Chapter Thirty: The Brilliance of That Blade

They moved with incredible speed, crawling along the ground and leaving countless wet footprints in their wake. The streets of Hangdu were shrouded in a ghostly chill; stray dogs passing by tucked their tails between their legs, and the alley where Zhou Bai and his companions waited had been completely cordoned off by the authorities.

Prefect Zhao was personally overseeing the situation. He arrived at the street devastated by the apparition, rescuing many residents from collapsed houses and relocating them to temporary shelters. The constables stood guard, vigilant as ever, despite the curfew; not a single one dared relax.

Their numbers had already dwindled by nearly half. In recent days, these constables had encountered bizarre events brought on by demons and ghosts. Some had suffered mental breakdowns and were forcibly detained by the authorities under the pretense of recuperation.

Those remaining were dispirited, especially those on night duty. No matter how bright their torches burned, nothing could dispel the terror gnawing at their hearts.

Chief Sun’s face was ashen as he stared fearfully into the pitch-black alley. From within came the repeated sounds of heavy impacts, and that earlier roar—all clear signs of unspeakable horror lurking inside.

Suddenly, from the end of the street came the sound of hurried footsteps, as if splashing through puddles—slap, slap, slap. In that instant, everyone’s nerves tightened. The constables raised their torches toward the noise, and in the darkness, something seemed to be rushing toward them.

As the sound grew louder, the ghostly figures appeared before them. Though they resembled humans, their clothes were soaked in river water, their skin pallid and swollen from prolonged immersion. Crawling on all fours, their eyes showed only white, fixed hungrily on the living.

The scene fell into a deathly silence, with not even the sound of breathing audible. These ghosts, far beyond the imagination of ordinary folk, appeared before them, robbing them even of the courage to flee.

The apparitions halted, gazing greedily at the constables, but did not attack. After a long moment, they slipped past and vanished into the darkness of the alley.

“Whew…”

Chief Sun exhaled shakily and collapsed to the ground as if his strength had left him. The others followed suit, their legs buckling beneath them; more than a few had wet themselves in terror.

Only Prefect Zhao remained standing, barely managing to do so, unaware that sweat had pooled at his feet.

Chief Sun spoke anxiously, “Is the Bureau of Dark Rites alright, sir? Maybe we should withdraw quickly?”

Prefect Zhao showed no intention of moving. “No. The Bureau of Dark Rites was established alongside Tang and Song, gathering the most gifted from all over the nine provinces. Matters of demons and ghosts are all handled by them.”

...

The battle in the alley grew fiercer. Lin Danian, unbeknownst to himself, had fallen behind; even his considerable strength began to falter.

Wen Meng anxiously glanced at the sky. He had immense faith in Wang Zhen’s abilities, believing that even in dire straits, she would turn danger into safety.

After suffering consecutive blows, Lin Danian spat out dark, red blood. Bruises of varying sizes mottled his body, making for a terrifying sight, but the worst injuries were those bleeding from his internal organs, especially his heart, which now felt on the verge of exhaustion.

Just then, swarms of ghosts crawled toward them. The idol’s mouth stretched wide; after punching Lin Danian aside, it grabbed a ghost and stuffed it into its maw.

The ghosts scrambled and surged toward the idol. Within mere breaths, they were devoured, and the idol’s body began to swell again, growing to nearly five meters tall.

Several lumps, each the size of a fist, bulged out from beneath its ribs.

“Splurt.”

The lumps split open, and pairs of tender, pink hands emerged, rapidly growing until they matched the original hands in size.

Transformed into a multi-armed idol, its power evolved once more. It seized the fists attacking it with both hands.

Lin Danian felt his arms gripped in an iron hold; no matter how he struggled, he couldn’t move.

Wen Meng muttered inwardly in dismay, pushing his compass to its limits. Countless clouds condensed into tangible mist, wrapping around the idol’s body in an attempt to restrain its assault.

Daoist Hou’s face twitched, pained, as he reluctantly produced a thunder talisman. He activated it, summoning a bolt of lightning that struck the ghostly idol.

The lightning merely caused the idol to stagger, leaving a charred mark on its dark golden skin, but no further effect.

Unable to halt the idol, it showed no mercy; its many arms, transformed into palms and fists, rained blows furiously upon Lin Danian.

Bone-shattering sounds echoed. His body, like a rag torn apart, was shattered bit by bit.

“Stop.”

A cold voice rang out. For reasons unknown, the idol actually loosened its grip, and Lin Danian fell heavily to the ground, his fate uncertain.

Wang Zhen, blood-soaked, suddenly appeared atop the idol’s shoulder, unclear if the blood was her own or her enemy’s.

In her hand she held a massive head nearly half a meter wide, clearly another ghost. Its eyes bulged wide in death, face contorted to the extreme.

Seeing Wang Zhen, Wen Meng breathed a sigh of relief, and Daoist Hou, ready to flee at any moment, paused his steps.

Wang Zhen tossed the head to the ground, extended her right hand, and gently placed it on the idol’s head. The idol shuddered in fear before her.

“So it’s the God of Anu. I understand now. I’ll remember this debt.”

Earlier, she had let her guard down and was dragged directly into the ghost domain by a hidden apparition, costing her precious time to escape.

With that, Wang Zhen squeezed her right hand. With a muffled thud, the idol’s head burst into bloody pulp, raining down from above.

Blood stained her even more, but Wang Zhen paid it no mind. She jumped down from the idol’s shoulder and dragged Lin Danian’s body toward Wen Meng and the others. Behind her, the headless ghost collapsed with a thunderous crash.

The idol’s flesh melted away like snow, its massive form vanishing swiftly.

A red snow lotus sprouted from where the corpse lay and withered just as quickly.

Only a thumb-sized imp emerged from the flower bud. Seizing the moment before Wang Zhen could react, its body faded, and it shot upward into the air.

At that moment, Zhou Bai suddenly awakened. His first sight was through the Yin-Yang eyes, allowing him alone to see the escaping imp in the sky.

He moved.

His right hand seized the butcher knife, dragging its blade along the ground, sending sparks flying.

A flash of cold light erupted!

Zhou Bai maintained his stance, the butcher knife’s cold gleam subdued.

The imp let out a wretched scream and vanished completely from the world.