Oh no!
Zhan Tianwang’s shout cut through the air like a piercing bolt, startling the entire room into an abrupt silence. Even breathing seemed to freeze, leaving the world dead and desolate.
The men, women, and children who had been kneeling in prayer instantly stiffened, freezing in place with their claws extended. The expressions of joy and merriment on their faces congealed right along with them, looking utterly bizarre.
Shen Shu looked toward Zhan Tianwang’s position almost simultaneously, hoping to signal with his eyes for him not to act rashly.
However, Zhan Tianwang was already consumed by fury. His eyes were bloodshot, his robes were in tatters, the Evil-Warding Sword in his right hand blazed with crimson light, and his left hand gripped a still-smoking skull, making it clear he had already fought a round with this vicious ghost.
He slammed that skull heavily onto the ground, causing the malevolent spirits trapped inside to cry out in loud, agonizing pain. Their wretched shrieks shook the heavens and the earth, lingering for a long time.
Yet Zhan Tianwang seemed entirely oblivious to the wrongness of the situation. Pointing his sword straight at the idol of the Matchmaker Cult Leader, he roared with a gaze full of malevolence, “You soulless, faceless monster, I am going to kill you!”
The Evil-Warding Sword shot out through the air, heading straight for the idol with clean, decisive momentum. Shen Shu was instantly alarmed. Just as he was about to move to intercept it, he saw Pei Zizhuo flash forward and kick Zhan Tianwang out of the air, sending him crashing down to the ground.
“He has fallen into a demonic obsession!” Pei Zizhuo said with his back to Shen Shu, his voice low. “Take him and leave quickly!”
Daring not to delay, Shen Shu hoisted Zhan Tianwang up, flying off with his feet barely skimming the ground until he vanished into the distance. Before leaving the temple grounds, he cast one last glance back at Pei Zizhuo. Pei Zizhuo stood firmly in front of the main hall, completely unmoving, lost in thought.
Hearing the two figures move far away, the wailing evil spirits on the ground abruptly fell silent. As if manipulated by an invisible force, they dissipated their surrounding black miasma and slithered back into the temple.
At the same time, the worshippers inside the temple gradually began to move again, though their speed seemed deliberately slowed down by five or sixfold. They looked like marionettes pulled by strings, moving in rigid, jerky, and jarring intervals.
The stagnant air also began to flow once more, as if the tense confrontation from moments before had been nothing more than an illusion.
Pei Zizhuo lifted his eyelids, casting a profound, deep gaze toward the idol before him, and finally spoke after a long silence, “You cleared them away. What do you want to say?”
“Heh heh heh,” the idol slowly raised its eyes, its cast-copper lips splitting into a bizarre, eerie smile. Yet the voice echoing from within the idol was languid, speaking at a leisurely pace, “I know you, Pei Zizhuo. Born with a Heavenly Spirit Root and Foundation Establishment cultivation right out of the gate, you should have been a prominent pride of the cultivation world looking down upon all living beings, a peerless prodigy that drew the attention of the masses. Yet look at you now, persecuted by others to the point that even your immortal path has been destroyed. What a terrible pity.”
Pei Zizhuo narrowed his eyes, saying in a deep voice, “Mind your own business if you want to live a long life.”
“It is too bitter, far too bitter.” The Matchmaker Cult Leader ignored him completely, continuing to mutter to itself, “Just how many people in the cultivation world are inferior to you and burning with envy? How many traps did they set for you, making you suffer so much hardship for no reason? You probably cannot even count them anymore. Those people talk endlessly of righteousness and morality, of subduing demons and eliminating fiends, but in truth, they are utterly selfish, willing to gamble everything solely for their own opportunities. To them, your very existence makes you a natural rival, and your strength is a crime!”
The idol opened its fox-like eyes, the pupils narrowing into fine slits that seduced the human heart like a snake emerging from a dried-up marsh. The voice from within the idol carried an extreme, heart-rending sorrow, “You possess extraordinary talent, a compassionate heart, and once held formidable strength. Those ordinary mortals framed you and envied you simply because they could not understand you at all! With your breadth of mind and boldness, you should have risen far above them, yet instead, you have fallen to this state!”
Pei Zizhuo remained silent, his brow slightly furrowed as he stood quietly within the temple.
“What a pity, what a pity,” the Matchmaker Cult Leader’s voice slowed down, coaxing him step by step. “Even if you still retain the resolve to save the world, your cultivation has been ruined, and you are being coerced and forcibly kept by that person’s side with nowhere to vent your lone bravery. I grieve for you. I used to be just like you, fighting alone and completely unsupported, so the moment you stepped into Chanshan, I knew we were cut from the same cloth.”
“As long as you wish it, I can help you distribute porridge during disasters, punish the wicked, uphold justice, and clear wrongs. As long as you want it, destroying Shanhaigong will be no problem at all.”
The Matchmaker Cult Leader spoke in a moderate volume, the words drifting lightly into Pei Zizhuo’s ears, yet they struck hard enough to make a listener’s heart tremble.
Pei Zizhuo lowered his gaze in silence for a moment, then raised his eyes to ask, “Help me? How do you plan to help?”
The smile on the idol deepened. It spread open its left hand, suspending several strands of red thread of varying thicknesses in mid-air, opening them out all at once, “Looking across a single corner of Baling, one can glimpse how the heaven and earth operate. The unfulfilled wishes and bitterness of mortals all transform into the red threads in the palm of my hand. I can convert these thousands of trivial troubles into assistance, helping them achieve their desires while simultaneously filtering out the turbid to absorb the pure, which brings immense benefits to one’s cultivation. Follow my method, and in less than half a month, I guarantee you will break through to the Nascent Soul stage.”
Pei Zizhuo frowned slightly and asked, “Since it can grant people’s wishes while simultaneously aiding cultivation, such a wondrous and mystical secret method in this world must be worth a thousand gold, yet you happen to want to impart it?”
“The living beings of this world are vast and boundless, fleeting like drifting light and passing shadows. Encountering someone fated is something I cherish deeply,” the Matchmaker Cult Leader said sincerely, “When you came here to investigate today, did you not also want to see what kind of divine abilities this Matchmaker Temple holds? Today, I lay everything out in the open. Would Immortal Pei care to try?”
The front doors of the main hall swung wide open. The worshippers kneeling in prayer simultaneously retreated to both sides, clearing a direct path straight to the idol.
The corners of the Matchmaker Cult Leader’s mouth curled upward into a welcoming, spring-breeze expression. Sitting unhurriedly and steadily within, only its narrow, elongated eyes remained fixed with firm determination upon Pei Zizhuo.
Silence reigned all around, even the breeze blowing past with cautious restraint. Pei Zizhuo wore a gloomy expression, his emotions unreadable. After a long moment, he finally moved, lifting his foot to step into the temple.
The moment he moved, it was as if someone had pressed the pause button on time once more. The wind stopped, the leaves hung suspended, and only the seductive face of the idol grew clearer and clearer.
The skull left abandoned outside the main hall stared fixedly at Pei Zizhuo’s retreating back, its pitch-black eyes flashing with evil light. Endless black fog began to churn from inside its hollow cranium, spilling onto the ground and silently trailing behind Pei Zizhuo’s feet.
“Speaking of which, it is rather presumptuous, but may I ask what the Cult Leader actually looks like in person?” Pei Zizhuo suddenly asked.
“This idol was cast in my likeness.”
Pei Zizhuo expressionlessly tightened his grip on his sleeve. “Then why do you not come out in person, choosing instead to use an idol as a substitute?”
Before the idol could reply, Pei Zizhuo continued, “Could it be because you are hideously ugly, yet burn with envy and jealousy toward beauties, forcing you to peel off someone else’s skin to paste over your own face for fear that any slight movement will tear your stolen complexion?”
The moment those words fell, the surrounding area instantly plunged into darkness, as if a gray fog had welled up out of nowhere. The corners of the idol’s mouth in the hall stretched wider and wider, nearly splitting to its ears, its seductive face twisting into an expression approaching terror.
Pei Zizhuo said indifferently, “Faceless Ghost Ancestor Wu, I have heard of your great name for a long time.”
Zhan Tianwang’s demonic obsession was far from shallow. Even while hoisted into the air by someone carrying him, he still forgot neither to swing his arms and struggle nor to battle the invisible air.
Unable to endure the dragging pace of his moving two steps and retreating one and a half, Shen Shu simply struck the man unconscious with a single palm-strike and sped away like lightning for dozens of miles.
The moment he touched the ground, he dumped Zhan Tianwang onto the dirt, turning around to run back, but before he could even leap into the air, someone grabbed him by the back and yanked him down.
Shen Shu: “…”
Zhan Tianwang truly deserved his reputation as a prodigy of the Cangyang Sect. That single palm strike had only dazed him for half a moment. Catching sight of Shen Shu attempting to leave out of the corner of his eye, he instinctively lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of his robe.
Given this posture, if he wanted to go look for Pei Zizhuo, he would have to deal with this person first. Shen Shu pulled his hem back, squatted down smoothly, and raised a hand to seal Zhan Tianwang’s major meridians to prevent him from thrashing about wildly again.
Lifting the man’s eyelids, he saw that Zhan Tianwang’s pitch-black pupils were currently tinged with a murky gray, as if covered by a thin layer of mist. Observing his ears and nose, they too looked as though they had been smeared with a layer of ash, oozing blackness.
Malevolent qi had drilled into his seven orifices. It was likely that Zhan Tianwang had accidentally been infected while fighting the ghost skull. Fortunately, Zhan Tianwang hailed from the Cangyang Sect and had practiced the Proper Heart Mental Cultivation method since childhood, otherwise the damage would not have been limited to merely scrambling his wits.
Shen Shu spread his palm, gathering spiritual energy into a ball of thin, glowing clarity of light, and slapped it down onto Zhan Tianwang’s forehead.
The pure energy rippled outwards, enveloping Zhan Tianwang within the blink of an eye and drawing out the malevolent qi inside his body layer by layer.
Zhan Tianwang’s brow furrowed tightly. The agony of having the evil spirit extracted made his face turn pale as a sheet. He opened his mouth wide, but because his meridians were sealed, he could not let out a single scream. Otherwise, with his lung capacity, he surely could have shouted loud enough to pierce the nine heavens.
Half a cup of tea later, the clear energy carried the malevolent qi out together. Zhan Tianwang let out a couple of weak, dry coughs before finally clearing his head. Realizing belatedly that he was completely immobile, he widened his eyes and stared anxiously at Shen Shu.
“Promise me you will not act rashly, and I will release your meridians,” Shen Shu said, still harboring lingering fear.
Zhan Tianwang gave an affirmative response, and fearing he had not expressed himself clearly enough, he gave two more confirmations for good measure.
Seeing that he agreed, Shen Shu waved his hand to undo the restraint, stood up, and said, “It was just malevolent qi entering the body. Regulate your breathing for a moment first.”
Seeing that Shen Shu was about to leave again, Zhan Tianwang hurriedly grabbed him, panic in his voice. “That temple is not haunted by ordinary monsters. It is a ghost general who escaped from the underworld, an Ancestor Wu!”
Shen Shu immediately stopped in his tracks, looking startled. “The Ancestor Wu you speak of, could it be the former Blood-Stained Scout?”
The fame of the Blood-Stained Scout dated back two thousand years, even reaching Shen Shu’s ears long before he entered the Sifang Pavilion.
Legend had it that there was once a scout in the northwest who could ride a fine steed a thousand li in a single day, completely unfazed by wind, frost, rain, or snow. Whenever enemy troops moved or launched a raid, he would detect it instantly, roaming the battlefield with a network of intelligence so tight that, due to his agile frame, he repeatedly infiltrated enemy camps to steal crucial information, winning major victories for the army.
What commanded the utmost respect, however, was the Youmen Pass catastrophe. The army to which the Ancestor Wu belonged was surrounded and besieged by enemy camps for half a month. Water and food supplies inside the city were severely depleted, wounded soldiers lacked medicine, and the five thousand remaining troops inside tightened their belts and rationed supplies, holding a desperate resolve to die fighting, yet they could only hold out for five more days at most.
Carrying the mission of seeking reinforcements, the Ancestor Wu mounted his fine horse once more, slipping out of the encirclement amid the chaos of a breakout. However, the barbarians’ sabers had been soaked in poison, and the wound spanning half a foot across his abdomen began to fester and rot in less than half a day. Blood poured continuously, soaking the cuffs of his trousers, while his entire body burned with unyielding high fever like a raging fire.
The Chikan Desert was boundless and endless. The midday sun could roast raw meat, while the night winds could freeze moisture into a thin frost. The Ancestor Wu endured his physical torment to travel day and night, even leaving all his water for his fine steed.
After three days of such desperate travel, nearing the capital city, the horse collapsed and died of exhaustion. Dragging his maimed body, he relied purely on willpower to crawl all the way to the city gate and hammer on it to deliver the message. That was how they secured victory at Youmen Pass. Because his entire body was soaked and stained with flesh and blood when he was rescued, the Emperor of the Yan Dynasty praised him as the Blood-Stained Scout.
Logically speaking, a hero of such caliber should have been enfeoffed as a marquis or general, and even if he returned in glory to his hometown, his name should have rung out far and wide. Yet in the second year after the Ancestor Wu returned home, three hundred and twenty-three residents of Qinghai County died in rapid succession, the faces of the victims all mutilated beyond recognition from being gnawed away.
Someone passing through Qinghai County once witnessed the originally flowing clear spring stained blood-red. Looking closer, a faceless evil ghost was clutching a human head and gnawing on it. Terrified out of his wits, he fled home and ran a high fever for half a month. When he finally woke up, he remained in a jittery, unhinged state, incessantly muttering under his breath, “Faceless ghost, faceless ghost, faceless ghost.”
When the magistrate entered the county to investigate, he found a landscape of severed limbs and scattered bodies with blood running across the fields. Cross-referencing the household registries to locate every corpse, only the Ancestor Wu was missing.
From then on, the Divine Land saw no more Blood-Stained Scouts, while reports of faceless evil ghosts specializing in devouring human faces became frequent.
Although rumors often carried suspicious elements waiting to be untangled, the fact that the Ancestor Wu had turned into an evil ghost was indisputable. He had wreaked havoc across the Divine Land for nearly a century before being captured by underworld officials and cast into the boiling oil cauldrons and sword-forests of hell to suffer endless torment.
Yet this Ancestor Wu, who should have been serving punishment down in hell, had managed to evade underworld custody and escape to wreak havoc among mortals?
“Are you certain that was the Ancestor Wu?” Shen Shu asked again.
“Certain.” Zhan Tianwang pressed his lips together, hesitated for a moment or two, and then said, “I am from the Cangyang Sect.”
Shen Shu frowned. “I know, but there are thousands of evil ghosts. How can you be certain he is the Ancestor Wu?”
With a troubled sigh, Zhan Tianwang spilled half the secret weighing on his chest. “You only know that the Cangyang Sect slaughters evil ghosts and malevolent spirits, but what remains unknown about Cangyang is that we also forge pacts with powerful ghosts, and the Ancestor Wu was once one of the evil ghosts contracted to the Cangyang Sect.”