With the two teams decided, they chose the eastern and western directions respectively to explore on their own. Once there was any news, they would use communication jade talismans to contact each other.
Song Ke was finally able to come see Yun Mu, yet they had to separate again before they had spent much time together. In his heart, he inevitably felt a trace of disappointment, but since this was the decision Yun Mu had made, it wasn’t his place to undermine the other’s dignity after all, the other person was still a sect elder.
“Elder Yun, you must take care! Contact me if anything happens, and I’ll rush over to help you at the first possible moment.” Song Ke looked deeply at Yun Mu, but couldn’t glean any other meaning from that expressionless face, leaving him feeling slightly disheartened.
Yun Mu nodded in acknowledgment of his good intentions and watched Song Ke’s group head toward the east.
Turning back, he walked over to the little zombie trapped by the Ghost-Trapping Array. With a slight flick of his intent, a streak of bluish-blue flowing light flew out from his storage ring, condensing into a palm-sized glazed pagoda in his palm.
Faint, fragmented starlight circulated across the tower’s surface, and up close, an extremely soft humming could be heard—this was the “Spirit-Dwelling Pagoda” he had borrowed from Luoxuan Sect’s treasury. It contained an independent space inside, making it the most suitable vessel for storing living entities carrying resentment.
Sui Yu stood by his side, lowering his gaze to stare at the pagoda, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly.
The wound from which rotting flesh had just been excised was still burning, but compared to the pain, what made his emotions surge even more tempestuously was Yun Mu’s focused brow and eyes.
Living a second life, even though his physical cultivation realm remained stagnant at his youth and was subject to many restrictions, the power of his spiritual soul had grown to an incomparably peerless height. Therefore, even though he was still only at the Foundation Establishment stage, both the coverage area and the clarity of his divine sense far exceeded this level.
He watched the other person repeatedly rinse the dagger with spiritual Qi, watched the deliberate care taken to lighten his movements for fear of hurting him. A trace of astringency suddenly welled up in his throat. This feeling of being held at the apex of someone’s heart was something he had sought in vain during his past life, yet acquired in this lifetime through a scheme, making it appear rather absurd.
“Put it away properly.” Yun Mu sent the Soul-Devouring Banner and the little zombie Shang He together into the pagoda, lightly pressing his fingertips against the base of the tower to lay down a triple seal.
He could feel the resentment surging inside the tower, almost shattering the barrier: “This thing is even fiercer than expected. When we get back, I’ll have to find Senior Brother Luo for some Soul-Cleansing Grass to properly nurture it.”
Shi Menglan stood with her arms crossed five paces away, the silver bells at the ends of her hair tinkling softly with her movements.
The gaze she cast at the glazed pagoda darkened slightly, before she quickly raised a smile again: “Master, we should get going.”
As the team marched westward, the mist in the dense forest grew so thick it wouldn’t disperse, causing even birds and sparrows to fall silent.
Yun Mu walked at the front, his divine sense spread out like a net, only to be bounced back every time it reached a hundred meters away—as if someone had deliberately blurred the spiritual veins of this region.
“Master!” Shi Menglan, walking in the middle, suddenly squatted down, her fingertips lightly touching the ground.
Her dark embroidered shoes were stained with mud, yet she didn’t care in the least. “There are bloody footprints here.”
Yun Mu’s footsteps paused, his sleeve stirring up a few withered leaves as he turned around.
Sui Yu had already hurried over a step ahead of him, the semi-squatting posture causing the ribbon at the ends of his hair to drape downward by default, outlining the youth’s increasingly athletic and lithe waistline.
“Fresh. The blood seems to be mixed with corpse poison,” he snapped off a tree branch to dip into the bloodstain, staring at the blackish-gray smoke clinging to it. “Just like the one on my arm.”
“Pursue.”
Yun Mu pinched a hand-seal with his fingertips, and his fire-attribute cultivation caused a warm yellow spiritual shield to materialize around them, dispelling the majority of the Yin malevolent Qi for everyone.
They chased along the direction where the bloody footprints extended, and amidst the thick fog and tree shadows, an abandoned village loomed faintly.
Wild vines crawled all over the broken walls and ruined tiles, and several faded red silk ribbons hung from the old locust tree at the village entrance. When the wind blew, they rustled, sounding chillingly like someone whispering right beside one’s ear.
“This village…” Liyue pressed the hilt of the sword at his waist. “I passed by when I went on a mission with the Sect Master three years ago. It was still called Fu’an Village back then, with about a hundred households.” His voice grew heavy. “Now, even the trace of cooking smoke is gone.”
Yun Mu squinted toward the interior of the village. His divine sense was finally no longer bounced back, yet it encountered a patch of chaos, as if someone had used a giant hand to knead the “existence” of the village into a tangled mess.
“Spread out and be on guard,” he commanded in a low voice. “Sui Yu and Ling Guang follow me, Menglan and Liyue flank left and right.”
Sui Yu acknowledged the order, but deliberately slowed his pace by half a beat. When he walked shoulder to shoulder with Yun Mu, his fingertips in his sleeve lightly brushed against the other’s hand back.
Yun Mu was startled by this little movement and turned his head, only to see the youth lowering his gaze, casting shadows with his eyelashes beneath his eyes as if he hadn’t noticed at all.
He instinctively put his hand behind his back and wiped it against his waist. It must have been an accidental brush just now. Yun Mu gave his head a slight shake, refocusing his attention back inside the village.
The village ancestral hall was situated at the westernmost end. The three characters “Fu’an Ancestral Hall” on the lintel had already peeled away in the wind and rain, leaving only the half-character “An” to indicate that this place had once been bustling with a thriving population.
Before they even drew close, a stench of corruption mixed with burning joss-paper hit their faces head-on.
Shi Menglan stepped through the entrance first. Before her foot had even fully crossed the threshold, she heard a suppressed sob.
“G-Ghosts have come to claim lives… Ghosts everywhere… So many, many ghosts…”
Two blood-soaked cultivators crawled out haphazardly from behind the offering table. Their Taoist robes had been torn into strips like they were wearing a floor-mop, faintly revealing bluish-purple corpse spots.
The left wrist of one of them had been severed cleanly at the wrist; the stump was frayed and dripping blood drop by drop. The other was even more wretched—his right eye had been gouged out, leaving only a bloody socket, while his other eye was unfocused, the whites covered entirely by dark red bloodshot veins.
“Save… save me…” The severed-wrist cultivator grabbed the hem of Shi Menglan’s skirt. “They all turned into ghosts… they’ll… they’ll eat people…”
Yun Mu stepped forward quickly, intending to probe his pulse, but was yanked back by Sui Yu.
The youth shook his head, his eyes as cold as blades: “Corpse poison has entered his brain; he can’t be saved.”
Before his words finished falling, the severed-wrist cultivator suddenly spasmed violently, a rattling sound issuing from his throat.
His previously turbid eyes suddenly bulged open, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks. He stared fixedly at the empty space behind Yun Mu, and with a final “run” stuck in his throat, he collapsed heavily onto the ground, losing all breath.
The air inside the village ancestral hall instantly froze.
Shi Menglan took two steps back, colliding with the offering table and rattling the spirit tablets atop it into crooked disarray.
Liyue drew his sword, the tip pointing toward the door; while Sui Yu shielded Yun Mu behind him, his fingertips condensing bluish-blue spiritual power to guard against unknown accidents at any moment.
Yun Mu took a deep breath, suppressing the roiling discomfort in his chest, and walked toward the offering table.
A dense array of spirit tablets was neatly arranged upon it, all belonging to members of the Zhang clan. This entire Fu’an Village was populated by direct blood relatives of the Zhang clan.
Scanning the area, Yun Mu’s pupils abruptly constricted, his eyelids twitching uncontrollably. He saw that carved on the back of every single spirit tablet were twisted runes, identical to the ones he had previously seen on the stone tablet in the ruined temple.
“They are sacrificial refining runes.”
Yun Mu furrowed his brows. Could it really be such a coincidence that he had guessed right, and places used for this kind of sacrificial refining truly numbered more than one?!
Sui Yu suddenly bent down, his fingertips tracing the edge of the offering table. Several extremely shallow carving marks were covered by ash there, completely undetectable without careful inspection.
He continued tracing the marks as they circled around to the back.
“Master, look,” Sui Yu abruptly turned back, a chilling glint radiating from the depths of his eyes.
Yun Mu stepped closer and saw that behind the offering table, a cyan-robed cultivator was clutching a dark-colored pole handle as he died in the corner. His entire body’s vital blood had been sucked dry, leaving behind a shriveled corpse.