Chapter 74: The Medium

Still got this trick!

Li Yan kept his divine perception active and naturally noticed the threat.

He hadn’t expected that the puppet could also launch physical attacks, besides its soul-summoning sorcery.

He didn’t know this was precisely what made puppetry so terrifying.

Intangible entities like yin spirits and yin soldiers primarily attack the soul; as long as one has targeted defenses or takes shelter in a temple with strong incense worship, they can avoid them.

In such situations, yin spirits and malevolent entities can only seek out physical bodies.

Just like when he dealt with the Cold Altar’s fierce soldiers—he could hide at home, and the entity would come straight to his door, but if he hid in the Earth God’s shrine, the enemy could only possess a vicious wolf to attack.

Puppetry was precisely designed to make up for this weakness.

Chen Fakui wanted to perform a dark ritual and knew that the authority to mobilize troops would surely be seized by his sect; the only ones he could command were the few lower-altar soldiers he had raised himself.

Combined with puppetry, this could compensate for many shortcomings.

Though he didn’t understand the mechanics, Li Yan felt no fear facing this kind of physical assault.

He sidestepped, halted abruptly to dodge the attack, then rolled into a lazy dragon flip and swept his Guanshan knife upward.

Whoosh!

The old-man wooden puppet was instantly split in two.

Its scattered components fell to the ground, and the hidden yin spirits within were shredded by the demonic aura of the Three-Cornered Demon-Sealing Coins, dissolving into mist.

Before he even landed, Li Yan rolled sideways, tucking his head.

Hssss~

A column of blazing fire surged down from above.

It was the “Jing” puppet attacking.

“Jing” puppets are commonly called painted faces: the great painted face portrays loyal generals, the second painted face depicts rough and reckless characters, and the martial painted face specializes in combat roles.

This “Jing” puppet was dressed as a warrior, with five command flags stuck on its back; it suddenly opened its mouth and spat out a stream of burning oil.

Of course, this wasn’t sorcery—it had a leather pouch hidden inside its abdomen and a flint in its mouth; the yin spirit manipulated the mechanism to release it.

Once the pouch was emptied and the oil spent, it could no longer be discharged.

But this “Jing” puppet didn’t stop attacking—it crouched on the tree trunk, waving its arms, and flung its five small command flags like hidden weapons.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Li Yan rolled aside, and all five flags embedded themselves in the ground.

It seemed that since the old-man puppet had been instantly cut down, the other puppets kept their distance; the “Jing” puppet fired its hidden weapons, the “Chou” puppet continued its soul-summoning, and its eerie laughter, mixed with the desperate cries of familiar voices, kept echoing in Li Yan’s ears.

Li Yan’s gaze turned icy—he ignored them all and turned to keep running.

His mission wasn’t just to draw these attacks—he had to quickly locate Chen Fakui’s hidden tomb.

Whoosh!

Moving at high speed, as he passed two large trees, he suddenly dropped into an iron plank bridge, sliding backward on his back while simultaneously whipping his knife.

It was the “Dan” puppet that was most treacherous—while the “Jing” and “Chou” puppets pursued, it swiftly circled ahead and pulled a thin steel wire from its flowing water sleeves, stretching it across the tree trunks as a trap.

The wire was so fine it was nearly invisible in the dark.

Anyone sprinting past might have their neck severed.

Yet Li Yan had already sensed it and dodged effortlessly.

After rising, he didn’t even look back—he yanked the Guanshan knife embedded in the tree and kept running.

Whoosh!

The “Dan” puppet hiding behind the trunk scattered into pieces as the knife was pulled free, its yin spirit dissipating.

Luo Mingzi, watching from behind, nodded silently.

Li Yan’s series of dodges and counterattacks at this age was exceptionally rare—even seasoned Jianghu veterans couldn’t match him; given time, he would surely become a true talent.

Too bad the True Teachings of the Profound Heaven Sect had strict rules, especially the Enforcement Hall, which only accepted children for early training; still, as an outer-circle operative, he’d be acceptable…

Finally, after sprinting past the mountain path, Li Yan caught the scent of Yuan Qu and Zheng Heibei again—faint, but clearly pointing the way.

Right ahead, in the dense forest ravine!

The tomb passage had been breached; scattered bricks lay around.

Eager to stop Li Yan, the remaining three puppets abandoned concealment, leapt down from the trees, and charged forward, each wielding weapons.

Li Yan’s lips curled into a cruel smile as he leveled his Guanshan knife.

Step forward, upward slash,

Reverse grip, step back, oblique chop,

Then a kite-flip, both hands gripping the blade for a final, thunderous downward strike!

These three strikes grew faster each time, brimming with lethal intent.

Whoosh…

All three wooden puppets were shattered.

Chen Fakui’s puppetry might be strange, but controlling puppets up close to fight a blade master was no different from suicide.

Yet after shattering the puppets, Li Yan felt no triumph—his expression darkened, and he rolled sideways.

Boom!

Dirt and debris erupted as a figure shot toward him.

It was Zheng Heibei, the boss of the Iron Knife Gang.

He had completely transformed.

Already tall and broad, like a black bear, his muscles now bulged with knots, veins swollen, eyes bloodshot, and his face covered in blood-charms—he looked exactly like a living night demon.

Sensing danger, Chen Fakui had sent Zheng Heibei to block him. Now, Zheng Heibei felt the same exhilaration Yuan Qu had experienced—his body brimming with boundless strength, murderous intent flooding his mind, he lunged forward with a monkey leap.

His monkey leap was slightly slower than Yuan Qu’s, but far more ferocious.

Rocks and dirt flew as Li Yan felt a foul wind howl past—he rolled sideways just in time to dodge.

But this was his first time fighting a medium.

As he rose, knife raised in defense, Zheng Heibei instantly halted, drove his right foot deep into the earth, unleashed another hidden force, and launched another monkey leap.

The two moves had no pause between them.

Li Yan’s face paled—he was too late.

Zheng Heibei roared forward, relaxing his shoulders, tucking his elbows, his arms channeling power, his body cracking with sharp pops as his right fist shot out.

Zheng Heibei’s yin spirit had entangled his mind, flooding it with murderous intent; though he’d learned the Zhou family’s Monkey Fist, he instinctively used the Back-Strike Fist he’d trained since childhood.

The Back-Strike Fist’s strike was called “cold-crisp force.”

!.

Li Yan barely managed to block with the flat of his blade—suddenly, a crushing force slammed into him, like being struck by an iron hammer; he flew eight meters backward, crashing hard into a tree, then fell to the ground.

His arm was fractured, his chest tight, his vision darkening.

“Hahaha…”

Across from him, Zheng Heibei laughed maniacally—but as he moved to strike again, his body froze, unable to move further.

From behind the trees, Luo Mingzi slowly stepped forward, sword in hand.

His eyes were like ice as he drew the Seven-Star Sword.

Luo Mingzi was helpless—he couldn’t just watch this young blade master die; he had no choice but to reveal himself early.

Besides, his second-floor cultivation couldn’t maintain invisibility while simultaneously channeling hidden force—otherwise, how could it have come to this?

Luo Mingzi’s appearance not only made Zheng Heibei sense lethal intent and freeze in place, but also startled Chen Fakui inside—the sorcerer waved his peachwood sword before the altar, and several spirit jars on the altar cracked open.

He shouted: “Help me repel the enemy—I’ll grant you freedom today!”

Instantly, a chilling wind surged, thick black smoke howled forth, swirling once inside the tomb before bursting out the entrance and surging into Zheng Heibei’s body.

These were several powerful yin spirits he had subdued—nearly become vengeful ghosts; he’d planned to forge them into soldier puppets, but now he had to use them prematurely.

“Roar!”

As the yin spirits flooded in, Zheng Heibei lost all reason—his eyes rolled back, cold mist spewed from his nostrils, and his mouth emitted inhuman roars.

Beneath the tree, Li Yan’s mind stirred—and immediately, his fractured bones and internal injuries healed.

Watching the terrifying yin aura radiating from Zheng Heibei far away, he knew charging in now would only be a burden—he stayed still.

Suddenly, a pit ahead caught his eye.

The scent of the children drifted from within, mingled with the faint but unmistakable odor of burning incense and candles.

It was a tunnel straight into the tomb!

Without hesitation, Li Yan flipped and crawled into the hole.

Far away, Luo Mingzi activated his divine perception.

Though he lacked the Yin-Yang Eyes, his divine perception granted him extraordinary vision—he instantly saw Li Yan’s movement.

His expression unchanged, he raised his sword and pointed it at Zheng Heibei.

Though they spoke no words, their coordination was flawless.

If earlier Li Yan had been the bait, now he was drawing fire—so long as Li Yan entered the tunnel and destroyed the altar, everyone could be saved.

“Roar!”

Zheng Heibei could no longer bear the tension—he charged straight ahead…

…………

Below the mountain, the night wind howled beside the altar.

Sha Li fei tossed the remaining paper offerings into the basin.

This paper is made from plant stalks such as rice straw, reeds, weeds, and bamboo, with a rough, yellowish texture; it is also called earth paper or grass paper, primarily used for packaging and burning in rituals.

Huh~

In an instant, the night wind howled, whipping up a tornado of fire.

Sha Lifei bared his teeth and hastily retreated.

He glanced at Zhao Facheng and thought to himself: this big black face was no fool—a Daoist of the Fa lineage, with cultivation at the second-floor level, his ritual platform’s aura far surpassed that of Wang Daoxuan.

At the same time, Zhao Facheng once again pierced the Huang Fu with his sword, ignited it, formed a hand seal, stepped the Nine Stars, and thrust slanting upward toward the sky.

Seeing this, Sha Lifei’s lips curled into a smile.

Though he could not see any Qi, he knew this was summoning troops.

Two orders had already been sent; if they could just hold out for another incense stick’s time, once the third order was issued, the City God Temple’s army would arrive—and even if Chen Fa’s puppet had three heads and six arms, it would still kneel.

Boom!

But at that moment, a figure sprinted down the mountain, kicking up clods of earth, radiating murderous intent—it was Yuan Qu, in the guise of a spirit medium!

(End of Chapter)