After several days of staying at Xi Jian Jiang, Lin Zhao, having sufficiently nurtured the military aura within his chest, began his travels anew. He bid farewell to his "aunt," the river god of Xi Jian Jiang, Madam Lin Xing Chu. Though Lin Xing Chu repeatedly urged him to stay and offered a large collection of river god treasures, Lin Zhao politely declined. He felt it was improper to impose for so many days, and accepting gifts would be even more so.
...
The next day.
Lin Zhao traveled far from Xi Jian Jiang and arrived at a bamboo forest. Dusk was falling, and a gentle snow began to fall from the sky. It was no longer possible to light torches for night travel, so Lin Zhao had to find lodging for the night. However, there was nowhere to shelter in the bamboo forest. Setting up a temporary tent in the heavy snow was also out of the question; the biting cold wind was something even a sixth-realm martial artist might struggle to endure.
"Let's keep walking," he muttered.
Lin Zhao furrowed his brow, shouldering his bamboo box and ancient sword, and continued onward. He hoped to walk more in the snowy night to warm himself up, otherwise, the night would be quite uncomfortable.
Not long after walking, in the snowy night, he dimly saw what appeared to be a building, silent in the snowfall.
"Could it be someone's house?"
The young man's heart leaped with joy. He immediately adjusted his grip on the bamboo box and ran forward swiftly. Amidst the rustling footsteps, when he reached the front of the building, he was somewhat disappointed. It was merely a small, square shrine, its outer walls severely damaged and in disrepair for perhaps several hundred years. It was fortunate it hadn't collapsed yet.
Lin Zhao carried his bamboo box into the shrine and squinted to look. The ancestral tablets on the shrine had long since disappeared. Inside, there was only a wooden statue of a middle-aged man. There was nothing else. Fortunately, the four walls of the shrine were still relatively intact, offering a modicum of protection from the wind and snow. Thus, he would have to make do here for the night.
The young man felt a touch of unease. After setting down his bamboo box, he spread out a cloth on the ground, creating a makeshift dry and warm bed. He then went outside, gathered a pile of dry branches, and lit a fire in the shrine. From his bamboo box, he found a wild pheasant he had hunted on the road and cooked a pot of soup. He also heated some flatbreads, and thus, he had a meal.
...
After eating his fill, Lin Zhao added more firewood, hugged his ancient sword, and lay down to sleep. He glanced up at the wooden statue in the shrine and frowned. He had a persistent feeling that someone was watching him.
"Could there really be ghosts?"
The young man shivered inwardly.
In the middle of the night, Lin Zhao, half-asleep, suddenly heard a woman crying outside. His sleepiness vanished instantly. This was strange. The thousands of miles north of the Fusang Great Wall were almost uninhabited, save for occasional merchants or wandering swordsmen. How could a woman be weeping outside this long-abandoned shrine in the dead of night?
"Whoosh..."
They've found me!
Though Lin Zhao was afraid of ghosts, he was not afraid of trouble. He swiftly took out two silver demon-suppressing talismans from his embrace and, with two crisp sounds, affixed them to the front door and back wall of the shrine. He frowned, slung his ancient sword over his back, gripped the vanguard camp's centurion sword, and said in a deep voice, "Who's there? Stop playing tricks and show yourself!"
There was no further sound from outside; the woman's crying had also vanished.
Lin Zhao drew a burning branch from the fire and held it aloft as he walked out. His brows were tightly knit as he surveyed everything outside. Apart from the falling snow and the whistling wind, there was nothing. Yet, he could distinctly feel something watching him. This perception, honed by his martial arts and swordsmanship, could not be mistaken.
He then sheathed his long sword, took out a tracking talisman from his embrace, and ignited it between his thumb and forefinger. He sent the tracking talisman forward, muttering, "Since you won't come out yourself, I'll have to draw you out!"
"Swish—"
The tracking talisman flew rapidly through the snow, chasing a wisp of ghostly energy.
Lin Zhao followed closely behind.
About four hundred meters away, the tracking talisman burned out. Lin Zhao immediately ignited a second tracking talisman. At this point, he could feel the ghostly energy growing closer. A gust of his fist wind scattered some overlapping bamboo leaves, and ahead, a figure in red emerged – a female ghost with an ethereal presence.
"Stop your tricks!"
Lin Zhao hurled the torch forward with his hand, simultaneously sending a wisp of spiritual energy from his finger. The spiritual energy instantly ignited the torch, illuminating the surrounding bamboo forest with a "Hong!" The ghost's true appearance was also revealed by the spiritual energy – she was a rather pretty young woman, but enveloped in heavy ghostly energy, weeping profusely. "Young Master, save me... save me..."
"Save you?"
Lin Zhao frowned. "You lured me from the shrine to this place, all to harm me, and now you want me to save you?"
"He... he..."
The red-clad ghost cried tragically, stammering, "He... he is using me... to harm... harm... Young Master, hurry... hurry and leave..."
"What?!"
Lin Zhao suddenly looked up and saw a figure descending from the sky. It was a ghostly being, radiating dozens of times more ghostly energy than the female ghost. A claw made of bone fiercely swiped towards the young man's face.
"I knew it!"
Lin Zhao instantly ignited a speed talisman. The Zhen Ma Feng Qiang style of fist intent permeated his entire body. As his feet slammed into the accumulated snow, he thrust out a fist to meet the incoming bone claw.
After a dull collision, Lin Zhao felt his entire palm go numb, and he staggered backward in the snow. The opponent, however, seemed unfazed. A claw landed on Lin Zhao's shoulder, tearing through his clothes and leaving a bloody gash. Even the protective fist aura of a sixth-realm martial artist could not withstand it!
The opponent landed gracefully on a snow-laden bamboo branch, his form bobbing gently. His blood-red eyes stared at Lin Zhao from beneath his cloak, and he chuckled, "I thought the person who annihilated eight thousand elite demons at Jiuzhangyuan with a stratagem would be something remarkable. Turns out, it's just this..."
"You?"
Lin Zhao raised an eyebrow, looking at the opponent's terrifyingly pale face, and said coldly, "A ghost cultivator?"
"Heh, guessed right, so what?"
The ghost cultivator's body sank slightly, and he laughed, "Your head is worth a lot of money. Great Demon Yu Zhi has offered a bounty of a thousand Jin Zhi coins for your head. If I kill you, I could build myself a peak fifth-realm with Jin Zhi coins for the rest of my life!"
This person exuded an aura of desolation and decay; he was undoubtedly a ghost cultivator. Those inhuman ghouls and spectral soldiers were merely puppets refined by such individuals.
However, this person's cultivation was too high – an eighth-realm Golden Core!
With Lin Zhao's current strength, he could handle seventh-realm cultivators, but fighting an eighth-realm cultivator who had formed a Golden Core was exceedingly difficult.
...
Thus, the young man quietly ignited a second speed talisman. He had to end this quickly, otherwise, if he continued to fight, death was inevitable. In these life-or-death situations, Sister Bai in the sword absolutely refused to intervene, as if she were determined to hone him. If he couldn't pass, then he would die, and she would find another sword master.
In an instant, Lin Zhao moved close to the ground, like a slithering snake!
"Oh!?"
The ghost cultivator paused slightly, but a Zhen Ma Feng Qiang style punch landed on his abdomen. Immediately after, his lower back, chest, and neck were all struck. The young man, agitating the snow in the bamboo forest, attacked like a madman, his fist aura erupting outwards. Each punch was heavier than the last, to the point where the ghost cultivator could only block with his arms for a short period, completely unable to retaliate.
"Enough!"
After a few breaths, the Golden Core energy within the ghost cultivator's chest grew increasingly potent. He suddenly spread his arms, and ghostly energy surged from within him, constantly condensing into bone shields that swirled around him. When Lin Zhao's next punch landed, it felt as though it had crashed into an extremely cold abyss. Ghostly energy emanated from it, and his fist was instantly torn and bleeding.
This level of defense could no longer be broken by a sixth-realm martial artist.
"Not good!"
As Lin Zhao retreated rapidly, he ignited a silver Shattering Talisman. Immediately, a wisp of military aura erupted from the talisman's core, transforming into dozens of golden-armored cavalry holding long spears who charged out, piercing through the eighth-realm ghost cultivator. The ghost cultivator was forced back repeatedly, his expression quite complex.
"How can this be?!"
A single Shattering Talisman had shattered all of the eighth-realm ghost cultivator's bone shields. At this moment, Lin Zhao ignited a second Shattering Talisman.
"You wish!"
The ghost cultivator roared, raising his hands to the sides and shouting, "You wandering spirits, since living is meaningless, come and be my food!"
Instantly, faint dark energies swirled from all directions – countless wronged souls who had perished in the bamboo forest were being refined and consumed by the ghost cultivator. In the bamboo forest, the red-clad ghost's face turned pale with fear as she was also sucked directly towards the ghost cultivator. Lin Zhao couldn't save the formless spirits, but he could save her. He stepped forward, grabbed the ghost's neck, and forcibly pinned her against a thick bamboo stalk.
"Saving a damsel in distress?!"
Behind him, he suddenly trembled, having been struck by the ghost cultivator's claw. The back of his shoulder burned with pain.
Lin Zhao turned and unleashed a punch, barely blocking the ghost cultivator.
"Young Master..."
The ghost cried with tears streaming down her face.
"Get lost!"
Lin Zhao roared. "Run as far as you can! Whether I live or die, you are forbidden from following him and doing evil!"
"Young Master, I understand..."
The ghost, tears flowing, dispersed with the wind.
...
Lin Zhao ignited another speed talisman and punched with explosive force. However, this time, his punches only carried wind, not aura. He continuously blew away the dark spirits in the bamboo forest, saving one if he could. He knew he wouldn't escape today. A thousand Jin Zhi coins for a head – so valuable, he himself would want to sell it. How could this eighth-realm Golden Core ghost cultivator possibly let him go?
"Someone like you!"
The ghost cultivator laughed heartily. His bone claw met Lin Zhao's fist again, shaking Lin Zhao and causing him to crash through a patch of bamboo forest. He staggered backward onto the road behind him, and the ghost cultivator sneered, "Can barely protect yourself, yet you still want to save others? Tsk tsk, is this what humans call chivalry? Bah! People like you are hateful when alive, pitiful when dead!"
...
The young man panted, his bloody fists clenched, pure fist aura constantly flowing from his body. His eyes fixed on the ghost cultivator. Even if he died, he would die standing. If he could deplete even a fraction of the ghost cultivator's power, trading his six realms for their eight, then he had gained!
But just then, a chilling wind blew from behind him. Lin Zhao's peripheral vision caught sight of it, and his heart was shaken.
Figures of cavalry appeared behind Lin Zhao.
They were heavily armored and armed, devoid of any life. They wielded swords and spears, riding on ethereal bone warhorses. Each of them exuded an aura of the battlefield.
"Summer Clan..."
A figure at the front lightly raised his long sword and said, "White Deer Cavalry, Twenty-Fourth Regiment, Qing Battalion, under orders to slay demons and vanquish evil!"