Chapter Thirty-Three: Following the Clues
For someone as cautious as He Chang'an, there are certain terrifying entities he would never willingly provoke. Yet he cannot tolerate the people around him falling prey to disturbances in their souls, effectively becoming the 'eyes' or 'virus hosts' of those dreadful beings.
The imprints deep within the souls of Li Yishan and the young nun must be eradicated; otherwise, he would rather venture alone into darkness, becoming a solitary wanderer in this forsaken land.
An ordinary female ghost can turn a martial artist into a corpse puppet. The masters behind the Night God Cult could instantly transform those close to him into ticking time bombs.
Thus, after the time it takes to drink a cup of tea—
"Are you ready?"
"Yes, I'm ready."
"Then shall I... begin?"
"Go ahead... Wait, suddenly I'm afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"Will it hurt? This is my first time..."
"First time, my foot! Li Yishan, do you want my help or not? If you don't, just say so. I'm wasting my righteous energy to clear your meridians, and you’re whining like a child!"
"I do, I do..."
He Chang'an nodded slightly, shot a glance at the young nun, and blinked: "Put a buff on him."
Li Yishan had just opened his mouth to protest when the nun recited a six-character mantra, struck her wooden fish, and the old man immediately foamed at the mouth, his eyes rolling back as he fainted.
Without the protection of righteous energy, a scholar is little more than a weak chicken...
He Chang'an cleared his throat, released a large surge of righteous energy to shield all three of them firmly, then sat cross-legged and pressed a finger against Li Yishan’s forehead.
The young nun watched intently by his side; the secret of the small black rod must not be exposed.
He forced a strand of righteous energy from his fingertip, letting it seep slowly through Li Yishan’s brow, cautiously allowing it to circulate within the old man's body.
He Chang'an’s plan was simple: turn Li Yishan into a 'furnace,' to extract and refine that mysterious imprint.
After several breaths, Li Yishan completed his first minor circulation, everything proceeding smoothly—no explosion, no deviation.
A good beginning.
With confidence, He Chang'an fully activated the 'small black rod,' letting it enter Li Yishan’s body and begin refining the mysterious imprint buried deep within his soul.
...
Countless miles to the north, near the Sea of the Underworld, biting winds swept through, and frozen clouds hung like lead.
Seventy thousand fathoms below, an altar rose.
The altar, a hundred feet tall and a thousand feet wide, was ringed by eighty-one massive, ancient bronze pillars, each inscribed with countless mysterious runes. In the gloomy depths of the sea, they glowed with an unsettling red light.
Each pillar was wrapped and writhed with endless black threads, converging at the brow of a colossal divine statue atop the pillar.
Every statue was ten feet tall, with a blue face and fanged mouth, a terrifying visage, limbs of unimaginable shape, sharp claws plunged into a human head, and a wicked smile curling at its lips...
At the altar’s center lay a coffin, black as eternal night, forged from unknown materials, its chilling aura condensing into swirling black mists that spread throughout the altar.
Inside the black coffin rested the corpse of a woman.
...
As He Chang'an manipulated the small black rod, transforming it into twin grinding wheels to begin refining the imprint in Li Yishan’s soul, one thin black thread on a bronze pillar at the altar—
—quivered imperceptibly.
With the passage of time, that thread began to fade, teetering on the brink of collapse.
At the brow of the divine statue, a wisp of black mist flowed into the thread, beginning to counterflow.
"Damn, here we go again..."
Just as He Chang'an finished refining Li Yishan’s soul imprint and was about to wrap up, he felt a shock in his spirit—he saw the nearly shattered black thread abruptly solidify.
"The opponent is a terrifying entity. Is it safe to leech off them? What if the bastard crawls over through the connection?"
He Chang'an made a swift decision: Hit them back!
He focused intently, activating the grinding wheels within Li Yishan’s body to rapidly refine the counterflowing black mist.
The yin energy transformed into righteous energy, some left for Li Yishan, some returned to He Chang'an through his fingertip.
After half an hour, He Chang'an advanced to the eighth layer of the Qi-Consuming Technique.
Two hours later, he reached the ninth layer.
Four hours later, he broke through the bottleneck, advancing to the tenth layer...
"Damn, isn’t the Qi-Consuming Technique supposed to have only nine layers? Why is there a tenth? Did that female ghost give me a fake manual?"
...
Hiding behind the statue of a sage in the sanctuary, He Chang'an grumbled as he secretly leached the yin energy. Outside, night had already fallen.
Director Zhao Zheng, Vice Director Wen Taiyuan, and Du Shisan, three great scholars of the Weiyang Academy, stood before the academy gates, hands clasped behind their backs, faces grim.
Behind them stood Ma Dai and a host of scholars, all looking dour, each eager for a fight.
Scholars of the Great Tang feared nothing more than a brawl.
Especially after three great scholars advanced to the third rank in a single day; now, they were even less afraid of trouble.
It mattered not who came—as long as they could win, they’d curse them out first and ask questions later.
Everyone was busy stabilizing their realms, and in their distraction, He Chang'an slipped away. They felt humiliated, believing it the most disgraceful event in the academy’s long history.
...
Outside the gates, two groups had arrived, both demanding the academy surrender the 'suspect' He Chang'an.
The first was comprised of constables and bailiffs from Weiyang County, numbering fifty or sixty, led by the magistrate himself, armed with clubs, sabers, shackles, ropes, ready to arrest the culprit at any moment.
The other group consisted of four figures clad in black, tightly wrapped in cloaks—clearly not of friendly intent.
The two groups stood seven or eight yards apart, clearly not the same party.
"People of the academy, listen up! The court demands the arrest of He Chang'an. You’d better cooperate." The magistrate, registrar, and assistant magistrate remained silent, but the chief constable at the front, hands on hips, jabbed his finger and barked.
He had no choice—his was the lowest rank present.
Besides, the chief constable managed county security; with the county captain claiming illness and refusing to come, the job of apprehending suspects fell to him.
The academy folk didn’t even glance at the county officials, ignoring the chief constable’s bluster entirely.
Their attention was fixed on the four black-clad figures.
Black men, black horses, black cloaks, black blades... Could they be?
The director’s heart stirred, but he could not be certain.
Silently, he activated the Confucian minor magical power, "Hearts Aligned"—
‘Zhao Zheng: Brothers, can you tell who these four are?’
‘Du Shisan: Do we even need to guess? The aura of yin and malice says it all!’
‘Wen Taiyuan: Ha, they're demon-slayers from the Demon-Slaying Bureau. Director, you really need to see more of the world.’
‘Zhao Zheng: Enough, silence!’
Dispelling "Hearts Aligned," the director stepped forward, half a pace, and asked in a deep voice, "Why do you seek He Chang'an?"
"Because he broke the law, obviously! Why ask? Poor scholar, ha ha ha..." The chief constable replied with a mocking tone, eliciting laughter from the bailiffs.
To these ignorant ruffians, what was so fearsome about scholars? Serving in the county office, who hadn’t beaten or cursed a scholar?
"Hmph, noisy!" Du Shisan stepped forward and declared, "Within thirty yards of this place, no vulgar warriors or petty men are permitted!"
A burst of dazzling light erupted, and seventy or eighty streams of righteous energy shot forth.
At last, peace.
Only three remained.
A black-clad figure, Du Shisan himself, and a white-haired old bailiff clutching a kitchen knife...