Chapter 55: At This Point, It Can No Longer Be Voiced

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It was no wonder the cultivators thought this way; after all, such scenarios were all too common in the martial world. When a young hero from a prestigious sect emerged, they naturally sought to make a name for themselves. But how did one gain fame? Simply by capturing some demons, exorcising a few ghosts, and then having a storyteller spread the tale—easy enough.

Yet the figure before them clearly possessed genuine skill; otherwise, he wouldn’t have unleashed such a terrifying Five Thunders Divine Punishment, let alone brought along shape-shifting spirit beasts and century-old ghosts. This display was unmistakably...

“Bang!”

Just as everyone hesitated, unsure whether rushing in might seem like stealing the credit, a sound—not too loud but piercing—emerged from a room where the metal-framed window was already shattered. A zombie, clad in tattered rags and exuding a bizarre stench of ozone mixed with burnt flesh, suddenly lunged out. Though it looked like a charred corpse that hadn’t been fully cremated, the cultivators’ expressions darkened sharply.

“Are you kidding me? That level of thunder magic didn’t even manage to destroy it?” a relatively young-looking cultivator exclaimed. His three companions, though grim-faced, immediately removed their packs.

The astonished cultivator quickly gathered himself. No matter how strong this zombie was, they had no choice but to confront it. In fact, precisely because it was formidable, they needed to face it together; running would only make them vulnerable to being picked off one by one.

Cultivators who had reached the Dao Realm were never impulsive. After a brief moment of shock, the four of them collectively unfolded a makeshift altar that resembled a folding stool.

“The alarm has been sounded. We just need to delay until Daoist Chen and Master Yijing arrive!”

The leading cultivator seemed to be rallying their spirits, or perhaps consoling himself. Regardless, his words steadied the others.

“Maybe it’s a special type of zombie like those that appear on the Awakening of Insects day, immune to thunder magic. Let’s try other types of spells.”

One cultivator eyed the sluggish zombie, muttering softly. Suddenly, he spread his arms and began dancing right there.

Another cultivator dressed in plain cloth clasped his hands together and bent slightly. Then, with a flick, he revealed seven or eight paper humanoids cut from yellow sheets. Turning around, he tapped cinnabar ink on a ritual altar and, with movements that resembled a dance or martial arts routine, marked red dots on each paper figure.

The seven or eight paper figures immediately stood upright and inflated rapidly like balloons, quickly growing to the size of life-sized paper effigies used in funerals.

“Attack!”

The cultivator produced a copper bell and shook it in time with the command. The clear ringing prompted the paper figures to charge toward the zombie, their movements bizarre and comical.

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“Here they come!”

The dancing cultivator suddenly shouted. The cultivator who had been startled and slow to react now sprang into action. He formed a hand seal, twisted his body forcefully, and pointed at the leader who had earlier rallied their spirits.

At that moment, Feng Xue, who had finally approached, clearly saw a power unlike the moonlight funneling down onto the altar. This power then passed through the dancing cultivator to the slow-reacting one, undergoing a filtration process before transforming into a purer form and infusing the leader.

The leader, empowered by a great source, silently chanted inaudible incantations while clutching a small doll at the altar’s center. His whole body trembled violently, yet his chanting grew clearer—

“Banner and incense burner linked to the Three Treasures, one strike of the ritual drum shakes the heavens, two strikes shake the earth. I strike the gong and the world moves. Burn incense, light candles, summon the master, summon the master to wield the sword and sever demons before the altar. Divine weapon, swift as the decree!”

As his voice faded, the cultivator’s demeanor shifted. Without another word, he stretched out his hand. The dancing cultivator, now free-handed, immediately drew a peachwood sword and handed it over.

The summoning cultivator caught the wooden sword, rubbing two fingers along its surface. The originally wooden blade was instantly coated with a silver sheen. Feng Xue instantly recognized it as the Demon Severing Curse.

Compared to her own half-baked spiritual attachment, this cultivator’s execution was on an entirely different level; even to the naked eye, the wooden sword seemed to transform into metal.

While the ritual proceeded swiftly here, the seven or eight paper figures had already surrounded the zombie. Though its movement was restricted, it suddenly extended a pair of ghostly claws from within, extracting a shadowy mass from two of the paper figures.

The plain-clothed cultivator’s face paled sharply, exclaiming:

“A Bound-Soul Zombie! It’s a Bound-Soul Zombie!”

However, the summoning cultivator clearly paid no heed to the enemy’s type. With a flick of the wooden sword, he charged forward.

Feng Xue, holding Liu Yunxi in one arm, called for Mo Ying to come down and leaned toward the altar. She asked the cultivator who had been dancing and channeling the will:

“What exactly is a Bound-Soul Zombie?”

The cultivator, only needing to maintain the will’s reception and filtration alongside another, was not overly taxed. Considering the thunder magic displayed, he offered an explanation:

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“A Bound-Soul Zombie is a rare type of undead, typically arising from couples buried together or reused ancestral tombs. For example, an ancient tomb from a previous dynasty falls into disrepair. If modern people unknowingly bury someone atop it, and one of the pair becomes a zombie while the other’s lingering attachment remains, they affect each other. Ultimately, the spirit becomes bound to the zombie, forming a single entity. It possesses the ghost’s spiritual energy and illusions, as well as the zombie’s malevolence and immense strength, even capable of complementary perception. It’s a troublesome kind of zombie. Usually, Bound-Soul Zombies fear thunder magic, so for one to resist it like this, its cultivation might not be too...”

Before he could finish, the summoning cultivator thrust his sword and cleanly severed the zombie’s head, vaporizing the attached ghost spirit as well. The cultivator who had been about to remark on its cultivation abruptly faltered.

The summoner himself was utterly stunned. He had expected a fierce battle, but this?

Wait!

Suddenly, the cultivator’s heart jolted—

“Could I have really summoned the true Patriarch Lu?”

Don’t think summoning a real immortal is a blessing. In modern times, very few cultivators achieve true enlightenment; many barely ascend to ghostly immortality, placing great emphasis on karmic balance. Yet summoning the real Patriarch Lu only to dispatch this creature—it hardly seemed worth the spiritual merit!

With this thought, the cultivator hurried back to the altar, performed two bows and a farewell ritual, finally sending off his will’s spiritual projection before beginning a discussion with his companions about channeling and filtering the will.

But their final conclusion was...

No karmic connection?!

Watching the cultivators whisper nervously, Feng Xue’s expression grew somewhat peculiar. At this point, admitting that her thunder magic was merely a façade was probably out of the question.