Chapter 8: The Way of Thunder (Cultivation)

Ling Chi was deeply provoked by that sinister smile. With a tactical lean back, he raised his right hand and swung it in a wide arc, landing a resounding slap across the face of the old ghost in the funeral robes.

The eerie grin on the ghost’s face froze, the ghastly visage splitting open, wisps of shadowy energy seeping out.

“Where did you come from, old ghost? You startled me! Let me send you off right now.” He swung the iron bar he’d dismantled from the lightning rod, wielding it with the Taiyi Severance Blade technique. The iron bar whistled through the air, crashing onto the ghost’s forehead.

The old ghost was stunned by the blow.

Ling Chi paid no heed to the dumbfounded expression on the ghost’s face, his strikes growing heavier and faster. A blade technique that had been mediocre in his previous life now proved strangely effective against spirits.

The old ghost, battered and crackling with escaping shadow energy, scrambled desperately to flee the battlefield, but Ling Chi would not allow it. The iron bar swung fiercely, knocking the ghost flat to the ground.

“You can talk, can't you? I’ll ask, you answer. For every wrong word, I’ll stab you. If you understand, nod.” Ling Chi felt as if he’d returned to the days in his previous life when he interrogated those lunatics in the basement. The memory excited him—it was the youth he’d lost.

“What are you?”

The old ghost hesitated, unsure whether he was supposed to be a thing or not.

“Young man, I’m merely a newly formed wandering soul, just wanted to give you a fright, nothing else.” The ghost spouted lies as soon as he opened his mouth, but Ling Chi had already brushed up on the relevant information.

Humans possess three souls and seven spirits; when frightened, the soul can leave the body, giving ghosts the chance to possess them and absorb their life force, growing stronger.

“You old lamp, still lying to me? Take this!” He swung the iron bar with vigor, making the ghost cry out miserably, shadow energy nearly dissipating.

“Stop! I'll tell you! I just wanted to secretly possess your body, sneak into the city and find something to eat. I really am a wandering soul!” The ghost’s screams grew ever more wretched, but Ling Chi remained skeptical.

“How are you ghosts ranked? Tell me the truth.”

“Just like human martial arts, there are ten realms, each divided into nine levels. I’m a wandering soul, above me are resentful spirits, fierce ghosts, and malicious souls. Beyond that, I don’t know.” Pinned to the ground, the ghost spilled everything like beans from a bamboo tube.

“You claim there are ten realms, but only mention four. Clearly you’re trying to fool me.” Ling Chi gave him no chance to retort, unleashing a relentless barrage.

The old ghost realized Ling Chi would not let him go today and stared at him with a chilling gaze.

Ling Chi felt his scalp tingle. “Now you dare look at me like that; soon you’ll try to kill me, won’t you? You wretch, I won’t let you live—I’ll finish you now!”

He spoke faster and faster, breath circulating, and flashes of lightning flickered in his eyes. His arms opened like a great bow, the iron bar plunging from the ghost’s crown straight into its chest.

The old ghost’s body began to tremble, like a fish out of water, and soon was still.

Immediately, a cold, invisible breath was drawn into Ling Chi’s body. He hurriedly guided a trace of spiritual energy to observe the Thunder Pearl. That shadowy energy was instantly absorbed by the Thunder Pearl, which then emitted a scorching golden lightning, merging with the trace of thunder energy within him, further strengthening his physique.

So it’s true—the Thunder Pearl can absorb evil energy and in turn fortify me. Just a thread of lightning doubled my spiritual energy; this will surely become my greatest reliance.

He’d felt a similar sensation when he slew the Dog Lord before, though at that time he hadn’t cultivated and didn’t notice.

It seems slaying other evil beings and monsters will yield similar energy—the stronger the creature, the greater the feedback.

Ling Chi now confirmed the path ahead: he was meant to continue what he hadn’t finished in his previous life.

“I spent my past life eliminating evil, and after death was brought to this world by the Thunder Pearl. Could there be a karmic bond between me and this Pearl?” Unable to unravel the question, he set it aside.

Ling Chi was content; he was more than satisfied. In this world, he could cultivate, and he had the Thunder Pearl—what more could he ask for?

After a night’s ordeal, dawn was near.

Ling Chi buried the iron bar, pondering how the lightning-forged bars could be crafted into a battle blade. To excel, one must first sharpen their tools; he needed a proper weapon.

Resolute, he went to the old ghost’s remains, built a fire, and burned them to ash.

Ling Chi returned to the city with the iron bars, heading straight for the blacksmith’s shop. He commissioned the smith to craft a three-foot-five-inch horse-chopping blade and a one-foot-five-inch short blade, the former for the battlefield, the latter for assassination—perfect.

After much explanation, sketches, and a deposit, he set the date and departed.

For now, Ling Chi had no intention of revealing his ghost-slaying exploits; it was safer to keep such things secret. What only he knew was a secret; once others knew, it became mere gossip.

He returned to his small courtyard, enjoyed a comfortable bath, had Huanhuan massage his shoulders, and made Akun walk on his back. Everyone was delighted.

Refreshed, Ling Chi decided to resume cultivation. Sleep? Only the dead need sleep, or those useless to society.

Ling Chi resolved to quietly strive and astonish all the ghosts and monsters.

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Three years later

Thirty miles east of Crane County, Yingzhou

A village called Panshan Bay.

The Pan River winds through the area, encircling Panshan Bay on three sides. Access is by an old stone bridge and an ancient mountain path. Villagers mostly fish and farm for a living.

The sun had yet to set; the intense summer heat baked the earth, waves of heat rolling over the lush fields. A squad of constables galloped along the mountain road, the dust kicked up by their horses lingering in the air.

At the head rode a man in a black robe embroidered with golden patterns, a turban atop his head, a swallow-feathered blade at his waist, brows furrowed in worry, his weary appearance accentuated by the long journey.

“Boss Chen, just ahead is Pan River Bay. Do we go straight in or wait for reinforcements?” a sallow-faced man suddenly asked.

“We’ll go in first, see what’s going on. Leave two men here to keep watch; if you hear the signal arrow, return to the county for reinforcements immediately. Brothers, stay alert once we’re in.” Chief Constable Chen gave careful instructions.

“Isn’t it just a few drowned kids, Boss Chen? Aren’t you being overly cautious?”

“Ma Liu, if you’re eager to die, I’ll finish you right now, save you from talking nonsense and endangering everyone.” Before Chen could reply, a bearded man following behind spoke up.

“Brother Shan, I didn’t mean it that way.” Ma Liu hurriedly explained. Offending Boss Chen meant a return to farming, but to offend Zhou Shan truly meant risking one’s life.

“Boss Chen’s survived in this line longer than any of us—that’s real skill. Once we cross the river, everyone follows orders. Anyone who disobeys, I’ll personally deliver your bereavement money.”

Zhou Shan was a soldier who had fled from the south, settled in Crane County, and become a constable under a new name.

“All right, everyone stay sharp. We can’t afford mistakes. This time, we’re not dealing with mere bandits—it could very well be a water ghost. Ashan, keep the brothers close.”

“Yes, boss.” Bearded Zhou Shan obeyed without question.

The group gripped their sword hilts, held their crossbows ready, fingers on the triggers.

“Move out.”