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墨書 Inktalez
“Puff!!!” A Daoist figure tumbled into the Demon Coffin.
Without the sunlight radiating from the corpse of the Golden Crow, the interior of the Demon Coffin began to change. First, the surrounding forest started to wither, and combined with the cold temperature brought by the embedded Cold Jade along the path, the Demon Coffin became unusually cold.
“Is this... the Demon Coffin?” Ghost Fangzi began to regain some consciousness and looked around.
This Old Ghost was indeed a figure of renown from hundreds of years ago, possessing a broad knowledge that allowed him to discern the essence of the Demon Coffin at a glance.
“That's right, it's the Demon Coffin.” I unfolded the Taiji Diagram and replied calmly, “The space was too small earlier to unleash it properly, but here there’s enough room. Come on, Ghost Fangzi, let me see why you are called The First of the Evil Cultivators.”
The effectiveness of the Taiji Diagram was already waning, as it was meant to bind someone of Ghost Fangzi's caliber. Therefore, I pretended to be nonchalant and simply opened the Taiji Diagram.
Although I had used my only binding treasure, I no longer had many concerns about Ghost Fangzi. I could unleash all my methods freely now.
“Caw Caw, I am Black Wuchang.” Ghost Fangzi chuckled ominously, “Do you think that by extracting my soul you can act without restraint? You’re still too inexperienced!”
After saying that, Ghost Fangzi spread his arms wide, and black mist swirled around his hands, gathering above his head into a large mass.
The black mist continued to accumulate, quickly obscuring half of the space within the Demon Coffin.
“Kid, don’t think that just because you’ve subdued a few Evil Cultivators you can handle me. Even your master would find it challenging to deal with me.”
“You know who my master is?” I asked.
“Isn’t he that old blind man with the surname Jiang? After all these years, he hasn’t chosen to ascend to Celestial Rank. But his disciple really doesn’t measure up!”
“Oh,” I said in disappointment.
I thought he really knew my master; instead, it was a misunderstanding. That Daoist with the surname Jiang seemed quite strong, but he probably couldn’t compare to my master.
From Ginger Daoist, I felt an unfathomable depth and terrifying strength.
But from my master, I felt nothing at all.
Even a mortal cannot completely fail to sense something, from the aura of that person to their experiences, all carry a flavor and trace. However, my master has none; he is devoid of everything.
You can see my master, but you cannot feel his presence, and it is difficult to describe his appearance after meeting him. So far, I have only felt this with the Bodhi Patriarch; not even with Uncle Xing.
"Unfortunately, I do not take disciples; otherwise, you would make a fine heir," Ghost Fangzi observed me closely.
"Thank you for your kind words, senior." I waved my hand, and three Flying Swords flew out to guard in front of me.
With someone like him, not a word can be trusted! He admires me? Nonsense! Am I supposed to believe that?
"However, it is better for there to be no cultivators in this world!" Ghost Fangzi's gaze sharpened, and the admiration in his eyes instantly turned into killing intent. "It's a pity that I am now merely a Severed Soul; if only my true body were here."
Severed Soul? So this so-called 'Ghost Fangzi' is actually just a Severed Soul.
What is a Severed Soul? This requires some explanation. Humans have Three Souls and Six Spirits, and those who cultivate their souls to a very high level can divide the Three Souls and Six Spirits into three parts. Each part is a combination of one soul and two spirits; this combination is called a Severed Soul!
A Severed Soul is one-third of the soul, and its power is roughly equivalent to one-third. However, the advantage of a Severed Soul is that these three souls can develop in three different directions.
A Severed Soul does not die but can be scattered. Once scattered, the Severed Soul returns to the true body, which will then gain the cultivation level and spells derived from this Severed Soul.
The Soul Separation Technique is not considered an Evil Technique, but few people practice it.
After all, the pain of being a Severed Soul is unmatched by any other torment! It is the agony of having one's soul torn apart!
"Caw Caw, I am Black Wuchang. You shall become the next host for my Severed Soul," Ghost Fangzi sneered. At the same time, he let out a cold shout and detonated the black mist above his head.
Boom!!!
The black mist swirled like a whirlwind within the Demon Coffin, quickly turning the space inside into a foggy haze.
"Under the Sea of Blood, how much suffering have I endured? This is the result of my suffering condensed; witness my original Evil Technique—Ghostly Trap!!!"
"Woo~"
“ hss~”
“ Ah ah”
“ Roar!!!”
Whether it was a low moan, a cry, a howl, or a lament, these sounds began to emanate continuously from the places shrouded in black mist.
Suddenly, the black mist around me gathered together, forming an incomplete humanoid figure that staggered toward me.
“Whoosh!” The flash of my sword appeared and disappeared in an instant, cleaving the figure in half with my Flying Sword. Strangely, this humanoid was extremely fragile; when I sliced it apart with my Flying Sword, it felt effortless.
“Ugh!! Ah” Another mass of black mist coalesced beside me, transforming into a fierce beast that opened its massive bloody maw, revealing two rows of terrifying fangs.
As soon as the beast took shape, I struck it down with another sword strike, cleaving it in two. At that moment, another swirl of black mist was rolling around me; I casually swung my sword again and split it apart.
No, Ghost Fangzi's Evil Technique wouldn't be this simple; this Ghostly Trap must have some deeper mystery!
I turned around and found that Ghost Fangzi had already vanished from sight.
“Whoosh,” several swirling vortices rose from the ground, lifting the black mist and shaping it into various forms.
There were skeletal white bone soldiers and bizarrely shaped demon entities; there were hunched old men and children with long hair.
“Three Talents Sword Formation!” I spread three fingers and twisted them clockwise before bringing them together. Three Flying Swords immediately aligned like my fingers, their tips touching each other as they spiraled forward.
The spiraling Flying Swords broke through a form condensed from black mist and then suddenly separated, each shooting off in a different direction.
The previous spiral added an extremely peculiar force to the Flying Swords. All the black mist forms pierced through began to spin as if trying to escape and disappear.
“Are they a bit stronger than at first?” I murmured to myself.
Yes, the forms appearing now were slightly stronger than those I had initially slain. However, even if they were a bit stronger, they were still no match for me; they could be taken down in a single strike.
"Ghost Fangzi!" I shouted loudly, "Is this your tactic? It's a bit too childish, isn't it?"
If this was the kind of battle we were having, even if I fought for a while, I wouldn't feel overwhelmed.
"Caw Caw, I am Black Wuchang," the voice of Ghost Fangzi echoed from somewhere: "Child, save your breath for later; the attack is coming again."
Sure enough, not far away, several black mists coalesced into different forms.
"Sixteen?" I mentally counted the number of forms and then determined the flight trajectory of my Flying Sword.
The black mist forms weren't particularly solid; even relying solely on the sharpness of the Flying Sword, I could easily break through them. So, I didn't add any Spell to my Flying Sword.
"Whoosh! Whoosh!"
The Flying Sword pierced through each of the sixteen forms. At that moment, I finally noticed the strange aspect of these forms.
They had become stronger.
Could it be that each appearance of these forms was stronger than the last? If that's the case, what is the limit of this black mist? Or does this black mist have no limits at all?
The black mist changed again, still forming individual shapes.
"Two, four, six... thirty-two!"
The first time there was one, the second time two, the third time four, and the fourth time sixteen. Could it be that the number of forms in this Ghostly Trap increases exponentially?
That would be troublesome. This time there were thirty-two; next would be sixty-four, then one hundred twenty-eight, then two hundred fifty-six, then five hundred twelve—damn it! I can't keep up; it just keeps increasing! If I had to fight through hundreds of rounds, wouldn't that be like the number of participants in World War II?
This so-called Ghostly Trap is truly an evil technique!
Moreover, these appearing forms are getting stronger each time!
I can't keep fighting like this; I'll definitely be worn out here. I need to think of a way to break this Spell. But I have no idea where to start with its principles or how it's cast.
In my thoughts, thirty-six Black Fog Evil Bodies charged at me. I extended a finger, and a stream of azure mana flowed upward from my fingertip like a ribbon.
“Falling Pear Blossoms!!!”
Magic condensed into numerous Azure Magic Swords, falling from the sky like rain.
The Black Fog Evil Body struck by the Azure Magic Sword was instantly pierced, transforming into black mist and dissipating.
The black mist began to swirl again.
“Sixty-Four Fruits, just like this,” I said through gritted teeth as I looked at the Evil Body before me.
The earlier Falling Pear Blossoms was one of the group attack spells I had mastered, and its power was decent. However, using Falling Pear Blossoms against the previous Thirty-Two Evil Bodies had already begun to strain my abilities.
“What should I do? I have no time to think or prepare for what comes next,” I confronted the attack from this Evil Body, with no time for anything else.
“Whew,” an Emerald Radiance burst forth from my waist.
“Is it the Pouch my master gave me?” Suddenly, I recalled something. The Pouch my master had given me was hanging at my waist. When Shaoming and I left the space of Ginger Daoist, he had reminded me not to forget the Pouch my master gave me.
Could this be the treasure that breaks this Evil Technique?
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