Chapter 95: Hybridization (Revised)
Ling Chi led a group of men, using the thunder pearl's sensing ability to capture people one by one.
Chen Hai’s situation was, after all, a rarity. The more he learned, the more curious he became about the thunder pearl.
Once he grew stronger, all these secrets would be unveiled one by one, laid bare before him without disguise.
Over a dozen people were taken away on the spot; those who dared resist were subdued immediately or simply eliminated.
Under the might of heaven, these evildoers had nowhere to hide.
After a busy sweep, he harvested only seventy or eighty strands of thunder spiritual energy, leaving him somewhat disappointed.
The righteous methods were not as effective as those of the underworld, or rather, the demonic arts.
Perhaps a dual identity was the most effective approach.
Ling Chi pondered carefully. Jiqing Town was too small; it held little promise.
“Azhen, bring the map,” Ling Chi called out, his voice carrying far.
Moments later, Azhen returned with a geomantic map of the Northwest Circuit.
He pointed out Jiqing Town to Ling Chi.
Jiqing Town was beside the Si River, across which lay Zhuxian County, part of Shengzhou.
Shengzhou and Yingzhou were similar in size, each comprising three counties and eighteen towns.
Ling Chi studied Zhuxian’s location thoughtfully.
He had heard previously that a fellow believer had appeared in Yuxian County, only some two hundred miles from Zhuxian.
Without hesitation, he decided to visit Shengzhou. The thought of abundant fate awaiting him made his heart restless.
Ling Chi was not one to hesitate; once decided, he acted immediately.
“I’m going to find a place to cultivate in seclusion for a while. The Jing’an Division is in your hands. If there’s trouble, seek reinforcements from He County,” he said casually.
Before Azhen could respond, Ling Chi had already vanished.
Azhen felt invigorated—was this a sign he was to be entrusted with greater responsibility?
The Si River was barely a dozen zhangs wide; Ling Chi used the Thunder Leap to cross in a single bound.
On the way to Zhuxian, he contemplated his next method of operation.
Though many martial artists cultivated thunder techniques, few wielded such overwhelming might as Ling Chi. Within several circuits, there were hardly any who could match him in thunder arts alone.
He resolved to avoid displaying his thunder techniques in public as much as possible.
His route was arbitrary—through deep mountains and dense forests, or broad highways alike.
Speeding like a bolt, whenever the thunder pearl trembled, he would pause to seize any chance fate offered.
In a forested area, a flash of his blade felled a sheep demon at the Vein Opening stage.
Drawing his short knife, he impulsively decided to roast a leg for a meal.
He skinned four legs, skewered them on a tree branch, and ignited the wood with pure Yang energy.
The dry branch caught fire instantly; the charcoal’s heat would bring out the best flavor in the meat.
Unfortunately, he had no salt or spices—otherwise, it would have been perfect.
The sheep demon’s meat differed greatly from ordinary mutton.
Its flesh and blood were crystal clear; the bones resembled white jade, and the gaminess was much less pronounced.
The glowing embers crackled as the meat roasted, fat dripping and sizzling into the coals, releasing an intoxicating aroma.
The shanks cooked first; he eagerly tore one off and bit into it, juices flooding his mouth.
Next time, he vowed to bring salt and spices on his journeys.
Damn it, whose hands was his storage artifact in?
It had become an obsession. A grand traveler like him didn’t even have a storage artifact—how embarrassing.
He bit into the meat again; the crispy exterior and tender interior comforted him.
After devouring two shanks, the thighs were nearly done.
The roasted legs gleamed golden brown; the crisp skin snapped delightfully with each bite.
He ate heartily, watching the sunset’s glow, his mood blissful.
As he gnawed on the last leg, a thin mist rose in the forest, veins of yin energy thickening with each breath.
He watched the pale fog with interest, the lamb leg lost its appeal—could this be fate seeking him out?
His eyes gathered thunder energy; the mist became translucent.
Faint sounds of drums and laughter drifted in, initially distant, then growing deafening.
Interspersed were scattered footsteps, indistinct yet chilling.
Suddenly, two groups appeared on a transverse mountain path.
On the left, paper effigies of horses and men, a red bridal sedan chair shrouded in eerie yin energy. A blushing bride clad in wedding garments sat shyly inside.
On the right, demon soldiers and generals pulled carts and carried loads, exuding malevolent aura.
A rat spirit clad in armor sat proudly astride a horse.
It was a procession of monstrous spirits escorting a wedding.
The thunder pearl vibrated continuously, signaling it was time to feed.
The two groups converged, ignoring Ling Chi entirely.
The drums and laughter played as if right beside his ear.
“A female ghost marrying a demon—this is a hybrid union,” Ling Chi remarked.
He stood, cradling his blade like a steadfast pine.
The thunder’s roar smothered all sound. Instantly, the ghosts and demons turned to him, their hollow eyes fixed on Ling Chi.
“Become my fodder, my little soldiers,” he whispered, inhaling deeply.
A small thunder mist dragon emerged from his nostrils, erupting a gust that dispersed the dense yin and demonic energies.
The lesser demons and ghosts behind the procession collapsed en masse.
“Boom!”
A thunderclap thundered as Ling Chi surged into the crowd, lightning wrapping his body.
His horse-slaying blade swung in afterimages, his body a shredding machine several zhangs wide—any fiend or spirit it touched died instantly.
With a vertical slash, the red bridal sedan shattered; the female ghost bride exuded intense yin energy but was cut down before she could utter a harsh word, lying motionless on the ground, her fate unknown.
“Squeak!”
The rat spirit roared, wielding two small hammers, eyes glowing red as it struck toward Ling Chi—its unwed bride was gone.
A thunder mist dragon darted from Ling Chi’s mouth, shaking the rat spirit’s form.
A blow from the horse-slaying blade cut it from its horse.
Seeing Ling Chi unstoppable, it immediately dug its fangs into the earth, attempting to escape by burrowing, abandoning its bride’s fate.
“Eight Extremes, Thunder Stomp!”
Ling Chi stomped on its tail; thunder the thickness of a water bucket instantly engulfed the rat spirit.
It resisted for only two breaths before transforming into thunder spiritual energy, feeding back into the Sea of Thunder.
With a straightened arm, he swung the horse-slaying blade like a spear, piercing the female ghost’s body.
“Ah! Ah!”
She screamed, following the rat spirit’s demise.
What had been a joyous wedding just moments ago turned into a funeral scene.
They contributed four to five hundred strands of thunder spiritual energy to Ling Chi before departing the mortal realm without complaint.
“Good demons, good ghosts all,” he sighed sincerely, mourning their deaths.
“If only I could do it again,” he muttered, leaving the ruined mountain path without looking back.
Only a field of sword marks and thunder traces remained, bearing witness to the low-intensity battle that had erupted here.
He left the mountains behind, disguised anew, and reappeared on the official road.
Ling Chi quickened his pace; Zhuxian was near.
The county’s guards were no obstacle; he slipped into the town unnoticed.
Zhuxian appeared wealthier than He County, with few beggars or vagrants in the streets.
The county magistrate’s governance seemed effective.
Ling Chi strolled through the streets, selecting his target.
He found an unoccupied residence, slipped inside, and changed his appearance.
When he emerged, he was a dashing young gentleman dressed in flowing white robes.
The broad white garment concealed the horse-slaying blade.
Using the art of invisibility, he prepared to infiltrate the county jail.
This was where he would begin his ruthless purge of Zhuxian.