Everyone drank with the "resurrected" Ling Weiyun until the setting sun disappeared below the horizon.
Only Elder Lingchen stayed behind after they forced him to remain. The other Withered Leaf Sect disciples and representatives of the various factions hurried away, each with a different expression.
Feng Ling arranged lodgings for Elder Lingchen first. Then he returned to his room and used fatigue as an excuse to dismiss his annoying relatives.
"An Eighth-Turn Ghost Spirit Master? An Advanced Ghost Technique?"
Feng Ling sat cross-legged on the bed and sorted through the tangled mess of memories. He had no idea how much time passed before he exhaled a breath of turbid air and finally fused the memories of his two lives.
According to the memories, Ling Weiyun's Ghost Spirit had vanished without a trace. There had been no warning before it happened!
"Looks like I'll have to start over from scratch." A Dark Token appeared in Feng Ling's hand.
A Ghost Spirit Life Tablet Token!
Feng Ling learned the name of the object from his memories.
Could this long tablet, which resembled the ancestral spirit tablets of the ancients from his past life, really command ghosts?
Feng Ling suppressed his doubts, closed his eyes, and cultivated according to the memories in his mind. Before long, his breathing became calm and even, and he entered Meditative Absorption.
For someone who had been the God of Assassination in his previous life, this was child's play.
On an assassination mission, the stakeout alone was enough to make an ordinary killer complain about the hardship.
An Assassin and a killer differed by definition. The two were related, but they could not be treated as the same.
A killer could kill openly or in secret! An Assassin chose only the latter. Assassins guarded their identities more carefully than killers did, and their patience and ability to seize the right moment left killers far behind.
Feng Ling still remembered a particularly dangerous assassination mission. He had only recently begun his career when he took down an important target at a five-star hotel and encountered a special Guard Corps rushing to lock down the scene.
Feng Ling ordered a cup of coffee,
Under the server's terrified gaze, he calmly disassembled his sniper rifle.
The special forces captain led a group of armed men closing in, and it looked as though they were about to catch him.
Unexpectedly, a "clink" rang out as someone behind him knocked over a wine bottle in panic.
The tense special-forces captain shifted his gaze slightly. That tiny movement gave Feng Ling the opening he needed: he slung a tier-three bag over his shoulder, broke through a window, and escaped...
"So this is Ghost-God Power?"
A faint Energy Fluctuation coiled around the Dark Token, and Feng Ling's face lit up with delight.
In his past life, he had constantly pushed his limits and unknowingly brushed against that mysterious power...
So it had been Ghost-God Power all along!
If so, then he had already become a First-Turn Ghost Spirit Master the moment he became the God of Assassination in his previous life!
"First-Turn Ghost Spirit, manifest!"
A translucent shadow emerged from Feng Ling's body. One generation represented one turn; this was his Natal Ghost Spirit.
The Ghost Spirit Life Tablet Token began to tremble, pointing toward somewhere outside the room. Feng Ling pondered for a moment, then followed the direction indicated by the token.
The physical constitution of an Advanced Ghost Spirit Master was impressive. After Feng Ling infused his body with a trace of Ghost-God Power, every slack muscle tensed, and his explosive strength rivaled that of a young man in his prime!
Feng Ling had misjudged this body earlier. Beneath its frail appearance, it possessed genuine strength!
One minute later,
in a secluded courtyard,
a dark shadow descended.
"What a dilapidated place!"
Feng Ling frowned as he looked at the old residence, long abandoned and in ruins. After checking around the area once more, he found nothing except a two-meter-wide pit within the courtyard.
"Huh? Why is there a missing corner here?"
Feng Ling halted, turned, and walked toward a damaged corner of the old house.
A deep pit in a courtyard would harm the young. A residence must not lack a corner: a missing northwest corner harms the father's generation, a missing southwest corner harms the mother's generation, and a missing northeast corner harms one's descendants.
Was this the reason behind Ling Weiyun's sudden death?
Crouching down, Feng Ling examined the spot and noticed something amiss. In his past life as an Assassin, he had kept ghosts and gods at a respectful distance. He recited scripture whenever he returned from a mission and was well-versed in Feng Shui Secret Arts.
An omen of great misfortune! Who could be so vicious?
After another careful inspection, Feng Ling's expression turned grim. All four corners bore subtle damage!
His guess matched his memories: this old residence had indeed been where Ling Weiyun's father's generation once lived!
Ling Weiyun had already died under the Curse, and this body now belonged to Feng Ling! Judging from this reading, no one in the Ling Family would likely survive—not even Lingchen!
Ling Weiyun and Lingchen were biological brothers. They belonged to different factions and appeared to have no contact publicly, but they stayed in frequent contact in private. Feng Ling had insisted on keeping Lingchen behind today as a precaution.
Ling Weiyun had died in such a bizarre manner, and Feng Ling had taken his place as a "newcomer." The culprit's scheme ran deep; they were surely still hiding somewhere within the Weiyun Sect!
If the culprit had not killed Ling Weiyun outright but had instead spent so much time and effort casting a Feng Shui Curse, there could be only one explanation…
They feared Ling Weiyun's cultivation level!
Because of Ling Weiyun's Eighth-Revolution Cultivation, the culprit must still be wary and uncertain. They would not dare attack him in broad daylight before a crowd.
But if the culprit learned that he had only First-Turn cultivation... the consequences would be unthinkable!
"Who is this culprit?"
Feng Ling combed through Ling Weiyun's memories, ruling out one familiar yet unfamiliar face after another. In the end, only two men and one woman remained!
Ling Chi and Ling Han had coveted the Sect Master's Position for years, as everyone in the sect knew. Madam Pan Yuan was Ling Weiyun's bedmate and the person closest to him.
If Feng Ling were truly Ling Weiyun, he would never suspect the virtuous Madam Pan Yuan—but he was Feng Ling!
The person closest to you is also the most dangerous. That was the golden creed Feng Ling had followed as an Assassin in his past life!
"Creak~!" Dust drifted down.
Feng Ling pushed open the old house's wooden door and swept aside the spiderweb blocking his path.
After barely two steps into the dim room, he caught a corrosive stench. Feng Ling frowned; with a thought, the Dark Token appeared in his hand.
An Assassin's instincts told him that something indescribably eerie lurked in the room.
"Clang~!" As Feng Ling took two more steps into the room, the wooden door slammed shut.
The shadow faintly visible in the reflected moonlight vanished at once!
Darkness surrounded him, and he could not see a hand in front of his face. Feng Ling could sense only faint traces of movement, so he closed his eyes and let his senses guide him while he felt for changes around him.
What was that smell? So foul!
It felt as if he had stepped on something. Feng Ling stopped and opened his eyes, puzzled.
Ugh~—what rotten luck!
He had stepped on a decaying corpse! One foot had sunk in more than halfway.
Feng Ling pulled his foot back at once. He was not afraid; in his past life, he had created no small number of corpses.
He had grown used to it!
He even dared to turn over the face-down corpse!
"Madam Pan Yuan!" Feng Ling was shocked when he recognized the face. If Madam Pan Yuan was already dead, who was the person in the main hall today?
"M-m-master...!" A chill swept over him as a bone-chilling, drawn-out voice rang out. Cold sweat broke out down his back.
Feng Ling spun around and stumbled back. As he turned, a cold, twisted, hideous face hovered a mere ten centimeters from his own!
A pair of pitch-black, ghastly Ghost Claws rose above his head, poised to...
"A Ghost?" Feng Ling dodged aside. His thoughts churned like crashing waves. Though he firmly believed ghosts and gods existed, he had never seen one with his own eyes.
Now that he had truly seen one, he still could not suppress the chill rising in his heart.
Life isn't about holding on because there's hope; it's about holding on, and only then does hope appear...
Amid all the world's chaos and troubles, may the Sage grant everyone a Pure Land of the Soul.