Departure

Daoist Qu's expression remained calm, without the slightest change. He only said, "Good. I'll teach you the incantation for the Spirit Descent Technique now..."

As he spoke, he casually summoned a green-faced Ghost Servant shaped like an old man, then began explaining the key points in detail while demonstrating the technique.

Zheng Que stood respectfully at his side, watching with bated breath.

To cultivate the Spirit Descent Technique, one first needed a foundation in the Ghost Controlling Technique.

The technique's power depended on the strength of one's Ghost Servant. The higher the servant's cultivation, the greater the boost to defense, strength, and speed after the technique was activated.

His own cultivation was at the first level of Qi Refining, while Qing Li, his Ghost Servant, had already reached the fourth level of Tongue-Pulling Hell. Once he used the Spirit Descent Technique, the boost to every aspect of his abilities would far surpass what either of the other two techniques could offer!

The only risk was that if his Ghost Servant turned on him while he was using the technique, he would have almost no chance of surviving...

Of course, as far as he was concerned, that drawback might as well not exist.

Yin energy poured through the ruined temple. The already dim interior seemed to have been veiled in a layer of ashen gauze.

Daoist Qu flicked his sleeve, striking the final hand seal.

In an instant, dark green-black patterns covered the skin exposed on his body. They were as dense as the roots of an old tree, burrowing deep into his flesh. A bizarre head sprouted from the side of Daoist Qu's neck. Its face was green, and it looked like an old man—the very same green-faced Ghost Servant he had summoned earlier.

The Ghost Servant's face was now twisted into a savage grimace. It gaped, baring sharp fangs, as if struggling with all its might to break free of Daoist Qu's body. Yet no matter how hard it fought, a powerful force kept it pinned down, and it could only roar in fury.

Roar, roar, roar...

The ghostly roars echoed through the ruined temple. At a glance, Daoist Qu looked more like an evil spirit than an evil spirit itself!

Zheng Que drew a deep breath. He knew his master's cultivation was profound, but being fixed in the stare of that green-faced head, brimming with malice, still made his heart race and sent a chill crawling up his spine.

At that moment, Daoist Qu said calmly, "This is the Spirit Descent Technique."

As he spoke, he formed another hand seal. Mounds of earth, large and small, erupted from the packed dirt floor. The next moment, they split open, and Corpse Puppets crawled out in a surging tide.

As soon as the Corpse Puppets had risen to their feet, the extra green-faced head on Daoist Qu's body suddenly opened its mouth and let out a piercing shriek.

The sound cut through the air like a sharp blade, stabbing viciously into Zheng Que's mind.

He was instantly left dizzy and reeling. He hurriedly clapped both hands over his ears.

Thud, thud, thud...

A string of muffled impacts rang out. The Corpse Puppets all around them had their heads shattered, bursting apart in sprays of blood and pale matter like scarlet-and-white fireworks.

The stench of blood filled the room in the blink of an eye. One headless corpse after another toppled limply into the bloody mire.

Soon, the shriek stopped. Before Zheng Que had even recovered, Daoist Qu's voice sounded by his ear. "This technique can save your life, and it excels at both offense and defense. But whether you live or die after taking it up will depend on your own fortune."

Hearing this, Zheng Que felt the fog in his head clear considerably. He raised his eyes to the lifeless remains of the Corpse Puppets scattered across the floor and immediately understood: his master had been demonstrating the power of the Spirit Descent Technique, but Zheng Que's cultivation was so low that he had nearly been knocked unconscious by the shockwaves!

Once he grasped what had happened, Zheng Que bowed respectfully at once. "Thank you for your guidance, Master!"

Daoist Qu nodded slightly and formed a hand seal, dispelling the Spirit Descent Technique.

The dense green-black patterns on his exposed skin vanished as quickly as snow beneath the sun. At the same time, the green-faced head growing from the side of his neck rolled off. It transformed into the Ghost Servant's form in midair, appeared briefly, then disappeared.

Daoist Qu rose to his full height and headed for the temple entrance.

Watching him, Zheng Que immediately understood that the forty-nine hours were up and his master was leaving the town.

He hurried after Daoist Qu, his expression respectful. "Master, you did not disdain your foolish disciple and taught me the Dao. I have nothing of value to repay you with, so I would like to serve at your side and do whatever you ask!"

Daoist Qu continued toward the exit, shaking his head slightly. "If you survive, there'll be a chance for us to meet again someday."

At this, Zheng Que's heart stirred. He knew his master would not take him out of town, so he immediately added, "Master, I don't have a weapon that suits me. Please advise me!"

Daoist Qu did not break stride. "Your cultivation is only at the first level of Qi Refining. Any weapon would be less useful than your own Ghost Servant."

Zheng Que pressed on. "My cultivation is progressing too slowly. Please grant me a few pills that can help me advance."

Daoist Qu scoffed. "Your cultivation is already progressing very quickly."

"Cultivation gained through external aids will only weaken your foundation."

Seeing that his master was unwilling to give him anything, Zheng Que furrowed his brow. He was about to say more, but Daoist Qu's wide sleeves were already fluttering out of the ruined temple.

He hurried after him. Outside, there was nothing in sight. Daoist Qu seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving no trace.

"Master!"

"Master!"

Zheng Que hurriedly shouted and ran after him.

Thud, thud, thud...

His hurried footsteps echoed over the bluestone slabs as the houses on either side flashed past. He chased all the way to the town gate, where a stone stele stood ten feet tall, inscribed with the three characters "Changfu Town." The script was ancient and weathered, worn down by the passage of time. Its broken, incomplete characters were formed from countless tiny talismans, and now their chipped strokes glimmered faintly in the daylight.

The five willow trees nearby, each thick enough to encircle with both arms, had long since withered away. The five-colored ribbons tied to their branches had faded, and when they fluttered in the wind, the vermilion patterns painted on them blurred into indistinct smudges. Only a few scattered talisman marks could still be made out.

At last, Zheng Que stopped beside the stele and stared at the wilderness ahead, brows knitted tight.

The wilds lay bleak and desolate. The long wind howled, and silence stretched across heaven and earth.

His master was gone...

On this final day, he had learned only one technique...

After a long while, he gradually calmed down, turned around, and returned to the ruined temple.

The temple was as it had always been: a dead tree, weeds, and a shrine half-collapsed, its altar curtains drooping and its offering table bare. But the gray-robed figure was no longer on the prayer mat, and the coffin was gone from the shadows behind the door.

Zheng Que stepped inside and looked around. Seeing that his master had left nothing behind, he went to the prayer mat and sat down cross-legged.

Then he suddenly spoke. "Qing Li, I'm going to cultivate a technique that'll help me survive. I need you to cooperate with me."

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