Chapter 239: Ghost Cultivator

Even if you refine solid stone into a high-quality weapon, its power won’t increase; but if you forge it into a sword blank, you can later fuse more solid stone into it.

As long as there’s enough solid stone, it can inflict massive damage on the Punishment.

An hour later.

After repeatedly forging it several times, Lu Fang picked up the finished sword blank and plunged it into water; once the blade cooled, the sword blank was complete.

Although this was his first time forging a weapon, since he was only making a sword blank, it was still fairly easy—the blank might have some flaws, but as a semi-finished product, it was already quite good.

“Didn’t expect it to be so plain and unadorned.”

Lu Fang gripped the hilt and leaned close to examine the pitch-black blade; if not for Mo Xin’s words about its devastating power against the Ancient Race’s Punishment, he’d have thought it was worthless.

He tried slashing the wall with brute strength alone, but it inflicted no significant damage.

The only thing he was satisfied with was that this sword blank, forged from solid stone, was unquestionably among the most durable.

After finishing all this, Lu Fang, on a whim, spent a little effort engraving the blade’s name—Punishment Blade.

After stowing the Punishment Blade in his storage pouch, he probed again and confirmed Mo Xin had truly fallen into temporary slumber; with no choice, he stepped outside.

He didn’t linger in Ghost Market City; in a short time, he couldn’t obtain solid stone here, and due to Heaven’s Dao restrictions, he couldn’t raise his realm anyway.

Better to leave now than hide in the city, avoiding contact with the Ancient Race.

Better to go out now—if he encountered an Ancient Race member whose power hadn’t yet recovered, he might still have a chance.

In short, he no longer wished to seek out the Punishment’s aura, since Mo Xin had fallen asleep; nor did he plan to return to the Capital just yet.

Now was the time for the Invincible Army to establish its base; he intended to stay there and cultivate while writing The Elegant Literary Journey to the West.

Fearing someone might track his whereabouts, after leaving Ghost Market City, Lu Fang used his extraordinary ability—Conceal Heaven and Cover Earth—to disguise himself as a fifth-rank, third-tier Ghost Cultivator, appearing as a middle-aged scholar.

After traveling one day.

That night, as Lu Fang pressed on through the darkness, he suddenly heard battle sounds ahead—and what startled him most was a familiar aura in the fray.

Song Ce!

He wasn’t dead—he’d escaped from the Lesser Upper Realm after all.

After hesitating, Lu Fang didn’t rush forward; instead, he activated his hyper-perception to assess the situation ahead.

In hyper-perception, he instantly “saw” the two fighters ahead—one was Song Ce.

What surprised him was Song Ce’s disheveled state: his face and white robe were splattered with blackened blood.

When Lu Fang saw Song Ce’s opponent, he froze—it was a humanoid black mist, nearly identical to the Ancient Race entity called Mist he’d seen in the Lesser Upper Realm’s seal site.

The only difference was that this humanoid mist’s particles were nearly solid; from its aura, it was clearly third-rank, first-tier.

In such a short time, Song Ce had advanced from fourth-rank, second-tier to fourth-rank, third-tier—but he clearly wasn’t a match for the Ancient Race entity before him.

“Did it escape from an upgraded seal site?” Lu Fang immediately recalled the information he’d received.

Many Ancient Race entities had escaped from seal sites.

Even though he’d been warned by the Heavenly Mechanism Daoist that he’d encounter Ancient Race entities, he was still startled to meet one so soon.

Song Ce, in a way, was himself a special Ancient Race entity.

Though he looked battered now, the Ancient Race entity—Black Mist—wasn’t faring much better; its reluctance to advance and kill Song Ce revealed how much it had suffered earlier.

Song Ce wiped blood from his lips with his sleeve, sneering coldly: “You want to swallow me too? Wouldn’t it be better if we joined forces? Why force this suicidal move? Our situation isn’t as good as you think.”

“When the Luo Sha Kingdom and Da Zhou armies arrive, how much power will you regain? Can you fight them all alone?”

“This isn’t your era anymore. Even if you recovered to your peak, someone could still kill you—after all this time, you can’t regain your full strength, and Heaven’s Dao here will specifically restrict you.”

“You don’t need me to say it—you should already sense it, right?”

Song Ce spoke coldly.

The humanoid mist twisted violently, finally forming an old man with white whiskers—yet his eyes were pure black, devoid of any white sclera, eerily unnatural.

“Don’t think I don’t know your plan. Your so-called alliance is just an excuse to find an opening to devour my cultivation origin. Do you really think I don’t know what you’ve done?”

The Ancient Race entity—Ji—spoke coldly.

“Ji, this is a misunderstanding,” Song Ce shook his head.

He was about to explain, but Ji cut him off: “Much of your cultivation origin comes from my kin—I can smell it. I should avenge them. But our grudge can wait.”

“Oh.” Song Ce was surprised.

Ji turned his head toward Lu Fang’s direction and said coldly: “I’ve detected a strange human. He’s far away, yet he’s spying on us.”

“Damn!” At those words, Lu Fang turned on his heels and fled at full speed.

Facing only Song Ce or Ji, he might have stood a chance.

But facing both? Even with all his trump cards, he’d have little hope—he had to run.

Yet no sooner had he fled than he spotted Ji blocking his path ahead—it had clearly used some ability to appear there so quickly.

“Your perception is strong. Care to explain why you’re so terrified of me? Why run the moment you see me?”

Ji spoke in the unified language of Da Zhou, but his tone was odd, like someone just learning to speak.

Lu Fang spread his hands and shook his head: “Absolutely not.”

To his surprise, Song Ce—who had just been fighting for his life—didn’t flee; instead, he appeared behind Lu Fang and said: “A Ghost Cultivator with unique extraordinary power? You’ve been spying on us from so far away—I didn’t sense you at all.”

Ji scrutinized Lu Fang, then nodded: “Indeed, he’s strange. If not for my keen nose, I wouldn’t have noticed him.”

Song Ce ignored Lu Fang entirely and continued speaking to Ji: “His extraordinary power might help us evade the Luo Sha Kingdom’s army. What do you think?”

Lu Fang froze—he’d forgotten: he was disguised as a Ghost Cultivator; neither Ji nor Song Ce knew his true identity.