After that, Zheng Que experienced one familiar yet strange scene after another.
Whenever he was on the verge of losing himself, his exceptionally keen sense of impending death would always appear in time to pull him back from the edge of the abyss.
By comparison, Qing Li had already become lost in the third scene, unable to tell who she was.
After passing through an unknown number of scenes, Zheng Que found himself kneeling inside a ruined temple. A low, indifferent voice sounded before him: "Disciple, today your master will teach you a method to preserve your life."
At those words, Zheng Que came to his senses. He immediately bowed respectfully to the gray-robed figure not far away and said, "Thank you, Master, for bestowing this technique!"
Daoist Qu's voice sounded again: "This art is called the Spirit Descent Technique. Once cultivated, it can summon your shadow to possess you..."
"Drink this bowl of poisoned wine, and you'll be able to learn the technique."
As he spoke, an earthenware bowl filled with wine was placed before Zheng Que.
Zheng Que lifted the bowl and was about to drain it in one gulp when that bone-deep chill, that terror of death closing in, swept over him once more!
He jolted awake and hurriedly let go.
Smack!
The earthenware bowl fell to the ground and shattered.
Zheng Que looked up at Daoist Qu, only to see the gray-robed elder's form gradually growing clear. The man had no body, no flesh and blood, no legs or feet—only pale bones forming a seven-fingered hand, floating silently in the air.
※※※
Changfu Town, at the town entrance.
Black-and-white markings crisscrossed Zheng Que's body. Both heads on his neck were tilted skyward, their four gazes uniformly vacant.
The shadow beneath his feet shifted rapidly. His two-headed silhouette abruptly split apart, becoming two figures on either side of him.
The shadow on his left stretched rapidly, writhing until it took on Zhao the Second's appearance. The one on his right shortened, its outline turning slender until it unmistakably became Sun Cui'er.
But soon, the shadow on Zheng Que's left wavered again and transformed into Cui Fugui, while the one on his right violently contracted and expanded before revealing Cui Ni'er's figure.
The shadows on either side of Zheng Que kept changing. The black thread connecting them to his shadow grew tighter and tighter, like a bowstring being drawn. At last, it stretched into a taut, straight line, radiating a razor-sharp sensation, as though it might snap at any moment.
Just then, the shadow beneath Zheng Que's feet changed once more.
The shadows on either side instantly fused again, becoming the ground's reflection of a Seven-Fingered Bone Hand.
The moment the shadow appeared, the thread connecting it to Zheng Que's shadow abruptly snapped.
Snap!
At the faint, crisp sound, Zheng Que's unfocused gaze suddenly sharpened.
The dazed expression on Qing Li's face at his neck cleared as well.
As soon as Zheng Que regained consciousness, he saw the shadow beneath his feet: tall, two-headed, and perfectly normal.
His shadow hadn't disappeared!
And the thread connecting it to him had snapped!
At that moment, Qing Li's urgent voice rang in his ear: "Human brat, stop staring! Run!"
Before Qing Li could finish speaking, Zheng Que was already lifting his foot to make another dash for the town's outskirts. But the next moment...
The bone hand above the town abruptly moved again!
Its seven finger bones tapped rapidly at the air, as if playing some invisible instrument. The second finger bone from the left suddenly shot out and pressed down toward Zheng Que.
The Yin energy shrouding the entire town immediately surged with the bone hand's movement, as if a black, raging sea had risen into the sky. The howling wind dragged a hysterical roar through the town's streets and alleys.
Amid flying sand and rolling stones, Zheng Que's pupils widened. It was as though he saw the sky over the entire town collapsing!
A bone-deep chill rose from his tailbone, and death's howl seemed to ring through the depths of the netherworld.
This was the aura of death!
He could feel it: if that finger truly came down, the entire town would be reduced to ashes!
No matter how fast he was now, he couldn't escape!
Even if his cultivation were several layers higher, even if he had ten more Ghost Servants like Qing Li...it would all be meaningless beneath that finger!
This was a dead end!
A trace of despair flashed through Zheng Que's eyes, but the overwhelming despair soon turned into a silence as cold as still water.
He still had one final trump card, one he hadn't had the chance to use.
He could immediately bestow a second Imperial Conferment upon Qing Li!
He could try to make her Yin energy more condensed...
No!
Even if a second Imperial Conferment were possible, even if he could bestow a Yin Profession above Yin Messenger upon Qing Li now, the enormous gap in cultivation meant it couldn't change the situation before him!
Then he could try conferring a title upon himself and see if it would strengthen him...
No...
His cultivation was only at the Second Layer of Qi Refining. Even if the Command Character could confer titles upon the living, it would be meaningless!
As his thoughts raced, the pale, sinister, cold and gloomy bone hand in midair came crashing down.
Before the bone finger even touched Zheng Que, its terrifying, peerless might seemed to sever the heavenly river, crashing down in torrents and pressing him so hard he could barely stand. At that moment, the earth beneath his feet seemed like a brittle pastry, splitting with endless cracks as sand and stones surged like a tide.
Rumble...
The earth shook violently. The whole town seemed to have been overturned by an earth dragon. Intact buildings, orderly streets, trees that would take several people to encircle...all seemed like miniature models, unable to withstand the immense, invisible pressure. They crumbled into dust, scattering and churning through the air.
Amid the thunderous crashes, countless grotesque ghosts abandoned their battles and fled frantically toward the outskirts.
Yin energy swirled around every one of them. Many had already reached the eighth level of Tongue-Pulling Hell, or even the ninth!
But before this enormous bone hand, every ghost in town was as tiny and frail as an ant.
Creak, creak, creak...
The nearby stone stele groaned, a sound that set one's teeth on edge. Several enormous cracks appeared across its surface. At last, the remaining few fragmentary runes went dark. As broken stones flew everywhere, Zheng Que was also crushed to the ground by that terrifying might. He spat blood and couldn't get back up.
His death was certain!
The Hour of the Pig had come!
Yet just as all seemed lost, Zheng Que suddenly let out a cold laugh. With all his strength, he raised a hand and pressed it against the Imperial Edict at the center of his brow.
The next moment, he used the last of his spiritual energy to activate the Imperial Edict. Without another word, he pointed it straight at the descending bone hand!
The Imperial Edict, which radiated an ancient, timeworn aura, turned into a streak of dim light the instant it appeared and sank into the bone hand.
Just as Qing Li had stood frozen when she received her Imperial Conferment, the moment the bone hand received the edict, its downward motion stopped dead!
At the same time, the bone hand's world-destroying pressure vanished into thin air.
The bone hand was receiving an Imperial Conferment!
Its movement had been forcibly interrupted during the conferment!
"Run!"
Zheng Que's voice came out hoarse as he roared. Immediately afterward, his vision went black and he fell unconscious.
The instant Zheng Que lost consciousness, Qing Li took control of his body. Without the slightest hesitation, she dashed toward the outskirts at full speed!
Meanwhile, the town was in chaos. Ghosts cloaked in dense Yin energy kept emerging from the buildings that hadn't yet collapsed and from the dust-shrouded ruins. None of them paid attention to anything else; while the bone hand was frozen, every last one of them ran for the outskirts with all their might.
The bone hand seemed unaware, hovering motionless in midair. The finger pressing down remained suspended several zhang above the town, while thousands upon thousands of threads still hung down like a waterfall, like a scene in a painting.
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