Chapter 52 Part 2

Still, it couldn’t exactly be called “smooth sailing.” The image of “Fu Changheng” had long been transmitted back to the Xuanzhen Dao Court, but actually meeting their “old friend” still filled Tao Junran’s group with immense sorrow and regret. If this couple were still alive, with the rate of spiritual revival over these eight years, they would undoubtedly be in Jiang Li’s tier—the very first echelon of Mystic cultivators. After all, they were true geniuses, and they had never given up on their cultivation, never grown complacent over their innate talent.

After a brief exchange of blows, Tao Junran came to a judgment: “Only thirty to thirty-five percent of his strength remains.” He and Liang Maishan together could fully suppress “Fu Changheng.”

Liang Maishan narrowed his eyes and said, “Good thing that girl Xuanji isn’t here.” Otherwise, even in this “ghostly evil” state, if the two of them joined forces, they could still exert sixty percent of their power—making things truly troublesome.

Tao Junran said, “Old Liang, didn’t you notice the runes carved on his chains? They’re the Shangqing Nine Cloud Sealing Talisman.” His heart sank slightly. The Shangqing Nine Cloud Sealing Talisman was a legacy of the Shangqing lineage. After joining the Xuanzhen Dao Court, he had placed all the Dao texts in the Dao Court’s lending library for fellow cultivators to browse. But the only person capable of sensing the “Nine Clouds Qi” to successfully draw this talisman was Jiang Li, whose current whereabouts were unknown! Could it be she who entered the seal and patched up the old great array?

“Huh? It was Jiang Li?” Liang Maishan paused, his heart sinking. Back then, the Mystic Sect and the noble clans had joined forces; Wang Yicheng, Zhang Suzhi, and the others were all present. Only the Jiang family had only sent some younger descendants to participate. As for Jiang Li herself, she had been delayed by the Yellow River Uprising and missed it. When she rushed over afterward, the tragedy had already unfolded. She had stared at the great array in silence for a long time, then overrode all objections and took Fu Juan away. After that, she rarely mentioned the events of eight years ago. But those close to Jiang Li knew it had become a deep knot in her heart.

Tao Junran turned to look at him, voice heavy. “What do you guess she would do?” As he spoke, thunder roared, and astral winds surged. It was another clash of Heavenly Dipper and Earthly Fiend divine powers. The “ghostly evil,” possessing only thirty to forty percent of Fu Changheng’s ability, could not possibly resist Tao Junran. But just as its protective ghostly Qi was dispersed, the talismans on its chains activated, forming a Vajra shield around it, preventing it from being obliterated by the purifying Thunder Astral Qi.

Liang Maishan was astonished. “The Shangqing Nine Cloud Sealing Talisman has this effect too?”

Tao Junran’s mouth twitched. “Maybe Jiang Li added something extra.” Then he frowned. “Changheng was already long gone. This body has become a ghostly evil. Jiang Li wants to preserve his corpse, but also eliminate the evil—it’s a bit tricky. She left us a big problem.”

Liang Maishan acted, immobilizing “Fu Changheng,” and snorted coldly. “Then let her solve it herself.”

Tao Junran shook his head slowly. “Even using the Six Jia Arcane Gates, I can’t divine Jiang Li’s life or death or her location.”

Liang Maishan shuddered at that. “Neither alive nor dead?”

Tao Junran sighed. “This world is truly about to undergo a monumental shift.”

—

After the Ghost Domain manifested, the negative-energy ghosts within it neither entered the Senluo Hells nor the Six Paths of Reincarnation. The Ghost Domain had essentially become a new “underworld court.” Attempting to liberate ghosts inside the Ghost King Mausoleum through scripture chanting would face immense resistance. In such situations, the most effective method was “physical salvation.” The Xuanzhen Dao Court cultivators had prepared for this from the start, only to find the power of their incantations exceptionally strong, as if unaffected by the Ghost Domain itself.

“Could it be the original seal was actually somewhat effective? And what’s leaking out now is the last residual force?”

“This pit is over a dozen meters deep, filled with countless white bones. What sins did that emperor commit to require so many human sacrifices?”

Murmured whispers rose and fell. As things neared their end, the cultivators gradually relaxed. But just then, a heavy, rhythmic “thump-thump” sound echoed from afar, like thousands of beasts stampeding across the earth. A cultivator standing at the edge of the pit staggered. Had the person next to him not grabbed him in time, he might have tumbled headfirst into the Ghost Cave. Each tremor split the flagstones covering the ground. Within the cramped, oppressive secret chamber, ghostly wails intertwined with the tremors, casting an unshakeable pall over everyone’s heart.

Jiang Yiguang turned towards the source of the sound, her expression changing slightly. What appeared in her field of vision was a four-meter-tall Headless Golden Man. Precisely because its head had been removed, it could just barely stand upright within this chamber. Its every step compressed the already limited space. Dust cascaded down the walls like waterfalls. Even if the entire chamber collapsed at this moment, Jiang Yiguang wouldn’t be surprised.

“The Golden Man still has some spirituality left,” Zhao Sujie said, her wrist flicking. In her hand appeared several thunder talismans, which she hurled at the Golden Man ahead.

Jiang Yiguang gave a soft “Mm,” noticing the Golden Man’s hand was cupped loosely, as if it had once held a sword. Had the sword turned to ash over the long centuries? No, if the Golden Man retained spirituality, it would surely have been kept intact. There were thunder-fire and sword marks on its chest and abdomen—the item it once held might have been taken. Thoughts racing, Jiang Yiguang stepped into the Dipper Steps, joining the fray with her sword. Sword Qi flowed freely, stirring howling astral winds.

“Can they lure the Golden Man outside? Fighting here, if the pit side collapses, the talisman array might fail,” a grumbling voice rose.

“It won’t.” Fu Juan’s gaze was dark and deep. The ghost-fire baleful Qi raged within her legs, like a feral beast clawing and tearing, trying to devour everything. She glanced down at the remaining negative-energy souls in the pit, her left hand holding the sword, drawing a large, bleeding gash across her right palm. Using blood as a medium, she drew talismans in the air, chanting the Prison-Opening Incantation and the Summon Four-Eyed Old Man Incantation.

“Patrol the world, swiftly bind the evil winds. Should any disobey, escort them to Northern Fengdu!”

Her Qi flow spun like a tempest, faintly carrying the sound of vast thunder. Behind Fu Juan, a colossal Dharma form of the Four-Eyed Deity manifested. Its right palm, seemingly capable of upholding mountains, plunged directly into the pit. The power of the incantations relied on Fu Juan to maintain them. Her body, already tormented by pain and riddled with injuries, once again endured immense pressure, as if her muscles and bones were dislocating. Her face was pale as death, yet not a single groan of pain escaped her lips. Her left hand resting on her leg trembled faintly. She repeated, “It won’t.”

The Wind Sword, unrestrained by anything, roamed freely between heaven and earth. Though the decapitated Golden Man retained some spirituality, its fundamental strength had already mostly collapsed. Its clumsy form had long lost the nimbleness of its prime. It had no mind, could not think—after all, not every being could turn into a Xingtian. It could only fight based on the instincts imprinted in its body.

As lightning crackled, the Golden Man raised its palm to strike Zhao Sujie. At that critical moment, Jiang Yiguang tightened her grip on her sword, planted one foot on the ground, and leaped up to slash fiercely at the Golden Man’s arm! Sword light shimmered; a gale rose. The golden arm fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Jiang Yiguang pressed forward, but suddenly heard a whistling wind by her ear. An internal alarm rang, and her instincts screamed at her to retreat rapidly. But the flash of light, carrying astral wind and force, still sliced a bloody gash across her cheek.

Her face stung. Jiang Yiguang wiped it with her hand; her fingertip came away stained bright red. She focused on the Golden Man. The flash of light’s true target had actually been it. Moments later, a deafening roar, like an exploding bomb, echoed through the chamber. The massive Golden Man burst apart into pieces. The only thing left was a sword radiating immense, terrifying power, plastered with a spell talisman, embedded in the ground, humming ceaselessly.

Flying Sword Technique!

“Good, good. Finally dealt with,” a voice came from the direction the Golden Man had appeared. A refined, familiar face came into view. Wang Xuanming. Although this was entirely different from fate’s arrangement, as the male lead, he still appeared at this location.

Jiang Yiguang frowned, concealing the flash of displeasure that swiftly crossed her eyes.

“I ran into this Golden Man by chance. Don’t know who cut off its head but didn’t take the Tai’e Sword it was holding.” Wang Xuanming’s tone was light, especially when saying the last three words, carrying a hint of pride between his brows. He pulled the sword from the flagstone, lightly brushed his finger over it, and the spell talisman vanished. His gaze passed Jiang Yiguang, easily finding Fu Juan in the crowd. He asked again, “Want to take a look?”

The Tai’e Sword—the sword of Might, the sword once wielded by emperors. A thousand years of time had nurtured its spirituality. For Wang Xuanming, who cultivated the Flying Sword Technique, this was a rare treasure. This trip to the Ghost King Mausoleum had been worthwhile.

After seeing the Xuanyuan Xiayu Sword in the Eternal Space, Jiang Yiguang no longer felt moved by famous historical swords. Those swords simply couldn’t compare to the sword forged by immortals from Shoushan copper for the Yellow Emperor Xuanyuan. Yet Jiang Yiguang just couldn’t stand Wang Xuanming’s smugness. She knew what he cared about most. Just as he was about to brush past her, Jiang Yiguang tapped her sword on the flagstone. Amidst the clicking sound, her voice rang out: “My sword. Fu Juan gave it to me.”

Wang Xuanming: “…”

With the Golden Man shattered, the “salvation” ritual within the Ghost Cave also neared its end. Fu Juan swallowed the blood rising in her throat and urged her wheelchair forward, bypassing the delighted Wang Xuanming, heading straight for Jiang Yiguang. She pulled out a handkerchief with her clean left hand and offered it to Jiang Yiguang.

Jiang Yiguang didn’t take it, merely stating calmly, “Your right hand is bleeding too.” As a darling of the Dao of Heaven, Fu Juan could use cheats, but this “lingering-at-death’s-door cheat” was absurdly painful to witness. Every time, she bore the torment herself. Even if she and Fu Juan had no more bonds in the future, she still hoped Fu Juan could have a smoother path.