Chapter 43 Beg Me

The old village chief’s eyes widened abruptly, and with a swift motion, he fell to his knees before the blood-stained statue.

"Wise, martial, and peerless Grand Commandant, General Anxi! Have mercy, wise, martial, and peerless Grand Commandant, General Anxi! This lowly one was blind and ungrateful, driven by greed, and forgot the great benevolence of the General!"

As he spoke, the old village chief slapped his own face repeatedly. With each heavy blow, red marks instantly appeared on his aged cheeks.

Cursing and striking himself simultaneously, he beat himself until his head bled—so bizarre a sight that even the surrounding Daoist priests of the Shangqing Sect were struck with terror.

Chills radiated from outside the ancestral hall.

The villagers gathered outside the hall had scattered into thin air at some unknown moment, leaving only a floor covered in fallen leaves.

Turning his head, Chen Yi noticed that the surrounding walls were turning black, their plaster peeling in mottled patches, while the dark stains grew steadily deeper.

The Shangqing priests instinctively tightened their grips on their peach-wood swords or copper-coin swords, staring warily at the statue as though it might spring to life at any second.

Slowly, the old village chief stopped striking his face, and the surroundings plunged into a heavy silence. In that brief instant, nothing happened.

Click...

It sounded as though something was being pinched shut.

Chen Yi whipped his head around.

The old village chief’s neck was gripped in a deathly choke by a pair of aged hands. His eyes rolled up, his mouth agape as he desperately tried to draw breath, yet his own hands tightened relentlessly around his throat. What made it even more grotesque was that no one else was strangling him—he was choking himself!

A young Daoist priest rushed forward, attempting to pry the old man's hands away, but those hands were as unyielding as iron and stone; far from loosening, they only tightened further.

Crack!

Accompanied by a crisp fracture, a spurt of black blood gushed from the old village chief’s throat, splashing onto the young Daoist. The latter stumbled back in panic, only to watch in horror as the old village chief snapped his own neck with his bare hands!

The priests of the Shangqing Sect were appalled by the spectacle. When they looked back toward the entrance of the ancestral hall, they found that the cloudless daytime sky had instantly become shrouded in dark, heavy clouds, obscuring the sun entirely.

"A ghost general's domain!"

Master Xuanzhen shouted aloud.

He immediately raised the lamp-lighting talisman in his hand, which instantly ignited and blazed fiercely.

Exchanging glances, the Shangqing priests formed hand seals and raised their evil-repelling and demon-subduing talismans. In addition to her talismans, Yin Weiying retrieved a palm-sized paper figurine from her robes.

Min Ning, her face tense, drew her sabre from its scabbard. Glancing at Chen Yi beside her, she found him standing with his arms crossed, leaning casually against a pillar, casting a sidelong, leisurely gaze toward the doorway.

Suddenly, three malevolent spectres appeared, walking abreast while carrying lanterns!

As the three ghosts came to a halt outside the door, Master Xuanzhen’s expression changed drastically. Forming a hand seal, he chanted: "Heaven and earth form the mysterious ancestral root, ten thousand qi are the origin. Cultivating through myriad kalpas to prove my divine power... Let the golden light manifest swiftly to envelop and protect my body."

Seeing this terrifying and eerie sight, none of the Daoists retained any color in their faces. As young disciples of the Shangqing Sect, they rarely encountered such a spectacle.

The three ghosts before them grinned sinisterly. The Chi, a mountain and marsh demon belonging to the class of hornless, dragon-like yellow spectres, possessed a robust physique that practically filled half the doorway. Cracks split the open ground beneath it; arching its back, its boulder-like body hurtled forward like a flying arrow.

Master Xuanzhen rapidly recited the Five Thunders incantation. Starting with the words "Mother of Lightning, Lord of Thunder," golden light flickered across his fingertips. The moment he gave the command "Execute," the golden light obeyed like an imperial decree, and a dark, mystic thunderbolt as thick as a human arm shot forth.

Daoist thunder arts grew more potent the more heinous the opponent's sins and the greater their accumulated resentment.

The Chi collided directly with the mystic thunder, half of its torso blasted into powder, and one of its legs completely shattered. Seemingly insensible to pain, it paused briefly before charging frantically toward Master Xuanzhen on its three remaining legs.

Seeing this, Min Ning stepped forward with a wind-breaking strike, her blade clashing against the demon's tough hide and sending sparks flying. The Chi paused momentarily. At the same time, Master Xuanzhen summoned another mystic thunderbolt, obliterating a second leg, which wrung a shrill shriek of agony from the creature.

Several priests standing nearby reacted with nimble reflexes, raising their swords to hack at the ghost's remaining limbs.

Other disciples, including the young Daoist who prepared to step forward with his sword raised, were stopped short by a sweep of Master Xuanzhen’s horsetail whisk. Looking up, they saw the remaining two ghosts still lingering at the doorway, smiling mournfully and wretchedly.

"A single soul divided into three ghosts; only one has been destroyed so far."

Yin Weiying deduced the clever mechanics of the spectres and warned, "If all three are not slain simultaneously, given time, the monster will be able to make a comeback."

As her voice fell, following yet another mystic thunderbolt, the mountain demon Chi lost all remaining vitality, lying lifeless and inert upon the ground.

The two ghosts outside did not enter the ancestral hall. The graceful Mei ghost raised a hand slightly, and the corpse of the Chi dissolved into a black mist that drifted swiftly toward the door. With practiced speed, Master Xuanzhen thrust his peach-wood sword into the black mist, reciting an incantation as his sword tip twirled to disperse it. Raising his hand in a suction motion, a talisman pasted on a table flew into his palm. He pressed his palm into the black mist; the talisman glowed faintly, and the dark vapor vanished entirely, trapped within the paper.

Furious, the Mei ghost burst into the ancestral hall uninvited. The priests hurriedly raised their swords to hack at the specter. Amidst several piercing, tragic shrieks, the Mei ghost lost none of its speed as it thrust razor-sharp claws toward Master Xuanzhen’s heart.

Master Xuanzhen had been waiting for this moment. The evil-repelling and demon-subduing talismans he had prepared beforehand flared brilliantly in an instant. The Mei ghost broke through the golden light, its movements inevitably slowing as residual malevolent yin qi pierced into Master Xuanzhen's chest.

All the talismans shone brightly in unison. The Mei ghost shrieked in terror, its body frozen rigidly in place. Master Xuanzhen, pierced by the lingering yin qi and temporarily paralyzed, shouted loudly:

"Slay the ghost, all of you!"

Regaining their wits, the Taoist priests crossed swords and blades, and the Mei ghost vanished without a trace.

Yin Weiying looked toward the doorway, but the water ghost Wangliang was nowhere to be seen.

Seeing no more monsters outside, the group breathed a collective sigh of relief. Master Xuanzhen sat cross-legged on the spot and instructed:

"There is still one ghost remaining; it must have escaped. Once this poor Daoist purges the yin qi, I will..."

The young Daoist who had been spattered with the old village chief’s black blood suddenly hoisted his copper-coin sword and smashed it down fiercely toward Master Xuanzhen’s forehead!

Master Xuanzhen’s expression warped in shock. He tried to dodge sideways, but it was too late; his skull was instantly dented by a heavy blow. Disregarding the excruciating pain, he prepared to form the thunder seal, but at that exact moment, the young Daoist froze, his expression returning to clarity. Master Xuanzhen hastily halted the thunder art.

A wicked smile spread across the young Daoist's face as he raised the copper-coin sword for another strike.

A bloody gash split open Master Xuanzhen’s forehead.

In the blink of an eye, the other priests finally snapped to their senses and rushed forward in a panic to subdue the youth, who struggled violently.

Yin Weiying raised her hand, formed an incantation, and struck the young Daoist’s crown with an empty-handed slap.

It seemed as though something slipped into the young Daoist’s crown. Immediately afterward, black blood gushed from his seven orifices, within which the shadowy figure of the water ghost Wangliang faintly manifested.

Water ghosts were beings transformed from those who had drowned in rivers. At night, travelers walking along the banks of desolate mountain streams would occasionally hear a water ghost calling out. If they accidentally stepped into a puddle, they would be captured by the water ghost and possessed. The possession manifested in two ways: first, initially peaceful, even close relatives could not detect it, but as time passed, the victim's daily habits, routines, and temperament would gradually diverge from their true self until one day they woke up to find themselves trapped in a puddle; second, temporarily seizing the host's body until seven days later when yang energy peaked and yin energy waned, at which point the body would expel the spirit and return to its rightful owner.

And this Wangliang had somehow slipped into the black blood vomited by the old village chief, which had contaminated the young Daoist!

Master Xuanzhen fell backward, blood gushing endlessly from the wound on his forehead, exposing what looked like a brain slowly writhing inside. The priests instantly panicked; some tore strips of cloth to stanch his bleeding while others chanted scriptures and applied medicine.

Even so, Master Xuanzhen remained in critical condition and unconscious. As the most gifted and experienced Daoist among the entire Shangqing contingent, losing him was like losing an arm to the group.

Just at that moment,

Clack, clack...

The sound of armor scraping together drifted from outside the house.

The priests' necks stiffened, and a sudden chill ran down their spines. Pale-faced, they looked toward the entrance of the ancestral hall.

A blood-stained figure clad in battered armor appeared in the doorway. Its complexion was pale, its stature towering like a small mountain, and it gripped a great spear. Wrapped around its body was a tattered cloth bearing characters written in blood—the character "Deng"—as if to declare its identity.

A crushing sense of oppression descended, accompanied by an icy, murderous aura.

Even as the Goddess of Taihua, Yin Weiying felt the color rapidly drain from her face.

Yet when she glanced sideways, she saw...

Chen Yi, who had been leaning against the pillar and treating the matter as none of his concern, wore an upturned mouth, half-smiling with an ambiguous expression.

It was as though... he had stepped into a domain with which he was entirely familiar.

The moment they saw the ghost general Deng manifest, the Shangqing priests shuddered, breaking out in unanimous cold sweat.

With Master Xuanzhen left with only half a breath and his life hanging in the balance, the priests had lost their greatest combat strength. The only person of note left in the arena was Yin Weiying, the Goddess of Taihua.

Yin Weiying drew out her paper figurines, blew a breath upon them, and scattered them onto the ground.

The paper figurines transformed into two sword-wielding maidservants, staring blankly at the ghost general outside the ancestral hall.

Trembling, the priests raised their swords, staring fixedly at the spear-wielding ghost general at the door without daring to draw a full breath.

Chilling winds howled, and gravel swept through the air.

The ghost general Deng raised its spear. Without crossing the threshold, it executed a slow, sweeping motion.

A towering surge of energy poured forth. The two sword-wielding maidservants were cleanly cleaved in half from the center, their four paper scraps fluttering away in the wind, shredded into powder by the force of the spear. For several priests holding copper-coin swords, the blades of their weapons shattered inch by inch, and the bright yellow copper coins turned as black as charcoal before crumbling into powder upon the ground.

The blood-written cloth banner bearing the character "Deng" fluttered in the wind. The murderous intent of a battlefield where a thousand armies had been buried shook the entire ancestral hall, causing all thirty-two ancestral tablets of Huaiwan Village to tumble to the ground.

From its superior height, the general overlooked the cluster of Daoists inside the hall.

Every face was drained of color. Despite years of cultivating Daoist arts, not a single person dared to make a rash move, terrified of bringing about everyone's destruction.

Cold sweat beaded on Yin Weiying’s forehead.

Outside the door, the ghost general Deng stood like a mountain, in no hurry to cross the threshold.

Heavy yin-malevolent qi shrouded the area, causing some of the priests to experience nausea and vomiting. Meanwhile, the young Daoist who had severely wounded Master Xuanzhen had black blood steadily pouring from his seven orifices.

Min Ning gripped her sabre tightly, staring at the ghost general outside. She could not help but feel nervous, yet beneath that tension lay an irrepressible urge to draw her blade.

All because that ghost general... aside from the yin malevolence, carried a fighting spirit unique to martial artists.

The atmosphere locked into a standstill. For some reason, the ghost general did not step inside, and the priests inside the hall dared not act rashly.

Yin Weiying looked anxiously at the other Daoists. The yin-malevolent qi grew heavier, nearly condensing into droplets of water, while the wall plaster continued to blacken and peel. If this persisted, the situation would only turn increasingly disadvantageous; it would not be long before they all perished without a fight, becoming ghost soldiers under the general's command.

Cold sweat drenched the back of her neck, and the panicked breathing of the Shangqing priests filled the ancestral hall.

"Since this ghost general hasn't entered, it must have reservations."

To steady the group, Yin Weiying spoke in a clear voice.

"Sister Yin, what should we do now?"

The young female Daoist's voice trembled slightly.

Prompted by this question, the Shangqing priests turned eager gazes toward her, crying out for help one after another:

"Does Daoist friend happen to have a supreme method to vanquish demons?"

"Mount Taihua must certainly possess techniques far superior to those of the Shangqing Sect!"

"Has Daoist friend already seen through the origins of this ghost general?!"

...

What to do?

The overlapping questions crowded her ears, nearly crushing Yin Weiying's breath. Cold sweat broke out profusely on her forehead.

She had only said those words to steady troop morale—how could she possibly know what to do?!

"Master Xuanzhen is severely injured, and the ghost general refuses to enter precisely because it fears the Goddess!"

"We earnestly beg the Goddess not to hold back her secrets, or we will all die here!"

"The ghost general is hesitant; we must seize this golden opportunity to act."

In their desperation, the Shangqing priests clutched at any straw in their panic.

Right now... among the Daoists present, apart from Master Xuanzhen, Yin Weiying possessed the deepest cultivation in Daoist arts.

Yet Yin Weiying could do nothing but continue to break out in cold sweat.

Her paper figurines had been shattered with utter ease, and she felt no trace of the hesitation toward herself that the priests spoke of.

That ghost general... its gaze had never once rested upon her from beginning to end, but had instead been fixed upon...

Following the line of sight, the Goddess of Taihua looked over.

She saw that Chen Yi was still leaning against the pillar, motionless, his eyelids lowered like a temple statue.

It was him?!

Yet she had divined his fortune; he clearly did not possess the Heavenly Eye, nor did he have much affinity for the Dao—he was merely a... mortal man.

What on earth... was hidden within him?

Yin Weiying's breathing turned rapid.

Amidst her thoughts, as though sensing Yin Weiying’s gaze, the man turned his face toward her, unhesitatingly scrutinizing her anxiety and unease.

Chen Yi cast a frivolous, sweeping glance across her face.

Yin Weiying felt her skin crawl.

Seeing that Yin Weiying offered no response, the voices of the Shangqing priests gradually faded. A terrifying silence enveloped the ancestral hall.

The silence lasted for a long, agonizing three or four breaths.

At that moment, Min Ning turned her head to look at Chen Yi, breaking the silence as she asked:

"Do you have a way?"

Turning his head, Chen Yi met her nervous yet hopeful gaze and nodded.

The priests immediately converged their gazes upon Chen Yi, their expressions a mix of confusion, suspicion, and incomprehension.

"You really have a way? Then why have you just been standing there..."

Yin Weiying asked with a complex look in her eyes.

Chen Yi retrieved something from his robes. A śarīra bead rested in his palm, radiating a reddish-gold brilliance within the dim ancestral hall.

The hearts of the Shangqing priests shook violently in unison!

Such a restrained yet radiant reddish-gold śarīra—merely looking at it faintly evoked the sound of distant Buddhist chants.

The Shangqing priests pinned their hopes on Chen Yi. Under crushing pressure, they were grabbing at any floating straw; even if Chen Yi was merely a mortal, he was their last lifeline.

Watching this scene, Yin Weiying was utterly astonished.

They were all wrong. The ghost general wasn't wary of me...

It was wary of him?!

Raising her eyes, Yin Weiying saw Chen Yi smiling half-heartedly.

Waves stirred in her heart. Drawing a deep breath, she softened her tone and said:

"In that case, I must ask Commander Chen to lend a hand..."

Before she finished speaking, Chen Yi closed his palm.

"Wh-What is the meaning of this?"

A Shangqing priest could not help crying out.

"Wanting to save you isn't out of the question. However, I'd like to hear Fairy Yin beg me."

Chen Yi said leisurely.

"Absurd!"

Yin Weiying said angrily.

She was supposed to beg him? Beg this man who had repeatedly humiliated her?!

Chen Yi spread his hands and said:

"Then there's nothing I can do. I'll just take my companion and leave directly. After all, that ghost general doesn't want to mess with me."

Hearing this, the Shangqing priests grew anxious. Directing their gazes at Yin Weiying, their leader persuaded:

"Why must the Goddess bicker out of momentary pride? Besides, aren't you two dao companions... aren't you supposed to be the golden boy and jade maiden of Mount Taihua?"

The Shangqing priest's words nearly caused Yin Weiying to spit a mouthful of old blood in fury.

It seemed these people actually took them to be flirting!

Gradually calming herself as the yin-malevolent qi grew heavier, Yin Weiying realized she could delay no longer. With a strained voice, she said:

"Fine... Consider it my plea."

"Fairy Yin, a plea is a plea. What do you mean by 'consider it my plea'? That still isn't a proper request."

Chen Yi chuckled.

Stirred into turbulent waves, Yin Weiying’s heart burned with frustration. Glaring fiercely at the aggressive Chen Yi, she forcibly suppressed her anger, steadied her mind, and endured the humiliation as she softened her voice:

"I, Yin Weiying... earnestly implore Commander Chen to slay the demons and eliminate the fiends..."

Chen Yi let out a light laugh. To Yin Weiying, it sounded like the laughter of victory, causing her to clench her fists in secret.

[Negative emotion: 90]

[Yin Weiying's negative emotions reward five years of true qi.]

Tch, this Goddess who cultivated the Supreme Forgetting of Passions—once her emotions fluctuated, her output far surpassed anyone else's.

Turning around, Chen Yi looked at the ghost general outside the door and spoke casually:

"You guys don't know its origins, but I do. Its name is Deng Ai. A man of the Three Kingdoms period, he crossed Yinping in secret, launched a surprise attack to destroy Shu, and rose to the rank of General Anxi and Grand Commandant, only to be ultimately framed and killed by Jiang Wei's stratagem, dying a dismembered death with monstrous resentment."

"The common people worship it in sacrifices, believing that those who offer sacrifices will be blessed, and those who do not will be cursed. As a defeated and fallen general, Deng Ai has become a venerated ghost deity."

Hearing this, Yin Weiying exclaimed in shock:

"The Great Ghost Lord Deng Ai? It is recorded in the *Cavern Abyss Divine Curse Scripture*... But how could a ghost lord appear here..."

Chen Yi replied:

"This is merely one of its avatar statues."

"Then how do you plan to deal with it?"

"Invite Jiang Wei."

With that, Chen Yi retrieved from his robes a pair of door-guardian peachwood talismans he had purchased long ago.

Drawn upon them were not the common door gods Shen Tu and Yu Lei, but the Qilin of Tianshui from the Three Kingdoms period—Jiang Wei!