Chapter Twenty-Five: Swarm of Insects

Page 1/3

Inside the ancestral hall, vast swathes of white cloth hung from the ceiling, and in the dim light, a dozen clay figures stood in various postures. Wen Meng carefully investigated with his compass; he, like Lin Dayan, possessed ghostly arts, but he was also trained in scattered Daoist techniques.

“Though the Wang family manor reeks of strangeness, the evil spirit of Qinghe is no longer present here,” Wen Meng said. He had refined his ghostly powers into his own personal ghost artifact, relying mainly on his Daoist abilities, which served him well in most situations.

Zhou Bai spoke in a low voice, “At the very least, we need to uncover the origins of this evil spirit. As it stands, we know nothing about the situation.”

“True enough. Let's look inside first; besides, time is running short.” In the haze of the ancestral hall, Lin Dayan’s own yin energy replenished swiftly, and even without actively absorbing, he had already regained much of it.

The group exchanged glances; whether this was related to the Qinghe evil spirit or not, they had to press forward.

“Zhou Bai, you’d best stay outside. Wait for us here,” Wen Meng said. He was unaware that Zhou Bai had a second ability, simply considering the Yin-Yang Eyes more auxiliary, not worth risking.

Lin Dayan agreed; the Yin-Yang Eyes were highly valued in the Ministry of the Nether Canon, and it would be a shame for such promising talent to meet with misfortune before reaching maturity.

But Zhou Bai refused resolutely. His curse-killing ability had accumulated many characters; he might lack means to kill, but he certainly could protect himself. Moreover, to accumulate points, he couldn't let the opportunity slip by, especially under the protection of two officials from the Ministry. He was bold enough to take his chance.

Seeing Zhou Bai’s determination, the other two relented, only cautioning him repeatedly to be careful, then together they entered the ancestral hall through the broken window.

Inside, the temperature dropped sharply once more. Zhou Bai glanced back at the window; compared to the outside, it felt like entering another world.

They inspected the hall one by one. A handful of men and women stood as clay figures, likely servants of the Wang family manor.

Their expressions were frozen in terror, all eyes fixed toward the altar, though the thick white cloth obscured the view, and Zhou Bai could not discern what lay beyond.

“To think these clay figures were once living people sends chills down my spine,” Lin Dayan said uneasily. The powers of this evil spirit were indeed terrifying.

Page 2/3

Zhou Bai shook his head. “They may not all be dead. The corpses in those two exterminated households looked normal, but their insides were gone, and their bellies filled with mud and sand.”

Wen Meng recalled the mouse from earlier; it was possible these figures were still alive. “Dayan, try moving one of the clay figures outside.”

Lin Dayan nodded, chose a figure at random, and gently wrapped his arms around it, increasing his strength bit by bit, careful not to be too forceful.

But barely a few breaths passed before a crisp crack sounded—the clay figure broke apart at the waist.

Zhou Bai’s face changed; he immediately sensed something was wrong and shouted, “Careful!”

Inside, the figure was hollowed out, explaining the lack of organs in the previous corpses. From within, a dense swarm of black beetles poured out.

The insects beat their wings with a noisy clamor, swarming toward Lin Dayan, who was closest.

Lin Dayan reacted quickly, shielding his mouth, ears, and nose with his arms, his muscles taut as iron.

The black beetles gnawed frantically at his body, but could only leave white streaks on his stone-hard skin.

Wen Meng and Zhou Bai acted together. Wen Meng’s compass unleashed a gust of ghostly wind, transforming his dignified Daoist appearance into something sinister and spectral.

The wind enveloped the beetles, coating their bodies in frost; soon they dropped to the ground, motionless.

Zhou Bai, meanwhile, drew the butcher’s knife from his waist, weighed it in his hand, and swung experimentally at a stray beetle.

The swarm’s attention was fixed on Lin Dayan, blindly charging at him like moths to a flame, ignoring Zhou Bai entirely.

He slashed at one of the black beetles.

A sharp crack rang out—the beetle’s shell seemed harder than steel, deflecting the blade.

But the butcher’s knife, after a century of slaughter, carried a lingering aura of death.

Page 3/3

The black beetle was not split by the blade, but faltered before the aura; its body writhed as if plunged into acid, legs thrashing wildly.

Within moments, it was dissolved into a foul puddle of corrosive liquid.

“Killed a remnant soul. Points accumulation speed increased a tiny bit.”

Zhou Bai paid special attention to his system panel, delighting in the prompt appearing in the log.

No matter what, as long as his points increased faster, he would become a scourge of evil; his hand did not slacken as he wielded the butcher’s knife.

The black beetles possessed little intelligence, acting purely on instinct. After gnawing at Lin Dayan for a while and finding nothing gained, they found themselves flanked by Wen Meng and Zhou Bai, who had already decimated most of the swarm.

When the beetles tried to change targets, it was already too late; their speed was never their strength, relying solely on numbers, and now they were outmatched.

Zhou Bai, like a farmer harvesting chives, only had to touch a beetle with the blade before moving to the next; the aura on the knife would deal with them.

With each swing, a layer of corrosive liquid accumulated on the floor, its stench intensifying.

But Zhou Bai was only a mortal; several times he failed to dodge, and his arms and back were gouged with bloody pits the size of a palm.

The wounds did not impede him; thanks to the lingering effect of the yellow elixir in his body, the blood soon stopped.

He resisted the urge to unleash his curse-killing power, fighting and retreating, dodging toward Wen Meng when he could not hold out, buying himself time to stay safe.

Lin Dayan let out a frustrated snort; with the swarm dispersing, he struck out, joining the other two from three directions.

Each punch concentrated his strength at a single point; the beetles’ shells remained intact, but the yin energy sustaining them was shattered instantly.