Chapter 791

Lin Zhongweng’s demeanor was utterly humble.

If Li Yan saw this, he would surely grow wary.

No other reason—he was a true earth immortal, and the many disturbances orchestrated by the Silkworm Robe Sect and the Jianmu Organization in Jinling were under his command.

Li Yan and the others still had not uncovered how he killed Tian Battalion Commander.

Whoever could command such deference must be of even higher cultivation and status.

“Hmph!”

The strange old Daoist known as “Bai Gu Zhenren” stepped forward, and the dead qi and resentment radiating from his body instantly withered and blackened the withered grass beneath his feet.

He slammed his skull staff down, producing a dull thud that cut off Lin Zhongweng’s words, then rasped: “Lei Yin’s greed has brought her shame and ruined the Holy Sect’s grand plan! Had it not been for her years of hard service, she would already have been punished by sect law!”

On the other side, the “Shi Yi Laolao” emitted a guttural, cackling laugh like an owl’s cry: “Old woman has long said—Yangzhou’s cauldron is no ordinary artifact. But… her injury has spared us some trouble.”

“From now on, we two will take over.”

This old hag looked even stranger.

She wore a “corpse robe” stitched from countless scraps of fabric, each patch a different color and texture, stained with dark brown marks and strange incantations.

Her face was a mass of wrinkles like dried orange peel; her eyes were cloudy and yellow, and in her hand she carried an ancient clay jar that writhed and gurgled with a wet, bubbling sound.

Where her blackened bare feet touched the ground, countless tiny poisonous insects crawled out of the soil.

Hearing their words, Lin Zhongweng immediately bowed his head, daring not to speak further.

Though also an earth immortal, he knew full well the chasm between them.

He was merely the last disciple of the mountain sect “Shou Shan Zong,” and by chance, after death, his soul fused with the bones of the mountain deity, becoming a “Shan Xiao Di Xian”—his utmost limit was commanding beasts.

Yet these two before him were ancient demons whose infamy shook the heavens centuries ago, core members of the Jianmu Organization, equal in status to Lady Lei Yin.

He dared not offend either side.

He naturally dared not respond.

Huh~

At that moment, a cold wind suddenly stirred deep within the graveyard.

A faint, scratching sound, like fingernails scraping paper, drifted through the wind.

Five pale figures, wrapped in swirling dead leaves, drifted silently from among the graves.

Their forms were ethereal, movements stiff and uniform—they were five paper effigies, faces powdered white, cheeks painted crimson, clad in funeral robes.

On their shoulders they carried a small, lightweight palanquin, also woven from white paper and bamboo strips.

The curtain stirred without wind, revealing an elderly man in blue robes seated inside.

His hair and beard were streaked white, his face lean and refined, his eyes bearing the air of a learned scholar—if not for the graveyard, he might have passed for an aged Confucian sage.

In his hand he turned a string of glossy black beads, neither wood nor stone; each bead faintly bore the ghostly image of a contorted, suffering human face.

The paper palanquin landed without a sound.

The five paper figures stood motionless, hands hanging, their eye sockets hollow and lifeless.

Lin Zhongweng squinted, forcing a smile: “Aren’t you in Lingnan, Boss? Why have you come to Jinling?”

His words were polite, but his eyes brimmed with caution.

The arrival was none other than the true core of the Ghost Opera Troupe—the mysterious “Boss!”

Decades ago, he stirred blood and chaos across the Jianghu; after decades of silence, his reappearance had rebuilt the Ghost Opera Troupe in mere time, a hundredfold larger than before.

To achieve this, he could not possibly be any good man.

He, too, was an earth immortal, yet no one knew his origins.

But Lin Zhongweng had seen with his own eyes how this “Boss” once ripped the soul from a performer who had erred, sealing it within a thin sheet of human skin puppet—whose ghost still wailed endlessly backstage, performing an eternal solo play.

His cruel, formidable methods filled Lin Zhongweng with deep dread.

The Ghost Opera Troupe’s involvement in Jinling affairs was due to Jianmu’s hiring; the sudden arrival of this Boss from Lingnan naturally put Lin Zhongweng on high alert.

“Hmm.”

In response to Lin Zhongweng’s question, the “Boss” merely nodded slightly, then turned to the side and spoke: “Brother Bai Gu, Friend Shi Yi, long time no see.”

His voice was gentle and rich, utterly out of place in this gloomy setting.

He bowed slightly, with the refined manners of an old-fashioned scholar.

Seeing this, Lin Zhongweng felt irritation—but hearing the Boss address Bai Gu Zhenren and Shi Yi Laolao as “friends” filled him with shock.

No wonder Lei Yin had told him to show this “Boss” respect.

His origins were clearly no ordinary matter.

The green flame on Bai Gu Zhenren’s skull staff flickered slightly; for once, he did not sneer, only curled his lips in a cold, humorless smile: “The Boss has arrived. This ‘play’ in Jinling grows ever more fascinating.”

His tone clearly lacked the arrogance he had shown toward Lin Zhongweng.

Shi Yi Laolao’s cloudy yellow eyes fixed on the Boss’s beaded rosary, her throat emitting a wet, gulping sound like a starving beast: “Hahaha… the Boss’s ‘Hundred Grievance Beads’ have grown ever purer in the resentment they absorb… Old woman finds them quite tempting.”

"Merely petty tricks, unworthy of the auntie's attention."

The “Boss” smiled gently, tucking the rosary into his sleeve: “I came at Jianmu’s invitation—to assist you two in your task, and also… to offer this Jinling ‘stage’ as my petition to join the Holy Sect.”

“I humbly ask you two friends to speak well of me before the Envoy.”

Lin Zhongweng trembled inwardly, daring not to breathe.

This mysterious Boss was, in fact, under Jianmu’s evaluation.

Jianmu’s standards for recruitment were merciless—only the elite among earth immortals could earn their notice; once accepted, one would stand equal to Lei Yin.

“Let’s see if you can get it done.”

Bai Gu Zhenren neither accepted nor refused, turning instead to Lin Zhongweng and growling: “Lei Yin is wounded and in seclusion, accomplishing nothing. Jinling is now ours. Speak—what is the current situation?”

Lin Zhongweng felt as if released from prison, yet still bowed deeply: “Yes, Zhenren!”

He dared not conceal a single detail, swiftly laying out all the intelligence he possessed:

“Your Honors, Jinling has become the epicenter of a vortex! The Jiangnan Daoist sects reacted swiftly—Master Qingwei of Maoshan has arrived at the outskirts of Taihu with elite disciples; though they have not penetrated the demon army’s camp, Lady Lei Yin’s severe injury and seclusion must already be known…”

“Experts from the Hu Men Ling, Lushan, and Yu Huang Sects are converging on Qixia Mountain Monastery, urgently establishing nodes of the ‘Nine Dragon Locking Abyss Array’ to guard the bronze bell. Worse still…”

He paused, his voice heavy: “Confirmed reports indicate that Zhang Jingxuan, the current Tian Shi of the Southern Celestial Master Sect—the paramount leader of Jiangnan’s mystery schools—has left the Longhu Mountain headquarters and is racing here day and night!”

“His Five Thunder Department’s senior masters have already arrived ahead of him. Moreover, the patriarch of the Tianxin Zhengfa Sect from Fujian is also en route!”

“Both carry their sect’s treasured artifacts…”

“We have at most three days left!”

Upon hearing the name “Zhang Jingxuan,” the atmosphere grew heavy.

During the Northern and Southern Dynasties, Kou Qianzhi of Northern Wei reformed the Celestial Master Sect in Pingcheng—modern-day Datong in Jinzhou—and established a new Celestial Master center, known historically as the Northern Celestial Master Sect. Later, under the Northern Qi, when the entire state embraced Buddhism and Daoism was branded heretical, Emperor Wenxuan ordered its abolition; thus, Daoists vanished from Qi territory, and the Northern Celestial Master Sect dissolved entirely.

During the Southern Song Dynasty, the Luoshan Daoist Lu Xiujing founded the Southern Celestial Master Sect; later, the Northern and Southern branches merged, with Longhu Mountain as their ancestral seat.

Originally, there was no longer any “Southern Celestial Master Sect”—but there was a small story behind this.