astonishing happened.

Despite such grievous wounds, the clown acted as if unharmed; he merely cursed, rolled his body, and activated Earth Submersion Technique once more, vanishing beneath the snow.

His speed was too fast—he had no time to fire.

What kind of monster is this?!

A chill rose in Sha Lifei's heart.

His cultivation time was still short; though he possessed the "White-robed Bodhisattva Spiritual Chant Beads" that let him enter meditation easily, his understanding of spellcraft was still at the beginner stage.

Whether it was the spell just now or this strange clown, both exceeded his comprehension.

"Over there!"

Lu San suddenly pointed toward a distant thicket.

Boom!

Without hesitation, Sha Lifei fired.

Flames roared, smoke dispersed; the distant thicket and the trees behind it were instantly shattered, wood chips and snow spraying everywhere.

Among the flying debris were the clown's severed limbs.

A thick stench of rotting flesh spread, followed by a surge of black smoke that swiftly sank into darkness and vanished.

Sha Lifei and Lu San were no better off.

Residual flames clung to their bodies; their outer cloaks and hair were all charred, making them look disheveled.

Zzzz!

The sound of wings flapping came as several poison bees flew into the demonic gourd.

It turned out Lu San had controlled the poison bees to land on the clown, allowing him to sense its location through the connection.

Sensing Sha Lifei's confusion, Lu San hurriedly explained: "This isn't his true body—it's a corpse puppet, so it can't sense the hidden bees."

So that's how it is…

Sha Lifei finally understood, feeling as if his eyes had been opened.

No wonder it was so agile and immune to injury—it was a corpse puppet; the true body wasn't here at all.

He had never seen such a powerful puppetry technique before.

At the same time, dizziness surged again into his mind.

Lu San's Cloud Thunder Divine Drum had been interrupted; the enemy's music troupe's sonic illusion immediately manifested, making everyone present feel nauseous.

Wang Daoxuan, who was performing the ritual, nearly had his spell broken.

Even worse off was Wu Ba.

His physical strength was formidable, but the black-faced martial actor was even stronger, and instead of direct clashes, he moved swiftly to harass.

In the darkness, blades and axes clashed, sparks flew.

Their figures flickered, fists and kicks exchanged, the ground trembled, and snow whistled through the air.

The battle was fierce, but had reached a stalemate.

Wu Ba was also affected by the music troupe's disturbance; his mind went blank, his movements noticeably slowed.

The black-faced martial actor Xie Sanyang, of course, wouldn't miss this chance—he dropped low, rushed close to Wu Ba, and swept his blade upward.

Di Qing Fist was a technique of deliberate, powerful strikes.

But this time, he used Earth-Sweeping Blade—a move openly bold yet subtly venomous, impossible to defend against.

If this slash landed, Wu Ba would be disemboweled instantly.

But at that moment, Xie Sanyang's intuition screamed—he retracted his strike, rolled backward like a lazy donkey, and retreated five or six meters.

Boom!

Flames exploded, soil and earth sprayed outward.

It was Sha Lifei firing—the classic tactic of attacking Wei to save Zhao.

At the same time, Xie Sanyang realized the music troupe's gongs and drums had fallen silent, and angry shouts echoed from afar.

"He's possessed!"

"Stop him quickly!"

Around Wang Daoxuan, several wandering-spirit jars had been opened.

It was the Daoist summoning his changbing to attack the music troupe's spellcasters.

Wang Daoxuan's choice was perfectly timed.

If he aided Sha Lifei and Lu San, he'd be dragged into passivity.

If he aided Wu Ba, he might not overcome Xie Sanyang.

But using changbing against the music troupe instantly turned the tide.

With Sha Lifei's firearm threatening him, Xie Sanyang could only retreat.

"Cross the river first!"

Wang Daoxuan's face darkened as he glanced behind.

He had long been able to suppress the music troupe—but on the hill behind, another expert had been casting spells at him from afar, wasting precious time.

Now the enemy was hidden while he was exposed, caught off guard—he must stabilize his position and buy time to breathe.

The group moved with perfect coordination, rushing toward the river.

Wu Ba's blood-red eyes quickly faded; he hoisted Wang Daoxuan on his back and ran.

Soon, they saw a river six or seven meters wide.

Splash!

Without hesitation, they plunged into the river, braving the biting cold, sprinting forward, spraying water everywhere.

This was done, of course, to erase their scent.

After crossing the riverbank, they accelerated again, vanishing into the vast, snow-lashed mountains under the howling wind…

On the opposite bank, Xie Sanyang's feet kicked up snow as he moved like lightning, arriving behind a grove of trees.

There, behind the trees, stood three people.

An old man in blue robes, carrying a two-stringed huqin.

A woman holding a liuqin.

And a burly man beating gongs and drums.

But the burly man had kicked over his own gongs and drums, his eyes rolled back, face ashen, and he attacked the old man and woman like a madman.

These people were the ghost opera troupe's hard-won recruits—all from fringe arts, mediocre in hand-to-hand combat, skilled only in sonic attacks.

So they were only meant to assist from the sidelines.

Seeing the man possessed, Xie Sanyang, still wearing his mask, formed a hand seal, stepped the gang, circling his long blade around the man's head, then struck him with the flat of the blade.

Bang!

The man's eyes closed, and he collapsed to the ground.

The changbing possessing him was shattered, its black smoke dispersing with the stench of wild beasts.

Huh~

At the same time, fierce winds howled again around them.

It was Wang Daoxuan's other changbing launching their assault. "Hmph!"

The middle-aged woman's face darkened as she formed a hand seal and plucked the willow zither.

As the music sounded, the two streaks of black smoke swiftly dispersed.

To be chosen by the "Ghost Opera Troupe" — how could one be ordinary?

With the skill of these people, ordinary changbing were no match—unless a full army of troops was summoned.

Their earlier mishap was due to carelessness.

They hadn't expected Wang Daoxuan to use changbing to break the deadlock.

Creak~ creak~

At that moment, the sound of footsteps crunching snow came from afar.

It was the old dan performer, Chang Aba, slowly emerging from the darkness, leaning on a dragon-headed cane.

Seeing the old woman, the middle-aged woman holding the willow zither flickered with fear and quickly bowed her head: "Aba, forgive us, we are incompetent."

Though this middle-aged woman's cultivation was far below Pei Yufang's, she had once held some reputation among the demonic sects of the jianghu.

Not a single note, not a single line, not a single detail was missed!

Yet facing Chang Aba, it was as if she had seen a ghost.

"It's fine."

Chang Aba spoke calmly: "These youngsters do have some ability — I underestimated them…"

Her gaze turned cold as she turned toward the darkness on her left: "But failing to capture them was because someone refused to obey!"

Another figure stepped out of the darkness.

He dressed strangely — his attire resembled a peddler's, wearing a felt hat and the same clown makeup on his face.

It was the true form of the clown, Gouwa.

His expression was equally grim, yet he forced a smile: "How can you blame me? I lost a magical body — I gave it my all…"

"Shut up!"

The old dan performer snapped coldly: "I told you to delay them — why did you hesitate? Wasn't it because you feared damaging your puppets?"

"Now your puppets are destroyed, and you still didn't catch them!"

The original plan was for this clown, Gouwa, to strike first and hold them off — but he deliberately delayed, waiting until Xie Sanyang appeared before attacking Lu San.

That's the difference between a hair's breadth and a thousand miles.

That half-second delay gave Sha Lifei and the others time to prepare.

The clown offered an awkward smile and dared not speak again.

His several zombie puppets were mysterious, but crafting them was extremely difficult, consuming vast quantities of precious materials — naturally, he was reluctant to lose them.

"Hmph!"

The old woman glared fiercely at him; fear rose in Gouwa's heart, and he involuntarily stepped back two paces before she let out a cold snort and spoke: "I know you were all top experts from various factions — you look down on this old, faded woman."

"But now that you've joined the Ghost Opera Troupe, you're no longer scattered rogues. The troupe master is planning something big — if you can't handle even this small task, we'll all be punished!"

Meanwhile, Xie Sanyang, who had been silent beside her, suddenly spoke: "Aba, I heard Li Yan is the hardest to deal with — yet he's nowhere to be seen. He's probably not here."

"Now's the best chance to capture the others first!"

"That makes sense."

Chang Aba nodded slightly, turned to the group, and said coldly: "For Xie's sake, I'll overlook this offense — but anyone who dares to hold me back again won't be spared!"

"Yes, Aba."

Everyone bowed respectfully.

Seeing this, Chang Aba nodded, satisfied.

The Ghost Opera Troupe once dominated the jianghu with impunity because every role — sheng, dan, jing, mo, chou — and every musician was an expert.

But its weakness was obvious.

Though numerous, they were utterly outmatched by orthodox Daoist sects, repeatedly beaten down in group attacks, leaving few survivors.

This time, rebuilding, they'd learned from past mistakes — the troupe master secretly gathered many demonic experts, and every position was fiercely contested.

Even my role as old dan — there's more than one.

Like breeding poison insects, each year sees rise and fall.

Lose, and you must obey others.

But with so many, problems arise — dragons and snakes mixed together, quality uneven, none willing to submit to another.

To rise, you must first make others bow.

I can see — this clown, Gouwa, though seeming foolish and mad, hides cunning ambition; he wants to replace me. That's why I spoke out to suppress him.

After this, the team is stabilized.

Thinking of this, Chang Aba gazed at the distant mountains, formed another hand seal, and slammed her dragon-headed cane hard against the ground.

Hum!

The dragon-mouthed wheel suddenly spun.

A piercing sound instantly echoed across the wilderness.

"Stop it! Stop it!"

The blood parrot in the sky let out a shrill screech.

At the same time, small animals rushed from all directions, writhing in pain, then under the old woman's command, charged into the endless snowy mountains.

"Can't find it! Can't find it!"

After a while, the blood parrot swiftly flew back, squawking wildly.

Chang Aba frowned. "Go look again!"

"Alright, alright, stop shouting!"

The blood parrot above was impatient, but under the pressure of the spinning wheel's sound, it had no choice but to fly again into the deep mountains…

Several kilometers away, inside a cave in a gorge.

The cave entrance was covered with black cloth inscribed with talismans, and thick forests outside, with howling snow and wind, made it pitch black.

Moreover, the fat rats, Da and Er, rolled through the snow, loosening the drifts and erasing all footprints from their arrival.

After finishing, the two fat rats darted back into the cave, crawled into the leather sack Lu San had prepared, shivering from the cold.

"You've worked hard…"

Lu San patted the two fat rats, his eyes filled with worry as he looked to the side.

Inside the cave, candlelight flickered faintly; Wang Daoxuan held a yellow talisman, chanting incantations as he rubbed it over the little white fox's head.

Huh~

Suddenly, a wisp of black smoke rose and slipped into the talisman.

Wang Daoxuan immediately folded the paper, tied it with red string, and slipped it into a straw effigy he had already prepared.

The little white fox, Chuqi, began breathing evenly and fell into deep sleep.

"It's fine."

Wang Daoxuan patted Lu San's shoulder and wrote on the ground: I've absorbed the evil curse — it can now be used for counter-curse. How is it now?

Lu San shook his head. "Still can't hear."

Wang Daoxuan thought for a moment and wrote again: The spiritual power is broken because the three souls and seven spirits are injured — use spirit tea to nourish them.

Lu San's eyes lit up; he frantically rummaged through their luggage.

Treasures to repair the soul were rare — but they had one.

It was the Wushan Divine Tea gifted by the Bai family.

It came from the Tea Immortal, still in the hands of the Ye family father and son.

Finding the tea leaves, Lu San pinched a pinch, placed them in his mouth, chewed steadily, and sat cross-legged into meditation.

Seeing the effect, Sha Lifei beside him finally spoke: "Master, what do you suggest we do next?"

"Don't worry."

Wang Daoxuan looked upward: "With this, they won't find us anytime soon — we have enough time to set up."

In the crevices of the cave ceiling, the "Ruyi Treasure Pearl" emitted a cold, clear glow like moonlight, enveloping them all.

Sha Lifei frowned: "If Li Yan doesn't know we're in trouble, and those outside surround us…"

"We must strike first."

Wang Daoxuan glanced at the yellow talisman in his hand and said coldly: "When dawn breaks, we'll find an opportunity to set traps. With this, I can cast spells — they'll be the ones in a panic!"

Having been so thoroughly beaten, even the usually mild-mannered Wang Daoxuan was seething with rage.

Unconsciously, the sky slowly brightened.

Sha Lifei and the others began setting traps.

Far away, on Zhao Gong Mountain, Li Yan bade farewell to the mountain guardian and descended the narrow path…

(End of Chapter)