Chapter 10: Three Years (Revised)

Chen Mang drew his blade from its sheath and kicked open the courtyard gate. A man lay collapsed on the ground, and nearby, a woman clutched her children, trembling in fear. From the sheep pen came the rustling sounds of movement.

He used his scabbard to turn the man over and reached out to check—finding a pulse, he gestured to the woman to drag him inside and barricade the door. The water ghost, Lanlan, had not directly harmed them, which showed she retained a shred of reason, or perhaps her thirst for vengeance had not yet fallen upon them.

A torch, swirling in the air, was hurled into the sheep pen. Lanlan, the water ghost, abruptly turned her head from her feast, her red robe now filthy and ragged. Her tangled hair clung to her forehead in strands, her belly bulged grotesquely from swallowing a sheep, its contents unknown. Her eyes were nothing but whites, and through her wide mouth, razor-sharp teeth gleamed; her skin, soaked and pale, shed bits of decaying flesh that hissed as they fell to the earth.

“Lanlan, I know your grievance. I am here expressly to bring justice to the traffickers. Trust me,” Chen Mang tried to calm her with words.

But as soon as he finished, Lanlan erupted in fury. Her hair, like steel whips, lashed toward him with a gust of wind. Chen Mang’s aura of red murderous energy flared, forcing him to engage in battle.

For a short time, Chen Mang could hold his own, but the water ghost, now ashore, possessed immense strength. He knew he could not withstand her for long. Hair and blade clashed with the sound of metal striking metal, and he was forced to fight defensively, retreating while preparing to join his brothers in a formation to surround Lanlan.

Something had triggered the water ghost’s rage; she attacked with wild abandon. When her assault failed, her spectral body surged forward, intent on devouring his flesh and stripping his skin.

Like a crimson bird taking flight, her fingers extended into long, black claws, slashing at Chen Mang’s throat. He guarded with his blade, but was struck and sent flying.

Zhou Shan, always watching for danger, saw Chen Mang’s defeat and rushed to aid him with the constables.

Seeing reinforcements arrive, Chen Mang’s goose-feathered saber suddenly glowed red. He shouted, “Blood Fiend Formation, assemble!”

“Blood Fiend Blade Technique, rise!”

The Blood Fiend Blade Technique was a military art, meant for many to form a killing array, overwhelming the enemy.

The constables swiftly formed ranks, and in an instant, murderous energy soared, filling the sky with red light.

Lanlan was trapped within the formation, lunging left and right in vain. Suddenly, she took a deep breath, her chest swelling.

A wave of sound blasted from her mouth, sending the constables writhing on the ground, clutching their ears. The formation was shattered in a blink.

Zhou Shan’s face turned pale, and he barely suppressed a mouthful of blood.

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As the formation’s focal point, Chen Mang suffered the worst backlash; blood spurted from his mouth, his face ashen and his breath barely perceptible.

“It’s over. The formation is broken—we’re finished,” Zhou Shan thought bitterly. He had fled the cannibal battlefields of the south, only to enjoy a few days of peace before death loomed again.

Lanlan’s long hair lashed out once more. Zhou Shan spat blood from his tongue onto his spearhead and fought on.

The military spear technique was bold and fierce; the wooden shaft fitted with a black iron head became, under the murderous aura’s influence, as hot and brilliant as burning charcoal.

The spear swept a dangerous arc, its tip passing three inches before the water ghost’s neck—only to be caught in her hand.

The chicken blood and dog blood smeared on the spear proved useless. Lanlan’s long hair suddenly wrapped around Zhou Shan’s ankle, yanking him off balance and exposing his chest.

Lanlan’s right hand raised a black glow, plunging toward Zhou Shan’s heart. He closed his eyes in despair, awaiting the moment of death.

“Sisters fallen in the county, your brother cannot save you now. If a colleague asks for your company at night, please hang the jade pendant I gave you by your bed, so I may feel a trace of presence,” Zhou Shan thought his final words.

“What fiend dares harm the constables of Crane County? Prepare to die!” came a voice, full and commanding.

Even faster than the voice was a short blade crackling with golden lightning.

Ling Chi arrived on horseback, Zhao Shanhe following leisurely with two mounts.

Lanlan abandoned her attack on Zhou Shan, her hair whipping toward the descending short blade.

Black hair met the thunderous blade like a hot knife through butter, and Lanlan shrieked, retreating dozens of steps.

Zhou Shan looked toward the newcomer, silently thanking his ancestors for this narrow escape.

A tall figure landed from above—a handsome man with broad shoulders and a slim waist: Ling Chi.

Dark energy surged from Lanlan, nourishing her wounded hair as she watched the approaching man.

Ling Chi rested his hand on his horse-slaying saber, lightning flickering in his eyes, brimming with thunderous spiritual power.

For three years, Ling Chi had lain low, often venturing out to pacify minor ghosts and spirits. The thunderous aura grew slowly but steadily; now, at the third stage of the Open Vein realm, he was among the best of the young.

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Lanlan tried to repeat her earlier tactic, inhaling fiercely. Ear-splitting sound waves radiated from her as she believed victory was in hand—until she heard a snort.

Two misty dragons burst from Ling Chi’s nostrils.

The water ghost’s sonic shriek was instantly shattered; Lanlan seemed struck by a hammer, and collapsed.

“You are all villains, conspiring together in wickedness,” Lanlan finally spoke after being subdued.

“Miss Water Ghost, what grievance do you harbor? Speak frankly, and I shall consider your plea,” Ling Chi replied. He could easily destroy her, but saw no harm in hearing her tale.

“My name is Zhu Lanlan, from Feng County in Hezhou. My father was the county constable Zhu Huaiyuan. I was drugged when offering incense at the Thousand Buddha Temple.

Afterwards, I was sold to the village chief’s family here. I tried to escape several times, but failed. Then the chief’s son and some idle men bound me to the ancestral altar and forced themselves upon me… Sir, can you seek justice for me?”

Lanlan, wounded by the snort, whimpered on the ground.

“That won’t do. I am a virtuous youth—I cannot kill at your whim. Besides, how can I know your story is true? I wasn’t there at the scene,” Ling Chi replied.

Ghosts are notorious for their deceit. Readers, if you encounter one, never believe their words—just slap them hard.

“Um… Young Lord, I am Zhou Shan, chief constable of the county. The water ghost’s story appears true; we have interrogated the village chief’s son Li Stone and the idle men, and their confessions match her account,” Zhou Shan said, having just given Chen Mang a healing pill.

Ling Chi glanced at the bearded man and nodded.

“Lanlan, you cannot live. When you killed those children, your fate was sealed. At most, I can send those scoundrels to accompany you in death. If you agree, follow me; if not, I’ll finish you and send them after you,” Ling Chi said calmly, his face gentle yet deliberate.

Lanlan could not stop bowing her head to the ground. Unable to stand, she crawled after Ling Chi. Don’t ask why he didn’t lend her a hand—he found her too filthy.

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