"Who's there?"
Hearing the noise, Li Yan spoke softly without turning his head.
From the scent, he knew it was Wang Daoxuan and Sha Lifei.
Worried something had gone wrong, they had left the troupe to continue chanting scriptures and come to check on the situation.
"What is it?"
"A soldier soul…"
Li Yan kept his voice low, briefly explaining the situation.
"A soldier soul?" Wang Daoxuan wasn't surprised.
A dozen years ago, a great drought struck Guanzhong. The Maitreya Cult seized the chance to stir rebellion, and the court sent several armies to suppress them. The fighting was brutal, blood flowing like rivers.
The chaotic graveyard held the remains of many fallen soldiers.
His eyes flickered with uncertainty, and he gritted his teeth. "Dog barks can ward off evil. The beggar gang played a dirty trick, scaring off the nearby wandering spirits, leaving only this one."
"This is our only chance tonight. If we fail, not only will descending the mountain be troublesome, but we'd need to find another place to summon a deity."
"Let it enter the city walls first, and we'll see what happens!"
Li Yan didn't object. Wang Daoxuan was always cautious, and if he dared take this risk, he must have a plan to handle what followed.
With their decision made, the three retreated.
Wang Daoxuan and Sha Lifei hurried back to prepare.
Li Yan stayed behind, using his living aura to lure the entity.
In the dark night, the tattered corpse staggered awkwardly, tripping over dry branches, its eerie movements unsettling.
The altar was less than a kilometer away, but Li Yan's brow furrowed deeper.
The reason was simple.
He could smell that as the corpse moved, it drew in the surrounding sinister aura, mingling with the soldier soul's own killing intent, making its scent increasingly icy.
Even from dozens of meters away, he felt a chill.
Li Yan's heart sank.
If they didn't reach the altar soon, this thing might turn into a zombie!
Humans have three souls and seven spirits—souls are yin, the body is yang; the three souls are yang, the seven spirits are yin, balanced in harmony.
After death, yin and yang separate. The seven spirits scatter first, followed by the three souls.
Once the souls depart, they become an intermediate yin body. If something goes wrong and they don't enter the underworld, they turn into yin souls, becoming wandering ghosts.
The seven spirits, being yin and tied to the earth, may linger in the body if not dispersed, absorbing the sinister aura of the land's veins, causing the corpse to remain undecayed and malevolent.
This beggar's seven spirits hadn't yet scattered when the soldier soul possessed it. Returning to life was impossible—it would only become a zombie.
With this in mind, Li Yan quickened his pace.
Fortunately, the corpse behind him sped up too.
Finally, just as the corpse let out its first hoarse roar, they reached the clearing where the sinister aura converged into an "old yin coffin."
A fire burned there, fueled by paper money and ingots.
In the dim, flickering light, everyone could see the corpse trailing Li Yan—its face ashen like ice, black blood oozing from its orifices, body rigid, walking on tiptoes.
The sight was truly uncanny.
Despite Wang Daoxuan's warnings, the Chunfeng Troupe members paled in fear. Yet none dared flee, kneeling in place, clutching three incense sticks, silently reciting the deity invocation.
The corpse finally showed a change.
"Its" attention shifted from Li Yan, its head turning toward the altar. It moved forward on tiptoes but circled aimlessly, as if lost.
Even among yin souls and malevolent ghosts, each had its preferences.
Some craved blood and chased living auras; others were drawn to incense.
Those that favored incense could be enshrined as yin deities.
There's a chance!
Wang Daoxuan's eyes lit up. He stepped into the Big Dipper pattern, leaving the altar. With a midair turn, he landed, his right foot stretching forward.
Sss!
A mark appeared on the ground, cutting through the three ash-drawn city walls, like opening a gate to welcome a guest.
Whoosh~
Instantly, an eerie wind surged.
Li Yan could smell a cold, bloody scent erupting from the beggar's corpse as it collapsed.
The scent spiraled forward, rushing toward the altar.
Though others couldn't see it, they felt an inexplicable chill, their hairs standing on end as the temperature dropped further.
Then, they witnessed a strange sight:
As the eerie wind blew, the fire basin burning paper money and ingots swirled with ash and embers, spinning like a tornado, passing through the gap in the ash walls.
It dissipated only when it reached the altar.
Li Yan could smell the cold, bloody scent diving straight into the idol, beginning to consume the incense's aroma.
He quickly signaled, and Wang Daoxuan, swift and sharp, took pre-prepared ash and white plaster, sealing the idol's base.
Buzz buzz buzz!
The idol trembled on the table a few times before stilling.
"It's here!"
Wang Daoxuan lifted the idol, shouting loudly.
The Chunfeng Troupe, ready and waiting, shouted in unison, "We've received it!"
Master Zhou, meanwhile, hoisted the wooden box for the idol, revealing a small shrine inside.
Wang Daoxuan placed the idol within, secured the box, covered it with red cloth, and waved for everyone to leave.
Sha Lifei hurried forward, helping gather the incense burner, water vessel, soul-suppressing bell, and other ritual tools, extinguishing the fire basin. They left the makeshift table behind, departing swiftly.
These tools, long enshrined before the ancestral altar and consecrated with incense, were made of ordinary materials, far inferior to Li Yan's Three Talents Demon-Suppressing Coin. Still, they bore Wang Daoxuan's painstaking effort and couldn't be discarded lightly.
The descent was treacherous, the group stumbling along, none daring to look back.
Master Zhou, carrying the box, struggled under its weight but moved with utmost care, fearing a fall might shatter the idol.
Thankfully, his martial training kept his footing steady, avoiding mishaps.
Li Yan brought up the rear.
Wang Daoxuan had instructed that if he sensed anything disturbing, he must not look back but activate the Three Talents Demon-Suppressing Coin to scare it off.
Strangely, though, nothing stirred behind them until they reached the mountain's base.
The Chunfeng Troupe members breathed a collective sigh, collapsing in exhaustion.
The night had worn them to the bone.
Sha Lifei wiped sweat from his brow, chuckling. "Taoist, you're too cautious. Nothing happened, see?"
"What do you know!"
Wang Daoxuan glanced back at the mountain, his face clouded with doubt.
Li Yan spoke up. "Don't worry, Taoist. Those beggars used dogs to scare off the nearby wandering ghosts. Even if something comes, we can handle it."
"It's not the wandering ghosts I fear…"
Wang Daoxuan shook his head, lowering his voice. "In places where innate righteous and sinister energies converge, there may be mountain gods or river lords. These yin souls and soldiers are kept in check by them, like their troops."
"Summoning a deity is like stealing one of their subordinates. They'd naturally intervene, especially with a soldier soul like this."
"This chaotic graveyard is old, yet lacks a mountain god's rule—strange…"
Sha Lifei scratched his head. "The yin deity's been summoned. Why overthink it? Let's get back to Xianyang and have a bowl of hot mutton soup to warm up."
"True, you're making me hungry."
"Taoist Wang, this meal's on me!"
"With the yin deity secured, hurry back. Remember, morning and evening, keep the incense burning. On the first and fifteenth of each month, perform sacrifices…"
"Rest assured, Taoist, we've got it…"
The group rallied their spirits and vanished into the night.
Unbeknownst to them, shortly after their descent, torches blazed in the dense forest. A crowd of beggars escorted their leader, Mountain Lord, to the scene.
Examining a corpse on the ground, the obese Mountain Lord touched it, then recoiled, his face grim. "Burn this body, or the mountain will never rest."
"Mountain Lord, we lost four or five good men."
"They got away quick…"
The surrounding beggars glared down the mountain, eyes fierce.
Mountain Lord, now calm, rubbed his greasy belly. "Thought they were just posers. We underestimated them."
"Send word to the Iron Blade Gang. Their intel was off. These deaths are on them. If they don't find who I'm looking for, this isn't over!"
"Also, have someone watch that group. No rash moves—wait for the right moment to make them pay!"
"Yes, Mountain Lord!"
…
Xianyang had no shortage of mutton soup shops.
To survive here, you needed real skill, or you'd close in days.
Past the Horse King Temple on Wei Family Old Street stood Wu's Old Shop, a mutton soup place with a century of history, weathering all storms.
Their great soup pot never cooled.
Each night, they kept a low flame, adding fresh mutton bones the next day, simmering a rich, creamy broth famed far and wide.
What earned praise was their commitment to their roots.
Some old shops, once famous, rushed to renovate, chasing the coin of nobles and officials.
But Wu's remained a sprawling eatery, with great pots simmering outside, steaming mutton soup bubbling, and rows of long tables and chairs stretching from inside to out.
Crucially, their prices hadn't changed in decades, and the food was clean.
Thus, there was always a crowd squatting over bowls of mutton soup.
Wang Daoxuan's trio had downed three bowls each, with four or five flatbreads, sweating profusely before setting down their bowls, feeling alive again.
It was now morning, and the streets grew busy.
Watching passersby and mule carts, Sha Lifei felt last night's ordeal was like a dream. He sighed, "Damn, I'm starting to regret this."
"Taoist, are all future jobs this life-or-death?"
"Not necessarily."
Wang Daoxuan smiled. "Last night's job, most sorcerers wouldn't dare touch. We pulled it off, and word will spread fast."
"From now on, we'll take steadier gigs. You just run errands."
"That so? You sure?"
"Of course."
"Sounds a bit shaky…"
As the two bantered, a man approached from afar.
Short and stocky, dressed in a black jacket with a square cap, his dead-fish eyes gave him a listless look.
Reaching the trio, he smacked his lips. "Which one's Li Yan?"
Li Yan set down his bowl, glancing sidelong. "That's me."
The dead-fish-eyed man sized him up, sneering. "Little punk, barely wet behind the ears and picking deadly fights. You joking?"
"You want a life-or-death duel? Know the rules?"
*(End of Chapter)*