Volume One: The Journey of the Useless—Blazing Demon-Slaying Chapter Thirty-Five: A Life-and-Death Struggle—The Ancestral Daoist

Yang Chengzi disregarded the agony of his soul separating from his body and began channeling the power of his spirit, forming hand seals with his fingers. In a flash, twelve seals were completed, and as soon as the last was made, his living soul surged toward the ghostly creature and the Wrathful Vajra.

Upon reaching the ghost, he leapt, stretching out his right hand. The soul of the Shangqing Sword, planted in the ground, soared toward him. Grasping it with both hands, Yang Chengzi struck down with all his might. Freed from the constraints of flesh, his speed and spiritual power reached their utmost limits.

His physical body, meanwhile, lost its previous expression of pain and returned to calm, standing before Chen San and Master Suichang like a puppet with vacant eyes. He closed his eyes, raising both hands, and began to sense the divine consciousness, inviting the spirit to descend.

Master Suichang was startled to see Yang Chengzi's technique, wanting to speak but unable to spare the attention. Though he was a monk, he knew more than a little about Daoist arts.

Yang Chengzi was now using the Daoist Yin-Yang Grand Art—the "Return to Origin Technique." This method forcibly separated his living soul from his body, powered by his spirit, yet the body would not fall into sleep. Instead, it would be controlled by the remaining two souls and seven spirits within.

Except for lacking emotion and a weakened spiritual power, Yang Chengzi operated much as usual, able to wield spells and the Shangqing Sword to ward off monsters and evils.

At present, the Shangqing Sword was only a weapon without its sword soul, unable to slay incorporeal ghosts.

The Return to Origin Technique was not only excruciating during soul separation, but held a perilous restriction: the living soul could not remain outside the body for more than the time it took to burn one stick of incense. If exceeded, the two souls and seven spirits within would disperse for lack of vital energy, transforming into soul crystals—beyond even the gods' ability to save. This was Master Suichang's greatest worry.

Yang Chengzi had no other choice now. The monk's art clearly constrained his body; the Wrathful Vajra was imposing, but in the struggle with this ghostly creature, it was at a disadvantage.

Chen San was similarly occupied. Sensing divine consciousness was not easy; though he was adept, it still required time to discern the strength of the spirit. His body was likewise constrained, and he could not divide his attention.

So, only the Return to Origin Technique could be used—a perilous spell. Using his body to invoke the spirit, sensing the powerful divine consciousness, inviting the god to descend, while his living soul aided the Wrathful Vajra in defense. Once Chen San completed the invocation, the divine consciousness of the two Daoist ancestors, combined with the monk’s Wrathful Vajra and his soul, might yet give them hope of survival.

A deep, resonant thud echoed, reverberating through the collapsed tomb. Yang Chengzi’s soul, striking with all its power, was held at bay by the ghostly aura swirling around the creature.

Master Suichang, witnessing Yang Chengzi’s body sensing the divine consciousness, was aghast, thinking it reckless and momentarily distracted. He cast the Demon-Subduing Pestle toward the ghost; the Vajra’s implement flew like an arrow, and the ghostly aura encasing the creature surged, instantly enveloping it.

The pestle struck the shield formed by concentrated ghost aura, hanging midair as if locked in contest, before finally dropping.

The Wrathful Vajra leapt back, retreating a step; its phantom lingered in the air. It formed a Vajra hand seal, turned, and struck a palm onto Yang Chengzi’s body. The phantom’s hand passed through his body, slamming down onto the earth.

Turning back, the Demon-Subduing Pestle reappeared in its hand. It leapt high, bringing the implement down like a mountain-splitting blow. The ghostly aura dissipated, and the creature grasped the pestle, emitting a muffled sound.

Another thud resounded. At the same moment, the Wrathful Vajra summoned the golden bell shield, its phantom descending to encase Yang Chengzi’s body.

After several intense exchanges, Master Suichang was gasping for breath. Confronting the ghostly creature, he could only resist head-on. Stamping his right foot, he chanted an incantation, deepening the Vajra phantom, and a third and fourth arm extended from its back.

A second Demon-Subduing Pestle appeared in his left hand; he raised it and struck toward the ghost’s head. With a loud crash, ghostly aura billowed, and the creature lifted an arm to block.

Without pause, the third and fourth arms rose, hands joined, fingers locked, and with gathered strength delivered a heavy blow to the ghost’s silver helmet. A golden ripple spread; the ghostly aura failed to block this Vajra strike, and the ghostly aura scattered instantly, the heavy fist dispelling the billowing shadows.

Master Suichang seized the moment, raising the third and fourth arms for another heavy blow to the head. This time, unlike before, he failed to harm the ghost, as a spectral hand formed of ghost aura extended from behind, seizing him. Realizing the danger, Master Suichang tried to withdraw but it was too late.

A second spectral hand formed behind, grabbing the Vajra’s neck, lifting it and slamming it to the ground.

Instantly, the Wrathful Vajra was severely injured. Blood trickled from Master Suichang’s nose, yet he clenched his jaw tightly, refusing to open his mouth.

Yang Chengzi’s soul saw a chance, channeling spiritual power to inscribe a Soul-Extinguishing Talisman upon the sword soul of the Shangqing Sword. He leapt high, grasped the sword, and drove its tip toward the ghost’s back.

As Yang Chengzi jumped, the ghost detected him, released the Wrathful Vajra, and two spectral hands reached up, one seizing Yang Chengzi’s neck and pressing him to the ground, the other clutching his back, dragging him downward—similar to before, but with greater force.

This fierce blow scattered much of the ghostly aura beneath their feet. Not only was Yang Chengzi’s soul gravely wounded, but his body also fell to one knee, the invocation interrupted before completion.

The golden bell shield of the Wrathful Vajra vanished with its injury. Now the ghost turned its attention to Chen San, who was sensing divine consciousness behind Yang Chengzi, and its ghostly aura erupted. The spectral hand, solid as reality, lunged for Chen San.

Chen San had already sensed the spirit, reciting the final incantation: “Wind steps silently, inviting the Divine Lord; across a thousand miles, the soul leads the way.” He stamped his right foot, invoking the god.

One half-line remained; as the ghostly hand reached for Chen San, Yang Chengzi, just pressed to the ground, saw the hand and, with his last strength, sent the sword soul of the Shangqing Sword toward Chen San’s head.

Not only Chen San’s head, but beneath it, the ghostly hand lunged. Just as it reached Chen San’s face, the sword soul pierced through. In that instant, the spectral hand began to rapidly dissolve toward the ghost, dragging it down as well. The remaining spectral hand instantly became a black haze and vanished into the air.

Yang Chengzi’s soul struggled to rise. A golden divine consciousness streaked from afar and merged into Chen San’s body. Nearly half an incense stick’s time had passed. Seeing Chen San slowly open his eyes, the invocation completed, Yang Chengzi formed a hand seal and his soul was drawn back into his body.

Back in his body, Yang Chengzi felt utterly weak. With a thought, the sword soul returned to the Shangqing Sword. He watched as the Vajra’s form faded and Master Suichang, gasping, neared collapse.

Throughout, the ghostly creature had not moved half a step, as though regarding them as ants, its true strength impossible to gauge—only knowing it was unfathomable.

Now Yang Chengzi no longer hoped that the Daoist ancestor summoned by Chen San could defeat this powerful, otherworldly ghost. Instead, he considered perishing together with it—seeking a moment when both Chen San and Suichang could survive, sacrificing himself to drag the monster down.

Thunder rolled in the clouded sky, but rain had yet to fall.

None retreated. Yang Chengzi and Master Suichang had endured for nearly half an incense stick’s time, while the ghost was virtually unharmed.

Yet the two were nearly spent. Though Master Suichang’s injuries seemed minor, just a nosebleed, that last heavy blow had damaged his soul base, causing internal injury. He could not open his mouth lest his soul power escape—otherwise, he would be vomiting blood.

The Vajra’s indestructible form required immense spiritual power to sustain. Facing the ghost’s overwhelming attacks, the toll was enormous and unsustainable; the indestructible form could no longer hold, and the last blow was almost no different from striking Master Suichang’s flesh.

Yang Chengzi was little better. His soul—the very essence of life—had been grievously wounded. The remaining two souls and seven spirits, though still within, were similarly harmed. When the soul is injured, it stirs within the body, and if severe, the soul’s turbulence can shatter the organs. Though young and strong, Yang Chengzi was spitting blood unceasingly.

Only Chen San had just completed the invocation. This time, he had listened to Yang Chengzi and called upon the golden divine consciousness of a Daoist ancestor.

Yang Chengzi knew that the ancestor’s divine consciousness, lodged in Chen San’s body, might not be able to unleash its full power. The ghost before them was not something a single ancestor’s consciousness could resolve.

Chen San slowly opened his eyes, his own awareness now slumbering. The ancestor’s divine consciousness was too powerful for someone as ordinary as Chen San. Seeing the ghost, the ancestor furrowed his brow.

He looked at Yang Chengzi, still kneeling and coughing blood, and at the Shangqing Sword half-buried in the earth, sighing.

“Such pure ghostly aura is beyond the power of a single strand of my consciousness to slay. An unnatural thing must be reclaimed by heaven. Fellow Daoist, lend me the Shangqing Sword.”

With that, he extended his left hand. The Shangqing Sword, as if summoned, shot from the earth into Chen San’s grasp.

Yang Chengzi was stunned. The Shangqing Sword belonged to his grandmaster, Master Guangyuan. It was no ordinary magical sword; its origins were unknown, never spoken of by the grandmaster. Yet this divine consciousness could sense the sword soul, and the unity of man and sword was even more perfect than his own. And this was only a strand of consciousness—who was he? The grandmaster? Impossible—the grandmaster would never address him as “Fellow Daoist.” Who, then, was this ancestor?

Shocked, Yang Chengzi was about to ask when the ancestor acted. Through Chen San’s body, he stepped the celestial Yubu, formed the Meteor Fire Seal, and with each step, meteors rained from the sky.

Yang Chengzi frowned. The Meteor Fire Seal was not a powerful spell, yet unlike others, it required a foundation in Daoist arts to use. That this ancestor’s consciousness could wield it through Chen San’s ordinary body was extraordinary.

The meteors fell, and the ghost looked up, its aura surging, making no move, unconcerned by the falling fire.

Yang Chengzi knew the Meteor Fire spell could not harm the ghost before them. Yet, he reasoned, this ancestor, recognizing the creature’s strength at a glance, would not act in vain.

Indeed, the meteors did not fall on the ghost. Instead, they swooped toward them. As the fire neared the ground, the ancestor traced lightly along the Shangqing Sword’s blade, blood flowing from his finger and smeared upon the engraving of the Great Dipper God Incantation. He gripped the hilt in one hand, the blade supported overhead in the other.

As his palm touched the sword, the engraving of the Great Dipper God Incantation glowed as if forged in flame. A fiery vortex drew the meteors from the sky, absorbing them into the sword.

The falling meteors were all consumed by the vortex, and in an instant, the sword soul of the Shangqing Sword blazed with the energy of heaven and earth, transformed into a divine weapon.

Still in awe, Yang Chengzi watched as the ancestor charged at the ghost, sword in hand, engaging in fierce battle. The ancestor’s speed surpassed all expectation. The ghost could no longer simply repel the Shangqing Sword with its aura.

Empowered by the meteors, the Shangqing Sword cleaved through ghostly aura wherever it struck, dissipating it instantly. The ghost could only defend with its armor, and its attacks were nearly all evaded or parried.

Amazingly, the ancestor could fight the ghost using Chen San’s mortal body, forcing the creature to retreat—no longer standing its ground.

After a prolonged struggle, the ancestor swung the sword, casting a shadow of the divine incantation, like a giant blade, from the Shangqing Sword. With the swing, the shadow cleaved outward.

The ghost, seeing the shadow approach, instantly condensed a shield of ghostly aura, but the divine shadow broke through with mountain-shattering force, piercing the ghost’s form.

With a thunderous crash, the tomb’s pervasive ghostly aura vanished, the chamber returning to its collapsed state.

Yang Chengzi gaped at the divine shadow—the Great Dipper God Incantation made manifest. He had never seen it, nor had his grandmaster Guangyuan used it. Yang Chengzi hadn’t even known such power lay within the Shangqing Sword.

The ghost’s aura still surged, but its silver-black armor was now covered in the incantation’s imprints.

The ancestor retreated, forming a hand seal and chanting: “My heart follows my will, the soul does not follow the body, the body moves, the soul acts, break its soul alone—break!”

With the incantation, the imprints on the ghost’s armor shuddered, glowing bright red. A tremendous explosion followed, all the imprints detonating instantly.

This was the Soul-Breaking Grand Incantation. The ancestor had, during hand-to-hand combat, imprinted the Great Dipper God Incantation onto the ghost’s armor with soul power, then triggered them in resonance, detonating the soul-obliterating spell.

Seeing all the imprints explode, hope ignited in Yang Chengzi’s heart.

Yet the ancestor’s brow remained tightly knit. With the detonation, the ghostly aura surged like a beast freed from its cage, spilling out in wild torrents.

The ghostly aura now so thick as to obscure the armor, was purer and stronger than before—raging like waves crashing down.

Within the haze, a ghostly figure appeared, floating like a sovereign of destruction, rising slowly into the air. The waves of ghostly aura spread, soon engulfing the entire tomb.

Yang Chengzi and Master Suichang were horrified. Such pure ghost aura could instantly overwhelm ordinary villagers, extinguishing their life fires and eroding their souls to death.

Master Suichang drew his staff from the ground, gasping, and said to Yang Chengzi, “Give me a hand to send me up.”

With that, he strode toward Yang Chengzi. Understanding, Yang Chengzi adjusted his stance; as Master Suichang stepped onto him, Yang Chengzi exerted all his strength and launched him upward.

Master Suichang was not one to cling to life. Such pure ghostly aura would soon flood the tomb entirely, and more was spilling from the floating ghost, spreading toward the fields.

Supporting himself with his staff, Master Suichang staggered toward the house beside the fields. The Wrathful Vajra had barely held for half an incense stick, consuming much of his spiritual power, and that last blow had ravaged his organs, leaving him in burning pain.

After a few steps, he fell to his knees, the staff dropping. He turned to face the floating ghostly figure, vision blurring, his body too tortured to move further. He sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and pressed his palms together, chanting sutras.

At his feet, pitch-black ghostly aura flowed, spreading toward the village. Suddenly, from the distant sky, a great bell sounded: “Dong, dong, dong.”

Master Suichang’s whole body radiated faint golden light. With the third chime, a vast Buddha phantom, like a mountain, appeared behind him, seated in meditation.

The Buddha’s phantom covered nearly all of Fu Village. Its presence reverberated with chanting, lingering on. All ghostly aura that had infiltrated the village was purified and dispelled. The Buddha’s splendid, solemn, and merciful presence repelled all invading ghostly energy, keeping the village safe.