Chapter Fifteen: The Butcher’s Blade Extinguishes the Spirits

The hilt of the knife protruding from the chest of the Five-Soul Ghost resembled a lightning rod, drawing the thunder toward it.

A flash of violet light, and the Five-Soul Ghost let out an agonizing, piercing scream; its body flickered between tangible and intangible, becoming unstable.

Struck so grievously, the ghost froze, and the butcher’s knife fell from its half-corporeal form, its tip wedged into the crack between the bluish stone bricks.

Zhou Bai understood this was the best chance to destroy it.

Sensing the imminent threat, the Five-Soul Ghost staggered away in the opposite direction, only a step away from utter annihilation.

Lin Da-nian merely glanced at the wall and his body moved instinctively; his right fist clenched, power gathering throughout his frame.

He meant to smash the wall, exposing the Five-Soul Ghost entirely to the sunlight.

The commotion in the alley was considerable, but the western part of Hangdu was always unruly; no one would venture into this narrow passage.

Daoist Hou had already depleted his breath of true energy, and seeing the Five-Soul Ghost about to be vanquished, he couldn’t help but sigh in relief.

At this moment, someone moved even faster than Lin Da-nian.

Zhou Bai, suppressing the pain from his wounds, rushed headlong at the Five-Soul Ghost. He felt a premonition in his heart: if he slew this ghost, perhaps he could gain some points.

As he passed the butcher’s knife, he seized the hilt and pulled the blade free from the ground.

In that instant, a cold gleam exploded forth.

Zhou Bai’s knife technique had never followed any formal style. Now, anxious to break the enemy, he abandoned all pretense of method.

Yet, unconsciously, his strikes embodied speed, precision, and ferocity.

He raised the blade; the gust whipped up the fallen leaves, swirling them like a river of yellow, moving with the knife’s edge.

The Five-Soul Ghost reacted swiftly as well—in a moment of life and death, instinctively responding.

Its withdrawn tongue darted out again, this time aiming for Zhou Bai’s forehead; if it struck, it would inevitably bore a bloody hole straight through his skull.

In the nick of time, Zhou Bai calmly held the butcher’s knife horizontally before his head, blocking the tongue and using the momentum to leap into the air.

Switching to a two-handed grip mid-flight, he assumed a poised stance ready to draw the blade.

A cold, chilling energy circulated within him, suppressing all pain throughout his body.

The exhilaration he felt when he severed the wild boar’s head surged up once more; Zhou Bai subconsciously began reciting the Rebirth Mantra.

“Death in darkness, death in light, aggrieved souls departed, debtors and adversaries, those who seek vengeance, kneel before me, the Eight Trigrams shine forth, stand at Kan and emerge, transcend to another realm.”

Each word was clear and distinct; he finished as his feet touched the ground.

They brushed past each other; Zhou Bai stood diagonally in front of the Five-Soul Ghost, his back to it, bathed in sunlight.

Blood from his wounds continued to flow, dripping along the blade onto the stone bricks below, forming a small pool.

He sheathed the knife; a fissure appeared in the Five-Soul Ghost’s body, its yin energy boiling.

In the next moment, the ghost dissolved into ash, vanishing, and the scattered yin energy was quickly dissipated by the sunlight, erasing all traces of its existence.

Zhou Bai’s vision darkened; he knew it was a sign of excessive blood loss.

His body weakened, and as he was about to collapse, Lin Da-nian caught him.

“Brother Zhou, you’re a fierce one. I’m convinced.”

Lin Da-nian carefully supported Zhou Bai to a shaded spot and sat him down.

The stone in Daoist Hou’s heart finally dropped; regardless of anything else, the crisis was resolved. He patted his chest mournfully—spirit talismans were hard to make, and his techniques depended entirely on them.

Lin Da-nian skillfully treated Zhou Bai’s wounds, feeding him a pill, and color quickly returned to his face.

Daoist Hou had already guessed Zhou Bai’s identity. Apart from the Nether Bureau, no one else would meddle in such matters.

“This thirty taels were hard-earned, and now I’ve been drawn into the mire of Hangdu.”

Though he grumbled inwardly, Daoist Hou still approached with a pleasing expression.

“Could you, Master Daoist, tidy up the ghost’s remains?”

No matter how much Daoist Hou disliked it, he could only perform the dirty, exhausting tasks at Lin Da-nian’s request.

“Brother Zhou, too many eyes around—let’s find somewhere else to talk.”

Seeing Zhou Bai’s bleeding had stopped, Lin Da-nian hoisted him onto his shoulder, and with several quick movements, disappeared from the scene.

He brought Zhou Bai into the butcher shop’s room; though small, it was sufficient for the two to rest.

Daoist Hou, having briefly tended to the corpse in the clay jar, also entered the shop.

He dropped his usual glib manner, not daring to be unruly in front of the Nether Bureau.

Years of experience had taught him one truth: it was better to offend powerful enemies than the Nether Bureau—for in the Nine Provinces, one could never survive after crossing them.

“I wonder, Officer, what business you have?” Daoist Hou asked cautiously.

Lin Da-nian grinned, “Nothing major. I’d like to borrow Brother Zhou’s Yin-Yang Eyes for a while, and of course, Master Daoist’s thunder talismans are formidable as well.”

Zhou Bai and Daoist Hou exchanged glances; they knew eight times out of ten it was about the haunted manor in Qinghe. They hadn’t yet avoided trouble, and trouble had come knocking.

Daoist Hou spoke first: “Zhou Bai’s supernatural abilities could indeed be a great help, but I’m at a loss myself. Most of my talismans are spent—willing, but powerless.”

Zhou Bai hesitated. By rights, he ought to help; without their assistance, the Five-Soul Ghost would have been difficult for them alone to handle.

But the evil ghost in Qinghe was likely even more dreadful than a vengeful spirit—he didn’t want to lose his life in vain.

Lin Da-nian was a bit embarrassed as well; Zhou Bai had slain the Five-Soul Ghost himself, making Lin Da-nian seem somewhat superfluous.

“Little Brother Zhou, have you considered joining the Nether Bureau?”

Zhou Bai feigned ignorance: “Never heard of it. What does the Nether Bureau do?”

Lin Da-nian patiently explained, “The Nether Bureau is an official post dedicated to slaying monsters and demons. Only a dozen or so people qualify to join each year.”

It was indeed the Nether Bureau. Daoist Hou quickly interjected: “Zhou, you could certainly join the Bureau. As for me, old as I am, I’d rather stay free and independent. By the way…”

He seemed to have recalled something, and with a cheeky grin, continued: “Say, can I get reimbursed? I used up plenty of talismans—not sure how much silver went into making them.”

“…There’s no precedent for that, but I’ll find an opportunity to ask next time.”

Were it not for his current mission, Lin Da-nian would have ignored Daoist Hou entirely; it was his first time someone had asked the Nether Bureau for money.

“Zhou Bai, once you join the Nether Bureau, even at the lowest rank, your yearly salary far surpasses both civil and military officials.”