Volume One: The Useless Begins His Journey Fiery Demon-Slaying Chapter Seventy-Seven: The White Phantom, The True Immortal of Taiyuan

Before Master Suichang could dismiss his own idea, a horrifying thought surfaced: the soul before him was indeed that of a monkey, but could it be a spirit monkey with some fated opportunity, captured by an evil sorcerer and transformed into this abomination through dark arts?

He had no time to confirm this, for the silver-haired elder had already begun forming hand seals. The wrathful Vajra appeared in full, and scripture wrapped completely around the ghostly entity in his hand, sealing it for the moment.

Yang Chengzi struggled to his feet. Seeing the ghost sealed by scripture in Master Suichang’s hand, he scanned the surroundings for the Shangqing Sword but found nothing. Raising his hand, he bit his finger, preparing to summon the Ghost Hand to seal this entity completely.

However, observing the silver-haired elder’s ongoing hand seals, Yang changed his own, flicking his finger blood forward.

“Heavenly Thunder, descend.”

A bolt of lightning, like a silver dragon, crashed down toward the elder. Before it struck, the old man merely lifted his eyelids, the scorn in his gaze undisguised.

As the elder formed his seals, something the size of an eyeball appeared in the sky, at the same altitude as the mass of resentful energy.

Yang Chengzi missed this entirely. All around, waves of resentment and ghostly aura flowed toward the object. The heavenly thunder struck, but not the elder—rather, it hit that tiny thing. The lightning dissipated halfway through, finally catching Yang Chengzi’s attention.

A closer look revealed that not only did the object withstand the thunder, but as ghostly and resentful energy gathered, it slowly grew larger.

Not far off, the resentment above Chen San’s head and the aura from the three vengeful spirits drifted toward it, seemingly siphoned away.

No need to speculate: this was clearly a ghost still forming its corporeal body. Better to seal the ghost behind him first, Yang thought, biting his finger again, reciting a few words, and dragging his foot in a semicircle on the ground. A Ghost Hand, veined with molten lava, emerged.

Master Suichang was no fool; he knew exactly what Yang intended. As soon as the Ghost Hand appeared, the wrathful Vajra pressed the ghost onto the hand, scripture sealing it in place. The entity offered no resistance, dragged down by the Ghost Hand.

The silver-haired elder’s expression did not change in the slightest, as if the ghost meant nothing to him. As the ghostly and resentful energy gathered, the ghost’s body had yet to manifest.

Just as Yang Chengzi was puzzled, the ghost next to the elder was abruptly sucked upward. Only then did a mocking smile flicker across the elder’s face.

The ghost was absorbed, and in an instant, its corporeal form condensed—a twisted body floated in midair. Soon, a viscous, mucus-like fluid dripped from it, splashing in front of the elder.

There had never been much grass at the elder’s feet; now, each drop of the liquid caused the vegetation to wither instantly, drained of life.

Yang Chengzi’s brow furrowed; this mucus resembled that which the corpse-person from Lu Qichang’s village had exuded.

With a sudden sound, head and hands thrust out from the ghost’s body, which slowly descended. Though shrouded in ghostly aura, the more dominant energy was lethal resentment. The ghost’s face was clearly displayed before all.

The face was almost entirely decayed, the nose a rough, uneven pit. A long tongue, serpent-like, darted out, licking around the lips as more mucus dripped incessantly to the ground. On its forehead was that eyeball-sized protrusion. Its hands were withered, ten elongated nails grotesquely sinister. As the body descended, legs stretched out, feet like those of a wild beast, long claws planted firmly on the earth.

Its murderous gaze was unmistakable. Though the entity lacked overwhelming presence, Yang Chengzi and Master Suichang both immediately recognized it as something not easily dispatched—it awaited only a signal from the silver-haired elder to unleash its savagery.

On Chen San’s side, Chen Wan’er faced three vengeful spirits. Though spiritual energy countered resentment, she had expended much, shifting from offense to defense. These three spirits were not so easily subdued.

Chen San understood this well, but he had no choice. He had yet to find an opportunity to perform the Spirit Summoning technique, his only spell, and anxiety was futile.

With a sweep of the black-robed man’s artifact, the three vengeful spirits charged at Chen San and Chen Wan’er. Just as Chen Wan’er prepared to meet them, a giant white shadow, so vast it seemed to overlook all living things, swept through the house behind Chen San and reached for the spirits.

So swift was it that before the black-robed man could react, the spirits were seized and, almost instantly, transformed into resentful energy, dissipating into the mass above.

Chen San swallowed in shock, gazing upward along the phantom white hand, but the true form was obscured by the cabin roof.

In the distance, the silver-haired elder, eager to have Yang Chengzi’s ghost battle, was interrupted by a familiar voice behind Yang Chengzi and Master Suichang.

“Old bastard, you actually released this kind of ghost against my disciple? Looks like your time is up.”

The elder’s eyes widened, stopping his actions.

Yang Chengzi turned, stunned; the voice belonged to his master, the Grandmaster of Maoshan, Taiyuan Immortal.

Beside Taiyuan Immortal stood another elder, forming hand seals, a white phantom stretching behind Chen San—a looming white shadow, none other than Maoshan’s forbidden art, the Illusory Heavenly God Spell.

Compared to when Chen San summoned the spirit, the shadow was much deeper in color, its features sharpened, a fierce face glaring, surveying mankind.

Master Suichang did not turn, apparently guessing the identity. The golden bell and wrathful Vajra vanished, and he staggered back, nearly collapsing.

Taiyuan Immortal stepped forward, helping him to sit. Yang Chengzi felt hope anew.

“Master, I’ve kept you waiting. This evil sorcerer is too powerful—I am no match, and the master has been wounded by his summoned ghosts, needing rest for some time.”

Taiyuan Immortal produced a pill from his robe and gave it to Master Suichang. Hearing his master address the silver-haired elder, Yang Chengzi realized they were long acquainted, both of similar age.

Taiyuan Immortal approached Yang Chengzi, looking at the elder. “That old bastard isn’t your generation; surviving this long is remarkable. Leave it to me.”

The silver-haired elder sneered. “You decrepit fool, how are you still alive?”

Taiyuan Immortal regarded the ghostly creature before him, neither human nor ghost. “If you have the guts, tonight you’ll know who lives and who dies.”

Yang Chengzi withdrew, knowing it best to stay clear when immortals battled, lest he be caught in the crossfire. He had considered helping Chen San, but seeing that overwhelming white shadow, he abandoned the thought, choosing instead to guard Master Suichang. He formed seals, and the Shangqing Sword flew from afar to his hand.

Taiyuan Immortal was the Grandmaster of Maoshan, defender against evil, rarely descending the mountain to subdue monsters.

Yang Chengzi had never seen his master confront such sorcerers; he watched intently, eyes wide.

“Come then, let me see what you have besides the Eight Great Divine Spells.” As he spoke, the ghost lunged at Taiyuan Immortal, murderous eyes shining white, its form flickering between substance and shadow, arriving in a blink.

As the ghost rushed forward, Taiyuan Immortal remained motionless. Yang Chengzi watched, alarmed, knowing his master would not be caught unprepared. Such composure in the face of imminent danger was far beyond Yang’s expectations.

The ghost’s claws stretched out, almost at Taiyuan Immortal’s face. If he didn’t move now, it would be too late—Yang Chengzi broke out in cold sweat.

At the last moment, Taiyuan Immortal raised his hand, slapping a talisman onto the ghost. So swift was the movement, his hand seemed to blur, the talisman appearing almost by magic. The force of the slap sent the ghost’s claws flying backward, disintegrating into ghostly aura before they got far.

Taiyuan Immortal immediately formed a hand seal; the talisman he had slapped onto the ghost now floated where the ghost disappeared, hand seals whirling, incantation complete.

A resonant thud issued from the drifting talisman, its golden radiance spreading outward.

Yang Chengzi’s heart was shaken by the sound, unsettled. The vanished ghost reappeared, its murderous gaze twisted into agony, but only for a moment before reverting to bloodlust.

The corporeal form vanished once more, ghostly aura surged skyward, faces twisted in murder, pressing toward Taiyuan Immortal from all sides.

Unperturbed, Taiyuan Immortal stepped in the mystical pattern, scattering talismans skyward. In a blink, the talismans converged, charging at the incoming ghostly aura.

The silver-haired elder was alarmed. Though the talismans had not yet descended, under moonlight their purple hue was clear. Without any defense, so many talismans would surely annihilate his ghost.

No time to think, he formed a seal, causing the ghostly aura charging at Taiyuan Immortal to dissipate and gather before himself.

Taiyuan Immortal’s expression did not change. As the ghost’s form vanished, the purple talismans lost their target, drifting toward the elder. The ghost reappeared, and talismans fell upon it in turn.

Prepared, the elder bit his finger, dabbed blood on the back of the ghost’s head, and yanked out the eyeball-like object. Instantly, the ghost before him dispersed with the wind, the talismans once again left without a target.

Muttering, the elder said, “You decrepit fool, you handle talismans well. Let it amuse you; see if your talismans still have any use.” With that, he drew his artifact from behind.

A bone-like device, its color matching real bone, with no elaborate inscriptions, black feathers hanging from its tail. The head was hollow, like real bone. He bit his finger and scratched the device’s body with blood.