Chapter 26: The Spirit of Counteraction

Although in Liu Chen’s words, Lu Qingzong was nothing more than a practitioner whose techniques were easily broken—a nobody—Lu Qingzong himself possessed the knowledge that comes from a family steeped in the Dao. He could naturally discern the true nature of the Netherworld Spirit Flame. It was precisely because he recognized it that Lu Qingzong appeared so shocked; the ability to wield such a flame should not belong to a martial artist. Combined with the earlier incident, when Liu Chen produced the Gluttonous Beast token to conceal his aura, Lu Qingzong grew increasingly convinced that Liu Chen’s origins were far from ordinary.

Yet, after the initial shock, Lu Qingzong realized he no longer had time to ponder Liu Chen’s background. Following Liu Chen’s actions, the villagers who had hoped for Lu Qingzong to pacify their restless spirits became highly agitated, especially those who had lost beloved family members. Their fury surged, eyes bloodshot, resembling a pack of ravenous wolves ready to devour.

Surrounded by such a crowd, Lu Qingzong felt a chill grip his heart and instinctively edged closer to Liu Chen. To him, Liu Chen was far more formidable than these villagers, but at least he possessed reason and could be communicated with. The villagers, driven by emotion, could not be reasoned with; falling into their hands meant no hope of survival.

A sharp slap rang out—“You Daoist! After causing so many deaths, you dare deceive the spirits now? Are you not afraid of divine retribution? The two of you, come here! Beat him thirty times, then tie him up and starve him for ten days or half a month. Let’s see if he still has any wicked thoughts!” As the crowd teetered on the edge of chaos, a middle-aged man suddenly stepped forward and struck Lu Qingzong’s face, leaving a vivid red imprint. Before Lu Qingzong could react, the man kicked him to the ground and loudly issued orders to those nearby.

This intervention brought a measure of calm; the villagers no longer surged forward but instead waited to see Lu Qingzong receive his thirty blows as instructed.

“Is this acceptable, sir?” The middle-aged man, relieved to have regained control, turned and asked Liu Chen with cautious deference.

“Hm? Ah, do as you see fit with him,” Liu Chen replied, still somewhat distracted. As he had ignited the aura clinging to the oil lamp with the Netherworld Spirit Flame, he sensed a thin stream flowing back into his mind along his sight, subtly strengthening his spirit.

But the aura on the bronze oil lamp was so faint that the stream lasted only an instant, dissipating before Liu Chen could fully savor its effect. Thus, when the middle-aged man spoke, Liu Chen’s response was slow.

The man paid no mind to Liu Chen’s delay, but the answer put his final doubts to rest. Observing Liu Chen lost in thought, he chose to remain silent.

Silence from him, however, did not extend to everyone else. At that moment, the two men ordered by the middle-aged leader began beating Lu Qingzong with sticks, mingling screams with villagers’ angry shouts and curses. The cacophony drowned out any hope Liu Chen had of thinking clearly.

Noticing Liu Chen’s displeasure at the noise, the middle-aged man’s anxiety returned. Yet when Liu Chen quickly regained composure and beckoned him to speak at a distance, he followed without protest.

“Sir, what is it?” They walked until the clamor faded to a dull murmur. Liu Chen stopped, and the man behind him asked.

“No need to call me ‘sir.’ Just Liu Chen will do. Your surname is Luo, isn’t it? What’s your name?” Uncomfortable with the formal address, Liu Chen corrected him and casually inquired after his name.

“Liu—well, just call me Luo Long-arm. Everyone does. My real name is Luo An, but it’s rather ordinary and probably hard to remember,” the man replied, attempting to follow Liu Chen’s instruction but settling on a respectful form of address. He offered both his nickname and real name.

Liu Chen glanced at his unusually long arms, finding the nickname apt, though he refrained from using it directly out of politeness.

“Luo An, then. Can you tell me in detail about those bronze oil lamps left by the Mount Tai Daoists? I sensed something unusual just now and would like to know more.” For Liu Chen, the aura on the bronze oil lamp was the only known means of enhancing his power. Having learned from Lu Changcheng that a True Master resided in Xin City, Liu Chen felt his own strength inadequate and would not let any opportunity for improvement slip by. His thoughts turned to the ten thousand bronze oil lamps Luo An had mentioned.

Of course, Liu Chen could not hope to collect all ten thousand, but even a few hundred would be a substantial boost. Though it might not enable him to defeat a True Master, it would certainly give him greater confidence and increase his chances of revenge.

Unfortunately, Luo An’s focus was entirely different. Instead of explaining the bronze oil lamps, he asked excitedly, “Did you sense something unusual—was it the departed souls?”

Hearing this, Liu Chen felt a touch of absurdity, as if he had become a shaman performing rituals. He wanted to dispel Luo An’s illusions with facts, but seeing his weathered face, full of anticipation and anxiety, Liu Chen sighed inwardly and said, “The feeling was unclear, but I sensed a peaceful place and heard indistinct murmurs. So I’d like to examine more bronze oil lamps; perhaps I’ll sense things more clearly.”

He had considered describing it more vividly, borrowing imagery from earthly religions of paradise, but found such falsehoods distasteful. So, after a few vague words, he directly asked for the information he truly sought.