Chapter 773

Li Yan’s mind raced, his incantation boiling from his lips.

The moment Wen Lingguan’s avatar appeared, it unleashed astonishing power, coalescing from empty air and manifesting directly behind the Hundred Ghost Infanticide, lightning crackling and crimson flames churning.

The Infanticide had been forged by Zhu Suanpan through dark arts, feeding on hundreds of yin souls and fused with yao sheng qi—truly formidable—but still a malevolent entity, fearful of thunder and fire.

“Aaaah—!”

Sensing Wen Lingguan’s thunder and fire, the Infanticide let out a piercing shriek and vanished instantly.

It reappeared a hundred meters away.

Yet Wen Lingguan’s avatar appeared almost simultaneously.

Black mist and white shadows, thunder and fire divine forms, flickered across different locations, too fast to track.

Ultimately, the Hundred Ghost Infanticide was not fast enough—it was seized outright by Wen Lingguan’s avatar.

Enveloped in thunder and fire, it sizzled and exploded as the demonic mist steamed away.

The Infanticide shuddered violently, thrashing wildly, trying to tear through the lightning-fire barrier and counterattack, yet unable to escape.

Yet Li Yan’s expression remained grim, his hands firmly forming the sealing gesture.

As Xu Zhenshan had just said, killing the Hundred Ghost Infanticide was not hard—the difficulty lay in its fusion with yao sheng qi, making it immortal; once it exploded, it would scatter and infect half of Yangzhou City.

The sight of a squad of soldiers corrupted by yao sheng qi in Shu still burned vividly in his memory.

At that point, countless lives would be lost.

As Li Yan changed his hand seals and chanted the “Precious Litany of Wen Lingguan,” the human-shaped thunder and fire rapidly transformed, becoming like a furnace that trapped the Hundred Ghost Infanticide within.

He was attempting to “refine yao sheng qi with thunder and fire!”

This was recorded in Xuanmen texts—some had succeeded, but it was exceedingly difficult.

Many failures existed, such as when the Golden Tent Wolf Kingdom neared its end, the Xuanmen high master “Jade Void True Man” Zhang Yuanhe tried to refine a thousand-year corpse king in Qinnan using thunder and fire.

At that time, the corpse king had been born on the battlefield, forged from one hundred thousand vengeful souls.

Master Zhang set up a Nine Palaces Thunder-Fire Array, channeling his entire life’s power to summon heavenly wrath—but the malevolent entity’s hatred was too deep, turning the thunder and fire against him. Mid-refinement, the thunder and fire spiraled out of control, backflowing and turning the mountains and rivers of Qinnan into scorched earth, reducing a thousand li of civilians to skeletons; Master Zhang himself perished as yin fire corroded his bones, leaving only ruins as a warning to posterity.

Thus, when Xuanmen encountered such tenacious malevolence, they usually opted for safer methods: sealing it beneath sacred mountains, great rivers, or celestial paradises, letting primordial gangsha qi gradually erode it.

But the current situation was dire—there was clearly no time for that.

Thinking of this, Li Yan focused even more intensely.

Leveraging the Dragon-Snake Tablet, the Thousand Thoughts Bracers, and the Summoning Scroll, surrounding yin sha qi surged wildly, forming a howling whirlwind around him, frost crystallizing beneath his feet.

Such dense sha qi could form a minor malevolent ground—ordinary people would never dare attempt it, for their mortal bodies could not withstand so much sha qi.

But after performing Yin Shen Bian, Li Yan used the Soul-Grabbing Chain as his vessel.

Gangsha qi surged violently, making his yin spirit body grow larger and more solid, sustained by the technique and the “Bingding Sheng Gui Fu.”

One could say he was walking a tightrope.

It was a race: would the Infanticide be refined first, or would he collapse first?

Amid the stalemate between the two forces, Wang Daoxuan and Lu San felt the constriction on their bodies loosen.

Withdrawing the Five Directions Luo Feng Flags, they saw Li Yan’s yin spirit form.

Without wasting words, Li Yan said directly: “Master, you stay and destroy that Netherworld Stage—it’s the key to the demon’s scheme. San’er, hurry to the docks and reinforce the messenger!”

Saying this, he resumed his refinement.

His words were brief, yet both understood instantly.

The Netherworld Stage, of course, needed no explanation—they couldn’t use it, and leaving it meant disaster.

And at the docks, the Japanese pirates ’s main assault was surely coming.

If others rushed to reinforce, they’d misjudge the situation and neglect one front while defending another.

“Understood!”

Lu San wasted no time, dashing into the street with the white fox and vanishing quickly.

Wang Daoxuan approached the Netherworld Stage and studied it closely.

At this moment, the sinister device was still active.

It had stolen power from the City God Temple—Wang Daoxuan didn’t know how, but seeing the thick mist thinning yet not dissipating, he knew he must destroy it to lift the curse.

He turned toward the depths of Wang Mao De’s mansion and saw a group of servants huddled in corners, trembling like startled birds; he barked sharply: “If you don’t want to die, obey my orders!”

“Bring one bucket of black dog’s blood and thirty bundles of peach wood branches!”

The servants, cowed by his authority, scrambled into action, rushing outside to gather the items.

Among them were many bodyguards of salt merchants—local power brokers in Yangzhou.

With Li Yan having drained the surrounding yin sha qi, normal passage was now possible; within less than the time of one incense stick, they gathered everything and laid it out before the Wang family mansion.

Splash~

Under Wang Daoxuan’s command, a bucket of black dog’s blood was poured over the Netherworld Stage.

The stage’s surface immediately hissed and sizzled.

Then, piles of peach wood were stacked and set ablaze.

As for Wang Daoxuan, he set up a temporary altar, lit incense and candles, scattered spirit money, and chanted while forming hand seals: “Green Emperor guards the soul, White Emperor tends the Po , Red Emperor nourishes qi, Black Emperor flows the blood, Yellow Emperor governs the center, ten thousand spirits dare not transgress…”

This was the Spirit-Stilling and Mind-anchoring Spell.

Though powerful, the Netherworld Stage could not exist without the tormented yin souls and vengeful ghosts it had claimed.

Wang Daoxuan’s spell was, in essence, severing its root…

……………

The Yangzhou City God Temple stood in the northern part of the city.

Originally built in the previous dynasty, it began as a small shrine erected by minor officials for worship, later expanded into a three-court compound after frequent floods prompted local gentry to donate sacrificial land.

Despite centuries of war, its incense never waned. During the height of salt transport, wealthy merchants vied to donate golden statues, their eaves inlaid with pearls that glowed by day and shimmered by night, earning it the title “Number One Divine Palace of the Jianghuai.”

Now, it was shrouded in ink-black mist, its vermilion doors and pillars oozing dark red viscous fluid like dried blood tears.

When Xu Zhenshan and his men arrived, the temple’s vermilion gates stood wide open; the golden plaque above bearing the words “Protect the Nation, Aid the People” hung upside down, cracked open with several foul-smelling gashes.

“Dang~ Dang~”

The bronze bells beneath the eaves rang without wind, their sound like infant wails.

“Ugh.”

One young disciple immediately clutched a stone lion and vomited.

The pair of guardian beasts at the temple entrance had black water dripping from their eye sockets, their claws pinning a half-severed limb.

Xu Zhenshan’s face darkened; he formed a hand seal with his left hand, and the peach wood talisman at his waist buzzed in warning.

“The She Ling altar has been defiled.”

His voice was icy, his eyes blazing with fury: “Move—take the side corridor!”

Splash!

The moment he spoke, the entire stretch of blue stone pavement before the temple surged like a wave.

From between the bricks, hundreds of withered hands suddenly erupted; several disciples, caught off guard, were snatched away, their screams drowned by the crunch of breaking bones.

The withered hands’ black nails were coated in deadly poison.

Within moments, some disciples turned ashen-faced and collapsed.

“Living stakes!”

Xu Zhenshan’s eyes flared; he ordered his disciples to retreat in the Heavenly Gang Step while simultaneously thrusting their swords upward, slapping yellow talismans onto the ground: “Fierce Thunder General, Fire Cart Commander, haste by the decree!”

Sizzle~

Arcs of lightning leapt along the cracks in the bricks; foul smoke rose, and the withered hands fell still.

“Hmph!”

Xu Zhenshan let out a cold snort, unleashing hidden force as he slammed his foot down.

A muffled boom echoed; bricks and stones flew, and from the soil emerged several small wooden boxes, shaped like coffins, bound with red cords and copper coins, each with a hole on top—through which the dead hands had crawled.

Seeing this, Xu Zhenshan’s face grew even darker.

These things had certainly not been buried tonight.