"Yang Spirit?"
Hearing that term, Klein let out a startled cry.
He felt that he must have misheard.
As someone born in the 1990s and raised under the red flag, who hadn't read a few cultivation novels?
Not only had he read them, he was a seasoned fan.
That was why he had bought that copy of the Compendium of Secret Qin-Han Esoteric Arts and attempted the Luck Enhancement Ritual recorded within.
Naturally, he knew about the concept of the Yang Spirit as well.
The most famous examples were the stories of Lü Dongbin and Han Zhongli.
They were gods of pure yang, immortals who had cultivated the Daoist School's path to its peak, severed the Three Corpses, and stepped beyond the Three Realms, outside the Five Elements.
But where was this place?
This was the Loen Kingdom, a Victorian-era steampunk world, a Cthulhu movie set where people drank potions to mutate and tentacles and eyeballs littered the ground!
And you were talking to him about Yang Spirits in this setting?
It felt like he was sitting in a theater watching Xenomorph, just as the heroine raised a Pulse Rifle to fight the Xenomorph Queen to the death—only to suddenly toss aside her gun, press her palms together, and chant, "Amitabha Buddha."
Then she would summon the Great Might Heavenly Dragon and instantly kill the Xenomorph.
The styles didn't match at all, did they?!!
"If you mean the kind of Yang Spirit found in cultivation novels, then yes."
Edwin ignored Klein's rich inner turmoil, merely nodding in response.
Upon hearing that, Klein's jaw nearly dislocated.
He stared fixedly at this fellow countryman in a tailored suit before him.
No, was he really a fucking Yang Spirit?
"But—"
Klein swallowed hard and forcibly calmed himself. "This world is governed by Beyonder